Small Heidi, atrophied eyes filled with larva , spilling over her clean white face. Her excavated stomach lined only with spiders who have found the dark empty space fitting for their homes. Hands, large as the moon, rung her pale white throat, joy and excitement filled her loins, veins popping on her forehead.
Sitting with her thighs propped under her buttocks, the calves jutting behind her, she ponders the dark, pulsing bruise on her wrist.
You are not Frank.
And I give you my sincerest apologies.
Vaguely. However soon you will be found and clarity will arise.