Hunting Grounds

She was perfect, he thought. He followed her for two months, studied her, fantasized about this moment. She was going to sacrifice herself so he could become who he was meant to be. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart slamming in his chest and every breath his lungs sucked in. This was his moment.

He started to walk in her direction, Molly Hemsworth was her name. She was 17-years-old and a whore. She walked the streets on the south side of town looking for her next client. Little did she know, he was going to be her last client.

Molly saw the man watching her from the dark alcove. She thought he was either married or never talked to a prostitute before. He looked rather young, so it might be the latter. He finally crossed the street and headed in her direction.

Molly was excited at first, he was rather handsome, with sandy blond hair and light brown eyes. He was young, well younger than most of her clients. Lately she had serviced men in their 40s and 50s. Old men who paid well, but were really boring or weird. The older men would want to do things they couldn’t do with their wives, like hit her really hard, or bite, or choke her. She was there to fulfill their fantasies, or at least that is what her “brother” said.

The man approached her and asked what her fee was.

“For you, sugar,” Molly smiled prettily at him and batted her brown eyes, “$250.”

He smiled and pulled out the cash. She took the money and led him to her room at the motel. The gang ran it and all the girls worked out of it. She walked into the room and turned around to see him shut the door. For the first time, Molly felt uneasy. There was something in the man’s eyes that didn’t bode well. He moved steadily towards her.

“I am afraid this is my first time,” he said as he backed her up to the wall. He smiled as her eyes widened. “I know, surprising right?”

Molly didn’t say anything, the man didn’t give her a chance, he grabbed her wrist and threw her on the bed.

“Hey,” she said as he tore open her shirt and ripped her pants, “you are going to pay for that.”

He didn’t answer her but just flipped her onto her stomach and plunged into her. Molly screamed as he pushed his penis further into her.

“I am not ready,” she sobbed. “This isn’t how you do this. This hurts.”

He pulled her up against him and placed his hand around her throat, “I am all about pain.” He said as he started to squeeze. He pulled her hands back with his other arm and kept the brutal assault going.

“Stop,” Molly said as she fought back tears and tried to sound calm. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I will give you your money back.”

He responded by picking up the pace and fucking her harder. He noticed his shaft was covered slightly with blood. Molly’s blood. She tried to pull away and get out of the room. Her torn clothes didn’t matter anymore. She had never been treated this brutally since her induction into the gang three years ago. And the “brothers” promised that she would never have to endure that kind of treatment again. They were there to protect her, they assured her. They weren’t in here right now and she couldn’t even scream to get their attention.

She had to stay focused if she wanted to get out of this situation. She had to calm down this man’s lust.

He could tell she was trying to reason her way out of the doom he had planned for her, and he knew it was too late. It was too late when he locked the door. He fed off the fear she was starting to feel. He thought she was brave by trying to think her way out of it, and admired her for it actually. She wasn’t one who was going to accept her fate and die easily. That is what made her perfect for him. She was going to make it interesting and fight back.

He started to squeeze her throat and felt her panic against him as she realized she couldn’t get any air. He felt her arms fling around, but he had them in his vice grip. She started to move forward to get away from him, but he was stronger than her and held her to him as he continued the onslaught. She increased the effort trying to kick him from behind her and finally broke free as she used his weight against him.

She hit the bed and was about to leap up and run out the door, but he was faster. He caught her, threw her back on the bed and climbed on top of her. He placed both hands around her throat and squeezed. Molly couldn’t breathe, she started to thrash around but that only intensified his strength. She felt her vision closing in and her world growing dark.

Ten minutes later she came too. Molly’s head was pounding and her body was bruised. Her arms and legs felt heavy and she couldn’t really move. He was standing over her and smiled evilly when he noticed she was awake.

“Ready for round two?”

Molly shook her head, “No. Leave me alone, you got what you wanted.”

“Oh, no I haven’t,” he let his hand gently caress her breasts. “I really haven’t” He squeezed her breasts harder and drew a gasp out of her.

“You are hurting me,” she said.

“I don’t think you have realized that is the point,” his fingers dug into her flesh and his nails started to cut into her skin.

Molly cried out and found the energy to move out of his reach, “you are not going to hurt me anymore.”

She jumped off the bed and ran for the door a second time, the man laughed, letting her get almost to the door before he calmly crossed the room to stop her.

