11th August

The truth is she’s tired of men not treating her like the gift she believes she is. It’s a problem she wants to correct – starting now! She has dogs, a pair of Airedales raised from pups. Both are as neurotic as she; as vain as she, in my opinion. The dogs guard the only exit from this room.

Often her mind lays open like a drawer of lethal kitchen knives. She touches the blades one at a time. Her touch is that of a lover, lingering on cold steel. Who ever saw such grace? Such monstrous longing for blood? With such blades as these she could shrieve a soul from the pangs of hell.

‘I have something here,’ she says, smiling like one driven mad by desire. ‘Something I want to show you. Come look. You’ll never be the same again, I promise – ’