I could still see in my mind the earlier glimpse of Aunt Martha's bloody lip and the dark bulging eye, and the blue-black smear on one of her arms. I ...tarted crying. I could not stop the tears from falling down my face, despite my attempts at remaining calm."Oh, honey," Martha Jane implored, "don't get scared and start crying, now." I'm not scared," I sniffled. "I know how Aunt Martha hurts. It makes me cry." You--" Her eyes looking into mine softened and seemed to turn to mush. "Oh, you sweet. I placed my left hand over her mouth to stifle the scream, and then reached across to grasp the end of the chain of clamps. Looking into her eyes, I yanked the chain back towards me. The sequential clacking of the wooden clamps coming off sounded like the dreaded zipper that all expected. Her torso jolted upwards in response to the pain, her scream muffled by my hand as I kept her head pinned to the table. Moans escaped the lips of most of the crowd watching. The sound of the zippering. More

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