“With that, Quincy brought the bowie knife down on Moon's cuffed hand and chopped off four fingers which flew up before my eyes like chips from a log. Moon screamed and a rifle ball shattered the lantern in front of me and struck Quincy in the neck, causing hot blood to spurt on my face. My thought was: I am better out of this.”

“Dr. Warthrop chopped off my finger with a butcher knife.”

“Do you really like Quincy or are you just saying that?" I asked.Dylan held up his index finger and finished swallowing his toast. He looked alarmed by my question. "Quincy is fine. Why would I mind Quincy?""I don't know. I mean, don't you have a preference as to where we live?"Dylan shook his head. "Not really. As long as I'm living with you, I could care less. I'd live in a closet with you for Christ's sake.”

“He took one of my hands in his, and I brought the other to his face, wondering how his eyes could look like chipped ice and still warm me to my core.”

“I have a knife in my hand, slicing beef on the willowware plate, and I cut harder, faster, thinking it is your pink neck under my blade and I am cutting you into little pieces that I will bury in the meadow outside when there is no moon.”

“As I stepped out in front of the pavilion, my brother's house reared. I flung my arms up instinctively to protect my face as muddy snow flew everywhere. I was too scared to do anything else. I heard Maman's scream behind me.”