“I thought I told you never to come into this barn, you little freak.” He took a step toward her, into the light, kicking an empty whiskey bottle that went rolling across the floor. He kept coming. He didn’t have any clothes on. A little thing dangled between his legs and he was covered in blood. He stopped and turned on the hose, washing himself down, the blood running across the floor toward her feet, running down his legs. He rubbed himself to get it off, and it kept coming toward her toes, her bare toes on the barn floor, and she backed up, and backed up. “Well, you’re here now, you want to see what goes on in here? Come here.” He pulled on a pair of overalls, then came and grabbed her wrist. “Come here!”

Priscilla grabbed her wrist. “Come here!”

Martha screamed “No! No! I don’t want to! Don’t make me!” She watched the blood wash toward her, picking up little pieces of hay and bringing it to her, to her toes.

A shot blasted in the living room, more crashing of glass. They were fighting and Priscilla didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to go into the living room. And she didn’t know what to do with Martha. A heavy thud from the living room. The sounds of fighting stopped, there was heavy breathing, then Leslie’s face appeared at the door. He was bleeding from a cut over his eye and had a bruise swelling on one corner of his mouth.

“I told you to come in here!”

“No, Daddy!” Martha whimpered. “I don’t want to see.”

“You’re so all-fired curious about the barn, I want you to see.” He pulled her across the floor, dragging her feet in the blood; she fell and it got all over her favorite white-lace nightie. He pulled her to the corner where a shallow grave was dug in the dirt, beyond where the cows ate, and there was a baby calf, covered with blood, all crumpled up in the hole. Rats were already dodging in and out taking rips of flesh. She covered her eyes.

“Look at this monster, Martha.” He pulled her hands away from her eyes. “Look, damn you! It was born wrong. It was born with two heads. It was a horror, Martha, like you. A monster, like you! I had to kill it when it was born, like I should have killed you.” He grabbed her nose with hard, calloused fingers that pinched. “Look at this nose!”

“Look at this nose,” Leslie said, and he pinched it.