"Some guard you are," Alex groused. "You can't even protect me from my sisters. What are you going to do if one of them tries to give me a wedgie?" Hey, I stopped doing that years ago," Becky laughed. "But yeah, those are fond memories," she added with a wistful grin."See?" Alex said, looking again at Gini."Hey, you weren't the only one she did that to, and I never did it to you," Melinda argued."No, you didn't, but you had your own methods of tormenting me," Alex responded, frowning at the memories."Don't worry, if they try it now you can always melt their minds," Gini told him with a playful pout, despite her personal delight at watching Alex try to fend off the combined forces of his two sisters. Despite bulking up to compete against men, she still appreciated the way Alex's sisters all stood up for themselves. They weren't always right, but they weren't afraid to let you know where they stood. And that was something Gini respected."So these bags are yours?" Alex asked halting his. I stepped back and looked down my body. My skin glowed. No wrinkles. No sag. It was young and tan and healthy. My middle-aged stomach was flat and I could actually see the edge of my hipbones. And then I looked down.“Fuck! Shit! God damn it!”Come and blood matted my pubic hair. I was terrified. I remembered looking at this sight twenty-five years ago. I was young again. I was seventeen. I knew this bathroom. It wasn’t a hotel. I was home. I remembered that hotel so long ago in the future. I remembered dying. I remembered my lifeless eyes still wide open staring at myself in the mirrored ceiling long after the lights were out. I’d died in the Hotel California.And here I was, the morning after, back in my family home in Fargo Fucking North Dakota staring at the evidence of last night’s post-prom debauchery. I’d just left this place three days ago, finally getting out of the misery of my forced marriage and leaving the house I’d lived in for forty-two years.This had to be hell. Condemned.
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