I drove to school Tuesday morning, after a lovely lecture from my Dad about "responsibility" and "keeping a good image for the family" and "representing the family well". So, Dad, how was the fuck with your secretary last night?

Hypocrite.

So, I drove to school. After, believe me, contemplating keeping on driving and not stopping until I got to New York or something. Of course, I couldn’t go to New York. I have no education and no skills and would probably have to resort to selling my body. Of course, who’d want my body in the first place? And I didn’t want to sell it, either, considering I’ve said that the thought of having sex doesn’t thrill me.

So I went to school. Of course, nobody wanted to see my body there either. They didn’t have any choice though—considering neither did I.

I watched as Dave got undressed at the entrance. I wasn’t going to go up there with him. I have to admit, I was jealous—he did have support, even though he had a partner he didn’t want anything to do with. Jared and the rest of that crowd, were cheering and rooting him on. He did OK. He’s not being a complete wimp about this.

Of course, he’s not getting abuse, either. They’re reserving all that for me. He’s just the opening act, I’m the headliner. I went up there after he went in, followed by his friends. Facing the jackals all by myself.

I suppose helping me undress is a "reasonable request". But is ripping my fucking shirt right off? Or snapping my bra, hard, into my back before you take it off, is that a reasonable request? Or making all the cow noises when you take my pants off?

I’m pretty sure somebody roughly shoving their fingers in my (dry) crotch isn’t, either. Of course, there was no "request" there. He just did it. Hard. And not in, either, right on my labia. It was like getting poked in the chest, only far worse.

What could I do? I didn’t even know who was doing it half the time. There were so many of them. So I couldn’t report it. And who’d listen to me, anyway? Mr. Tilling? That’s a laugh.

It got progressively worse throughout the morning. But it was worst walking from art class to lunch. People must have seen what other people were getting away with, and that emboldened them. Because my tits were grabbed, and I mean hard, walking to lunch. Someone damn near twisted my right nipple off. I had bruises. I’m not exaggerating. My tits were black and blue by the time I got to lunch, and that nipple was swollen and throbbing. Somehow I managed to get into the lunch line and get my lunch. Somehow I managed to sit down. Somehow I managed not to collapse, from pain and humiliation, right in the middle of the lunchroom.

OK, dammit, I did a bad thing. What I did to Cassie was a bad thing. It was rotten, it wasn’t nice. But was it this bad? Did she have bruises? Did everyone treat her like their own personal punching bag? Did I deserve this?

I wanted to ask that question. I wanted to ask it so badly. But there was nobody listening.

You know what? I was adjusting. Getting undressed in front of the class at the entrance wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would. Of course, Missy wasn’t around, so the crowd wasn’t out for blood. And Jared and his pals were there.

The morning went fine. But I couldn’t help but notice that Missy really looked bad in second period. Enough. Why did I care.

I got grabbed in gym, but not enough to get off—so, in the next class, I surprised myself by requesting relief. A girl named Cyndi Thomson did me. She was cute and enthusiastic. I still couldn’t talk to her, outside of a muttered "Thank you" when she was done—but I was able to relax enough for her to jerk me off.

Then, after class, I went to lunch. That’s when I saw it. Missy looked bad.

Her breasts were all bruised. One of her nipples was swollen and didn’t look good at all. She looked like it was an effort to walk. She slumped to a corner table like she’d rather curl up in a ball and die.

Dammit.

Jared saw it, too. "Damn. Did you see Missy?" he asked me. "Somebody did a number on her tits."

"I saw," I replied. "Look, I know she was put in the program to be humiliated the way Cassie was. Somehow, physical bruises is not what I think they had in mind."

"I think you’re right," Jared said.

"Well, you know. She’s my partner. I think I have to go sit with her."

"Really?" Jared asked.

"I wanted her to go through what Cassie went through. This isn’t what Cassie went through."

"Good luck. If Cass or anyone says anything, I’ll tell ‘em you were threatened by Tilling."

"Thanks, Jared," I said, and walked over to where Missy was sitting. "Hi," I said.

She looked up, startled. Then she attempted to summon some of her usual bitchiness. It was pathetic, but she got an A for effort. "What do you want?" she managed to snarl out with a modicum of venom.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing," I said.

