“Let's try something else...”
“This.” Dill held the fish slice over his arm at the point where the width of his dough arm matched the width of the implement and bore down. He half expected it to hurt but if he closed his eyes all he could feel was a slight pressure on his left arm, no worse than if he'd been leaning on a garden wall in his dad's garden. How was his mum and dad going to feel, anyway? They must have been informed of his disappearance by now, surely? Had they come to Laverstone to look for him or stayed at home in case he contacted them there? They must be worried sick. They had no way of knowing he was dead, and certainly not that he was alive again, looking more like Master Dough, the baker's son than anything that resembled the boy who'd left home with a rucksack of clothes, a crate full of computer games and a kettle to heat up Pot Noodles. Even if they concluded he was dead, there would never be a body to give them closure. He'd have to ask Harold what had happened to it. Perhaps they could arrange to have it discovered in the woods. At least Sam's body was in the morgue at Magelight.
youve choppes my atm off
“Yes.” Dill opened his eyes. His left arm was neatly bisected by the fish slice. He pulled his stump away, careful not to allow it to touch the remainder of the arm, which he pushed away with the metal tool. “Now watch.”