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And carried daggers. And had tattoos on our asses. We got so used to this here, it’s become so normal here this month, that it didn’t occur to us briefly that the rest of the world would freak out so entirely at seeing three armed nudists wander the streets like that. Well, they absolutely did. Security tried to expel us. Good luck with that.“Before anyone knew what was up or down, that security guy, who got very rough when he saw that we were armed ... he was dead on the floor, his jugular vein cut in public, in broad daylight. It wasn’t even me ... or Jonathan. It was Jenna. She had cat-like reflexes for a second and severed his vein just like that. His life blood splattered all over us. Three more men tried to rush us, but they all ended up fleeing in terror, wounded, but not slain in their cases.“Jonathan in particular cut one of them so badly that he could well die after this. I wouldn’t be shocked if he did. Jonathan nicked his femoral artery, in fact. That was another source. Her wrists and ankles were bound, and her hair was a tangled mess with no brush to be located. Ella felt swollen with loneliness. You’re dreadfully disgusting, you know. That’s why you’re so undesirable. Undesirable. That’s what you told him, right? When you were locked up in that hospital? Pity you couldn’t get those cuts deep enough. Mama would probably comment on that fault as well. His voice, no matter how consonant the intonation, was always scornful. He was the one she couldn’t escape. No matter how many times she fled for the care of another, no matter how many shoulders she cried on, or how many friends claimed her, she returned. She returned because he was more abusive than any physical pain, and subconsciously, she liked this. He sat on the edge of a splintered table, while the dim lights flickered overhead. His arrogant eyes were aimed low as he used the box-cutter to clean perfect fingernails. His image was a deity, to Ella. All the prettiness, the smooth skin, the flux.
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