Dwight is in the hospital. Car accident, drugged up, split head and sore neck. Samantha was in the car with Dwight but is unharmed.
“Where were you going?” Larry asks, leaning back on the mattress in the apartment. Samantha’s hair is tangled over the pillow, dirty and sour-smelling. Her drug problem is getting worse, and Larry feels as out of control around her as she must feel doing the drugs. She hasn’t washed or eaten in days. He wants to be with her, to f**k her, but can’t stand that vacant look in her eyes anymore, can’t stand the dirtiness, the stench of her body. She is beginning to disgust him. That look reminds him, oddly, of his mother. When she whistled and hummed as she did the laundry or dishes, he would catch her eyes, try to get her attention, and those eyes would be empty.
