Chapter ThirteenIn the darkness of his bedroom, Angela slowly removes her clothes. Visible as streaks of white in the city light through his window, she looks skeletal; a thin, hard shape with long bones for limbs. n***d, she slides into bed beside him.
As she begins to explore his body with her hands, he wishes that he could lose himself, as he lost himself at the bar. Her cold touch tickles the hairs down the back of his neck. They make love tenderly; a slow, reluctant kind of s*x that turns his stomach. He wishes he could be sick, as though it would expel the badness from inside him; that he could continue being sick until his throat burned and everything went black and he found himself in that place Dr. Moore once warned him from, where there are tiny stars, and fish-faced figures swi
