And this image, live and direct and in gruesome detail, showed a man's body slide slowly downwards into the dark red reflective sheet of his own blood...that had splattered onto the steel shutters that covered the windows of Phil's house. It was fortunate that Phil had recently had them installed on the persuasive urging of the Ashton Lovelock Neighbourhood Watch.The image was truly grotesque. The man's head had exploded from the impact of the well-aimed rifle shots. A rich red puddle of blood. Somewhere from deep within myself a small, hesitant voice demanded that I accept what had happened, but not as a slave. Strangely, that low period of my life was the beginning of winning my freedom, from bondage, from Soru's plan for me, and most especially, from my own perceptions of what being a woman meant. I won't dwell on that week that passed as if was a month. I spent the time bowing and scraping to everyone in that hold. Soru took me whenever, and wherever, he pleased. With no. More

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