The Last House on Needless Street(33)

Anyway I think it would be good to share my experience and all the valuable thoughts I have. Kind of like I’m doing now, but in a visual medium, because I am very camera-friendly.





Ted





I miss Lauren so much. Now the first shock is over, I know that of course she cannot be the Murderer. Not that she wouldn’t do it, but she couldn’t. She can’t go outside. How would she have got the traps? Laid them, without me knowing? No, it cannot be Lauren. She wrote her name on the list to upset me. She likes to do that.

She has to stay away for now, until I figure out what to do with her.

By the time bug-man day comes around again, I have lost pounds and pounds. I am shaky but I can walk down the street without staggering. That’s good. I have questions.

I start talking almost before he has closed the door.

‘I’ve started watching this new TV show,’ I say. ‘It’s really good.’

The bug man clears his throat. He pushes his glasses fussily up his nose. They are square with thick black frames, probably expensive. I wonder what his life is like, if he ever gets sick of hearing people talk about themselves all day.

‘As I’ve said before, if you want to spend our time talking about what you watched on television – it’s your hour. But—’

‘This show is about a girl,’ I say, ‘a teenager, who has these, well, these tendencies. What I mean is, she’s violent. She likes to hurt people and animals. She has a mother who loves her a lot, and the mother is always trying to protect her and stop her from killing. One day the mother injures her so that she can’t walk any more. I mean, it’s an accident, the mother doesn’t mean to do it, but the girl hates her for it. She thinks her mother did it on purpose. Which is very unfair, in my opinion. Anyway the girl has to live at home because of her disability. And she keeps trying to kill her mother. The mother spends her life trying to cover up her daughter’s violence, and protect her while hiding her true nature.’

‘Sounds complicated,’ the bug man says.

‘I was wondering – if this was happening in real life, could the mother do anything to make her daughter better? To stop her from being violent? Also, is it hereditary? I mean, did the mother make her angry? Or did it come from within?’

‘Nature or nurture? These are big questions. I think I need to know a little more about the situation,’ the bug man says. He’s watching me intently, now, with his round cricket eyes. I can almost see the antennae waving above his head.

‘Well, I don’t know anything else. The show only just started, OK?’

‘I understand,’ he says. ‘Do you think it would help, at this point, to talk about your daughter?’

‘No!’

He looks at me. His round eyes seem flat now, like bad coins. ‘There’s a monster inside each of us,’ he says. ‘If you let yours out, Ted, it might not eat you.’

He looks like a completely different person, suddenly. A poisonous beetle, not a safe little bug. I can’t breathe properly. How does he know? I’ve been so careful.

‘I’m not as stupid as you think I am,’ he says quietly. ‘You depersonalise your daughter.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Thinking of her as a person is overwhelming, so you deal with her feelings by attributing them to the cat.’

‘If you can’t help me, just say that.’ I am shouting, I realise. I take a deep breath. The bug man is looking at me steadily, head on one side.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘That was very rude. I’m in a bad mood. That stupid TV show has upset me.’

‘This is a safe place in which you can express your anger,’ he says. ‘Let’s continue.’ He looks small and safe like always. I must have imagined the other thing. It’s just the bug man.

The bug man carries on talking about trauma and memory, and all his usual stuff but I’m not listening. I keep trying to tell him I don’t have any trauma but he won’t listen. I’ve learned to tune him out at times like this.

I wish I had not shown him my temper. I got distracted and I didn’t get the answers I needed. Lauren has worn me too thin. It’s hard, living with someone who’s trying to kill you.

The flyers are ragged on the telephone poles, tanned with weather. The Chihuahua lady’s face is growing ghostly. I pass her house without looking. I’m afraid that it might look back at me. I hold tight to my little brown paper bag from the bug man.





Olivia





The windows show full dark, no stars or moon. Ted is still out. How long has it been? Two days? Three? I think it’s kind of irresponsible.

In the kitchen, living things stir sluggish in my bowl. Well, I can’t eat that. I lick some water from the dripping faucet. Something scuttles in the walls. I am so hungry.

There is something I can do, of course, to get food … I sigh. I don’t like to let him in unless I have to. I’m a peaceful cat. I like patches of sunlight and sometimes stroking and the good feeling of sharpening my claws on the bannisters. I’m Ted’s kitten and I try to make him happy because the lord told me to, and that’s what you do in a relationship, isn’t it? I don’t enjoy killing. But I’m so hungry.