"Oh, so all of a sudden you want to be my ‘buddy’?" she snapped. The venom was coming easier now. "It’s me, remember? Missy? The girl who deserves everything she gets? Go away. Leave me alone."

"I wanted you to go through what Cassie did," I said. "I never saw Cassie looking like her tits had been through a mangler." I don’t know if she realized how obvious it was, but she crumpled when I said that. She slumped like a balloon that had all the air let out.

"Look," she said. "I’m OK. Really. Some guys just got a little rough."

"That’s more than a little rough," I said.

"Look," she snapped, "I don’t need your pity."

"I didn’t come over here to give you any."

"Then what did you come over here to give me?" she asked.

"Just a little company. Someone to talk to, if you needed it."

"I don’t want to talk." She actually let out a little smile. "I suppose I’ll take the company, though."

"Good," I said, reaching for my lunch. We ate in silence for a bit. I think we were both looking at the other warily.

"How’s your week going so far?" she asked after a bit.

"All right. Better than I expected. I thought I’d get more abuse for being the class wimp."

"Well, everyone knows you’re the class wimp," she snorted. "Taking off your clothes didn’t change that." She looked at me. "Might’ve even helped the situation a bit," she smirked.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"You’re not bad," she smirked again. "Especially compared to a beached whale like myself. You’re getting the benefits this week. You’re partnered with a pile of blubber that everyone hates to begin with. You’re golden by comparison."

"You’re not fat."

"You need eyeglasses. I need to lose 40 pounds."

"I wear contacts, and they’re fine. You’re not fat. You’re just not skinny. And if you lost 40 pounds, you’d be anorexic."

"I wish. Unfortunately, I like food too much. Anyway. Most guys like skinny."

"I could disagree with that, but I don’t know what most guys like. I don’t particularly like skinny."

"You don’t like girls," she smirked.

"Where did you get that idea?" I asked.

"Have you ever been on a date?"

"A few. Not many. Doesn’t mean I don’t like girls. What it means is I have a hard time talking to them."

"You’re talking to me fine," she pointed out.

She was right. "Yeah. Well, I guess that’s because I was worried about you. Pushed my natural girl-related terror out the window."

"I guess you need to worry about more girls," she grinned. Just then, the bell rang. "Dave? Thanks," she said. "I hate to admit it, but I’m glad I didn’t have to eat alone." She looked at me. "Stay here for a minute. Let me get a head start to bio. If any of your friends see you walking with me, you’ll get shit." Suddenly, she was gone.

I sighed and got rid of my trash. When I got to bio, I could see her getting grilled by Ms. T about the bruises. She must have parried the questions, because she eventually went to her seat and Ms. T didn’t do anything. She made it through the class, left, and I went to my next one. The next time I saw her was before last period. We had the same class that period, and, when I turned the corner of the corridor, she was five feet in front of me.

I guess I thought she’d be OK. I guess I thought that a bit of overzealous tit-grabbing was the worst that could happen to her. I guess I didn’t think, even considering what she did to Cassie, that there’d be anyone that would take it farther than that. I was wrong.

I didn’t really see what happened. I saw a flash of an arm, that’s it, and in the crowded between-class hallways, I didn’t see who the arm was attached to. I didn’t see where it went. But I heard where it went, as Missy let out the most horrific blood-curdling scream I’ve ever heard in my life.

It didn’t stop there. She was wailing. I rushed over to her. The halls were full, and nobody else even stopped! This was getting ridiculous. And Missy was just crying and crying, holding herself up against he wall, barely able to stand up.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Oh God somebody hit me! Down there!" she wailed, pointing to her crotch. Oh, Jesus, she was bleeding. It was running down her thighs. "Oh God it hurts it hurts….."

"We need to get you to the nurse."

"I don’t think I can walk!"

"Fine." I reached over, put one hand behind her back, the other behind her knees, and scooped her up. OK, she wasn’t the lightest girl in the world—and I wasn’t the strongest guy in the world, either. But the nurse wasn’t far. I could get her there.

"Oh Dave you can’t carry me I’m too fat!" she wailed. "You’ll hurt yourself!"

"Shut up," I said, and headed as fast as I could to the nurse. At least someone was kind enough to open the door for me. We went right into the nurse’s office.

"What happened?" Nurse Evans said.

