Read Online A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing by Eimear McBride - Free Book Online Page A

like laugh. Out loud and crack that silence. Hear the curlews and the gab of swans not far from me. A wee way off. The sun is coming. Much more warm now than I wanted or had thought would be. This crevice lake could be my ocean if I was. That duck. That bit of scum. That bit of tree there floating. I sink baptise me now oh lord and take this bloody itch away for what am I the wrong and wrong of it always always far from thee. Ha. My nose fill with that bog water. It’s run a long brown hill to get into me. Its salt its bits and dirty pieces in my eyes and in my lungs. Ah. You are not here. In this world deep and brown. Filled with rattle gushing noises. Sounds. Unearthly water bubbles rise the top. You are not here. I am free from love and that cold pain shooting through my forehead. That’s a good thing. It’s a fine and right thing. True to what it is. Gurgle. Swell into my bronchioles. Fill that space. Push each air drop out. I let my feet float up there off the ground. I know I am a puffed white shirt floating on the water. Face into a different world. Where are you? You are not here. I am free. To not hear spastic fucking spastic. Feel the slither of one glob of snot or spit at your head. Or don’t touch me. Cool the ocean running through me I wish waves were over my head. I’m floating downside up and wrong side down. Hmm help me I am drowning. Look up. Look up. The day’s begun. The cold and grasp. Retract now my wish for wading going in. My hair a cling now on. Sticking to my face and that rust smell of lake. Put my feet back on the bottom. Slipping in. The silt and grub of it. I think are here pike Jesus they bite I know bring some children down. I’ve heard into the murky depths. My insides feeling squeal now. Yuck this filth. Yuck I have done. The circles snapping circles of the I wade water out to the bank. My heavy clothes and slipping grapple blackthorn bush to pull me out. The silence. Keep the moment. Panic slipping I get out. I’ll catch my. Death of. You know. What’s it. Here can’t be a leech. Not in this country. Too cold here I’m sure. The other side now. Cows are lowing. Lonely ancient bovine cries. Their teats are turning over wanting out relief of hot milk. Let it all begin again. My body cold reflected back up to my face as I stand there. Look down. I see my sorry self. That girl. My wicked. I see new ripe ones. Interesting eyes. Purged off. Cleaned out for sure the stings and bites of. Those things that happen in your head when you are young and cannot fathom never being clean again. The house will still be quiet. If I go there. Drip the floor. I felt this morning strange beginning. I know. I know I won’t tell. Yet. To whom. I go. I see the heron fly. Dart of it over my head. Heading are you out to sea? To the new found world old now though. To a sudden death or a happy mate or a quiet circle or a quiet nest. I watch it overhead. That heron flying. Towards unknown. I don’t think I will be clean now. Think instead I’ll have revenge for lots of all kinds of things. The start is. That is love.
     
    The house is dry and creaky. I am sopping on the floor. I hear him. No. Aunt or uncle rolling over in the bed. I’m not at peace here anymore. Now today. Glad. They’ll be gone. Still. I hear something. I know that step. Forty-one just like new. He is coming early down the stairs. The smell of water waft about it must be. I think. And he will see me in my clothes wet through. Teeth running motors in my head. My bark and twig hair.
    I look at him in the door as he see me. No surprise. What have you done? You look. You’re wet the whole way through. I am. What did you? Fell in the lake. I walked there early while it’s clear. I see and you. Yes fell in. Don’t worry. I’m okay.
    I know that look that vicious look of him to me now. And the usual inner throb in me. Knives in heart in lungs come a spoon scoop me out. Scoop me out for what he want. But I go past him still. Feel the busy