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Authors: David Wiltse
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knees pressed to her chest, her face to the wall.
“We have to go, Dee,” he said. He put all of her clothes into the suitcase, folding them carefully as she had taught him.
“I just want to sleep,” she said. Her voice was so sad that Ash wanted to cry for her.
He put his extra shirt atop her clothes, then went to the bathroom to add their toiletries to the suitcase.
“We have to go before they come,” Ash said.
“I just want to sleep.” Her voice was low and fading, as if she were already deep in slumber. He knew she would be like this for several days, immobilized by lethargy, too depressed to even dress or feed herself. He had to get her away from the motel before she sank too deeply to be roused.
He checked her purse and made sure that her pills and his were still there. He tried to remember how many capsules had been in her vial the last time he checked, but he could not. She must not have taken any in several days, he knew that much. There was no point in trying to make her take one now. He knew from experience he would have to trick one into her somehow, but not when she was this low, and not when she was too high, either. She was too clever then. It was only when she would come out of this depression of her own accord, when she was on the way up but not yet high, and ravenously hungry after days of starvation, that he could slip one of the capsules into her food. After that she would take them herself. For a while. Never for long enough, but at least for a while.
Until she did come out of her depression enough to find them a place to stay, they would have to live in the car. Ash could never check into a motel by himself, he knew that. They would all surely know about him immediately. They would be able to tell as soon as he opened his mouth that he was not competent, that he was not to be trusted. They would laugh at him, or worse, send for the authorities to take care of him.
So he would have to wait until Dee could take care of both of them. He would find a rest stop on the highway where he could get food from the vending machines and water from the toilet facilities, and he would stay there and protect her. It wouldn’t matter to Dee where they were when she was in the worst of it. Any place with shelter would do until she returned to herself to take care of him.
Getting a washcloth to clean the blood from the carpet and the wall, he saw his reflection in the mirror and stared, surprised, at the cut that ran from his cheekbone to his jawline. It was shallow and hairline-thin, and the blood had already dried. He wasn’t aware that the Lyle had cut him. He hadn’t felt a thing.
He only managed to spread the smear on the wall, and the carpet seemed to have absorbed Dee’s blood like a sponge. Ash looked at the washcloth. His blood from the wall and Dee’s from the floor were mixed together into a brownish stain on the cloth. He liked the idea that their blood was mingled.
“We’re packed. Dee,” he said, approaching the bed with the washcloth rinsed and wet again. He rolled her over and began to dab at the blood that had dried on her face. Ash tried not to look at her naked body. It aroused him and it also embarrassed him.
With a sob. Dee threw her arms around his neck and pulled him onto her.
She nipped his ear with her teeth and then whispered directly into it so that Ash felt the effect in his groin, as if her warm breath was traveling all the way through him.
“Come on. Ash,” she whispered. “Come on.”
One hand held his neck and the other was already reaching between their bodies, fumbling with his belt.
Ash squeezed his eyes closed. He was so grateful. First that she was not as far gone as he had feared—although he knew it was just a matter of time—and second that she wanted him again. It was so seldom these days; there had been such a long succession of Lyles since last she had needed Ash.
He did not resist her in any way, but let her use him as she desired. It was the
“We have to go, Dee,” he said. He put all of her clothes into the suitcase, folding them carefully as she had taught him.
“I just want to sleep,” she said. Her voice was so sad that Ash wanted to cry for her.
He put his extra shirt atop her clothes, then went to the bathroom to add their toiletries to the suitcase.
“We have to go before they come,” Ash said.
“I just want to sleep.” Her voice was low and fading, as if she were already deep in slumber. He knew she would be like this for several days, immobilized by lethargy, too depressed to even dress or feed herself. He had to get her away from the motel before she sank too deeply to be roused.
He checked her purse and made sure that her pills and his were still there. He tried to remember how many capsules had been in her vial the last time he checked, but he could not. She must not have taken any in several days, he knew that much. There was no point in trying to make her take one now. He knew from experience he would have to trick one into her somehow, but not when she was this low, and not when she was too high, either. She was too clever then. It was only when she would come out of this depression of her own accord, when she was on the way up but not yet high, and ravenously hungry after days of starvation, that he could slip one of the capsules into her food. After that she would take them herself. For a while. Never for long enough, but at least for a while.
Until she did come out of her depression enough to find them a place to stay, they would have to live in the car. Ash could never check into a motel by himself, he knew that. They would all surely know about him immediately. They would be able to tell as soon as he opened his mouth that he was not competent, that he was not to be trusted. They would laugh at him, or worse, send for the authorities to take care of him.
So he would have to wait until Dee could take care of both of them. He would find a rest stop on the highway where he could get food from the vending machines and water from the toilet facilities, and he would stay there and protect her. It wouldn’t matter to Dee where they were when she was in the worst of it. Any place with shelter would do until she returned to herself to take care of him.
Getting a washcloth to clean the blood from the carpet and the wall, he saw his reflection in the mirror and stared, surprised, at the cut that ran from his cheekbone to his jawline. It was shallow and hairline-thin, and the blood had already dried. He wasn’t aware that the Lyle had cut him. He hadn’t felt a thing.
He only managed to spread the smear on the wall, and the carpet seemed to have absorbed Dee’s blood like a sponge. Ash looked at the washcloth. His blood from the wall and Dee’s from the floor were mixed together into a brownish stain on the cloth. He liked the idea that their blood was mingled.
“We’re packed. Dee,” he said, approaching the bed with the washcloth rinsed and wet again. He rolled her over and began to dab at the blood that had dried on her face. Ash tried not to look at her naked body. It aroused him and it also embarrassed him.
With a sob. Dee threw her arms around his neck and pulled him onto her.
She nipped his ear with her teeth and then whispered directly into it so that Ash felt the effect in his groin, as if her warm breath was traveling all the way through him.
“Come on. Ash,” she whispered. “Come on.”
One hand held his neck and the other was already reaching between their bodies, fumbling with his belt.
Ash squeezed his eyes closed. He was so grateful. First that she was not as far gone as he had feared—although he knew it was just a matter of time—and second that she wanted him again. It was so seldom these days; there had been such a long succession of Lyles since last she had needed Ash.
He did not resist her in any way, but let her use him as she desired. It was the
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