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I’d almost forgotten how gravelly Miranda’s voice was. It no longer hurt as badly, but the beautiful musicality of her voice was gone forever.“None o’ yer affair! This tart been teasin’ the help ever since she got here. Now she’s gonna pay.” Theresa squirmed and bit his hand. He reached across and slapped her face. That was all. I took two steps and leapt the counter. He pushed Theresa away and turned to swing at me. He hadn’t noticed I had a knife until I blocked his punch with it. One of his fingers fell to the floor with the impact as he drove the back of the blade into my forearm. He screamed and fell back holding his hand.“A man who hits a lady deserves to have no hands,” I said as I advanced on him with the knife.“I’ll kill you!” he yelled. But he was backing up and ran around the counter and out the door. At the last possible instant, Katie stuck out her foot and tripped him on the way out, slamming the door behind him and locking it as he sprawled on the dirty street. I. Slowly, methodically, like he always did. She barely realised the first couple of blows but then, the heat and the repeated blows started mounting, getting into her brain, rolling over her until she was only painful skin and nerves; expecting the next blow. Once, a long time ago, she had asked him, “Doesn’t your hand hurt you when you this? I mean, I get the blows, but you also get some pain, no?” And he had smiled at her and answered, “That’s why I have two hands.” She could tell now by the different angles that he changed hands. She covered her head with her hands and hoped that it would be over soon. When it was over, she didn’t dare to look up; she remained on her knees, expecting his next order. It didn’t come. She peaked up at him; half fearing that she had gone too far, that he was leaving. He was sitting in a chair, relaxed, looking calmly at her. She crawled over to him and began to lick his feet, symbolic for her position. She didn’t mind doing it anymore. Didn’t mind.
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