I am compelled to complete this archive of my misdeeds. Maybe I will heal something in myself, and therefore in some small way for the world as well, by recounting it aloud.
I fell asleep in Cristiana’s henhouse, a dreamful sleep that pressed on me like a train driving into my sternum; I was pinned by some horrible nighttime encounters. I swear it was not my fault. In the thick of one awful nightmare, I woke finding myself in Cristiana’s shack. How I got there I did not recall even then – I must have sleepwalked my way. Charles was screaming like a rageful animal, finally waking me from this devilish dream.
My hands were around Cristiana’s neck, squeezing. In my mania, I half expected to find the nurses and orderlies pinning me as they had at Harewood, but no. There was no Nurse Murdoch
