But, the language aspect was less interesting than the fact there were a hundred faces on a wall of flesh, singing. What the fuck what the fuck what t...e fuck. Was it their blood, in the tubes being fed into Elen’s veins? Had to be.There was someone kneeling at Elen’s feet. During all this, Elen wasn’t simply sitting there. She was leaning forward, with a scalpel in her hand, and she was making marks on a shirtless man’s back. A white guy, dark hair buzzed short, average height, with a lean. Liz had shed her soggy bottoms and found high dry ground by the foot of the bed. The edge to the memory was that she had actually done it twice. The second time was when we were about eleven and twelve. Again the four of us were crammed into two beds in one hired room. Though no mention of it was made by anyone in the morning, the most obviously startling observation was that she had done it deliberately. I was--true to form--wrapped up as the prize in the middle of most of the bedding. But it. More

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