238 < 30 > IN BED John drove her home after school nearly every day. ‘We needn’t murder Lucia. An ancient smile lay on his lips. But you belong to me—and I want you. Beck, it smells wonderful in here. I see that compromise is more necessary to life than I ignorantly supposed it to be, and I have been trying to get Lord Morley’s book on that subject, but it does not appear to be available in the prison library, and the chaplain seems to regard him as an undesirable writer. What about your real mother? Wasn’t she also a foster child? Michelle told me that she was suspected of murder, some people named McFerrin, McDougal. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle. So you took my womb away, you took my baby! So I could be a monster! Because she was a monster! We are monsters!” He grabbed the top of the cannon away from her face. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street.
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