Carefully and precisely, George began to dismember her. He drew the knife across her throat, slitting the paper. Then he began to tear at her breasts and vagina. All the time she watched him. Smiling at him. Encouraging him. He could feel his erection building, could feel the cold sweat under his arms and across his back. He began to hack at the magazine, pushing the knife into the paper. He heard the rush in his ears as if he was swimming underwater and then the graceful, almost euphoric waves of the orgasm as it reached its crescendo.

George lay back in the comfortable old chair, his breathing coming in small gasps, his heartbeat gradually returning to normal. He closed his eyes and gradually the sounds and sights of the day came back to him.

He could hear his neighbour’s strimmer outside his shed. Could hear the children next door playing in their paddling pool. Their high-pitched baby laughter drifted into his consciousness. A bead of salty sweat dripped into his eyes and he blinked it away. He shook his head slowly and looked down at his lap. That was when he saw the blood.

He blinked rapidly for a few seconds. The girl was covered in blood. The body that he had slashed to pieces was slowly being stained crimson. George stared.

He pushed the magazine from him, every nerve in his body vibrating with shock.

He had cut himself! He stared down at the gash on his thigh. It was pumping blood everywhere. He jumped from his seat in a panic. The knife had slit his jeans and pierced his own flesh!

He must tell Elaine. Get her to take him to the hospital. He went to the shed door in a blind panic.

Then he remembered the books.

Holding the injured leg with one hand, he gathered the magazines from the floor. He thrust them into the child’s desk with the others. Bundling the jumpers on top, he shut the lid. He could feel the blood running down his leg.

He picked up the pile of gardening magazines and threw them on top of the desk. Blood was everywhere now.

Pulling the bolt from across the top of the shed door he burst out into the sunlight. The sound of splashing and shrieking coming over the larch lap fence assaulted his ears. George ran up the path to the back door and thrust it open.

Elaine was preparing the vegetables for dinner. She turned towards him in dismay. He stood before her, covered in blood.

‘I - I’ve cut myself, Elaine.’ He was nearly crying.

‘Oh my God, George!’ She grabbed a tea towel and would it round his leg, pulling it tight. ‘Come on. I’ll drive you to the hospital.’

George lay in a cubicle of the Accident and Emergency department of Grangely Hospital. He felt sick. A young nurse was trying to remove his trousers.