Impulsively she asks if Vnn has been kind to the others.

“Others—?”

“Who have preceded me.”

She indicates the mannequins, the canvases and collages. The artist’s trophies.

Vnn smiles as if he has been caught in a mild deception. A lover, a husband, who has been unfaithful.

“Yes. I admit it.”

Adding, “And now—if your mind is emptied out …”

L.K. lifts the wadded cloth to her face. Just to see if she can do it.

Will the chloroform be swift-acting, like ether? Or will she recoil from it?

“Good, dear! Continue.”

“I—I can’t …”

“Of course you can. Try.”

“But—”

“Try.”

Is she imagining it, or is Vnn becoming less patient?

Draws a deep, shuddering breath. The chloroform is so sharp, her senses recoil.

As a girl, she’d learned to dive: on the rim of the pool, bend your knees, position your arms, pointed hands, lower head, push off and down. Deep, deep breaths, for you don’t know when you will be breathing again.

A childish stratagem comes to her: she will pretend to breathe the chloroform in deeply and to lose consciousness. The man who has taken her captive will approach her, and when he is close enough, she will flare up in fury and she will fight him. Her teeth will rake his exposed throat, her sharp fingernails will stab his eyes. She is prepared!

But no, she has breathed too deeply. The damp cloth falls from her fingers. She is unable to keep her eyes open. Her hands fall into her lap, her arms have gone limp, her heart is beating less rapidly, her fevered pulse slows. Her head has slumped forward onto her chest, as heavy and empty as crockery. Her brain, which has been a honeycomb of thinking! thinking! for a lifetime, is emptying out at last. Her shoulders collapse, she cannot remain upright but falls sidelong onto the sofa, which collapses beneath her, melts away, so that, through an opening in the grimy plank floorboards, she falls, falls …

By the time she has come to the end of falling, the terrible wanting has ceased.

PAROLE HEARING, CALIFORNIA INSTITUTION FOR WOMEN, CHINO, CA

Why am I requesting parole another time?—because I am penitent.

Because I am remorseful for the wrongs I have inflicted upon the innocent.

Because I am a changed person.

Because I have punished myself every day, every hour, and every minute of my incarceration.

Because the warden will testify on my behalf: I have been a model prisoner.

Because the chaplain will testify on my behalf: I have welcomed Jesus Christ into my heart.

Because I have served fifty-one years in prison. Because I have been rejected for parole fifteen times.

Because I am seventy years old, I am no longer nineteen years old.

Because I cannot remember who I was when I was nineteen years old.

Because I regret all that I was commanded to do in August 1969.