Chapter 33 33

The water cheered her up considerably.Turning off the water and looking in the mirror again, she felt like a sane human replica—standing there weak, traumatized, shaky...but alive and conscious, too.She thought she would never experience again the deep satisfaction she felt in gulping those first few gulps of cool water from the gushing tap.Of all her previous experiences, only her first orgasm came close to matching that moment.In both cases, she was completely at the mercy of the cells and tissues in her body for brief seconds.Conscious thought (but not consciousness itself) is swept away, and the result is ecstasy.I will never forget it.she thinks.But she knew she'd forgotten about it, just as she'd forgotten the sweet thrill of her first orgasm as soon as her nerves stopped pulsating.As if the body despises memory, or refuses to take responsibility for it.

Forget about all that stuff, Jesse—you gotta get Can't you just stop talking to me like that? she replied.Her wounded wrist was no longer spurting blood, but it was still much worse than dripping.The reflection she sees in the bathroom mirror is horrific—the mattress is soaked in blood, the headboard is streaked with blood.She had read articles that said people lost a lot of blood and their bodily functions continued to function.But once it starts to crumble, everything falls apart immediately.She had to have her wrists bandaged. She opened the medicine cabinet, looked at the box of bandages, and let out a hoarse whoa-wah laugh.Her eyes fell on a small box of paper pads, which sat discreetly behind a pile of balms, colognes, and aftershave.She dragged the box out, knocked over two or three perfume bottles, and filled the air with a stifling mixture of scents.She tore the paper wrapper from a cushion and wrapped it around her wrist like a white bangle, almost immediately bursting with red poppies.

Who would have thought there was so much blood on a lawyer's wife?She thought, and laughed silently again.The top tier of the medicine cabinet has a tin wheel axle wrapped around Red Cross tape.She took it down with her left hand.Now her right side seemed to be bleeding, causing her to yell in pain, and there was very little she could do.But she still loves it deeply, why not?When she needed it, when there was absolutely nothing else, it was the one that grabbed the remaining key, stuffed it in the keyhole, and opened the lock. That's you, Jesse.baby said.I mean...we're all you, you do know that, don't you?

Yes, she knew all too well. She tore off the outer skin of the tape and held the roll awkwardly with her right hand while lifting the end of the tape with the thumb of her left hand.She returned the tape roll to her left hand and attached one end of the tape to the replacement bandage.Then I wrapped the tape around my right wrist several times, binding the already damp toilet paper pad to the inside of my wrist as tightly as possible.She bit off the roll of tape with her teeth, hesitated for a moment, then added an overlapping armband of white tape just below her right elbow.Jessie didn't know how much the substitute tourniquet would do, but she figured it wouldn't do any harm.

She bit off the tape again.As she put the greatly reduced roll of tape back on the cabinet, she saw a green bottle on the middle shelf of the medicine cabinet.There's no kid-proof lid on it either - thank goodness.She took it off with her left hand, prying off the white plastic cap with her teeth.The smell of aspirin pills is pungent, pungent, and slightly sour. I don't think that's a good idea at all.said Mrs. Burlingame nervously.Aspirin thins the blood, making it slower to clot. That may be true.But the bare nerves on the back of her right hand were screaming like a fire alarm now.If she didn't take steps to hold back a little, Jessie thought, she'd be rolling on the floor in no time, screaming at her reflection in the ceiling.She shook two pills into her mouth, hesitated for a moment, then shook in two more.She turned on the tap again and swallowed the pill.Then she looked guiltily at the bandage substitute on her wrist.The red still seeps through the layers of paper.Before long, she was able to remove the paper pad and wring out bloody water that looked like hot red water.A bad image... once she got it in her head, she couldn't seem to get rid of it.

If you aggravate the situation--said Mrs. Burlingame gloomily. Oh, let me cut in, Ruth's voice answered.The voice was cheerful but friendly.Now, if I bled to death, first of all, after I almost fucking skinned my right hand to get out of that bed, am I to blame those four aspirins for that? That is absurd! Yes, indeed.Everything seems absurd now.It's just that absurd isn't the right word.The proper word is—— "Surreal," she murmured thoughtfully. Yes, it is, absolutely.Jess turned so that she was facing the bathroom hall again, and she gasped in horror.The part of her mind that monitors balance reported that she was still dizzy.For a moment, she expected dozens of Jessies, a string of Jesses overlapping each other, recording the arc of her turn, like a movie frame.Her panic intensified when she noticed that the golden glow of the setting sun streaming in through Xifu had a real texture—it looked like patches of bright yellow snakeskin.The swirling dust in the sunlight became a fine mist of diamond grains.She could hear her heart beating fast and softly, and smell the mixture of blood and well water.It's like sniffing an old copper coin.

I was ready to pass out. No, Jesse, you didn't.You can't afford to faint. That may be true.But she was sure, in any case, that a faint would happen, and there was nothing she could do. No, you can do it.And you know what to do. She looked down at her ripped hand and held it up, there was really no need to do anything except relax the muscles in her right arm.Gravity will take care of the rest.If the pain of slapping the side of the cabinet with that skinless hand wasn't enough to pull her out of the horrible, bright place she suddenly found herself in, nothing else could.She put her hand on the blood-stained left chest. After a long time, she tried to muster up the courage to tap the edge of the cabinet, and finally she dropped her hand again.She couldn't—simply couldn't.This thing is too much.It hurts so much.