"Somebody hit me. In the crotch. Hard," she sniffled.

"With what?" Nurse Evans said, looking at the blood, as she helped me get Missy on the examining table.

"Well, it felt like a fist, but a fist with fingers extended, if that makes any sense," Missy said. "The force was like a fist but I was…..you know….something went in."

Oh, Jesus.

"Missy, wait here," she said, and rushed into her outer office. I sat there, listening to Missy’s crying, stroking her hand. What else could I do?

Nurse Evans came back in shortly. "Missy, we have a gynecologist on call for the school system. She’s on her way here, she was close anyway. I want her to look at it."

"OK," she sniffled.

"You wait here," Nurse Evans sighed, "I need to notify Mr. Tilling about this."

She left again, and I sat there with Missy. The cries were down to sobs and sniffles, but every time she tried to move an inch, she groaned.

"Do you know who did this?" I asked.

"No," she sniffled. "I didn’t see anything. I just felt it."

Nurse Evans came in with the gynecologist, Doctor Macafee. "Missy? What happened."

"I got hit. Down there."

"OK. I need to look at it. It’s going to hurt, there’s nothing I can do about that. But I need to see what’s up."

"OK," Missy said weakly.

"Grab my hand," I told her. She did. As the doctor poked and prodded down there, Missy damn near broke my hand. It wasn’t nothing compared to the pain I saw on her face.

"Missy, sit on the side of the table," the doctor said when she was finished. Missy did. "Your labia are very bruised. There are a few scratches at the entrance to your vagina. The whole area is bruised." She took a breath then. "Missy, you’re a virgin, right?"

"Yeah," she said.

The Doctor took another deep breath. "Whatever he used, fingers like you think or whatever—he punctured your hymen. That’s what caused the blood."

The blood just drained from her face. Completely. She looked horrified. "You mean….I just lost my virginity by a punch?"

"You lost your hymen by a punch," Dr. Macafee corrected.

"Same thing. Same fucking thing. Oh, God…." And then she started wailing again.

"I don’t know how he got such a good shot. Weren’t you walking?"

"No, someone had grabbed my boobs so I had stopped," Missy sniffled.

Just then, Mr. Tilling came in. "What happened?"

"The Program, that’s what happened," Missy snapped bitterly. Dr. Macafee and the nurse told Mr. Tilling what had been done to Missy.

"Missy, I’m sorry. But what happened to you isn’t The Program’s fault," Mr. Tilling said.

"Maybe in normal circumstances, no," she agreed. "But when the Principal calls an assembly and tells the whole junior class—‘Hey, here’s the bitch that did all those nasty things. And we’re going to make her go nude next week!’ Well, that’s almost an invitation."

"Not for physical abuse," he maintained.

"How long have you been a principal? And you have no idea how vindictive kids can be?" she snorted.

"Not like this," he said, looking helpless. "Look, you have no idea who it was?"

"No."

"I’ll try to find witnesses," he said. "Missy, you’re relieved from The Program. Come in tomorrow clothed."

"Thank you," she said.

He left then, and the doctor gave Missy a couple of prescriptions.

"You drive, don’t you?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"I know where you live. It’s not far from me. Why don’t you let me drive your car home? I can walk home from there."

She gave me a small, grateful smile. "OK."

You know, I didn’t have much use for my sex organs beforehand. I had less use for them when they were howling in pain.

I almost asked the doctor if she did vaginaectomies. Who needs the thing?

God, though, it was so embarrassing—crying and screaming like I did. In front of everyone. In front of David, who had suddenly decided to play rescue the damsel in distress.

And, how mortifying. To lose my virginity by getting hit. It was just so depressing I couldn’t stand it.

Anyhow, Dave helped me get dressed—again, embarrassing—and then got me out to my car. We went to the pharmacy—which, luckily, was one of those new ones with a drive-through window, I was in no condition to walk—and got my prescriptions. Then Dave drove me home.

Even insisted on coming in.

He got me to my living room, on the couch—and I started bawling again! I just couldn’t take it. And I hated crying, and I especially hated crying in front of someone else. And I was crying in front of Dave. Not only that, he had his arm around me and was stroking my hair!

Oh, God.

When I finally stopped the stupid tears, I had to ask him. "David, why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because nobody deserves what happened to you," he said. "And it seems like you don’t have a friend in the world. I am supposed to be your Partner."

