This part is a horrible tease that will make no sense whatsoever. All of the things you've read previously are setting the foundation for a rather tumultuous need on her part for change, for drastic and sudden change. In this scene, which is about thirty pages ahead of the last passage, is when the volcanic eruption finally arrives.
Where did all this anger come from anyhow? How was it that it poured out of me so easily? Was I always this close to exploding so that I just lashed viciously whenever given the outlet? Did people constantly impede my way, impede my will, needless and needy in their intrusion, demanding in their hollowness trying to suck something from me that was never mine to give in the first place? That was the crux of the matter wasnt it? I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to be part of their inane little constructs and there was really only one way around all of this.
I didnt realize at first that I was crying and I certainly didn’t realize that John was watching.
My lips curled up viciously, ready for some sort of sarcastic remark.
He turned and walked out of the room,but before he did he said
"Yeah, I left Seattle for the same reason."
John went into his room and shut the door.
I bit my lip. I steadied myself . Tears streamed down my face and it all made sense and I didnt like it. I poured myself another shot. I looked out the window. It was dark out.
I took the clothes out of the dryer methodically. I folded them meticulously. It all meshed together inside my duffle bag.
It all made sense.
It’s been me all along.
It never really mattered.
Death and punishment, they dont matter.
Fear is the only thing that matters and the fact that I was totally weak was the only thing that mattered. Years of weakness and hiding had built up inside my head to the point where I no longer recognized it. It was just me. It had become a part of me. And that sickened me, that nauseated me. It nauseated me to the point that I wanted to smash mirrors rather than see it, rather than face it. It nauseated me that I was trapped, that I was suffocated, that my whole life filled me with some unnameable disgust because of what I feared.
And to think that all this time I had called it "survival"
What a joke.
What a joke that we're made to think that's all that matters. What a joke to think that life at all costs is the ultimate goal, to think that its better to be miserable and safe than to live by your own decisions and be in danger.
Fuck this.
I will take the danger.
I will take the risk.
You really want me dead?
You really want to collect that hefty price on my head?
Come and get me.
And the demons. What was up with that? I didn’t know. I knew I had to find Maria because she always could shed light on the weirdness. So what, now it wasn’t enough that the mafia was after me but the lords of hell were, too?
So there is nowhere left to escape.
Thank God.
I can stop hiding now.
I can die now if thats what it means.
But I’m going to die on my own terms.
Every minute of every day is going to be mine from now on.
Practical? Safe?
To hell with all of that.
It was mine now.
I took catatonic and put her in her cage. I looked at John as he returned to the kitchen to fix some tea.I smiled weakly.
"I'll be back soon," I said. "I'll be back before I leave for good."
"I know,"he sighed.
I poured two shots.
"Come on." I said. "Just this once."
He smiled and did a shot.
"That tastes horrible,” he said, “ I dont know how you do it,"
"You taste enough shit and it becomes familiar I guess," I sighed. I grabbed the bag and the cat and got into my car, driving into the night.