November 22, 2008
I worked myself into it all morning – the music catalysed everything. A swell of excitement and anticipation carried me straight into the exercise. Prowling around the crates cradling a hammer in my fist. I leapt straight into it, breaking through the wood; tearing the structure apart with my hands; hurling it against the wall. Smashing the sofa with a metal bar, the hammer, splintered wood, my fists and feet, anything. The music stopped and he was crying. Sweating, chest heaving, throat burning – flecked with blood and flesh from the chicken I tore apart – I tasted the adrenaline slowly draining away.