The Story of Monica and Rolneck

Monica watched policemen pull out drawers, tip books and records off shelves as rolneck peered around like a tourist in an old church. She saw the pile of kindling that had been their living room, furniture, their clothes, ground under foot. The basin and toilet had been smashed, and water was pooling on the bathroom floor, grimy with boot prints. Monica felt completely dissociated, as if she no longer occupied her body. It was self protective, she supposed, a way of distancing herself from what was happening to her.