Chapters (46)
“Anyway, we finally got her into that box; we just threw her in on top of poor Amy. I guess we didn’t have to do that; Angelina was unconscious. Will knocked her out when she bit me, but God, even after she was unconscious, she wouldn’t let go. She kept, like gnawing, and sucking, even though her eyes were rolled up into her head; she was, oh, Christ, I just wanted her off of me. We had to pry her jaws open with the brass end of her cane. Once the suction was broken, she went limp.
“When we got her in that box, cape and all, and that lid down and locked, and my arm wrapped in my shirt, I started to shake. I couldn’t believe we really had her. I sat there, and Will and I hugged each other and we both cried. We cried because it was over, but it wasn’t quite over yet. Will still had to deal with his sister’s death and throwing Angelina on top of her poor little body, and I still had to deal with my torn-up arm, and . . . and . . . and the fact that when she was sucking on me, I thought for a moment my heart would explode, it hurt so bad and felt so good all at the same time. All I could think about was how I’d screwed up my life, how much I’d hated—my dad, my brother, myself—how life was the shits and it hurt all the time, life hurt, and how ashamed I was that it had turned out that way, but I really didn’t care enough to change. And now, Angelina . . . God, it hurt, but it was good. I didn’t want her to stop. She was punishing me because she loved me.
“And I deserved both—both the pain and her love.”
41
41
A year has passed since I began this journal. My doctors will read it and we will discuss it, and the lawyers will try to corroborate the details, and everyone will wonder in horrified titillation just exactly how much of it is true.
It is all true.
But that concerns me not at all, for I have discovered the advantages of a cage; it may keep the imprisoned one away from society, but it also keeps society away from the prisoner.
I am most fortunate.
Society knows its strengths and its weaknesses, and this hospital has a civic duty to keep its reputation untarnished. This hospital will do everything in its power to keep the public from knowing that towels occasionally disappear from the linen rooms and show up around the necks of the dead. Society would rather lie and cheat and cover up its ineptitude than believe my story, rather than believe that I live safely, happily, here, as long as there is a solitary night guard who can be beguiled with a simple melody.