Page 136 of Misery
"This won't erase what happened," I say.
"No. But it's symbolic. Burning the evidence of what we were, or how we started, I suppose." She lights the match. "Question is, what are we now?"
"Whatever you want us to be."
"I want us to be normal, but that's not an option."
"So, what's the second choice?"
She drops the match.
The USBs burn, melting into unrecognizable plastic. "Honest. I want us to be honest. No more secrets. No more watching without permission. No more deciding for me."
"I can do that."
"Can you? Because your instinct is to protect me through controlling me."
"I can learn."
"And if you can't?"
"Then you walk away, and I let you."
I hear what he’s saying, but we both know that’s total bullshit.
She watches the fire burn. "The meeting. You'll back my play?"
"Whatever you decide."
"Even if it's dangerous?"
"Yes, of course, Elfe."
"Why?"
"Because you choosing danger is better than me choosing safety for you."
She looks at me then, really looks. "You mean that."
"Yes."
"Okay." She takes a breath. "Okay. Let's get ready for this meeting."
Two hours later, we're preparing.
Elfe straps the knife to her thigh, concealed but accessible.
I show her how to draw it quickly. If she’s going, I want her to know how to defend herself. "Palm on the handle, thumb releases the catch, straight up pull. Don't twist, don't angle. Straight up."
She practices, over and over, until muscle memory takes over.
"Good. Again."
"I've got it."
"Again."
She does it perfectly. Fast, smooth, lethal.
