Too preoccupied with raping a corpse were they. I wanted to scream, but that would get me no where. The men were shouting up a storm, cheering their lecherous friend on. I could have thrown up on them all, the scum. Reaching out to the man closest to me, I pulled his dagger out of his belt. He did not even notice me removing it. And then I pushed my way forward. Slipping the dagger in my sleeve, none could see it. They were all amused as I pushed my way to the front. Amused I could walk maybe, or amused that I wanted to see such a sacrilegious event. When I stood over the man heaving above her, I kicked him soundly in the head. He rolled off of Tilda clutching at his skull. There was a bloody imprint of my boot on the side of his skull. I smiled in self satisfaction. He stood quickly and yelped. ‘The witch as tried to fell me!’ All of the soldiers backed away from me. I felt it more than I saw it. They thought me to do black magic right there in front of them. Black magic, no.. And now I played in a small string quartet to supplement my income. It was as much a part of me as my face. To see it lying there, neck broken, sound board cracked and bridge destroyed, hurt me far more than I ever could have imagined. I scrubbed at my eyes, opened the case again, and lifted my instrument awkwardly out, trying not to lose any parts or do any more damage. I laid it in front of me, and just looked at it, gulping. You can repair an instrument, but it never sounds the same. Something changes, a violin’s soul dies when you break it and the new one is always different. My first teacher told me that the time I dropped my case. So I’d always cared for my violin. Always kept it safe. And now some cunt had destroyed the best part of me without even a backward glance… ‘Hey. I’m sorry to intrude… but are you OK?’ I scrubbed at my face with my sleeve, angry at being caught in a moment of weakness. ‘No. No, I’m about as far from OK as it’s possible to be.’ I looked up, then away,.
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