Disclaimer: Fred may be gone but she remains the property of Mutant Enemy and the like.
When she was little Fred liked to take things apart.
Sitting cross-legged, armed with the screwdriver from the kitchen, surrounded by parts of the stereo or the TV - their innards laid open and carefully arranged on the floor, their hollow carcasses dark and quiet – she was content. She never really understood her parents' exasperation upon discovering her little autopsies of metal and plastic and wires, she knew where everything went, she had every connection mapped out in her head; putting things back together was like joining the dots.
She wished she had been able to mend herself so easily.