Thirty-SixHe appeared as if he were a frightened child, lost, unable to find his parents. Abandoned. All of his dreams and ambitions were now as dust and he sat, mouth open, saliva drooling from the corner, incomprehensive written in every line of his haggard, drawn face as he turned to face the woman standing in the doorway. “But … I saw you. I saw you blown to pieces.”
For one fleeting moment, the urge to reach over and grip his arm, assure him he wasn't going mad, that actually things had all turned out for the best. The moment came, and it went. I remembered how they treated me, back in that old house, how they punched me, abused and used me. And Yolanda. How she was almost killed. How she was most probably never going to be able to walk properly again. It was all down to Stoker and h
