Таинственная история Билли Миллигана

           Nickencouragedhimtomodelahead,andBillyworkedatitfornearlyanhour,rollingtheclayintoaball,addingpiecesforeyesandanose,andpushingintwopelletsfortheirises.

           "Imadeahead,"hesaidproudly.

           "That’sverygood,"saidNick."Whoisitsupposedtobe?"

           "Doesithavetobesomeone?"

           "No,Ijustthoughtitmightbe."

           AsBillyglancedaway,Allentookthespotandlookedattheclayheadindisgust—itwasjustagrayblobwithpelletsofclaystuckonit.Hepickedupthemodelingtooltoreshapeit.He’dturnitintoabustofAbrahamLincolnormaybeDr.George,andshowNickwhatrealsculpturewas.

           Ashemovedtowardtheface,thetoolslipped,diggingintohisarmanddrawingblood.

           Allen’smouthfellopen.Heknewhehadn’tbeenthatclumsy.Suddenly,hefelthimselfthrownagainstthewall.Damnit.Ragenagain.

           "What’dIdonow?"hewhispered.

           Theanswerechoedinhishead."YoudonotevertouchBilly’svork."

           "Hell,Iwasonlygoingto—"

           "Youvergoingtoshowoff.Toshowyouaretalentedartist.ButnowismoreimportantforBillytohavetherapy."

           Thatevening,aloneinhisroom,AllencomplainedtoArthurthathewassickandtiredofbeingpushedaroundbyRagen."Ifhe’ssofinickyabouteverything,lethimoroneoftheothershandleit.