13. Live Dead Girl (4)

Those toes and the mouth were the parts of the body that I liked the most—the mouth because it was full of itself, full of provocative tastes. But I also liked my ears, so perfect, as though they’d been crafted of porcelain. I would have liked, almost, to remove them—the better to see them—to enjoy their delicate shell-shape, so nearly sheer. I moved the dark mass of hair behind one of them, turning ever so slightly to the side for a better view.

This movement brought the door into my line of vision. Open a sliver, through it light sliced into the room, and I thought at first that I was seeing phantoms. But no, my eyes, accustomed to the near darkness, adjusted—the dilated pupils wrestling with and juggling the light to let in a backlit image.

He stood in the doorway, his hand placed palm-downward over his heart in a histrionic gesture. Dramatic, I thought. He looked like an actor at the cathartic moment of a play: an antique actor, one with great pathos. He wore a blue-flowered hospital gown, like mine, and his hair, which was long and wispy, was combed rather carelessly to one side of his head, which he’d cocked so that it looked like the limp locks had somehow managed to unbalance him. From his nostrils trailed two thin tubes of translucent plastic that ended in nothing just short of his knees. With his left hand he was playing with another clear tube, this one dangling from his right wrist, where a blood-encrusted sterile gauze bandage held it in place.

—DEAD LOVE/Chapter 13.4/Live Dead Girl

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  • Jud

     Lovely disgusting description. Good thing I read this after eating breakfast!

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