Sandra smiles one of her smiles, but it isn't designed to radiate warmth, understanding, compassion. It is a warning, of upcoming savagery.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Sandra hisses, and the girl sees, bubbling underneath the older woman's skin, a tempest of bile about to be unleashed.

The girl zeroes her gaze in on the mole on Sandra's right cheek and her fingers itch with longing to rip into that browned wart and watch it ooze.

"Witch," she whispers, "may the devil drag you to hell where you'll burn five colours bloody."

Sandra moves towards her, the smile growing until her mouth yawns black and her eyes sink back into her skull. She raises one hand, manicured steel nails at the ready. "I curse you," moans the girl as Sandra seizes her hair, pulls her head down and lowers her lips to the young girl's soft white neck.