Molly got to the door and opened it, but he was already there to shut the door before she could get out. He grabbed her by her long brown hair and forced her back to the bed. She started to call out for help but he silenced her by hitting her across the face. The hit stung her and cut off the scream. Molly started to hit him, but she was no match for his strength. She had to change tactics or he was going to kill her.

She raked her nails across his skin and kicked his shin, all in an effort to make him stop. The kick wasn’t hard and the scratches didn’t have much effect on him.

“All right, are you finished?” he asked. “Now, it is my turn.”

Molly started to back away from him, but he advanced. His fist connected with her torso and she felt her ribs crack, he threw another punch across her face that threw her head back. She tasted blood in her mouth. He rained several blows onto her body and she lost the strength to fight back.

He climbed back on top of her, invaded her body again and savagely thrust into her, drawing more blood and screams. He listened to her scream and relished the fear and pain he was inflicting on her body and her mind. She was broken, mind, body and spirit.

He waited until she stopped screaming, placed his hands around her throat for the second time and throttled her. He held her there for five minutes, watching her struggle to breathe, watching her fight for her life, then watching the light leave her eyes as her pulse stopped. Her face grew pale, her skin was clammy and her lips turned blue. She was dead. He finally spilled himself into her. It was glorious.

He started to clean the room up. There was very little blood, except on the sheets, but the maids will handle that. None of it was his and likely they won’t do anything like call the police if they saw it. He picked up her underwear, the one piece of clothing he didn’t rip to shreds, and used it to wipe up the semen he spilled inside her. He also wanted to capture some of her fluids, her blood and discharge. He wanted to record her scent on the panties.

He put on a cap and hoodie to cover his face and hair, wrapped her body up in a blanket and carried her out of the motel room. There wasn’t much traffic in the area at this time of night. The other girls were servicing their johns and the men were in another area waiting for their girls to come back with their cut of the night's profits. None of them had any idea that Molly wasn’t going to make it to the check-in point when the sun came up that morning.

He placed her body into his car and drove to the spot he picked out. He carried her body to a pre dug grave, dropped it in and started to cover the body with dirt. He was sated for the first time ever.

“Thank you, Molly,” he said to the freshly covered body. “You have done so much, taught me so much about myself. I will never forget you, but others won’t remember you.”

Two days later, after a heavy rain, two boys were passing by the empty lot and saw a foot sticking out of the dirt. They looked at the foot, not quite understanding what they were seeing. They called the police who deployed the crime scene unit.

The town’s homicide detective, Lloyd Feldman, looked at the newly uncovered body; she was young, not even out of high school. Someone was rough with her. Her jawline was bruised as was the rest of her body. She was strangled judging by the marks on her throat. This person was close, personal, the killer watched it happen. Her clothes were torn, her bra was hanging down her arms, her shirt was in ribbons and the crotch of her shorts were split.

This monster was savage and needed to be brought to justice. Lloyd didn’t know what he was dealing with, was this a one-off or was this a pattern? He knew she didn’t die here, this was just where her body was dumped.

The technicians collected the evidence from this scene and the medical examiner took possession of the body and transported it to the morgue. Lloyd had to identify the girl and find the actual crime scene fast. If the girl was who he thought she was, he didn’t have much time to collect evidence.

The girl’s fingerprints came back as Molly Hemsworth, she was a member of the local gang and was arrested for prostitution and drug trafficking several times. She wasn’t exactly a stranger to the criminal justice system.

A few days later, he was sitting in front of a gang member, one of the leaders, or “brothers” as they called them. Brothers indeed, Lloyd thought.

“I just want to know if anyone knows who her last client was,” Lloyd said. “You are not in trouble, you are not a suspect and we just want information.”

“Man,” the thug said. “I don’t have to tell you anything. Me and the boys will handle Molly.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Man,” the thug went on, “that bitch jumped. She took all our money and jumped. We are going to find her and make her pay.” He slammed his fist into the palm of his hand.

“So, you think she ran off?” Lloyd looked at the thug and pulled out a folder with the girl’s picture in it. “You think she is out there with your money and now you are looking for her?”

“Yeah, and we don’t need your help.”

