The pain was highlighted too of course. So I felt it as fully as is probably humanly possible when she cut the first finger off with the bolt cutters....lackness. Next finger. A broken one. I was stabbed in the soul by each loss. My breathing was one long scream, just a hollow hiss due to strained vocal cords. Panic had become my norm. Agony. No God would help me with death.She picked up my fingers and tossed them into the drain. ?Maybe you can eat them when they rot soft enough, eh?? Her voice. I felt a deep ache inside myself, which I hadn't expected. When he went away to prison, I had felt the burning anger for a long time, and I guess I still had some of it inside, but he was still my Daddy. We made the long, quiet trip in Uncle Kenny's old pickup, and pulled into the jail's parking lot at dusk. I idly wondered if we'd have to come back in the morning, but Uncle Kenny just rapped on the door a few times, then waited until a nice young lady came and let us in. Uncle Kenny kept a. More

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