JК
Narcissus in Chains :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 400 из 461What was in that coffin to put that look on Jason's face?
I was moving forwardwithout realizing it. " Ma petite , do not go closer."
I looked at him. "What's the matter with her? Why does Jason look so … stricken?"
Jason answered, "I've never seen anything like this."
I had to see now, I had to. I kept walking towards the coffin. Jean-Claude met me, blocked my path. "Please, ma petite , do not go closer."
"I'm supposed to watch the process, right? I'm going to have to see what she looks like sooner or later, Jean-Claude. Might as well be sooner."
He studied my face, as if he'd memorize it. "I did not anticipate that she would be so … " He shook his head. "You will not be happy with me after you see her."
"You don't know what she looks like either," I said.
"No, but Jason's reaction tells me many things I do not wish to know."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He just stepped aside. "Gaze upon her, ma petite , and when you have forgiven me, come back to me."
Forgiven him? I did not like the phrasing. I'd been scared of Gretchen pouncing out and trying to kill me; now I was more frightened of looking at her, of what horror awaited me inside that coffin. My pulse was trying to climb out my throat, and I couldn't breathe past it. Jason's face, Jean-Claude's sorrow, and the utter stillness from the coffin had left me so scared my mouth was dry.
Jason moved to one side, turning away from the coffin, leaning his butt against it, arms hugging his sides. He looked pale and ill. I wondered if he'd changed his mind about letting Gretchen touch him.
I stood just far enough back that I couldn't see into the coffin. I didn't want to see something so horrible that it made Jason pale. I didn't want to see it, but I had to.
I stepped up to the coffin, like stepping up to the plate, knowing that the ball coming at you is going a hundred-plus miles an hour and you have no chance to swing. My eyes couldn't make sense of what I saw at first. My mind simply refused to understand. It's a safety feature that we all have. If something is too horrendous, sometimes our brain just says, nope, not going to see this, not going to record this, nope, it would break us. But if you stare long enough, the mind says, well damn, we're not turning away, and finally, finally, you'll see it, and once you see it, you'll never be able to unsee it.
It lay against white satin so that the dry, brown color was very stark, painfully outlined. It looked like a wizened mummy, one of those bodies they find every once in a while in the desert, where the dryness makes natural mummies.
I was moving forwardwithout realizing it. " Ma petite , do not go closer."
I looked at him. "What's the matter with her? Why does Jason look so … stricken?"
Jason answered, "I've never seen anything like this."
I had to see now, I had to. I kept walking towards the coffin. Jean-Claude met me, blocked my path. "Please, ma petite , do not go closer."
"I'm supposed to watch the process, right? I'm going to have to see what she looks like sooner or later, Jean-Claude. Might as well be sooner."
He studied my face, as if he'd memorize it. "I did not anticipate that she would be so … " He shook his head. "You will not be happy with me after you see her."
"You don't know what she looks like either," I said.
"No, but Jason's reaction tells me many things I do not wish to know."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He just stepped aside. "Gaze upon her, ma petite , and when you have forgiven me, come back to me."
Forgiven him? I did not like the phrasing. I'd been scared of Gretchen pouncing out and trying to kill me; now I was more frightened of looking at her, of what horror awaited me inside that coffin. My pulse was trying to climb out my throat, and I couldn't breathe past it. Jason's face, Jean-Claude's sorrow, and the utter stillness from the coffin had left me so scared my mouth was dry.
Jason moved to one side, turning away from the coffin, leaning his butt against it, arms hugging his sides. He looked pale and ill. I wondered if he'd changed his mind about letting Gretchen touch him.
I stood just far enough back that I couldn't see into the coffin. I didn't want to see something so horrible that it made Jason pale. I didn't want to see it, but I had to.
I stepped up to the coffin, like stepping up to the plate, knowing that the ball coming at you is going a hundred-plus miles an hour and you have no chance to swing. My eyes couldn't make sense of what I saw at first. My mind simply refused to understand. It's a safety feature that we all have. If something is too horrendous, sometimes our brain just says, nope, not going to see this, not going to record this, nope, it would break us. But if you stare long enough, the mind says, well damn, we're not turning away, and finally, finally, you'll see it, and once you see it, you'll never be able to unsee it.
It lay against white satin so that the dry, brown color was very stark, painfully outlined. It looked like a wizened mummy, one of those bodies they find every once in a while in the desert, where the dryness makes natural mummies.