There's been spilled blood on the far end of town. In the cage on the ground on the far end of town. On the ground, underground, in the cage spills the girl, down the drain on the floor on the far end of town.
Waiting there are the boots of a man with a saw.
Gentle ebbs, lapping soles, parting paths around his toes.
In that hole underground, he forgave her her sins. For the parts that he kept. For the parts that he left. For the parts she would play in his plans yet to come.