Chapter 29 29

Just when your mother came back, she found a note saying... As Jesse said these words to the empty room, his eyes snapped open.The first thing she saw was the empty glass: Gerald's water glass, still on the shelf, there, next to the handcuffs that bound her wrists to the bedpost.Not the left wrist but the right wrist. A note saying I've taken you to the emergency room so they can sew up a few fingers. Now Jesse understands the purpose of recalling sad memories.Understood what Baby had been trying to tell her—it had nothing to do with old Adams, it had nothing to do with the mineral taste of the damp lump on her old cotton shorts, it had nothing to do with the The half dozen pieces of glass that came down had a lot to do with it.

She lost the jar of Nivea cream, but at least one other source of lubricant was left for her, wasn't there?There's another way to get to Promised Land - and that's blood.Blood lubricates almost like oil before it clots. That's going to hurt like hell, Jesse. Yes, of course it will hurt like hell.But she thought, somewhere, she had heard or read that there were fewer nerves in the wrist than in many vital parts of the body.This is why, since the Roman Empire, the preferred method of suicide has been to cut the wrists, especially in a bucket of hot water.Moreover, she was already in a semi-numb state. "Having him lock me into this thing, I've been half-numbed since the beginning," she said hoarsely.

If you cut too deep, you'll bled to death like those ancient Romans. Yes, of course it will.But if she doesn't cut her wrists at all, she'll lie here until she dies of pain or dehydration...or until her friend with the bone box reappears tonight. "Okay," she said.Her heart was beating very hard.For the first time in hours she was fully awake.Time slowly started running again, like a truck driving out of the side road and returning to the main road. "Well, the idea holds water." Listen, a voice said urgently.Jesse was surprised to realize that it was Ruth's voice and Mrs. Burlingame's.They got mixed up, at least temporarily.Listen carefully, Jesse.

"I'm listening," she told the empty room.She is also looking, she is looking at the cup.It was one of a set of twelve she had bought at the Sears Tower sale three or four years ago.So far, six or eight of them have been smashed, and one more will be smashed soon.She swallowed grimly, as if trying to swallow a flannel-wrapped stone stuck in her throat. "I'm listening, trust me." "Okay. Because once you start something, you can't stop. It's going to happen very quickly because your system is dehydrated. But remember This: Even when things go wrong— "It's a great effort," she continued.And it's true, isn't it?The situation presents itself with a respectable simplicity in a brutal way.Of course, she didn't want to die of bleeding—who would?But it was much better than the cramps and thirst that got worse.Not to mention that it will reappear, whatever it is.

She licked dry lips with a parched tongue, grasping at the chaotic wandering thoughts, trying to sort them out, just as she had done before she went to get the cream.The cream is now lying on the floor next to the bed, useless.She found it increasingly difficult to think normally.She kept hearing that black person sentimental folk song in fits and starts, and kept smelling Papa's cologne, and kept feeling the presence of that hard thing against her ass.Then came Gerald.He seemed to be lying there talking to her. It's getting dark, Jesse.Nothing you can do will stop it.It will teach you a lesson, my proud beauty.

She cast her eyes sharply at him, then quickly to the glass of water.Gerald seemed to be grinning at her with the part of his face that was still intact from the dog.She tried again to start her thoughts, and after some effort, they began to turn. She spent ten minutes thinking over and over the course of action.In fact, there wasn't much to think about - what she had to do was dangerous but uncomplicated.Still, she rehearsed each step several times in her head, looking for tiny loopholes that might rob her of her last chance to survive.She didn't find it.In the end there was only one major downside—this had to be done very quickly, before the blood started to coagulate.There are only two possible outcomes: either get out quickly, or go into a coma and die.

She went over the whole thing again--not postponing the necessarily painful thing, but checking it, as she checked a scarf she knitted for loose or missing needles--while the sun continued to stabilize. Moving steadily.On the back porch, the dog stood up and let go of a shiny piece of cartilage it had been gnawing.It ran slowly towards the woods, and it smelled that black and gloomy breath again.Its belly is full, and even a breath is too much.