By the time Roger started for the clearing, the sun was slipping away, leaving a red smear across the skyline in its wake. As he moved down the path, ignoring the branches and vines that whipped against his legs, Roger felt the familiar stirrings the clearing always brought on. And this time, for whatever reason, it came over him with a more desperate sense of hunger, a more intense longing for the pleasures the clearing offered. Maybe it was because those pleasures were about to end. His mother always said, You never miss the water 'til the well runs dry. Roger never fully understood that saying of his mom's until that very moment. His pleasures, which were already dwindling, were going to end, once and for all. Nothing would ever be the same. He thought about taking a different wife, waiting for everything to calm down and the trouble to go away, and then starting over with someone new, someone the clearing directed him toward. But it seemed more and more impossible the more he thought about it. Even if they didn't put him in jail and send him away, they'd be watching him, following him. They'd keep coming back and coming back.
The girl had calmed down and was almost still. Roger felt the bittersweet, painful pleasure grow inside him as he moved closer to the clearing. He remembered both his mother's funeral and his father's funeral, the way he had been forced to say goodbye to them at the cemetery as they were lowered into the ground, and it felt as though they had simply evaporated, disappeared off the face of the earth like someone had engineered a giant magic trick. For days after each funeral, Roger thought they'd come back, thought they'd re-emerge as though they'd merely been on a long trip, and when he realized they really weren't coming back, it was like they had died all over again, a second death that hurt even worse than the first. Roger didn't want to go through that again. He didn't want to be fooled by his own stupid head and his own stupid heart. He wanted to make a clean break and leave the girl behind in the clearing, once and for all.
He saw the opening in the trees and came in sight of the spot, felt his pleasure grow like steam in a boiler.
The sunlight was almost gone from the sky above the trees, the clearing nearing full dark. Roger laid the girl down in the center and stood over her. She watched him with frightened eyes while he brought out his knife. He flicked it open and bent down, cutting the rope that bound her wrists and ankles with quick, certain movements. The girl rubbed her hands, bringing circulation back, and Roger stood over her with the knife still open. He waited, thinking she might try to run, but she didn't. She remained on the ground, staring up at him. He bent down again and pulled the tape off her mouth. It made a long, ripping sound, and the girl gasped when it was gone, taking deep breaths after the long deprivation.
"You can't be my wife anymore," Roger said.
She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'm not your wife. I never was. Just because you raped me doesn't make me your wife."
Roger didn't like that word. Rape. It wasn't true.
The girl kicked out and scored a direct hit against Roger's shinbone, making him yelp in pain.
"Damn you," he said. He held the knife up in the space between them.
"Go ahead," the girl said. "Go ahead and cut me right here." She pointed at her neck. Her face contorted with anger, making her almost unrecognizable to Roger. "Or do you want to rape me again first. Is that it, you fat, fucking retard?"
Roger swung and the back of his hand connected with the side of the girl's head. She yelped and fell back against the soft earth. She stayed down, sniffling and sobbing.
"Don't make me do that again," Roger said.
She didn't look up but stayed facing the ground, her shoulders shaking as she cried.
"What do you want from me?" she said, her voice low. "Do you want to kill me? Is that it?"
"I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill anybody."
"You killed that man today. He came to save me, and you killed him."
"He was a cop," Roger said. "He wanted to take you away. He ruined everything. It always gets ruined." Roger felt like crying again. He felt the hot tears welling, and his breath hiccupped. "I just want my house and my wife. That's all."
"You can have those things."
"No, I can't. Look at me," he said. "I can't."
The girl didn't respond, and he knew why. He was ugly and cursed. A fucking retard. He'd always be alone. After today, he'd always be alone.
"You should just let me go. It will be all right if you let me go."
Roger shook his head. "No. That's not what the clearing wants. It's not right."
"The clearing?"
"It wants you dead," he said. "It wants your bones in the ground with the other girl. That's what it wants me to do, and so I do it. I feed the clearing bones. That's who I am."
"Then stop it. You don't have to be that way. Let me go."
"No, they'll put me away, in the jail."