Nevertheless, Patty pulled back the covers and groped her way toward the bathroom. The razor… the sharp, clean razor which would simply and surgically slice her wrists and let the perverted blood of her despicable flesh pour out into the cleansing air.
She got to the medicine cabinet and took the razor with which she shaved her underarms and legs, and removed the thin rectangle of death… It glinted in the bathroom’s fluorescent light as if it was an angel, winking at her, encouraging her to die. She placed it by the rim of the bathtub and turned on the water and adjusted the flow of medium warm. She had read somewhere that lying in the water and slitting the wrists makes it painless. You merely waste away, the clear water turning milky pink, then bright red and then burgundy as the life forces ebbed away. You slept after a long, drowsy period of relaxation. It sounded good and soothing to her wounded spirit to go that way. She watched the water, not in a hurry but then not willing to live any longer than she had to, either.
The phone rang.
She ignored the sound, intent on the gushing water. It rang again and again and again until its persistent jangling made her irritated… she couldn’t die with all that noise… she walked into the kitchen, unmindful that the window curtains were aside and her lovely nakedness was for the passing world to view, and she picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” she said. “Marcia isn’t home.”
“I don’t want Marcia,” came the voice on the other end, “I want you darling.”
“Who…?” and then Patty jerked backwards, almost losing her balance as she realized the man talking was her husband. “Larry!”
“I’ve been trying to reach you all last night and nobody was there. I just got home and darling, I can’t wait to see you. I love you so much.”
“Larry…” Patty, the defenses of her mind shattering from his closeness like straw before a wind, sagged into a chair and cried. “Oh, Larry, what are you doing home?”
“I’m wounded, Patty.”
“Larry!”
“I’m all right, it’s just a leg wound, but I’m out of the service for good. At least the active part. They don’t seem to want one-legged chaps much,” he added dryly.
“One-legged! Oh Larry, oh my precious!” The love she thought was gone for him came leaping back stronger than ever, clogging her throat with the emotion. “Where are you?”
“At my parents, of course. Dad said you were staying at Marcia’s, but he wasn’t too clear why.”
“It’s because…” and then she stopped, and the horror of the past few days welled up like a monster from the ocean depth. “Larry, do you really love me?” she asked impulsively.
“Love you? More than the world itself. Come on home, darling. I need you.”
“You… need… me,” Patty sobbed. “Larry, darling, I need you!”
Patty hung up the phone and raced to the bathroom to turn off the water and replace the razor blade. She had something to live for now…Larry… something which would make her body and mind whole and useful. Yet in the back of her head she also knew that the lessons of the experiences she’d had would not be forgotten. She needed Larry, true; for his love and body and security. She also needed the sex of the others, the wicked hunger of many men wanting and lusting and, yes, needing her. She hoped that she could make Larry understand somehow…