“He wants my knees to bend to the bells. I hope there's rhythm in Hell.”

“I weave the papers through the branches, in a long loop. Up and down, my knees bending. My arms above my head, like the girls I saw once in a painting in a cave. There is a rhythm to this, a keeping of time. I wonder if I'm dancing.”

“But the bending of my knees belongs to my lord”

“I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I want to be done, to be left unburdened and naked, to tear the hurt off my body like layers of clothes. At the end of the trail I stop and bend forward, hands on my knees, to catch my breath. I’m not healed, but for this moment, I’m better.”

“You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he said, cupping her face, nuzzling her mouth. "Now turn around and bend over. I need to ride you."Tate opened her eyes and let out a shaky laugh. "Bend over the table? After being on my feet the whole night? I don't think so, buddy. I want on my back, pronto.""And I want in you. Now," he said as he lifted her left leg, hooked his elbow under her knee, and entered her.”

“Some want to live within the soundOf church or chapel bell;I want to run a rescue shop,Within a yard of hell.”