The depths of her eyes were filled with pain and confusion, and I had to force myself not to look away."Yes, Kitten?" Why do I have new clothes?"I would have given a million dollars to not have had to answer, but that option was not open to me. I patted my leg. "Come here." When she was settled on my lap and I had her wrapped in my arms, I told the truth, leaving nothing out but the destruction of her bears.The case has been closed within twenty-four hours, and Helen and I had gone in and cleaned up anything that would cause the house to smell. We had wanted to do more, but Anne had insisted that we leave everything the way it was, as much as possible. Melody had a right to deal with everything, no matter how horrific; this was her life.The bears had been the one thing I had insisted on her not seeing. They had been decapitated and that was one picture Melody was not going to have in her memories the rest of her life. I had taken them to Paul's mother-in-law to repair. Her eyes, like. "There are holes all around it. Listen!" He did as he was told. It was a warm day and the flat was quiet. There wereno central heating noises to obscure any sounds. As his ears became accustomedto the silence there was a definite pulsating noise coming, apparently, fromthe bottom of the box and there was also something else. A regular sound. Not a hiss but surely something slightly sibilant. Regular and quite slow. In and out. Slightly mechanical as if aided somehow. Slow and deep. In and out. In and out. He looked at her in amazement. She simply stared back at him. Her pupils now big and round. It wasn't fearin her eyes he realised now, but something he had seen much more often andhad misinterpreted. For some reason he felt the need to whisper. "Can't be!" She touched his hand briefly and then moved back toward the box. "It is. It is! I've heard it too many times before!" He looked at her quizzically for a moment and then it dawned on him. Sensory deprivation. All the times she had.
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