It was morning, for crying out loud! If someone were to pass by, and someone would, then he'd see me squatting here, next to a dead man! We couldn't stay here. But how could I get Frank out of this mangled mess of metal? I nervously checked the road, but saw noone. I paced back and forth, but saw no onther option than to try and cut Frank loose.

His legs were totally smashed and stuck between pieces of the door and the front of the car. I walked back to my own car and checked the dashboard compartment. There was a small bottle of rum.

I quickly drank enough to make me a little more relaxed and searched my loaded purse. I had a lot of weapons in there, but not something so big I could use it to cut through some legs. My hands felt sweaty and I wiped them on my pants. My breathing was fast, and I tried to calm down. It was very hard to do, when all I could think of was the fact that I was about to cut Franks legs of. O hell, what was I doing? But I saw no way out of this. I suddenly remembered the small axe I kept in the car, to break the windows in case of an emergency, and grabbed it from under the chair.

I sat next to Frank and hastily drank all of the rum. It scorched my throat, and tears came in my eyes. I felt sick, I felt my hands shiver, but then I knew I had to collect all my power, I had to let the Warrior Princess take me over. Otherwise I'd get into trouble, I could never be who I wanted to be again. I closed my eyes, but I couldn't stop shivering, and decided it was no use postponing it.

I stared at his left leg. Just below the knee was room for me to cut. I raised the axe and swung it down. That wasn't too bad. It made a nasty bony sound, but there wasn't much blood, probably because he was already dead. I pulled the axe out and hit him again, it went surprisingly easy. When I was through, I started on the other one, and quickly freed Frank from the metal. I pulled my legless husband out of the Mercedes and moved him behind a couple of trees, so that noone could see him from the road. Then I started my own car and drove it to a parkingplace nearby. When I came back I decided it was better to burn the car, so noone would find to legs and no other body parts. That would be so weird. So I collected some mess from the roadsides and lots of paper and trash from the trunk and piled it on the seats, and then set it on fire. I hoped it'd burn hot and long, but I couldn't be sure.

Not much later I was dragging Frank through the forest, as far away from the “accident” as I could get. Late in the afternoon I finally sat down, and fell asleep for a little while. I was exhausted. When I woke up, the sun was going down, and long shadows made the forest look hostile and strange. Some birds were still singing, it was a friendly sound that made me feel better. I looked at Frank. He was very pale. His face was distorted in a scared scream, his eyes only half closed. I pushed them closed with my hands, and startled from the coldness of his face. I looked at his legs. One was cut off at the knee, the other halfway his shin. The wounds were ugly, with skin and veins drooping down.

I looked at his face again, the strong nose, the cute chin, his beautiful black hair, now sticky and dirty with blood and some twigs in it. I cared so much for him, if only he could understand that. The sun sank lower and lower, as I sat there quietly. Suddenly my attention was brought back to his legs. Was it only my imagination, or did the wounds seem less bloody? Now that it was darker, it was pretty hard to see. I waited a little longer and examined it from close by. It seemed, skin was groing back on the wounds and the leg seemed some inches longer. He was groing himself some new legs.