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‘Cut out my heart and put a stone in its place. I want vengeance.’ ‘Spoken like a Persian.’
and breathed in the pure night air. This is something new for Bella. This is a first for Bella. One small step for Bella, but a huge leap for womankind.
Timothy had once been, and was no more. Timothy was now a has-been. She held the mug up, as if in salute, and smiled at the cooker. Absent friends, and she toasted his recent and involuntary demise.
The point of cannibalism, its essential core, is not really to eat your enemy at all, but to languidly search for a shady spot, then squat down in the grass and excrete your enemy.
These are the rules. And they are not arbitrary rules. They are not random rules. They are rules grounded in what each fears most, the most devastating thing a man might suffer from a woman, or a woman from a man. He fears her ridicule. She fears his rage. She might laugh at him. He might kill her.
She pictured herself flinging open the door and running to the stairs. Running in her high heels across the empty top floor of an empty car park. The sound of her heels tip-tapping on the concrete. That useless, hopeless sound of high heels when they think they can get away. You must have heard that sound, that staccato, woman sound. Clicking past your window when midnight’s been and gone. Such a nervy, fragile, female sound.