"You know what?" I said, and finally admitted it. To myself, and out loud. "Maybe I do deserve this."

"No. Look," he said, swallowing, "I’ll admit it. If it were just ridicule, the mooing I hear when you walk down the hall, some of the fat jokes—though I don’t agree with them--I might say that you did deserve that. But not abuse. Jesus Christ, Missy, as far as I’m concerned, you got raped."

"Maybe I still deserved it." He tried to interrupt again, but I wouldn’t let him. "Look, Cassie was supposed to be my friend. Have you noticed that she hasn’t said a word to me? I almost wish she would. I badly hurt someone who was supposed to be a friend."

"Why did you do it?" David asked quietly.

"That’s a good question. Now, look, it was Laura’s idea. That’s a cop-out, and I know it, because I went along with it." I sighed. "Look, part of it is that I was grossed out by her scars."

"Why?" he asked.

"I don’t know. But I was."

"Do naked bodies gross you out?"

"Frequently," I admitted.

"What about mine?" he smirked.

"Actually, you’re OK," I grinned. "Not much meat there, but it’s arranged pretty well."

Dave smirked again, then got serious. "What about yours?" he asked.

I admitted it, softly, "The biggest gross-out of all. Worse than Cassie. Far worse than Cassie. And, dammit, I admit it—that’s the other reason. I’m jealous of her."

"Why?" he asked me, curiously.

"Even with all the scars, she’s still a hell of a lot more attractive than I am. She’s got a great family. Everybody likes her. She gets boyfriends—and now she’s got Frankie. I’m fat, ugly, my parents suck, and everybody hates me. Boyfriends? Who the hell would want to go out with a cow like me?"

David took a deep breath. "Let’s assume, for the moment, that I’m actually capable of asking girls out without sounding like a stuttering fool, which I’m not." I had to giggle a little at that. "And let’s also assume that it was suggested to me that I ask you out. OK, I need to tell you that what would stop me from asking you out is not your appearance. OK? You’re not fat and ugly, not on the outside."

I thought about that. I disagreed with him, but I realized something else he had said. "I’m ugly on the inside," I said.

"You were last week," he told me.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Let’s face it, my life’s pretty ugly."

I think he was just about to ask me what I meant, when the door opened. In came Mom.

"Hello," she said. "Well, who’s this?" she grinned.

"This is David, my Program partner. I had a little trouble and he helped me out. Dave, my mother."

"Very nice to meet you," she beamed at David. Damn, she was so disgusting. Dave, clueless, just returned her greeting.

"Now, what kind of trouble did you have? Too many fat jokes?" she snorted.

"No," I said. "I was assaulted."

"Excuse me?"

"Punched," I reiterated. "Right in the crotch. Guess what? I’m not a virgin anymore, clinically anyway. That’s how hard whoever it was hit me."

"Oh, Melissa, you’re exaggerating. Some guys are just rough. Hey, some girls like it that way."

"That’s wasn’t rough, that was rape," David spoke up. She looked at him. "You can rape with a finger as well as other body parts. I saw it happen. It was awful."

"Well, look at this," Mom smirked, "you seem to have a protector. How sweet." David just glared at her.

"Anyway," I said, "it’s all over. Mr. Tilling took me out of The Program."

"Oh, no he doesn’t!" Mom said. "I’m not having my daughter be the one that can’t tough it out!"

"Tough it out?" David asked. "That’s ridiculous! Look, the way he set Missy up last week for going in the program, he set her up to be humiliated—and it’s gone too far. Nobody should have to tough it out under those conditions."

"Isn’t he cute?" Mom said, beaming at David. "Don’t worry. I’ll have a little talk with Bob Tilling." Then she disappeared.

"That is your mother?" Dave asked. I nodded. "I think I understand you a whole lot better than I did ten minutes ago." I smiled at him, just a little. "Besides the crap she was giving you, it almost seemed like she was coming on to me!"

"She was," I sighed.

"Eeeewww! Now that is gross!" he blurted out. I couldn’t help but laugh. "Look, are you going to be OK? I need to get going soon. Mom will worry."

"Yeah, I’ll be fine," I said, lying. Then I teased him. "Mama’s boy."

