Speaking in Bones

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“No! Not now! Don’t let it happen now!

“My hands are going all cold and tingly. I shouldn’t be talking about him. I shouldn’t have said he was horrid.

“Yes. They’re coming.

“Why is this happening to me? What did I do? I’ve always tried to be good. Tried to do what Mama said. Don’t let them kill me! Mama, please don’t let them kill me!

“My mind is going all fuzzy. I have to stop talking.”

Silence, then the click-creak of a door opening. Closing.

Footsteps, unhurried, firm on the floor.

“Take your place.”

“No!”

“Don’t resist me.”

“Leave me alone!”

The cadence of frantic breathing.

The thunk of a blow.

“Please don’t kill me.”

“Do as I say.”

Sobbing.

Sound as if dragging.

Moaning. Rhythmic.

“Are you in my hands?”

“Filthy bitch!” Louder, deeper.

A soft rasp.

The tic of metal snapping into place.

“You will die, slut!”

“Will you answer me now?”

“Whore!”

The drumming of agitated fingers. Scratching.

“Give me what I need!”

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