The cult leader was sitting on his chair in the old factory hideout when the boys walked in, this time with a new boy. “He is hungry and wants to be our friend. He is a runaway,” one of the boys explains, looking up at the cult leader. He stands and looms above them. He hands the new boy a piece of bread. “Here,” he says, “since you are hungry.” After you had eaten the bread he crouched over you holding a knife, wrapping one arm round your waist. He slices your cheek and licks away the blood.