Some comical guy’s voice said, “Wri-whuh?”

I cleared my throat. Licked my lips. The rephrase came out: “Wri...tuh whuh?”

Hauser said, “Cut the theatrics, you’re fine.”

Allison moved her left shoe. Mouthed something that looked like “Sorry.” She winced as the knife blade pressed into her skin. Hauser didn’t seem to be aware of his own movement or her reaction.

“Write, you sonofabitch.”

“Sure,” I said. “Bun cun you crew— cue me in?”

“You’re going to retract everything you told that bitch lawyer, label the other bitches for the malingering bitches they are, sign and date.”

“Ah theh?”

“Then what?”

“Whah happahs aftah I chew thah?”

“Then we’ll see, you unethical asshole.”

“Alethical.”

“Once you’re exposed,” said Hauser, “life will be cream and sugar.”

“For who?”

His glasses slid down his nose and he flicked his head to right them. The movement distanced the blade from Allison’s neck.

Then it was back.

A low sound fluttered his lips. “Shut up and write or I’ll cut her and set it up like you did it.”

“You’re serious.”

“Do I look as if I’m kidding?” His eyes watered. His lower lip vibrated. “I was doing just fine until everyone started lying. All my life I’ve done for others. Now it’s time to take care of number one.”

I managed to pick up the pen, nearly dropped it. Heavy little sucker— were they making them of lead nowadays? Wasn’t lead bad for kids? No, that was pencils. No, that was graphite...

I flexed my right arm and its mate. No more numbness. The pain hadn’t abated but I was starting to feel human.

I said, “For this to be cruda— credulab— cred-i-ble shouldn’t it be notary publicked?”

Hauser licked his lips. His glasses had slid down again but he didn’t try to adjust them. “Stop faking. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But the question is still...revelant...”

“You write, I’ll worry about what’s relevant.”

The pen had stopped trying to escape my hand, settled awkwardly between ring finger and pinky. I managed to roll it into writing position.

Allison watched me.

I was scaring her.

A pen made of lead; what would the EPA think of that?

I said, “So I write. Now. How?”

Hauser said, “What do you mean, how?”

“What words do I tell?”

“Start by acknowledging that you’re a pathological liar unfit to practice.”

“Should I use first person?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Hauser’s jowls shook with rage. His arm did, too, and once more the knife danced away from Allison’s skin.

Not a good multitasker.

His right hand dug in and twisted Allison’s hair. She gasped, closed her eyes, and bit her lip.

I said, “Please stop hurting her.”

“I’m not hurting her— ”

“You’re pulling her hair,” I said.