"Guilty," he grinned. "Hey, it’s only the two of us. We watch out for one another."

"Your Dad run off or something?" I asked.

"No, he died when I was six."

"Oh, I’m sorry," I said.

"It’s OK. It was a long time ago, and I was young. It’s Mom that was really affected. They had the romance of all time," he laughed.

"Really?" I asked.

"Really. Met when they were 9, started dating at 11, did the nasty for the first time at 13, stayed together all through high school and college, got married, worked and enjoyed each other for 10 years or so, then had me. And, six years later, Dad was gone. He was only 38. Mom was just devastated."

"Wow. I can see why. How did he die?"

"Accident. Drunk driver."

I smiled at him. "Now I know why your mother wants you to check in."

"Yeah," he smiled back. "See you tomorrow, OK?"

"OK," I said. "David? Thanks." He just smiled, and then went out the door.

I was lost in thought as I walked home. I got in, and my Mom smiled at me. Thinking about Missy’s mother, I went over and gave mine a big hug.

"Why, thank you honey," she giggled, "what was that for?"

"Just felt like it," I said. "A lot happened today." I told her the whole story.

"Oh, jeez," Mom said. "What hell she went through."

"Yeah."

"I’m glad you were there for her," she said.

"Somebody had to be." I took a deep breath. "What’s amazing, now that I think about it, is that it was me. How out of character is that?"

"I don’t know," she said, "you’re a sympathetic person. I don’t see you able to just walk by someone that hurt."

"Maybe. I guess what’s really amazing is that I stayed with her, and then drove her home, and then stayed for a while longer. If I was just being altruistic, I would’ve taken her to the nurse, put her in the nurse’s hands, and left." I took a breath. "When I said I had to check in with you, she called me a Mama’s boy. She was joking, but I admitted it. Look, you tell me it all the time. It’s very strange. I’m used to being the protected, not the protector."

"How did that feel?"

"Strange. Nice. When I got her home, she lost it again and cried on my shoulder. Nobody’s ever done that."

"Do you like her?" Mom asked.

"I don’t know. I understand her better. I wanted to help her. Like? I don’t know. She’s been the school bitch for so long that I think ‘like’ is a stretch."

"OK, that’s fair. Promise me one thing, though, OK? If she comes to you for support again, don’t shut her out. From what you told me about her mother, you might be the only support she can look for. Especially if her mother convinces Mr. Tilling to keep her in The Program."

"Good point. OK, I can say I’ll be her program buddy. I can do that."

"Good."

Just then, the doorbell rang, I went to answer it. It was Jared and Amanda.

"Hey, guys," I said.

"Hey, David. I think we need to talk to you," Jared said. "There’s some rumors flying around."

"It’s no rumor, I saw him!" Another voice came ringing up the walk. It was Frankie. "I saw you with her! Coming out of the school, your arm was around her! You drove off in her car! What were you thinking?"

"Frankie, I.." I tried, but I wasn’t getting a word in edgewise.

"Jesus, David, I thought you were Cassie’s friend! And you’re getting all cozy with Missy? Cassie’s going to be crushed if this ever gets back to her. You’d better think about what you’re doing. Just because you’re her program partner doesn’t mean you have to be nice to that slug. Cassie’s your friend!" And, with that, he was off.

I just stared at him, helpless, as he left. "Dammit, why didn’t he let me talk?"

"He’s upset," Jared said.

"He doesn’t know what happened!" I said.

"Tell us," Amanda said, and they pulled me into the house. Mom greeted them. "Now, what happened?" Amanda asked.

"She was assaulted," I told them. "Someone hit her on the way to last period. Hit her right in the pussy, so hard that she’s bruised and she lost her hymen."

"Oh, my God," Amanda hissed, going pale.

"It happened five feet in front of me. She was wailing and crying, she couldn’t hardly stand up, and blood was running down her thighs—and everybody else was just walking by her. I couldn’t leave her there like that!"

"No, you couldn’t," Jared agreed.

"And after the doctor examined her, she needed prescriptions filled and she needed to go home, and she wasn’t in any condition to drive. I had my arm around her on the way to the car because she couldn’t walk unassisted. I drove her car to get the medicine and then to her house, then I walked here." I looked at them. "I understand the motivations of putting her in the program, but this has gone too far. Jared, you saw her breasts. Those were being manhandled before this other thing even happened."

