And the Girl Screamed
The willowy blonde, in a fluffy white skirt, stood over him. She was smoking a cigarette through the black mask that covered her face.
“Hello, honey,” she said softly. “Do you like me?”
She knelt on one knee. Her hand caressed his cheek, the other hand holding the cigarette.
As the blonde kissed him on the mouth she ground her cigarette into his flesh. He yelled, but she kept up the kissing and the burning.
“Atta girl! Give it to him again!” one of the boys shouted. “Next?”
They were teen-agers—kids. But they were capable of anything. And one of them had been capable of murder!