Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Living Dead Girl
Living Dead Girl by Elizabeth Scott
The day I got too tall to wear the white dress with short, puffy sleeves and little tucks along the chest, he filled the kitchen sink with water and shoved my head into it.
The thing is, you can have that kind of power, and everyone in those audiences knows it. That's why they yell. That's why the say YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING.
They have power too.
I'd like to see them with it taken away. I'd like to see What They'd Do then.
He is breathing faster now and pulls me toward him, a yank on my ankles drawing my rag-doll body in, lower half pushed against him.
"You'll hold her," he says, and everything I own is easily pushed down, away, clothes falling off me like water.
"You'll hold her and I'll love her."
He grins at me. "You'll like that, won't you?"
I nod because he wants me to. I nod because I will. She will get his love and I will hold her down to take it all because then there will be none for me.
I cannot save myself, and I do not want to save her.
Look at her. Little girl, Ray will want her, and I will be alone, my skin my own. Thought washing over me again and again, joy.
"Sickos," he said. "They just want to look. They don't want to take care of someone. Aren't capable of it. Don't know what love really is." Wrinkled his face, shaking his head. "I feel sorry for them. Don't you?"
Hot hand on my head, blessing curse. Love, Ray would say. My special love for my special girl.
Pointing at a woman struggling with the hands of two little girls at the bus stop, angry-faced and exhausted-looking, quick smack one, two, on the back of the girls' heads.
"Who could hurt a child like that?" he says, "Someone should report her. I hope someone does. Children should be loved. They are love."
Posted by Staci at 5:53 PM