"I agree," Jared said, "It has gone too far."

"Plus, while I was at her house, her mother came home. That was horrific. I think I understand Missy a little bit better. Her mother is a piece of work."

"I’ve actually heard that neither of her parents are particularly nice people," Amanda said. "My Dad almost ran against her father for City Council a couple of years ago, because Dad says that Mr. Jenkins walks over people."

"Well, I know that Mrs. Jenkins walks over Missy," I said. "But, damn. I don’t want Frankie—and most of all Cassie—mad at me."

"I’ll take care of Frankie," Jared said. "I’ll be back in a bit. Amanda, take care of him, would you?"

"Of course," she smiled at him. They kissed, and Jared was off.

"You could’ve gone with him. I’m OK, really," I told her.

"No, you’re not. Program week is supposed to be better than this!"

"Yeah, but I’ll live." I said.

"You know what? You’re talking to me better," she giggled.

"Yeah. I am, aren’t I? I don’t know what happened."

"Getting to be a girl’s knight in shining armor can help that kind of thing," she said.

"Yeah."

"Now, I was wondering. Since program week is supposed to be fun, I was wondering. Dave, would you like to make love to me?"

Oh my GOD. I think I almost passed out! "WHAT?"

"Program week is supposed to be fun," she giggled. "You haven’t had much. I’m offering you some. I know you’re a virgin, but that’s fine with me."

"B-b-ut Jared---"

"Knows all about it," she grinned. "You know we’re not one hundred percent exclusive. Jared approved of me doing this." My head was spinning, absolutely spinning. "You’re Jared’s best friend. ‘Who better than you for his first time?’ he said to me."

I gathered my wits and said, "Amanda, it’s a very generous offer, but I think I’m going to have to turn you down."

"Why?" she asked pleasantly.

"I can’t tell you."

"Sure you can. David, it’s OK, I’m just curious."

"Because you’re my best friend’s girlfriend."

"I told you, Jared doesn’t mind."

"That’s not it." I took a deep breath." This is difficult, and something I planned never to say to you." I looked away. I couldn’t look at her. "You’re my best friend’s girlfriend. That’s the only relationship we’re ever going to have. And I’ve come to accept that. Taking you to bed, especially as my first freakin’ time, would make it all that much harder to accept."

"Oh," she said, understanding dawning. "I never knew."

"And you never would’ve, if I had had my way."

"It’s OK, you know," she smiled at me. "You’re very sweet." She kissed me on the cheek. I blushed from head to toe. "I’d like to say I’m upset, but I think I’m too flattered to be upset. Dave, if I didn’t love Jared…."

"But you do," I said with a sad smile. "And that’s OK. Look, I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve been fine. Going to bed with you would just make it all not fine again. I mooned over my best friend’s girlfriend for months. I’d rather be where I am now, come to terms with it and being your friend."

"OK," she said with a smile. "I understand. You know what? Someday—and I hope it’s soon—some girl’s going to figure out what you’re really all about. And that’s going to be one very lucky girl." She got up off the couch. "Jared’s waiting for me. I was going to give him a ‘high’ sign if we went through with it, so I’ll just go off with him."

"Don’t tell Jared, OK?"

"Don’t tell him what? That his best friend is noble and generous and a complete gentleman? Well, he probably already knows that—but I’m going to tell him anyway." And then she was gone.

Mom, who had been in the kitchen, came out. "What was that all about?"

"Amanda wanted me to go to bed with her."

"Why didn’t you?"

"Because she’s my best friend’s girlfriend and I’m just getting over the massive crush I’ve had on her for a while."

"Aah. You did the right thing, then."

"Yeah. It killed me to do it, but yeah," I managed with a bit of a laugh.

We ate, and I did some homework, then I got a phone call.

"David, I’m sorry." It was Frankie.

"Apology accepted," I said immediately.

"I should’ve given you the chance to explain."

"Yes, you should’ve, but no harm done."

"Good. She was really that bad?"

"Yeah, she was," I confirmed. "It was brutal, Frankie."

"Jesus. Do I have to feel sorry for that bitch now?"

"No," I laughed. "Just don’t hold it against me if I do, OK? I am supposed to be her partner."

"True. Fair enough."

--end of part two—