Like This, for Ever

48




‘I’VE REMEMBERED SOMETHING else. Do you want me to tell you about it?’

‘If you’d like to.’

‘Do you want me to tell you?’

The patient was getting agitated again. ‘Yes, I do,’ said the psychiatrist.

‘Shit.’

The psychiatrist said nothing. She sat, still and unmoved, maintaining eye contact with the patient.

‘I said shit.’

‘Yes, I heard. What about it?’

‘That’s what I remember. The smell of shit. They all shat themselves, just before they died. It was running down their legs, staining their pants, all over the floor.’

‘Well, that’s not so surprising. When people are terrified, which those boys must have been, they often lose control of their bodily functions. It’s normal.’

‘It’s disgusting. I didn’t mind the blood, the blood didn’t make me feel funny at all, but the shit. Just turns my stomach. Why’d they have to do that? Why’d they have to shit?’