Florence remained silent for the rest of the journey from the forest to the city. I can hear her breathing with such patience and ease. The guy in the back blew the whistle and I taught him to do it when he feels defiant or brave in some way. It turned on and off while traveling across town. I notice the faces of the drunk and promiscuous on the streets. I look at the seven-inch heels and mini dresses of the sensual women, and I observe the groups of men walking under the influence of alcohol. I remember the first time I drove around this city with a man in the back; I had to sedate him and it was a terrible thing. The morphine mixed with his Atarax and his nerves were starting to get the better of him. I had barely managed to drag him through two rooms of my house, my palace, my refuge. It dripped blood all over my new hardwood floor. He was dead the next morning. It was a shame, he had such loving eyes. “Miss Angelina, do you believe that, at some point…” I raise my hand towards her and put my finger to my lips. There were red lights in front of me and a group of people surrounding the road, and this van wasn't much in the mood to hold conversations inside while it sat still. “Miss Angelina, I just wanted to ask you if I could, if we could go into town tomorrow night. You won't be finished by then? I had forgotten that Florence is not allowed to leave the house without me or without someone I trust. I open the dashboard in front of me and take out a pack of cigarettes. I offer the open lid to Florence, who politely shakes her head. I end up shaking her off and take one for myself, placing it between my lipstick-glossed lips and tossing the package her way. He takes the initiative and takes the lighter from his pocket... to the center of the paper... soft and gentle on these men. From this moment on I can no longer concentrate and I don't believe it. Florence responded, plus I don't think she gave it a second thought. He was taking my promises of a night of freedom and running away with them into the winds. He would never let me forget it. I wanted Florence to practice with her man, her type. Delicate flowers cannot corrupt men, but cold and heartless mirrors cannot seduce them. I hadn't yet taught her the middle path: how to seduce and bribe. How to burn a man's pride and take what you want. Only when I parked and Florence threw herself out the door of the van did I realize how ready I was to end this boy's life. I hadn't killed for weeks and I felt the thirst for blood, the hunger that made me lose all control over myself. “Angelina, where the hell have you been?"?”