Her own recent loss made the question especially pertinent. ‘As horribly as Flying Squirrel’s. As senselessly and brutally as Tarsier’s. As crue... as any other death that day. I had no idea what to do during the chaos of the slaughter. Nor did I know what the other villagers were doing. Some fled. Some tried to help Flying Squirrel as he lay in the blood-soaked undergrowth. Others, like me, stood petrified in fear. I simply couldn’t comprehend what had happened. I knew I was doomed when more. She started to come home from school with black eyes, split lips, bruises, her school blouse was torn a couple of times, and she had scrapes on her knuckles, from getting into fights at school, and on the school bus. She fair pounded her tormentors, she said, and she glowed with pride each time she told us about it!"They're not going to put me down anymore, Alfie," she defiantly told me. "Nobody is keeping me prisoner anymore!"She would have nightmares about the Higgins coming back to get her,. More

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