The boy bolted out of the room, pulling his trousers up behind him, mooning the pastor, as he fled. Cheryl lay on the bed, dress pulled up, crying softly. The policeman and the pastor didn't bother to cover the crying girl up. "She's not acting right, probably doped up," said the policeman.
"I don't know what's wrong with that girl there," agreed the pastor.
From downstairs, her mother's voice: "What's going on here?"
She races up the stairs, pulls the blankets over her daughter, faces her husband and brother.
"Git out of here before I kill you both," screams the pastor's wife.
"I don't know what's wrong with that girl there," agreed the pastor.
From downstairs, her mother's voice: "What's going on here?"
She races up the stairs, pulls the blankets over her daughter, faces her husband and brother.
"Git out of here before I kill you both," screams the pastor's wife.
