even knowing it.
If she was dead he would die in here, a rat in a dry trap.
He kept thinking unconsciousness would come and relieve him, but unconsciousness declined; instead Hour Thirty came, and Hour Forty; now King of Pain and Pretty Thirsty merged into one single horse (I Got the Hungries had been left in the dust long since) and he began to feel like nothing more than a slice of living tissue on a microscope slide or a worm on a hook — something, anyway, twisting endlessly and waiting only to die.
15
When she came in he thought at first that she must be a dream, but then reality — or mere brute survival — took over and he began to moan and beg and plead, all of it broken, all of it coming from a deepening well of unreality. The one thing he saw clearly was that she was wearing a darkblue dress and a sprigged hat — it was exactly the sort of outfit he had imagined her wearing on the stand in Denver.
Her color was high and her eyes sparkled with life and vivacity. She was as close to pretty as Annie Wilkes ever could be, and when he tried to remember that scene later the only clear images he could fix upon were her flushed cheeks and the sprigged hat. From some final stronghold of sanity and evaluative clarity the rational Paul Sheldon had thought: She looks like a widow who just got fucked after a ten-year dry spell.
In her hand she held a glass of water — a tall glass of water.
'Take this,' she said, and put a hand still cool from the out-of-doors on the back of his neck so he could sit up enough to drink without choking. He took three fast mouthfuls, the pores on the and plain of his tongue widening and clamoring at the shock of the water, some of it spilling down his chin and onto the tee-shirt he wore, and then she drew it away from him.
He mewled for it, holding his shaking hands out.
'No,' she said. 'No, Paul. A little at a time, or you'll vomit.'
After a bit she gave it back to him and allowed two more swallows.
'The stuff,' he said, coughing. He sucked at his lips and ran his tongue over them and then sucked his tongue. He could vaguely remember drinking his own piss, how hot it had been, how salty. 'The capsules — pain — please, Annie, please, for God's sake please help me the pain is so bad — '
'I know it is, but you must listen to me,' she said, looking at him with that stern yet maternal expression. 'I had to get away and think. I have thought deeply, and I hope I've thought well. I was not entirely sure; my thoughts are often muddy, I know that. I accept that. It's why I couldn't remember where I was all those times they kept asking me about. So I prayed. There is a God, you know, and He answers prayers. He always does. So I prayed. I said, "Dear God, Paul Sheldon may be dead when I get back." But God said, "He will not be. I have spared him, so you may shew him the way he must go."'
She said shew as shoe, but Paul was barely hearing her anyway; his eyes were fixed on the glass of water. She gave him another three swallows. He slurped like a horse, burped, then cried out as shudder-cramps coursed through him.
During all of this she looked at him benignly.
'I will give you your medication and relieve your pain, she said, 'but first you have a job to do. I'll be right back.' She got up and headed for the door.
'No!' he screamed.
She took no notice at all. He lay in bed, cocooned in pain, trying not to moan and moaning anyway.
16
At first he thought he had lapsed into delirium. What he was seeing was too bizarre to be sane. When Annie returned, she was pushing a charcoal grill in front of her.
'Annie, I'm in terrible pain.' Tears coursed down his cheeks.
'I know, my dear.' She kissed his cheek, the touch of her' lips as gentle as the fall of a feather. 'Soon.'
She left and he looked stupidly at the charcoal grill something meant for an outdoor summer patio which now stood in his room, calling up
If she was dead he would die in here, a rat in a dry trap.
He kept thinking unconsciousness would come and relieve him, but unconsciousness declined; instead Hour Thirty came, and Hour Forty; now King of Pain and Pretty Thirsty merged into one single horse (I Got the Hungries had been left in the dust long since) and he began to feel like nothing more than a slice of living tissue on a microscope slide or a worm on a hook — something, anyway, twisting endlessly and waiting only to die.
15
When she came in he thought at first that she must be a dream, but then reality — or mere brute survival — took over and he began to moan and beg and plead, all of it broken, all of it coming from a deepening well of unreality. The one thing he saw clearly was that she was wearing a darkblue dress and a sprigged hat — it was exactly the sort of outfit he had imagined her wearing on the stand in Denver.
Her color was high and her eyes sparkled with life and vivacity. She was as close to pretty as Annie Wilkes ever could be, and when he tried to remember that scene later the only clear images he could fix upon were her flushed cheeks and the sprigged hat. From some final stronghold of sanity and evaluative clarity the rational Paul Sheldon had thought: She looks like a widow who just got fucked after a ten-year dry spell.
In her hand she held a glass of water — a tall glass of water.
'Take this,' she said, and put a hand still cool from the out-of-doors on the back of his neck so he could sit up enough to drink without choking. He took three fast mouthfuls, the pores on the and plain of his tongue widening and clamoring at the shock of the water, some of it spilling down his chin and onto the tee-shirt he wore, and then she drew it away from him.
He mewled for it, holding his shaking hands out.
'No,' she said. 'No, Paul. A little at a time, or you'll vomit.'
After a bit she gave it back to him and allowed two more swallows.
'The stuff,' he said, coughing. He sucked at his lips and ran his tongue over them and then sucked his tongue. He could vaguely remember drinking his own piss, how hot it had been, how salty. 'The capsules — pain — please, Annie, please, for God's sake please help me the pain is so bad — '
'I know it is, but you must listen to me,' she said, looking at him with that stern yet maternal expression. 'I had to get away and think. I have thought deeply, and I hope I've thought well. I was not entirely sure; my thoughts are often muddy, I know that. I accept that. It's why I couldn't remember where I was all those times they kept asking me about. So I prayed. There is a God, you know, and He answers prayers. He always does. So I prayed. I said, "Dear God, Paul Sheldon may be dead when I get back." But God said, "He will not be. I have spared him, so you may shew him the way he must go."'
She said shew as shoe, but Paul was barely hearing her anyway; his eyes were fixed on the glass of water. She gave him another three swallows. He slurped like a horse, burped, then cried out as shudder-cramps coursed through him.
During all of this she looked at him benignly.
'I will give you your medication and relieve your pain, she said, 'but first you have a job to do. I'll be right back.' She got up and headed for the door.
'No!' he screamed.
She took no notice at all. He lay in bed, cocooned in pain, trying not to moan and moaning anyway.
16
At first he thought he had lapsed into delirium. What he was seeing was too bizarre to be sane. When Annie returned, she was pushing a charcoal grill in front of her.
'Annie, I'm in terrible pain.' Tears coursed down his cheeks.
'I know, my dear.' She kissed his cheek, the touch of her' lips as gentle as the fall of a feather. 'Soon.'
She left and he looked stupidly at the charcoal grill something meant for an outdoor summer patio which now stood in his room, calling up
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