So get moving before you pass out. Then I can't do it either. She felt more than tired.She felt as if she had just smoked a full bong of Cambodian marijuana.All she wanted to do was stand here and watch the diamond-grain dust swirl slowly in the sunlight hitting Sybil.Maybe, another sip of that dark green, mossy water. "Oh, dear," she said in a startled, dreamy tone, "Christ, ouch!" You gotta get out of the bathroom, Jesse—you gotta get out.For now, just worry about that.I think, this time, you'd better get out of bed.I can't guarantee you'll still be able to crawl under the bed.

But...but there was broken glass on the bed.What if I cut my skin? That remark brought Ruth Neary back.She is yelling. You've already pulled off most of the skin on your right hand - do you think it would make a difference if you ripped off some more flesh?God, baby, what if you died in this bathroom with menstrual pads wrapped around your wrists, grinning, and a goofy grin on your face?How about this hypothetical speculation?Get moving, you shrew! She took two steps cautiously and returned to the bathroom door.Jessie stood there only for a moment, swaying, blinking her eyes against the blinding sun like someone who's spent an afternoon in a movie theater.The next step brought her to the bed.When her hip touched the blood-stained mattress, she carefully placed her left knee on it.She grabbed a bedpost for balance and climbed onto the bed.She wasn't ready for a wave of fear and loathing that ran through her body, and she couldn't imagine sleeping in this bed, or in her own coffin, again.Just kneeling on the bed made her want to scream.

You've got nothing to do with it, Jesse - just get past the damn thing. Somehow, she did.She traversed the other side of the mattress, avoiding the crumbs and shards of the headboard and drinking glass.She blurted out disgusted, frustrated noises whenever her eyes caught sight of the handcuffs hanging from the bedpost.One handcuff was open, the other was a closed steel ring splattered with blood—her blood.Handcuffs don't look like inanimate things to her.They looked alive and still hungry. She reached to the end of the bed, grabbed the legpost with her good left hand, and turned her body on her knees with the care of a nursing home nurse.Then she lay there on her stomach, putting her feet on the ground.She thought she had no strength to stand up again, and would just lie there until she fell unconscious and slipped off the bed.She felt very sick when she thought about it.Then, she took a deep breath and pulled hard with her left hand.Soon she stood up.She was shaking even more now, looking like a sailor staggering into a weekend bash—and yet, she was on her feet.Oh, God!Another black wave sailed past her mind like a pirate ship with huge black sails.Or it's a solar eclipse.

