Tanned feet encased in pitch black sandals walk down the sidewalk. Somewhere, attached to those feet is the rest of the body and although a head is attached to her shoulders, the young lady's troubled mind is somewhere far off in the distance. She is envisioning the image of a beautiful human being, her boyfriend. In her mind's image of past memory, the girl wearing the pitch black sandals remembers, the warmth of this magnificent male body as it pressed against hers. She remembers the beautiful aroma that emanated from him while he buried his harmonious body, over and over again, inside her. She remembers the glistening drops of sweat that covered his chest and forehead. She remembers again and again, that wonderful sensation of belonging and love. She keeps remembering all these things as her legs take her closer to the house in which she lives.
Before she turned the knob to open hell's gates, she remembers feeling at home, a feeling that she would never get inside her house. Inside of hell's gates, in her house, she found the devil himself, watching a very loud and obnoxious rerun of a football game. She paid as much attention to him as she would to a squirrel, noticing it but not acknowledging its presence. As she walks up the steps in her pitch black sandals, she, once again, remembers, the soft blond hair between her fingers and his bruised lips on hers. She sits on her bed and smiles as she cries tears of pain, regret and joy. She takes off her pitch black sandals and cries herself to sleep, as she waits for dawn to arise, and her father to use her sweet, mysterious body for his own pleasure and custom.