'Good gracious.' She overturns forward, onto him. Her face lands on his neck. She looks about her head. She's been struck, yet the aggravation has not contacted her. The blood presently can't seem to stream. She is dead. Is it true that she is dead?
'What have you done?' He is yelling at her, two hands at his gut, fastened around the handle of the blade. Jesus. She's—
'You've cut me.' His voice grates. 'You insane b***h. You've cut me… '
Gasping hard, she pushes against him, raises herself up. Feels her head once more, all over. It is dry. Where is the blood? Where is the sledge? Her eyes dart about. She turns. Where is the…
Brock is remaining at the entryway. His eyes are round, his mouth open in shock and repulsiveness.
'Mum!'
His eyes flick to the ground. She follows them with her
