A drop of warm juice oozes out from the head, and smears itself across her hand. Some part of Carol's brain registers this, and her eyelids flutter fo... a moment, and then close again. The tempo of her hand's motions has increased, and if I keep this up, Peter should come in his mother's hand soon. But I have bigger things in mind for these two. Peter climbs on the bed, planting his knees on either side of his mother. He does this roughly, and this wakes Carol. Her eyelids open, register her. She howled like a woman being murdered and started flailing her arms about, spinning around the living room and tossing over a lamp and flipping over the coffee table. She howled and stomped around the room and hit at the walls and clawed at the floor. When she’d exhausted herself for the moment, she lay on the floor crying and then starting scheming. How, oh how could she turn this around, she asked herself. There must be a way. She searched for her purse to search for her other phone but it. More

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