you’re scared.”
“Not because I want more of your cock?”
“You’re here to talk about the bloodshed.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“And then you want to suck my cock again.”
“I do?”
“Yeah. But you can’t.”
“Why? You picky all of a sudden?”
“No. I’ve got the clap.”
When she involuntarily touched her fingertips to her mouth, he sniggered.
“Relax. I caught it after your visit.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure.”
He lay looking relaxed and serene, gazing up at her.
“Anyway, you know you only blew me because you were scared.”
“Because I was scared?”
“Yeah. You wanted this thing with me to be something you could understand. Control.”
“Jesus, now you’re a shrink.”
He shrugged again, lit a cigarette and watched her without expression.
Tanya wanted to leave but something made her stay and she sat down on the mattress beside him, the stale funk of the greasy bedclothes getting up her nose.
“Okay, just understand that this is quite a fucking leap for me,” she said.
“What’s quite a fuckin leap?”
“Believing in this gift of yours.”
“I don’t know as I’d call it a gift. I’d call it a curse.”
“Whatever you call it.”
“But I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me what you believe.”
“So, can you tell me any more about it?”
“About the bloodshed?”
“Yes, about the bloodshed.”
“No, I can’t.”
He shook his head and, gazing at a spot over her head, blew a succession of perfect smoke rings and she fought an urge to slap his pimply face.
Favoring her with a placid smile, he said, “What you need to understand is that when I see it’s not like I turn on a TV and get this neat little package.”
“What’s it like then?”
“It’s a jumble of stuff. Just flashes and fragments. Sometimes it makes no fuckin sense at all.”
“But what you told me was very specific.”
“The blood thing?”
“Yes, the blood thing. Where did that come from?”
“Okay, think of a comic book.”
“A comic book?”
“Yeah. In one of the panels is a drawing of you.”
“Okay.”
“And above the drawing is one of those little boxes.”
“A speech bubble?”
“No, not a speech bubble. Or a thought bubble. The other.”
“A caption?”
“Yeah, a caption. And the caption reads: ‘You will be redeemed by the blood.’”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“And your advice? To embrace it?”
He released another trio of lazy smoke rings.
“That wasn’t advice.”
“No?”
“No, I was just sayin what I felt.”
“So you see and you feel?”
“Hey.” He shrugged one narrow shoulder. “But I know you will.”
“What? Embrace it?”
“Yeah, I know you’ll embrace it.”
“That’s fucking vague.”
“It is what it is.”
“Is it always like that? Like a comic book?”
“No. Sometimes it’s a smell.”
“A smell?”
“Yeah, like with what happened long ago. I’m smelling something.”
“Long ago?”
“What happened to your family.”
She stared at him, unblinking.
“I’m smelling something sweet. Like perfume. Like old lady perfume.” He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his greasy hair. “It’s heavy in the air but you can still smell the shit and the blood.”
And Tanya was back in that suffocating bedroom in the canefields twenty-five years ago and she didn’t a fuck want to be there and neither did she want to be here so she stood and he opened his eyes and looked up at her blankly.
“This was a fucking mistake,” she said and headed for the door, jumping at shadows as she escaped down the stairs.
Tanya, struggling to breathe around the huge hand that clamped her mouth shut, a hand that stank of bodily secretions and worse, fighting vainly to free herself from the sea of soft, rippling flesh that enfolded her, watching as the small man—the one who’d called her “Professor” in a drawl uncannily similar to the creepy boy’s—held a gun to
“Not because I want more of your cock?”
“You’re here to talk about the bloodshed.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“And then you want to suck my cock again.”
“I do?”
“Yeah. But you can’t.”
“Why? You picky all of a sudden?”
“No. I’ve got the clap.”
When she involuntarily touched her fingertips to her mouth, he sniggered.
“Relax. I caught it after your visit.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure.”
He lay looking relaxed and serene, gazing up at her.
“Anyway, you know you only blew me because you were scared.”
“Because I was scared?”
“Yeah. You wanted this thing with me to be something you could understand. Control.”
“Jesus, now you’re a shrink.”
He shrugged again, lit a cigarette and watched her without expression.
Tanya wanted to leave but something made her stay and she sat down on the mattress beside him, the stale funk of the greasy bedclothes getting up her nose.
“Okay, just understand that this is quite a fucking leap for me,” she said.
“What’s quite a fuckin leap?”
“Believing in this gift of yours.”
“I don’t know as I’d call it a gift. I’d call it a curse.”
“Whatever you call it.”
“But I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me what you believe.”
“So, can you tell me any more about it?”
“About the bloodshed?”
“Yes, about the bloodshed.”
“No, I can’t.”
He shook his head and, gazing at a spot over her head, blew a succession of perfect smoke rings and she fought an urge to slap his pimply face.
Favoring her with a placid smile, he said, “What you need to understand is that when I see it’s not like I turn on a TV and get this neat little package.”
“What’s it like then?”
“It’s a jumble of stuff. Just flashes and fragments. Sometimes it makes no fuckin sense at all.”
“But what you told me was very specific.”
“The blood thing?”
“Yes, the blood thing. Where did that come from?”
“Okay, think of a comic book.”
“A comic book?”
“Yeah. In one of the panels is a drawing of you.”
“Okay.”
“And above the drawing is one of those little boxes.”
“A speech bubble?”
“No, not a speech bubble. Or a thought bubble. The other.”
“A caption?”
“Yeah, a caption. And the caption reads: ‘You will be redeemed by the blood.’”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“And your advice? To embrace it?”
He released another trio of lazy smoke rings.
“That wasn’t advice.”
“No?”
“No, I was just sayin what I felt.”
“So you see and you feel?”
“Hey.” He shrugged one narrow shoulder. “But I know you will.”
“What? Embrace it?”
“Yeah, I know you’ll embrace it.”
“That’s fucking vague.”
“It is what it is.”
“Is it always like that? Like a comic book?”
“No. Sometimes it’s a smell.”
“A smell?”
“Yeah, like with what happened long ago. I’m smelling something.”
“Long ago?”
“What happened to your family.”
She stared at him, unblinking.
“I’m smelling something sweet. Like perfume. Like old lady perfume.” He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his greasy hair. “It’s heavy in the air but you can still smell the shit and the blood.”
And Tanya was back in that suffocating bedroom in the canefields twenty-five years ago and she didn’t a fuck want to be there and neither did she want to be here so she stood and he opened his eyes and looked up at her blankly.
“This was a fucking mistake,” she said and headed for the door, jumping at shadows as she escaped down the stairs.
Tanya, struggling to breathe around the huge hand that clamped her mouth shut, a hand that stank of bodily secretions and worse, fighting vainly to free herself from the sea of soft, rippling flesh that enfolded her, watching as the small man—the one who’d called her “Professor” in a drawl uncannily similar to the creepy boy’s—held a gun to
Similar Books
