Memory

"In my day," Abigail said softly, "I was quite the looker ... quite the catch." He just groaned. "I know ... it's hard to imagine now," she continued, "but it's true nonetheless. Not only was I a beauty, I was a beast; true story." He watched her sit down and continued to say nothing. "Very flexible, very strong, very nimble of mind. Age pees on the corners of these things, but does not erase them. It's just that stealth is the game to be played as you age; let them believe what they need to believe about you ... court the element of surprise." Abigail stood up again and he made as if to comment, but she shushed him. "I could run like the wind at one time, but I can still move with purpose now; I played softball for years, and there's body memory from that ... my shoulders limber up pretty well." She reached into the corner and took the bat in her right hand. "All things are still possible with a few modifications, but I find most simply dismiss that as a real thing - so we of advancing youth are the last to be suspected. Stealth ... as I said." He began to make noises (as loudly as he could in spite of the mouth tape). "As to the matter of your being released on bond until your trial, I think all of the children you've abused and their families would sleep much better knowing that it was impossible for you to skip town." Abigail's aim and swing were as strong as they had ever been.