Frank is howling behind his gag. His body writhes, his struggles pointless. I want to save him, I want to untie him, but I know I’ll never manage it. He is as good as dead. I’ve watched Pa slaughter many a sheep, but never with this level of cruelty, this calculated dismembering – at least the sheep were humanely killed before they were butchered!
I can cope with blood, animal blood. I can cope with its strong, metallic smell, the heat that rises from a fresh carcass, I can even stare into a dying sheep’s eyes – but not a human’s, and especially not a dying man’s as he is being tortured to death. I’ve danced for Frank, more than danced, I know the man intimately, in a fashion – he’s seen me totally naked, and a little more. While my body is thawing out, my mind is going numb. I simply can
