Claws and Effect Read Online Free PDF

tattoos, or the whistle of the teakettle would wake me up. Everett drank coffee, Ellis drank tea. Everett had his nose constantly stuck in a book. Ellis was determined to talk my ear off despite the fact that I never responded.
    Everett showed me all of the attention that one would a stray dog. Ellis called me Becky and curled up around me at night and slept.
    The chain never came back.
    Slowly, my guard was coming down. Little by little, I found myself relaxing in the presence of the two men. I was never totally comfortable, of course, but I was starting to suspect that I wasn't going to end up in a shallow grave somewhere. Hopefully.
    They fed me, they kept me warm, and they gave me new clothes to wear every day. They never touched me in a sexual way, and no one drank blood. As captivity went, it wasn't so bad...yet. I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
    And I didn't talk. I learned a lot more by watching and observing, and listening to Ellis rattle on in his one sided conversations. Tonight, as we went out to the pump so I could take a quick 'shower', he was telling me about his day at work.
    "One hundred goats," he told me as he handed me a bar of soap. "One hundred goats with bellies full of worms and hooves that needed trimming. And babies, too. Babies as far as the eye could see. I was shocked when I went out there. I mean, I knew the guy had a farm, but jesus, a hundred goats?" He shook his head and primed the pump a few times, watching the water spill in the bucket as I scrubbed my arms with the soap and wet washcloth. "I asked him why he had so many goats, and he told me they were good eating. Shit. I don't care what animal you shift into, the last thing you want to eat is a goat riddled with worms." He shook his head, disgusted. "It's hard on the goats, too. And they're sitting there, jumping all over me, and the junkyard, and I'm trying to give them shots, and Old Bill is trying to haggle me down in price. What a day." He snorted.
    I said nothing, though inwardly I was amused at his disgust. It was clear after a week of listening to Ellis's monologues that he had a hot-button and that was the mistreatment of animals. It was a little ironic, really -- his dander was up about neglected goats in some man's junkyard and meanwhile he had to shadow me to prevent me from running back to civilization.
    "So I said to him, 'I'm not going to discount services for your goats, because medicine costs money'. And he tells me that he's willing to trade. That I can pick anything off of the lot and I can have it. Turn, Becky. Need to get your hair." He sounded disgruntled.
    I obediently turned and he dumped a bucket of cold water over my hair, massaging it to get all the conditioner out. His hand touched my hair once. I skittered away, and he didn't touch me again.
    "So I'm looking around at this junkyard and it's a mess," he continued on, priming the pump again for more water. "And while Old Bill and I are sitting there arguing about how much it should cost per shot for the goats, a big ol' billy came up and started eating the cuff of my jeans. Except I was so distracted that I didn't notice for a few minutes."
    I looked down at his feet. Sure enough, over one of his scuffed, mud-streaked boots, one leg of his jeans was ragged and about two inches shorter than the other. A long piece of denim dangled over one shoe like a tail. It was rather pathetic.
    I giggled.
    Ellis stopped fiddling with the pump and straightened, looking at me with surprise. A grin crossed his face. "Knew you were in there somewhere," he told me. He looked rather pleased.
    I didn't say anything else. We finished my quick wash up, I dressed in new warm clothes while Ellis waited outside of the cabin to give me some privacy, and we had dinner and eventually went to bed. I didn't crack again, but Ellis still seemed utterly pleased with himself, as if he'd made progress somehow.
    And I was unhappy that I'd cracked. What was wrong with me? These were my