Кладбище домашних животных

17

           Realitytherealreality,hethoughtwasthoseneedles,thefilthonthesheets,thebloodyscratchonhisbarearm.

           I’mgoingtoscreamandthenI’llgocrazyandIwon’thavetoworryaboutitanymore

           "Louis?"Rachelwascomingupthestairs."Louis,didyougobacktosleep?"

           Hegrappledforhimselfinthosetwoorthreeseconds;hefoughtgrimlyforhimselfjustashehaddoneinthosemomentsofroaringconfusionafterPascowhadbeenbroughtintotheMedicalCenter,dyinginablanket.Hewon.Thethoughtwhichtippedthescaleswasthatshemustnotseehimthisway,hisfeetmuddyandcoatedwithneedles,theblankettossedbackontothefloortorevealthemuck-splashedgroundsheet.

           "I’mawake,"hecalledcheerfully.Histonguewasbleedingfromthesudden,involuntarybitehehadgivenit.Hismindswirled,andsomewheredeepinside,awayfromtheaction,hewonderedifhehadalwaysbeenwithintouchingdistanceofsuchmadirrationalities;ifeveryonewas.

           "Oneeggortwo?"Shehadstoppedonthesecondorthirdriser.ThankGod.

           "Two,"hesaid,barelyawareofwhathewassaying."Scrambled."

           "Goodforyou,"shesaid,andwentbackdownstairsagain.

           Heclosedhiseyesbrieflyinrelief,butinthedarknesshesawPascow’ssilvereyes.Hiseyesflewopenagain.Louisbegantomoverapidly,puttingoffanyfurtherthought.Hejerkedthebedclothesoffhisbed.Theblanketswereokay.

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