Lloyd opened the file up and showed the thug the picture of Molly’s bruised body, “See, we already found her. Now, we want to find the bastard who did this to her.”

The thug looked at the picture of Molly, he barely recognized her. Her face was swollen, nose was broken, he noticed dark bruising along her chest and was glad the photo didn’t go down further. He didn’t want to see her legs or what the monster did in between her legs.

The thug didn’t say anything, just looked at the pictures in horror. He knew Molly.

“Man,” the thug started to clutch his stomach, “I need to go.” He jumped up and left the room to head to the bathroom.

Lloyd had a pretty good idea of what the thug was doing in the bathroom.

“Was he any help,” asked another officer.

“No,” Lloyd shook his head and placed the picture back into the folder which contained other more graphic photos of what the girl went through at the hands of a john. “Typical gang-banger. They act all tough and badass, but when they see real evil, when they look into the face of a real monster, they pee their pants.”

The officer didn’t disagree. He handed Lloyd another file, “the medical examiner’s report. She was strangled, big surprise there. She was also raped, or at least the sex was rough. We can’t be sure because she was a prostitute. There was a lot of blood in her vagina with very little discharge.”

Lloyd clenched his fist, it didn’t matter that she was a prostitute, this was someone’s daughter. She had a future. Who knows what she could have been if someone had intervened in her life.

“They are releasing her body for burial tomorrow,” the officer informed Lloyd.

Lloyd nodded. He was going to be there when they lowered her body into the ground at the graveyard.

The next day, Lloyd stood at the grave and watched the diggers lower the plain casket into the ground. The sky was gray and a fine mist was falling onto the casket and into the grave.

“I promise, Molly,” Lloyd said to the grave, “I will find the man responsible for putting you here.”

Lloyd Feldman took a drink from a flask as he looked at yet another young Hispanic man who was killed by gang violence. The Lobos, as they call themselves, are a drug and sex trafficking gang in Cortez, Texas. They were not a violent gang, but sometimes there were new gangs that tried to take over some of the territory.

This was one of those times and now Lloyd had to enter their world. He really wished the police chief would do something more about the gangs coming from San Antonio, about 30 miles east of Cortez. The district attorney had decided not to over-prosecute prostitution, presumably because he frequented the motel that served as a brothel. It was rumored that the district attorney liked young girls, around 14 and 15 years old, and the gang provided the girls for the district attorney and he provided some leeway in prosecuting drug traffic. Everyone knew this, including those who voted for him. The deal was, however, the gang kept the violence down and kept its activities out of the sight of the more affluent community members. The gang also provides entertainment to the more affluent members by way of drugs and prostitution.

“Shorty,” Lloyd called out to one of the gang “brothers”. “I thought you were going to handle this without killing anybody.”

Shorty, one of the gang members who was elected to talk to the mayor, the police and any other community members who could affect the Lobos’ activities, looked at Lloyd and shrugged. He was highly intelligent, articulate and joined the Lobos when he was 12 years old. The top leader noticed that he had a better vocabulary than most of the older members and decided that Shorty would go to school, get an education and use it to protect the members. Shorty convinced the gang members to be courteous while in public, wear clothes that fit and keep the tattoos to a minimum. In fact, most members didn’t have many tattoos and none of them had face or neck tattoos.

“I don’t know who did this yet,” Shorty told Lloyd. “I am asking all my guys, and no one knows anything.”

“I have to find the man responsible for putting two bullets in this guy’s head, Shorty,” Lloyd pointed to the chalk outline. “The deal is you keep things like this to a bare minimum and we overlook some of the more petty crimes.”

Shorty nodded. He knew what the agreement was, he came up with it when he was 15. Now at 17, he had a lot of responsibility as a police informant. He was given immunity from the gang when he explained that they needed to keep the communication between themselves and the community or the community would think the gang is a threat and will act accordingly. It was a matter of survival. The gang agreed and gave him the ability to make decisions about how to hold the gang accountable to law enforcement and the community. This also protects some of the gang members, some of the girls from being abused.

“I am working on getting some information together, Lieutenant Feldman,” Shorty said. “Don’t worry, we don’t want this to continue any more than you do.”

Lloyd just nodded. He knew Shorty would come up with someone, but he wanted the man responsible, not the gang’s fall guy. He walked to his car, started the engine and drove to the police station in the center of Cortez. He parked his car a couple of blocks from the station so he could walk and clear his head.

