Коллекционер

           WhenIstoppedshewassittingonthebedlookingatthecarpet.Wedidn’tspeakforwhatseemedalongtime.Therewasjustthewhirofthefanintheoutercellar.

           Ifeltashamed.Allred.

           "Doyouthinkyou’llmakemeloveyoubykeepingmeprisoner?"

           Iwantyoutogettoknowme.

           "AslongasI’mhereyou’lljustbeakidnappertome.Youknowthat?"

           Igotup.Ididn’twanttobewithheranymore.

           "Wait,"shesaid,comingtowardsme,"I’llmakeapromise.Iunderstand.Really.Letmego.I’lltellnoone,andnothingwillhappen."

           Itwasthefirsttimeshe’dgivenmeakindlook.Shewassaying,trustme,plainaswords.Alittlesmileroundhereyes,lookingupatme.Alleager.

           "Youcould.Wecouldbefriends.Icouldhelpyou."

           Lookingupatmethere.

           "It’snottoolate."

           Icouldn’tsaywhatIfelt,Ijusthadtoleaveher;shewasreallyhurtingme.SoIclosedthedoorandlefther.Ididn’tevensaygoodnight.

           Noonewillunderstand,theywillthinkIwasjustafterherfortheobvious.SometimeswhenIlookedatthebooksbeforeshecame,itwaswhatIthought,orIdidn’tknow.Onlywhenshecameitwasalldifferent,Ididn’tthinkaboutthebooksoraboutherposing,thingslikethatdisgustedme,itwasbecauseIknewtheywoulddisgusthertoo.