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“You could call it a sheltered upbringing, although the country was a bit wild. I didn’t think I was lonely because it was all I’d known. But you know, when all you have is four or five people, no TV or any of that, your thoughts revolve around these people.” I could imagine the simmering stew of adolescent emotions se was referring to. She was wearing a long floral cotton dress with a wide skirt, and she was playing with the hem as she spoke. She was quite slim, Dorothy, with greying dark hair and a sad, weary face. She must have been pretty once, but life had ground her down. “To cut a long story short,” she said, “At 18 I met a visiting priest, Kenneth, and we fell in love. Well, I fell in love and he had a vacancy for a wife-stroke-housekeeper. He was in his late 30s then, but that was okay for me. I wasn’t looking for excitement, I just wanted to be a woman. And women got married, so I did. We came back here to England and moved around a bit, never very far, and then he got. When they gave up too quickly, he got bored and then the rage took over.He took the blanket off of her and threw it in a corner to be disposed of. He took tiny samples of the filth that lay between her legs, ignoring the stench. The stench was part of the job, it was part of the experiment. The smells were just one more aspect of the 'science'."I have a treat for you today," he said as he dropped the bundle on his desk.A sigh of relief. The benefactor not the knife.She had learned quickly that he hated it when she begged and pleaded. It made him mad. The benefactor was what he called himself in the voices in the dark. He liked defiance. The more she fought him, the gentler he was."I don't want anything from you but to go home," her voice was hoarse and rough but she tried to sound tough.He chuckled, pleased. He stroked her hair, the side of her face and reached behind him for a knife.It was hard not to cringe away and show her fear but she managed. He played with the knife for a.
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