He got a teasing smile on his face and reached for my hand. I whipped it back, as I would have whipped it from the hand of Death himself. He looked in my face and whitened at what he saw there. I was surprised that he, writing what he does, seemed not to have seen real terror before.
[Jaybee Veolante. Barrymore Gryme. Israfel reads and peers as I do and turns away, sickened. We have already sent Puck, telling him to stay out of sight. We tell ourselves not to panic, that these men may be merely men, not creatures of the Dark Lord, that they may be attracted to her for her physical beauty alone. Israfel has stopped telling me to be patient]
New Year’s, January 1, 1993
Outside the window I hear singing in the street. A drunk, I think, on his way home from a twenty-four-hour celebration. I am not going to the window to see. I am afraid to go to the window. Instead, I sit here in the Wisdom Street house with Father Raymond’s book resting on the table, one bloody hand holding it in place while the other plies the pen and mops at my nose, trying to make it stop bleeding. I think it may be broken.
I am writing to keep from screaming.
Bill is dead. I don’t know exactly where Janice is; she said she was going to visit friends somewhere over the holiday and won’t be home until day after tomorrow.
Bill has … had a gun somewhere. I went looking for it and came upon my cloak and boots and this book instead. It was too late for the gun anyhow.
Short recess there to wash off some of the blood. This is all so stupid and terrible.
Bill and I were having a quiet New Year’s Eve. Almost midnight, someone knocked on the door, and Bill went to open it. Jaybee came in, looked at me, and said, “I’ve come for you, sweetie.”
I could tell he was drunk. Bill got in front of me and said, “Here, now, Jaybee. Let’s talk about this.” That’s all he had time to say.
Jaybee reached out and snapped.… Just that. Bill’s body was there on the floor. Jaybee didn’t even change expression. Then Jaybee knocked me down and pulled off my clothes and hit me and raped me. He kept turning me over, coming at me from the front, then from the back, over and over. I fainted, finally. At least, I don’t remember anything for a while. Then he went away. He took Bill’s body with him, wrapped up in a blanket, like laundry. The last thing he said when he left was, “Thank me nicely for cleaning up the place, sweetie. I’ll be back in the morning.”
[Puck has to have arrived by now! Oh, why did we wait so long? He must be there. He must!]
Sweet, kind Bill. Dear little man. Oh, he loved it here where he could dress in lace and silk and satin and velvet. He would put on a recording and dance, all dressed up in his heels and stockings and smooth, slick underwear. I gave him teddies for Christmas gifts. Teddies and lace panties and garter belts. He was so kind to me. When I cried because I was lonely, he told me stories to make me laugh. When I cried out at the future of the world, he told me nothing was certain, not even death, and I should never give up hope.
He was the size of a child. He had delicate little wrists and ankles, a thin little neck, like a tiny woman. He was strong for his size, but he was tiny! Jaybee broke his neck with one blow of a great ham hand, broke it and laughed, and then kicked him where he lay.
I don’t remember very well what I did right after Jaybee left. I hunted for the gun; I’ve said that. I found the book, and Mama’s box, and my cloak. The warrant on the usurer was there, and the emeralds. The box and the cloak almost pushed themselves into my hands, as though someone were actually handing them to me.
Then anger came, out of nowhere, like a fever. I shook with it, burned with it, bathed in it, soaked it up, wanting nothing else. All I want to do is kill him!
I came to myself crouched over the book here. Anger will have to wait. I’m too sick and weak to plan vengeance, let alone execute it. My nose is battered. There are great bruises on my face. I think one or two ribs are cracked. And the pain in my groin feels as though he pushed a knife up me. I’m bleeding two places down there, too.
I have to get myself together. I have to calm down. To calm down I have to go home, really home. I need quiet to think in.
Something made me start thinking of home, like someone whispering memories in my ear. Maybe it’s because I need to escape. Jaybee said he would come back, and I know he will. If stay here, he’ll find me. He’s inescapable.
So I can’t stay here.
LATER:
The boots were in my hand. I couldn’t remember picking them up, but there they were. They hadn’t worked before, but now? Only it wasn’t before, was it? It was future, not past. Now? I didn’t know. I thought, maybe they will work. I put them on. I put on the cloak. I put the book in the pocket, and Mama’s box.
I went to the window and pressed my eye to the slit in the curtain. There were some people out there, milling around, singing drunkenly. Jaybee was standing on the corner watching my windows, an expression of amusement on his face. I could read that face. He intended to do it again. As soon as the people moved away, he planned to come