There was darkness in front of her eyes, and she stood there shaking back and forth. Please, God, don't make me pass out.Please, God.OK?I beg you. The light is finally back.When Jessie felt things regain their proper brightness, she walked slowly across the room toward the telephone table.She spread her left hand a few inches out of her body for balance.She picked up the phone receiver.The receiver seemed to weigh as much as a roll of the Oxford English Dictionary.She pressed the receiver to her ear, but there was no sound at all.The line is broken.Somehow this didn't surprise her.But this raises a question: Did Gerald unplug the phone from the wall?He did that sometimes when they were here.Or, a late-night visitor cutting a phone line somewhere outside the house? "Jerrod didn't do it," she said hoarsely. "If it had been him, I'd have seen it." Then she realized that wasn't necessarily the case—she had gone to the bathroom as soon as they entered the house, and that's when he might have pulled it out.She bent down and grabbed the flat white wire.The telephone wires run from the rear of the telephone to a junction box on the wainscot behind the chair.She pulled the thread, and at first she felt a little stretch, then nothing.Even that initial stretch might just be her imagination.She knew full well that her senses were no longer trustworthy.The socket could just as well be strapped to the chair, but— No, it doesn't work because the plug is still plugged in.Gerald didn't break the circuit at all.The reason why the phone doesn't work is that the thing that was with you last night cut the line.said Mrs. Burlingame. Don't listen to her.Despite her loud voice, she was afraid of her own shadow.Ruth said.The junction box hangs from one of the back legs of the chair - actually I can vouch for that.And, it's easy to find out, isn't it? Of course it is.All she has to do is pull out the chair and look back.If it's a plug that's coming out, plug it in. What if you do that and the phone still doesn't work?asked Mrs.Then you'll understand something, won't you? Ruth said: Don't panic - you need help.You really need help. Indeed, the thought of pulling out the chair filled her with weariness and melancholy.She might not be able to do it—the chair is huge, but it still can't possibly weigh a fifth of the bed.She had managed to move the bed all the way across the room, but dragging the chair out was only the beginning, and once it was moved she had to get down on her knees... crawl into the dim, dusty corner behind the chair, and go Looking for Junction Box... gosh.baby!cried Ruth.Her voice sounded apprehensive.You have no choice!I think we agree on at least one point, which is that you need help, you absolutely need— Jesse suddenly closed the door of his heart against Ruth's voice, and closed it hard with a whoosh.She didn't move the chair, but bent down from the chair, picked up the culottes, and carefully tucked her legs in. Blood immediately gushed out from the wet bandage on her wrist and dripped onto the skirt. the front of the pants.But she barely saw it, anxious to brush the angry, bewildering noise away.She couldn't figure out who had let these queer people into her head in the first place.It's like waking up one morning to find that your home has turned into a hotel overnight.All the voices were horrified expressions of disbelief in what she was planning to do.But Jesse suddenly found that she didn't care.It was her life, her own life. She picked up the jacket and put her head in it.The fact that she had been warm enough in this casual sleeveless top yesterday, to her confused, stunned mind, conclusively confirmed the existence of God.she thinks.Otherwise, she would not be able to bear the pain of putting her torn right hand into the long sleeve now. Never mind that, it's crap.I don't need any pretentious voice telling me this.I'm thinking of driving out of here - give it a go anyway.Now the only thing I have to do is get out the chair and plug it in.The blood loss must have caused me to temporarily lose my mind.That was a crazy idea.God, there's no way that chair weighs fifty pounds... I'm almost done! Even without a chair, without the thought of the paramedics finding her in the same room as her husband's naked, battered body, even if the phone was perfectly normal and she had called the police for an ambulance, she would still Get out of here in a Mercedes.Because the phone is not important, not at all.The important thing is... It's important that I get the fuck out of here immediately. She thought, and suddenly shivered.Goosebumps formed on her bare arms. Because that thing is going to come back. This is the key.The problem wasn't Gerald, it wasn't the chair, it wasn't what the paramedics were going to think when they came here and saw the situation, it wasn't even the phone.The problem is that space cowboy, that Mister Doom.Instead of trying to reconnect with the outside world, she put on her clothes, despite the profuse blood.The stranger was somewhere nearby, she was sure of that.It was just waiting for the darkness, and now the darkness is approaching.If she passed out while trying to pick the chair out of the wall, or crawled happily around behind it, among the dust and cobwebs, she would still be alone when the thing with the box of bones came Stay here alone.Worse, she might still be alive. Besides, her visitor had cut the phone line, she couldn't be sure of that, but she knew it.Even if she had done all the tedious work of removing the chair and plugging it in, the phone would still stop working, just like the kitchen and front hall phones. Anyway, I'm going to drive out onto the boulevard, that's all.Compared to the first two (making impromptu surgery with a water cup, and pushing a double bed across the room while bleeding a pint), this should be a breeze.The Mercedes is a good car, and it's a straight up drive from here.I can poof-poof down 117 at ten miles an hour.Once I'm approaching the freeway, if I'm feeling too weak to drive all the way into the Daken store, I just cross the road, turn on the flashers on all four sides, and get on the horn when I see someone coming.The road is flat, with exits for a mile and a half in both directions.There's no reason this couldn't work out.One big problem with this car is the lock.Once I got in the car and locked the door, it couldn't get in. it?Ruth tried to sneer.But Jessie thought she sounded scared—yes, even she was. You used to tell me that I should control my mind more often and do whatever I want, don't you?You must have said so.Do you know what my heart says now, Ruth?It said the Mercedes was the only chance I had.If you want to laugh at me about it, so be it...but I've made up my mind. Apparently Ruth didn't want to laugh.She fell silent. Gerald handed me the car keys as he stepped out the door so he could reach into the backseat for his briefcase.He did that, didn't he?God, please bless my memory of that event. Jessie reached into the left pocket of her skirt, only to find some Klennex toilet paper.She reached down with her right hand, and she pressed carefully outside the pocket.She let out a sigh of relief as she touched the familiar bulge of the car key, and the large orb that Gerald had given her for her birthday last year.The words written on the ornament are: You sexy thing.Never in her entire life, Jessie decided, had she felt less sexy and more like a thing.But that's okay, she can tolerate it.The key was in her pocket, and that was something important.The key is her ticket out of this horrible place. Her tennis shoes were side by side under the telephone table, but Jessie decided she was dressed as she intended.She walked slowly toward the living room door, moving with a sickly gait.As she walked, she reminded herself to try the phone in the living room before she went out—it couldn't possibly be broken. Before she could turn the head of the bed, the light of day began to slip away again.It was as if the bright, wide beam obliquely coming in from the west window was connected to the wiring of a dimmer, and someone turned down the resistor.As the light dimmed, so did the diamond-like dust swirling in the sunlight. call, no.not now.she pleaded.Please, you're kidding. Still, the light was dimming, and Jessie suddenly realized she was shaking again.The arc drawn by her upper body in the air is getting bigger and bigger.She grabbed the bedpost, only to find herself holding the bloody handcuff from which she had just broken free. July 20, 1963.she thought incoherently.Five thirty-nine in the afternoon.total solar eclipse.Can I have a witness? Her nostrils filled with the scent of sweat, semen, and her father's cologne.She wanted to cover her nose, but suddenly felt very weak.She stumbled and managed to take two more steps before falling onto the blood-stained mattress.She opened her eyes and blinked every now and then.She lay limp and motionless, like a drowned woman cast upon some deserted beach.