Chapter 5


I was flush against the wall: my lips squeezed against it; my hands twisted behind my back. His head was just beside mine; I could smell his breath, and his red hair tickled my ears. My eyebrows were bleeding, and some of the blood seeped into my eyes. I could hear him breathe: long, deep breaths, like a raging bull. And just to irritate him, I laughed again.

"Don't laugh at me,'" he said, menacingly. "Don't ever laugh at me."

"Why not," I asked, still laughing. My mouth was cut too, and I could taste my blood. I was feeling faint, and my head was reeling.

"Don't EVER laugh at me. EVER," he repeated. He hit the wall with his right hand; cracking the plaster, and sending shock waves through my head.

"But Bill," I said, still laughing, but this time, softer," It's so hilarious to hear you sing. Just like Porky pig, you know. You've got quite a talent there."

I was finding it difficult to speak, or even laugh. My mouth was fast filling with blood, and it hurt like hell. I knew that I would faint in a minute or two. Still, there was no reason Bill should know this. Taunting him was so much fun!

"Come on, Bill! Sing again. Just this once. Pleeeease," I implored. "Just once, Bill, don't disappoint me, just this once. Sing anything. Sing ... sing Clementine. I've never heard Porky Pig sing Clementine."

The next thing I knew, my ears were ringing. My face was numb, and I couldn't feel my mouth. Bill had slapped me, and was now twisting my arm. I felt a searing pain in my arm, as the tendons finally gave way, and snapped. And as I felt my bone dislocate, I blacked out.



When I awoke, it was early morning. I was in a the jail hospital, and I could hear the wind whistle through the trees outside the window. And there, beside me, sat Bill, singing Clementine.