Gerald's Game Page #3

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and I said...

"A life support..."

Come on.

"And what is a woman, anyway?"

- "A life support system for a c*nt."

- Yeah, that was it.

You never told me you heard it.

You never raised an objection.

You smiled through the night,

hated me a little bit,

- but never once brought it up.

- Because you're not like that.

- You don't talk that way.

- Yeah, was I just putting on a show?

For a client?

Stooping to his level

to get something I needed,

or was that who I really was,

underneath it all?

Don't ask a question you don't wanna know

the answer to, I guess.

I guess.

A life support system

for a stupid f***ing c*nt is more like it.

How many hours you been chained

to that bed?

You never heard me breathe, not once.

And you know the sound.

You've heard it every night

for the last 11 years.

That tiny rumbling snore I make

in the back of my throat

that sometimes. I make when I'm lost

in thought. I forget myself. I zone out.

That tiny little "Gerald only"

f***ing purr.

Hours of not hearing that sound,

total f***ing silence, and you knew it.

Five minutes after my head hit the floor,

you saw blood. You heard the silence,

and you knew it, but you just laid there,

wasting precious minutes and hours

and breath and life, calling my f***ing

name, talking to a corpse on the floor.

What's happening?

Well, I'm pretty sure

you just lost your mind.

Seeing a dog eating your husband

will do that.

If you're gonna have a mental breakdown,

that's a great excuse.

Right.

The blood stopped spreading.

A while ago.

And you did what you always do

when it gets too much, you ran.

In here.

You just laid here,

calling my name again and again,

and let critical time tick by

- like a stupid f***ing...

- Stop it.

You should have been thinking

about life support.

Maybe that's why

you're remembering that joke now.

Gotta be for some reason, after all.

And why is that?

- Time.

- That's right!

You're a life support system.

You've been unplugged.

There's still juice in there,

but the charge is running down.

And if you don't get out of the cuffs,

it will go all the way to zero.

When did we get here?

One-ish, I think.

And how long till we got into bed?

- An hour, maybe more.

- Call that two o'clock, then.

And I dropped dead...

Ten minutes, maybe, after.

When's the sun been setting?

- 7:
15 or so.

- Oh, that's pretty close.

That's another 15, 20, tops.

So, let's say... five hours, so far.

Five hours you've wasted,

screaming for neighbors

that are half a mile away.

[both] If they're even here yet.

And, you know,

if you really think about it...

- Nate and Kelly said they wouldn't...

- They wouldn't be heading up until June.

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