Karen was again saying “oh no” to her imaginary playmate, the building, as it continued to recite all the terrible things people had done. But all this was distracting her from the bright light she was headed toward and that magnificent voice reciting Shakespeare’s sonnets.
She felt so strange. Rather like a light herself, flickering on and off due to faulty wiring.
Off. So much more comfortable. All the pain was gone. The light wasn’t warm, but it was peaceful. There was something strange about the Shakespeare, as if she wasn’t really hearing it but was only thinking it. But it was beautiful. It felt like she would never, ever have to worry about anything again.
On. Shooting pains from everywhere. Horrible sounds that she was not only really hearing but could feel reverberating through her many wounds. A truck rattled over a pothole. Someone clattered up the stairs. She thought that last might be important but couldn’t remember why.
“That’s it, my dear, dear Karen! You’re no longer green! Stay with me…”
A building talking to her? She may as well go back to the Shakespeare. The light.
“No, Karen, no! Le Grand Rat. He’ll put you out back in bags for refuse. Like he did with Frank.”
Frank? The name sent a pain shuddering through her that was far more powerful than a truck bouncing over a pothole the size of the Grand Canyon. Frank? A slip. Of her own subconscious. Her imaginary playmate must have meant poor Martin.
“That’s it, stay with me. Yours is such a pure heart that I know you won’t desert me if I recount again the horror of having my tea room crushed.”
“Oh, no!” Karen could feel her own words crashing out of her body, re-splitting her already split lip.
“‘Oh, no,’ what?” That voice was also real, not her imaginary playmate. Her eyes fluttered open. One was almost swollen shut now, but through the other she could see Irwin leaning over her and smell some French fries. Just as she’d felt herself flickering between off and on, she could see Irwin’s face flickering between the monster who’d so brutally raped and beaten her and the innocent little kid who’d run off to get her French fries. “What are you doing here in the hall? Trying to get away?”
Suddenly Karen was completely on, all her flickering gone. Horribly, Martin was dead. Frank was gone. Her own wounds were screaming with pain. But she didn’t care. She wanted to live. She wanted…someday, some way, somehow…to once again find beauty. Though it re-split her split lip even more, she smiled. “Get away? From you? No!” She tried her right arm, but it wasn’t working so well so she used her left to reach out and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I just…”
“Just what?” He was still flickering between psychopath and wounded boy scout.
“Just…my storage unit; it’s a mess in more ways than one. I was hoping I could find a bathroom.”
He didn’t look too sure.
“And then maybe a mop. To help you out some!” she added in her best girl-scout voice.
Irwin still didn’t look too sure.
