By Robert K. Tanenbaum
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Maybe not. I don’t know. A brilliant flash of light, the horrible pain. Impossible to fight them all. ” Violation. The face of the other man from the television, a face cratered like the moon, only greasy. “Show you boys how to treat these bitches. ” Violation…feeling so filthy, hoping they would kill her, disappointed when she realized they were gone and she was still alive…staggering into the ocean and washing and washing and washing and never getting clean…never again clean… In the motel room, Liz Tyler’s body shook as if she were being beaten again.
But a small, nondescript institution in New Jersey that faced probation with the national law school accreditation board had happily accepted him under its “nontraditional students” program and had even given him a partial scholarship. The Packers (regrettably not the team in Wisconsin) had paid him enough to handle the rest. He’d graduated with a law degree mostly by cheating and plagiarizing. But he’d already developed a reputation for playing the race card when things weren’t going his way, so none of his professors were about to challenge him lest they find themselves defending a lawsuit instead of teaching about them.
She should have known to turn off the television when the pitted face of Enrique Villalobos had first appeared…a positive prison experience…but she’d turned away as if slapped. However, as though forced, she’d slowly looked back and then watched in horror as Jayshon Sykes smiled at the camera, and she looked into those eyes for the first time in ten years…. Ten horrible years that can never be reclaimed. ” As the man talked, a series of memories like slides from a projector flashed into her mind.
Fury by Robert K. Tanenbaum