Lloyd was a divorced 57-year-old detective with twin daughters. His wife divorced him ten years ago, after his 16-year-old girls saw the files of his oldest cold case strewn about the table. They saw what that monster did to a girl only a year older than them, and it shattered their innocence. His wife claimed their childhood had ended that night and he failed to protect them.

Lloyd told his wife that his children were old enough to understand there is evil in the world. He couldn’t protect them from the fact that monsters walk the earth. He could only make them more unlikely targets.

She packed his clothes that night and told him to leave, then two days later, he got the divorce papers. Six months after the divorce was final, his wife remarried and moved the new husband into the house she used to share with Lloyd.

Lloyd never remarried, he devoted all his time to working his cases and keeping his promise to Molly Hemsworth. He continued to think as he walked towards the office. His daughter, Savannah, told him last night that she is getting married and her mother wanted her stepfather to walk her down the aisle. He met the young man marrying his daughter, he was a good man, respectable and promised to take care of Savannah. Lloyd sighed. Really, what guarantee does he have that Savannah is not marrying some monster? Lloyd made Savannah and Samantha promise him that they will be open about the men they were seeing and he made sure he repaired his relationship with both his daughters after the divorce was finalized.

Lloyd was still deep in thought when he walked right in front of a bicycle. The rider stopped before she hit him.

“Veronica Conway,” Lloyd recognized the 16-year-old girl. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Lieutenant Feldman, I could have killed you,” Veronica’s left foot was bearing most of her weight. She was trying to catch her breath and looked back to see if her friend was still following her.

“I doubt it,” Lloyd laughed. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the collision, but you won’t hurt me that badly.” He looked behind her to see who she was looking for. He expected her younger brother Curtis, as they are rarely apart, but he saw a pretty brunette girl just Veronica’s age.

“Hello, Casey,” Lloyd said. “It is good to see you are staying out of trouble.”

Casey Hammond was a member of the Lobos gang since she was 15 and had several conversations with the police in the past for prostitution and drug trafficking.

“Hello, Lieutenant Feldman,” Casey greeted him from behind Veronica. “How are you?”

“Just fine,” Lloyd answered. “Now that I have you here, you wouldn’t know anything about a shooting that took place early this morning would you?”

“I heard about it,” Casey admitted. There was no point in lying to Feldman, he had the reputation of finding out what she knew anyway. “There was talk about what happened and it being a rival gang who shot their own member, but as to who pulled the trigger, that I don’t know.”

“You sure it wasn’t a member of your gang who pulled the trigger?” Lloyd looked at her.

“Lieutenant, you are asking me,” Casey pointed out. “So, you think it was one of us and not the rival.”

Something across the street had gotten Casey’s attention and she looked back at Lloyd, “I have to go, I see one of the “brothers” waving me over. Talk to you later, Lieutenant. Bye, Veronica. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Casey,” Veronica said. “Yeah, we will go shopping.”

“Ah, shopping, I remember when my girls did that when they were 16,” Lloyd reminisced.

“Did you go with them?” Veronica asked. She couldn’t picture the lieutenant shopping for frilly dresses and other girly things.

“I usually got the bills,” Lloyd laughed. “I remember helping them pick out their Sweet 16 frocks and then their wedding dresses. Savannah is getting married this fall and Samantha will be married next February.”

“My parents have the invitation to Savannah’s wedding,” Veronica said. “They are looking forward to it.”

“Ah, yes, well your father is friends with Mark Phelps, my daughter’s stepfather,” Lloyd said. “I guess he did introduce the girls to good potential partners.”

“His one redeeming quality,” Veronica said dryly. “I know a few things about Phelps that will make you pity Mrs. Phelps.” Veronica then realized what she had just said, “Oh, my god, I am so sorry. I keep forgetting that Sylvia is your ex-wife. Forget I said anything.”

“He is good to the girls, right?” Lloyd asked.

“Yes,” Veronica said. She dismounted the bike and started to walk with the lieutenant towards the police station. “He is good to them, of course he has an incentive. Their father won’t put up with much.”

Lloyd laughed and agreed with her, “So, what makes you feel sorry for Mrs. Phelps?”

