The Butcher's Daughter by Jane E. James

The Butcher's Daughter by Jane E. James

Author:Jane E. James [James, Jane E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books
Published: 2019-05-12T16:00:00+00:00


An hour later, I am gliding down the grand oak staircase. This is a first for me, since residents are not allowed in the listed parts of the house. Secretly, I always imagined being married from Thornhaugh; pictured myself coming down the steps in a swirl of ivory—my father in a blue suit and pink carnation waiting for me at the bottom. Today, I transverse it unhindered as there is nobody milling about in the reception hall below. No father to greet me. No photographer to take snapshots of my special day. No husband waiting in the wings. Better still, no Dr Moses to whisk me back to my room on the third floor, the one with the depressingly long grey window.

I know better than to try opening the huge Gothic entrance doors as they are always kept locked. I will have to find a different way out. When I hear the clunk of a sturdy pair of nurse’s shoes approaching, I duck through a fire door into a narrow unlit corridor which brings me out on the north side of the building, by the old kitchen, which is used as a storeroom. When the sound of the footsteps grows louder, I duck into the storeroom. It is dusty enough to make me want to sneeze, so I move towards the metal door that opens into an industrial-sized walk-in blast freezer. I have no choice but to hide in here for now. Sliding open the dead bolt locking handle, I step inside.

The lights flicker on automatically to reveal an all-grey metallic interior. Obviously, it is freezing cold inside and my breath instantly fogs up. Some things I expected to see, like white-ice forming over metal racking where packages and boxes of frozen vegetables are stored. I do not know what else I expected to see until I walk straight into it—

Racks of meat suspended from meat hooks.

The pale flesh, visible through its transparent packaging, is stamped “Slaughtered in Little Downey” but these cuts of meat resemble no animal!

Stumbling backwards, until my spine smacks into one of the metal walls, I feel as if someone has plunged me into an ice-cold bath, sucking all the breath out of me. Never taking my eyes off the grotesque joints of flesh that dangle like hanging victims in front of me, I cling to the metal racking, accidentally knocking off frozen packets of peas, which split from their seams and sprinkle on the floor, creating a ghoulish carpet of green at my feet.

Knowledge comes slowly. Hundreds of different thoughts rush through my mind. No matter how I try, I cannot deny the horror in front me. This cannot be real, I tell myself. Yet, God help me, I find myself walking towards one of the monstrosities, inexplicably drawn to it. There is something familiar about the shape of its carcass, the angle of its jaw.

Black eyes. The same as my own.

Could this be my mother? Have they already got to her, while I have



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