the voices bellowing in her head, the voices
that knew Sylvia for a bitch and demon and a slut, the little cunt that would
not learn, the pug-nosed brat who must be shoved along until broken into that
white rag stretched on a mattress, its putrid skin mocking the clean, damn it,
brand clean outfit they gave her. And this fool thinks it's a young lady he
saw. She knows better, she's seen that little runt snivel and beg, cry and
scream and wet and shit and live down there with the dogs, begging, yes
begging, and what relish to hear her plead, damn right, plead, just for soda
crackers and water. Tears all over her face but she'd do it. The board if she
didn't. No more of that fighting back. She'd learn. And crawl. Make her crawl
all over the basement floor. For hours. Get tired and tell Ricky to watch her.
Keep her moving. On all fours like the dog. No better than them two dogs. Worse
really, would you see a dog shove a Coke bottle up its you know what, would you
see that ever? Young lady? Poor fool sure don't know nothing about life.
No comments:
Post a Comment