But it is. He unstraps my right hand and grinds up each finger, passing the bones through a hole in the center, followed by the hand, all over the bow... as I watch in horror and scream. He bandages it and repeats for my left hand. Leaving my neck strapped in, he takes the bowl and walks out of the room, leaving the bones on the floor.I fight to try to unhook myself with my stumps, but it's no use. The straps are like belt buckles, and require fingers to open. A few minutes later, he comes back. I looked at them again, both had red puffy eyes, it was obvious they'd been crying. "Where's Scott?" I asked looking from one to the other. A feeling of panic rising.Mum held out her hand to me. "Come and sit down dear. We have something to tell you."My heart sank. This was not good. My joyful mood was gone. As mum led me to the table, it felt as though I was walking in slow motion, each step an effort. Paul bolted to his room and shut the door, but I could hear him sobbing. Then I. More

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