That afternoon, Jean gave me two special training programs. One was stretching and the other was fighting stances.
George simply ignored us and went off to do his own thing, while Jean dragged me around the yard and abused me to her heart's content.
"You're an i***t, Steven!" like a little girl, she nagged at me repeatedly. I felt that she was really innocent, perhaps even more so than the eighteen-year-old Felicia, even though she was already in her early twenties.
Whenever Jean called me stupid, I lowered my head in shame. In the middle of the training, I tried to run away, but Jean kept me in check.
When night fell, I was barely alive. I was totally exhausted and every muscle in my body hurt like hell.
Jean finally let me go when George came back with bags of groceries. There were
