The little girl watched the dry grass crackle in the wind, her face clear of tears even after the horror she had just witnessed. Her mouth was a fixed line of defiance, her cheeks and arms scratched and cut and slashed and bleeding . . .
But still the girl took no notice. She rocked back and forward gently as though pretending she was a blade of grass. A shrill ringing filled her ears.
But the girl remained still, silent and unmoving, like a wind-up toy, broken.