Sleep Deprived: *Warning: Some Scenes May Disturb Read Free Page B

and you will have a lovely roasting joint for Katie and Anthony when they return home tomorrow evening.
    It was a slow, difficult process cutting through the sternum, but I eventually cut all the way through and split open the ribs. Removing the organs proved to be messy, but after careful cutting with the kitchen knife, I got them out with little trouble and threw them in the bin with the rest of the waste.
    The rubbish bin was full, so I went to the kitchen and retrieved a bin bag. Quickly taking the head, arms and organs from the bin, I placed everything in the bag, tied it up and set it by the bathroom door. Unfortunately, in my haste, I failed to realise that one of the arms hadn’t landed in the bin, but rather behind it. Returning to the tub, I once again turned on the water to rinse the body and then cleaned the tub. Using a towel that was hanging on the rack, I dried the carcass and, grabbing the bag in the other hand, took both to the kitchen, feeling confident that the bathroom was clean.
    I laid the bag on the floor and placed tomorrow's roast on the counter whilst looking for cling film. Once I found it, I wrapped the meat and placed it in the refrigerator. I took the bag outside and put it in the bin.
    I hadn't realised how exhausted I was. After washing and drying my hands, I made my way to the living room where I sat down on the sofa and allowed my eyes to close. It was quiet and I quickly fell into a deep sleep. It didn't last long. I awoke with a start after having a dream in which Claire was screaming from the oven.
     
    3.
     
    Apparently I fell back to sleep as I awoke early and refreshed the following morning. The clock told me it was 9:57am. Had I really slept for so long? I can't remember feeling this exhilarated in years, but the voice brought me back down to earth.
    Get her in the oven. Now.
    I knew I had to get moving if I was to prepare the roast for tonight's dinner. I walked into the kitchen whistling a tune and switched on the kettle for a cup of tea. As it heated up, I opened the refrigerator and took stock of the inventory. A perfect roast required perfect ingredients, after all. Everything seemed in order, although after searching the kitchen, I couldn't find all the ingredients for homemade Yorkshire puddings; the key to any successful roast. Ah, well. Frozen would have to do.
    The kettle boiled and I made myself a cup of tea and some toast. I leisurely ate my breakfast, or was it lunch by now? I don't remember. Anyway, enough lounging. It was time to cook. Having never prepared this type of meat, I didn't know how long it should cook, but I figured that the “low and slow” method might work best.
    I took Claire out of the refrigerator and allowed her to come up to room temperature. Meanwhile, I peeled some potatoes, chopped some carrots, and onions and scoured the cabinets for spices. Finding everything I needed, I unwrapped the meat and generously seasoned the breast side, and laid her down on the roasting pan. As one might do with the wings of a turkey, I decided to fold her legs up underneath the body to prevent them from burning. I had to snap both legs in the opposite direction at the knees to get them to lay the way I wanted, but it didn't take too much effort. I seasoned her back. Then I sprinkled the potatoes and other vegetables around the meat and covered the pan with tinfoil. I placed the roast in the low oven to allow it to properly cook. It didn't take long for the succulent smell to permeate through the house. I set the timer for four hours and went into the bedroom to take a nap.
    See, get rid of the little brat, you can finally sleep.
    The timer went off at four o'clock so I hopped out of bed and walked to the kitchen. The smell coming out of the oven made my mouth water. I opened the oven door and lifted a corner of the foil which gave me just enough room to stick a fork in the meat and potatoes, making sure they were tender. Everything was perfect. Removing the foil, I