once, guardians at the gate of her sanity. He knew that the initiation had occured in her parents’ basement. And that was about all he knew.
He looked at the clock. Three o’clock exactly.
To hell with the time. He needed to try.
“Leslie, in the past you haven’t wanted to tell me about this, I know. And I understand that it’s difficult for you. But this time’s going to be different. I’ll tell you how and why it’s different. You see the tape recorder on the desk there beside you?”
She looked and nodded.
“What’s different is that this time I’m
taping
this. And next session I’ll play the tape back for Patricia. When I do, Patricia will know and understand what they did to her. She’ll understand why she’s this way, why
all
of you are this way. And can you guess what happens then?”
She shook her head.
“The pain
stops
. A little more time, a little more therapy, and it stops.”
He looked at her, gave it a moment. He thought,
trust me
.
“Tell me about it, Leslie,” he said.
For a moment he thought it wouldn’t happen. Then she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes and when she opened them again she was remembering.
“There was a boy,” she said. “I don’t know where he came from. Not one of the usual boys, I mean. Not one of theirs. Spanish, I think, Cuban or Mexican, about Patricia’s age. Patricia had had a lot of some kind of drugs and so had the boy and they both were naked and they put her down on the table, the altar, with the boy standing over her, everybody chanting while he put his penis in and started doing it. He was doing it a long while and it was hurting. And then Mr. Gannet reached over with this knife he had, this sacrifical knife which was very, very sharp, and he cut the boy . . . you know the place, right between the . . . the balls and the asshole? that skin there?”
Hooker nodded.
“And there was blood running out of him, all this blood, running down his legs and dripping off the altar but I guess because of the drugs or because it was doing it, I don’t know, he didn’t know it at first, he just kept doing it to her but Patricia knew, she could feel it pooling up under her real warm and wet and finally the boy got it too, he started screaming and went to pull out of her but by then Mr. Gannet was around the side of him and cut him across his throat with the knife and Patricia was screaming and the boy was coughing blood, it was all over the place, all over her,
she tasted it
, and all the others were around them catching the blood with bowls, drinking the blood from his neck and from between his legs and she could smell his shit and they were catching that in bowls too and smearing it across their faces, across their mouths, and instead of coming inside her he just released it, you know? He pissed inside her.
“Well, then the boy fell on top of her, he was dead, andMr. Gannet handed Patricia the knife and told her to stab him in the name of Lord Satan and she was so scared and so
mad
at the boy—it was weird—so really completely furious at him, that she did. Stabbed him over and over over.”
She stopped, puzzled.
“I wonder why she was so
angry
at him? And not at them.”
He let her consider it a moment. There wasn’t time to get into it now though he knew perfectly well where the anger of one victim toward another usually came from. Another session.
“What happened then?”
She shrugged. “They ate the boy’s heart. They smeared her with his blood. Then they did it to her one at a time. Then they let her go upstairs to shower and then they let her sleep.”
Ten minutes after three. They’d got through it. It was over.
He felt shaken. Elated too. He couldn’t believe what he had here.
“I’m going to count to five, Leslie,” he said. “When I get to five I’ll be speaking to Patricia again and she’ll be awake, rested, relaxed and comfortable and she’ll remember none of this. You did very well.
He looked at the clock. Three o’clock exactly.
To hell with the time. He needed to try.
“Leslie, in the past you haven’t wanted to tell me about this, I know. And I understand that it’s difficult for you. But this time’s going to be different. I’ll tell you how and why it’s different. You see the tape recorder on the desk there beside you?”
She looked and nodded.
“What’s different is that this time I’m
taping
this. And next session I’ll play the tape back for Patricia. When I do, Patricia will know and understand what they did to her. She’ll understand why she’s this way, why
all
of you are this way. And can you guess what happens then?”
She shook her head.
“The pain
stops
. A little more time, a little more therapy, and it stops.”
He looked at her, gave it a moment. He thought,
trust me
.
“Tell me about it, Leslie,” he said.
For a moment he thought it wouldn’t happen. Then she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes and when she opened them again she was remembering.
“There was a boy,” she said. “I don’t know where he came from. Not one of the usual boys, I mean. Not one of theirs. Spanish, I think, Cuban or Mexican, about Patricia’s age. Patricia had had a lot of some kind of drugs and so had the boy and they both were naked and they put her down on the table, the altar, with the boy standing over her, everybody chanting while he put his penis in and started doing it. He was doing it a long while and it was hurting. And then Mr. Gannet reached over with this knife he had, this sacrifical knife which was very, very sharp, and he cut the boy . . . you know the place, right between the . . . the balls and the asshole? that skin there?”
Hooker nodded.
“And there was blood running out of him, all this blood, running down his legs and dripping off the altar but I guess because of the drugs or because it was doing it, I don’t know, he didn’t know it at first, he just kept doing it to her but Patricia knew, she could feel it pooling up under her real warm and wet and finally the boy got it too, he started screaming and went to pull out of her but by then Mr. Gannet was around the side of him and cut him across his throat with the knife and Patricia was screaming and the boy was coughing blood, it was all over the place, all over her,
she tasted it
, and all the others were around them catching the blood with bowls, drinking the blood from his neck and from between his legs and she could smell his shit and they were catching that in bowls too and smearing it across their faces, across their mouths, and instead of coming inside her he just released it, you know? He pissed inside her.
“Well, then the boy fell on top of her, he was dead, andMr. Gannet handed Patricia the knife and told her to stab him in the name of Lord Satan and she was so scared and so
mad
at the boy—it was weird—so really completely furious at him, that she did. Stabbed him over and over over.”
She stopped, puzzled.
“I wonder why she was so
angry
at him? And not at them.”
He let her consider it a moment. There wasn’t time to get into it now though he knew perfectly well where the anger of one victim toward another usually came from. Another session.
“What happened then?”
She shrugged. “They ate the boy’s heart. They smeared her with his blood. Then they did it to her one at a time. Then they let her go upstairs to shower and then they let her sleep.”
Ten minutes after three. They’d got through it. It was over.
He felt shaken. Elated too. He couldn’t believe what he had here.
“I’m going to count to five, Leslie,” he said. “When I get to five I’ll be speaking to Patricia again and she’ll be awake, rested, relaxed and comfortable and she’ll remember none of this. You did very well.
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