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I left her there, naked and bleeding, and the next time I saw her, she was at the base of the west tower, having jumped to her death. Galvin told me not to concern myself with her, that she was simply a broken toy, and that I would find another. But I knew different. She wasn’t a broken toy, and though she made her choice, it wasn’t suicide; it was murder. I killed her. I hurt her, I violated her, and made her life so painful that I might as well have pushed her off that tower myself. I knew it, but I didn’t want to accept it.

“I’ve thought about sucking your dick and fucking you every day. We don’t have much time.” She dropped to her knees and swallowed my dick, sucking furiously. I grabbed her hair and held her head, thrusting my cock into the back of her throat. “Gaa! Gaa! Gaa!” she tried to be quiet but she gagged each time my dick hit her throat. She pulled off. “Don’t muss my hair too much. My boss will know I fucked you back here.” She put her head on my cock and resumed sucking, slower and more deliberate this time. Saliva dripped from her mouth onto my balls. My cock was turning red as her lipstick rubbed off onto my shaft. Fucking hot. She stopped again. She lifted my cock and sucked one of my balls into her mouth. That was new. And pushed me over the edge.

Forensic artists still had to make a composite image of what this woman would look like if she could smile, or furrow her