But I do. When I close my eyes and listen to the flies buzzing away in my brain, I know what’s going to happen. I see that giant black eye made of thousands of flies, the way it stared at me. The way it brought me down into damnation. If they don’t let me kill the flies, they’ll all die, too. The doctors. The nurses. Die just like Clara.
I can feel the flies pushing against the inside of my stomach, beginning to wriggle their way up to my throat. They’re coming. Maybe it’s a blessing. Maybe they will finally put an end to everything. An end to me.
THE END