Portrait Of The Psychopath As A Young Woman Part 44

"You're not dying! Shut up!" Kathleen whispered.

"I loved my mother," he rasped. "I really did. Butbut I never told her that and she died."

Kathleen could not comprehend this. Her hands fumbled at his ma.s.sive upper chest, loosened his tie. She didn't know what to do.

Then he squinted at her in the strangest way. "I never disliked you, Kathleen," he whispered, hitching. "It was just a game I had to play. I had to use you. I'm sorry."

"Shut up!" she whispered again.

"I'm really sorry..."

She saw now that he was crying, and the hitching, bloodspurtling coughs were backed by something close to laughter. The last thing he said before he pa.s.sed out was: "Oh, and Platt's still alive. I got him out a few minutes ago. He's okay-"

(II).

It's strange.

It's nothing like she thinks it'll be.

She knows she's dying but she doesn't care.

She can feel blood pumping out of her back.

She's already sewn up Daddy's mouth.

She's already stuck dissecting pins into his ears, his sinuses, his navel, and his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es.

He lurches with each insertion.

The smothered scream rages.

Then she opens the Bruns serrated plaster shears.

She cuts it off.

She takes it away from him.

She takes away all her pain.

She takes away all her mother's pain.

But where is her mother?

"Mother?"

She's crying and she feels strange.

She picks up the power drill.

"Mother? Where are you?"

(III).

No, Kathleen thought. She couldn't leave him here. Not here. She felt maniacal. Kathleen thought. She couldn't leave him here. Not here. She felt maniacal. G.o.d, he weighs more than a piano! G.o.d, he weighs more than a piano! she thought ludicrously. She began dragging him down the hall by his suit jacket... she thought ludicrously. She began dragging him down the hall by his suit jacket...

Then she heard the electric whine, the drill.

She could hear its shrill from behind the closed bedroom door. She's in there, She's in there, she thought. she thought. With Uncle Sammy. With Uncle Sammy.

Kathleen would never know what compelled her to do what she did next. She released Spence, went back down the hall, and retrieved his small revolver.

What are you doing? she wondered. she wondered.

Then she opened the door and looked into Daddy's Room for the last time.

(IV).

The tall woman was drilling Uncle Sammy's Adam's apple. The body shackled to the bed arched upward, tremoring like an epileptic seizure. Then it fell limp.

Uncle Sammy was dead.

Kathleen held the gun on the woman. The woman leaned against the bed. She was dressed in a dowdy blue custodial uniform, whose right pant leg looked black from all the blood.

Still leaning against the bed, the woman turned toward Kathleen.

"I...," the woman said.

The woman's face, obscured by the wedges of fluorescent light, looked blank. It was almost as though she had no face at all.

"Don't move," Kathleen feebly commanded. But suddenly, in her mind, she saw the cat clock. tickticktick. tickticktick. The eyes switching back and forth. The plastic tail roving... The eyes switching back and forth. The plastic tail roving...

tickticktick The woman slowly reached for the huge pistol which lay on the castered stand full of surgical instruments.

"Don't move!" Kathleen yelled.

The little gun in her hand was shaking. Nevertheless, the woman's hand fell away from the huge revolver.

Behind the woman's shoulder, in The Window, Kathleen could see The Cross...

The woman fell to the floor, sobbing.

"Embrace your hatred," Kathleen whispered.

She backed out of the room and closed the door.

The cat clock stopped.

(V).

Kathleen dragged Spence out onto the front porch. Crossing the threshold felt like exchanging tranquillity for madness. In one step she'd gone from silence to cacophony. Lights as bright as the sun glared in her face. Helicopters, sirens, and radio traffic deafened her. Kathleen released Spence on the stoop and immediately put her hands into the air.

"PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!" a megaphonevoice ordered.

My hands are in the air, you a.s.shole! she thought. Marauding, dark shapes like dreamkillers fell on her; Kathleen was tackled and dragged across the yard by a bunch of men in gas masks and vests. More men hoisted Spence and carried him off. she thought. Marauding, dark shapes like dreamkillers fell on her; Kathleen was tackled and dragged across the yard by a bunch of men in gas masks and vests. More men hoisted Spence and carried him off.

The street was filled with police vehicles, red and blue and white lights flas.h.i.+ng. Dozens of crouched police aimed rifles at the house. More lights roved the yard as helicopters circled overhead. Kathleen could see more men rappelling from limp ladders. The crash of sounds was so loud she wanted to scream.

"Jesus Christ, you're going to break my arms!" she squealed as two SOD cops chickenwinged her into the back of a brightly lit ambulance. Instantly, a very rude man in SWAT utilities and a backwards blue baseball cap was in her face.

"Is the killer in the house?"

"Yes," Kathleen replied. She felt hot, dirty, and tired. "I-"

"Does the killer have accomplices?"

"No, I-"

"Is the killer armed?"

"Yes, I-"

"Does the killer have automatic weapons?"

"Would you let me talk for a second G.o.dd.a.m.n it!" Kathleen yelled.

The man grabbed her collar. "Does the killer have automatic weapons? Does she have rifles? Does she have explosives?"

Kathleen wanted to kick him. "She has a pistol, I think is all," she spat back not very grammatically. "Jesus Christ!"

"Does the killer have long hair, short, medium?"

"Short hair, dark-"

"What's the killer wearing?"

"Dark blue pants and a light blue s.h.i.+rt-"

The grip on her collar tightened. Slowly, softly, the rude man asked, "What room is the killer in?"

"The first room on the right, in the hall-"

The grip on her collar released. "Get her out of here," the man said and climbed out of the ambulance. Then he was talking into a portable radio. "Primary and secondary units a.s.sume your firing posts and watch for crossfire. Teams One, Two, and Three, enter the house on my mark."

(VI).

"Mother!" she cried. "Where are you?"

I'm here. Don't worry. See? I'm here.

Suddenly she was.

Her mother stood before her now.

The Cross glowed behind her.

Her mother was smiling.

She was naked and beautiful.

She was unblemished.

It's over now, honey.

She looks up at her mother.

Come with me now.

She hears footsteps on the roof.

She hears an awful chugging thunder outside.

Come with me now, honey.

With an Ethicon bivalving scalpel she cuts both sides of her throat to the bone.