“He frequents the brothel on the south side of town,” Veronica said. “I knew the minute my father introduced him to Curtis and me. He really has no reason to go there as there are few people who have the kind of money for his hedge fund. He was going later that night.”

A thought occurred to Lloyd, “Veronica, have you seen anything dealing with the shooting of that gang member?”

The way he said “seen” made Veronica look at him. She knew Lieutenant Feldman knew about her “gift”, but generally the police don’t ask her to help with any cases.

“I haven’t seen anything, Lieutenant,” Veronica said. “I will let you know if I can help. I know you need answers to this case soon.”

“I don’t like open murder cases,” Lloyd admitted.

“Yes,” Veronica said before she got back on the bike, “the oldest one is the hardest to solve.”

Veronica left him gaping at her. She got back on her bike, crossed the street and started to head to the Cortez Women's Shelter where her mother volunteered every afternoon. Veronica started volunteering herself this summer, but her mother gave her the day off.

“You need to be a child,” Judith Conway said as she packed up more non-perishable foods for the shelter. “I understand that you are growing up, but these days won’t last long.”

“But Mother,” Veronica handed her another box of sugar. “The volunteer work will look good on my application.”

“I know it will,” Judith put the boxes near the door. “Curtis Howard Conway,” she called to her son who was upstairs, in his room, or so she thought. “Come down here and help me pack up this food into the car.”

Five seconds later, Curtis came from the gym that was closer to the kitchen.

“Oh, Curtis,” Judith was surprised to see her 14-year-old son down the stairs so fast. “I thought you were in your room playing video games.”

“Not this time,” he said as he grabbed the heaviest of the boxes and carried it to the car. He came back in and grabbed another box, “I have a sparring match this weekend and I was in the gym practicing.”

“Are you ready to get your ass kicked in the final round?” Veronica asked as she picked up one of the boxes.

“You think you are going to make it to the final round?” Curtis asked.

Veronica put the box in the car and looked at Curtis, “I make every final round. I am undefeated this season. I will remain undefeated after this weekend.”

Judith just let the kids taunt each other. They were two years apart, they have been fencing since they were both nine and they are in the same division. Luckily, her youngest daughter, 12-year-old Maddison, wasn’t in the same division, yet. She will be next year however.

“Veronica,” Judith tried to get her daughter’s attention. “I think 20 hours a week will be enough volunteering to impress any college.”

“We have a goal,” Veronica said.

“I know we have a goal,” Judith said as she grabbed her purse and keys. “We are all going to help you meet your goal. Your father, me, Curtis…”

Curtis gave her the thumbs up sign which made Veronica laugh. She knew her family was behind her.

“So, how is your new friend,” Judith asked. “The one you met at the shelter.”

“Casey is good, Mom,” Veronica said. “We are going to hang out later. I mean I will need someone to hang out with all summer if you don’t want me at the shelter.”

“I understand that, dear. I just wish you could find someone who was more,” Judith started to search for the right word.

“Connected,” Curtis supplied.

“I was thinking of a different word,” Judith said. “Casey is a member of the Lobos gang.”

“I know, Mom, but we don’t hang out with them,” Veronica said. “We do things that are not gang-related.”

Judith just shook her head, “I don’t want you to get into trouble and I definitely don’t want you to get inducted by that gang.”

Veronica met Casey at the women’s shelter, Casey came into the shelter with one of her friends who needed to get out of a tough situation. Casey promised to stay the night with her and ended up staying for 10 days. Veronica and Casey ended up talking about school, which Casey still attended, and became fast friends. Casey wanted to find a way to get away from the gang, but that would mean she would have to go through the process of getting out of the gang which is a lot harder than getting in.

Casey didn’t want to talk about the gang, how she got in or what she did for them. She just wanted to have fun, she wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t going to ask her how much she sold, how many other girls she could recruit or how many men she could service at night.

Casey walked along with her “brother” and saw Shorty gesturing to her. She rolled her eyes and walked over to the table he was seated at.

“Hey, Shorty,” Casey said with feigned friendliness. She didn’t want to talk to the “brother” right now. “What’s going on?”

“I heard you were talking to Lieutenant Feldman,” Shorty started. He took a sip of a steaming beverage in a mug. He was wearing his typical button down shirt and black slacks. He didn’t dress in jeans or baggy pants. Neither did any of the boys he recruited.

“We ran into him, quite literally,” Casey said. “My friend nearly ran him over because he wasn’t paying attention when he crossed the street.”

“He is investigating the death of that rival gang member,” Shorty said.

“He didn’t ask us about that,” Casey couldn’t lie to Feldman, but she had no problem lying to Shorty. What he didn’t know won’t hurt him and it won’t hurt her either.

“I will handle Feldman,” Shorty said, picking up the mug again. “He will have his man. Now, about this friend: is she anyone you are actively recruiting?”

Shorty started to take a sip out of his cup.

“Veronica Conway?” Casey asked.

Shorty almost choked on the warm drink, “Veronica Conway? Please tell me that you are not thinking of recruiting her.”

Casey shook her head, “We are just hanging out. We are going shopping tomorrow.”

Shorty looked at Casey, she was a very pretty girl and he wanted to talk to the leader of the gang about giving the girl to him. “Casey, come sit with me.”

Casey walked over to the chair next to Shorty’s and made a move to sit down.

“No,” Shorty smiled thinly. “Sit here,” he patted his lap. He wanted to hold her, play with her hair, caress her.

Casey sighed and sat down on his lap. She tried to show very little emotion, she didn’t want to be pawed. Shorty moved her to sit across his lap. He didn’t want her to straddle him.

“You are very beautiful,” Shorty said. “I don’t want to use you and I don’t want to see you get used. You deserve to be taken care of.”

“The gang takes very good care of me,” Casey said. She didn’t really know what game Shorty was playing. He was a powerful member of the leadership. He wasn’t second in command, but he had just as much freedom and responsibility.

“Yes,” Shorty rolled his eyes. “Well, since you are going shopping with Veronica Conway tomorrow, I will make sure you have an allowance.”

“I have my own money,” Casey said. “I have to get to work.” She made the move to get up, but Shorty held her tightly.

“I have another request,” Shorty started playing with her hair and moved his hand to caress her bare leg. “I want you to become very good friends with Veronica Conway. Not to pressure her to join, but just be good friends. She can open many doors for us in the future.”

“For the gang,” Casey started to become more uneasy. Shorty was different from most of the gang members. He was the consummate politician.

“No,” Shorty said. “Not for the gang. For you and me. We are different. We are allowed to continue with our education. We are allowed to move in between the gang world and the world of power. You found your way there; I made my way there. Together we can build our own lives.”

Shorty’s words were more seductive than any touch Casey had felt. She needed to get away from the hypnosis and think.

Shorty looked into her brown eyes. She was so beautiful. No one needed to know what their past was. They weren’t marked up like some of the other members. Shorty said the tattoos would make them more identifiable and marking the girl’s skin would make them less attractive. Casey’s skin was smooth, unblemished and felt good against him. Shorty wasn’t going to force her, but he wasn’t going to let her go right away either.

“I don’t understand,” Casey said.

“I know,” Shorty said. “You will understand soon.”

Shorty couldn’t resist, he brought her face closer to his and kissed her gently. His hand moved between her legs to brush the inside of her thigh. He wasn’t going to force her, he wanted Casey to come to him willingly.

Casey let him kiss her and fondle her. It was the agreement she made for the gang’s protection, to satisfy them, but she didn’t have to submit her will to him. She was just going to be passive.

Shorty knew what she was about and had the patience to get a reaction out of her. He just needed time and he had the influence to ask the leader, Coyot, if Shorty could claim Casey. For a “short” time. Coyot owed Shorty a favor and this was a simple way to pay him back.

“Have fun tomorrow,” Shorty said. “I will make sure you get that allowance.”

“What do I have to do to pay for the allowance?” Shorty wasn’t fooling Casey.

“Let’s think of it as evidence that I can be generous,” Shorty said as he lifted her off his lap and patted her rounded bottom.

Casey walked away from the table and went to the room she shared with several other girls. They all slept in the room, but no one was really close; they all had agendas. Most of the girls wanted to become the gang leader’s woman for a time. That would mean they would be set up for life. Even if that life meant that they had to serve all the “brothers”. Casey didn’t want to service the “brothers”. She went through the initiation process and that was the last time she wanted to be touched by a “brother”. Shorty wasn’t part of her initiation. He didn’t even watch, as she recalled.