sk.carrie-第17部分

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the　poor　little　girl
（screaming：　little　slut　o　i　know　how　it　is　with　you　i　see　what　has　to　be　done）
the　poor　little　girl　lying　half　in　the　closet　and　half　out　of　it；　swing　black　stars　dancing　in　front　of　everything；　a　sweet；　faraway　buzzing；　swollen　tongue　lolling　between　her　lips；　throat　circled　with　a　bracelet　of　puffed；　abraded　flesh　where　Momma　had　throttled　her　and　then　Momma　ing　back；　ing　for　her；　Momma　holding　Daddy　Ralph's　long　butcher　knife
（cut　it　out　i　have　to　cut　out　the　evil　the　nastiness　sins　of　the　flesh　o　i　know　about　that　the　eyes　cut　out　your　eyes）
in　her　right　hand；　Momma's　face　twisted　and　working；　drool　on　her　thin；　holding　Daddy　Ralph's　Bible　in　her　other　hand
（you'll　never　look　at　that　naked　wickedness　again）
and　something　flexed；　not　flex　but　FLEX；　something　huge　and　unformed　and　titanic；　a　wellspring　of　power　that　was　not　hers　now　and　never　would　be　again　and　then　something　fell　on　the　roof　and　Momma　screamed　and　dropped　Daddy　Ralph's　Bible　and　that　was　good；　and　then　more　bumps　and　thumps　and　then　the　house　began　to　throw　its　furnishings　around　and　Momma　dropped　the　knife　and　got　on　her　knees　and　began　to　pray；　holding　up　her　hands　and　swaying　on　her　knees　while　chairs　whistled　down　the　hall　and　the　beds　upstairs　fell　over　and　the　dining　room　table　tried　to　jam　itself　through　a　window　and　then　momma's　eyes　growing　huge　and　crazed；　bulging；　her　finger　pointing　at　the　little　girl
（it's　you　it's　you　devilspawn　witch　imp　of　the　devil　it's　you　doing　it）
and　then　the　stones　and　Momma　had　fainted　as　their　roof　cracked　and　thumped　as　if　with　the　footfalls　of　God　and　then。。。
Then　she　had　fainted　herself。　And　after　that　there　were　no　more　memories。　Momma　did　not　speak　of　it。　The　butcher　knife　was　back　in　its　drawer。　Momma　dressed　the　huge　black　and　blue　bruises　on　her　neck　and　Carrie　thought　she　could　remember　asking　Momma　how　she　had　gotten　them　and　Momma　tightening　her　lips　and　saying　nothing。　Little　by　little　it　was　forgotten。　The　eye　of　memory　opened　only　in　dreams。　The　pictures　no　longer　danced　on　the　walls。　The　windows　did　not　shut　themselves。　Carrie　did　not　remember　a　time　when　things　had　been　different。　Not　until　now。
She　lay　on　her　bed；　looking　at　the　ceiling；　sweating。
'Carrie！　Supper！'
'Thank　you；
（i　am　not　afraid）
Momma。'
She　got　up　and　fixed　her　hair　with　a　dark…blue　headband。　Then　she　went　downstairs
From　The　Shadow　Exploded　（p。　59）：
How　apparent　was　Carrie's　'wild　talent'　and　what　did　Margaret　White；　with　her　extreme　Christian　ethic；　think　of　it？　We　shall　probably　never　know。　But　one　is　tempted　to　believe　that　Mrs　White's　reaction　must　have　been　extreme　。。。
'You　haven't　touched　your　pie；　Carrie。'　Momma　looked　up　from　the　tract　she　had　been　perusing　while　she　drank　her　Constant　ment。　'It's　homemade。'
'It　makes　me　have　pimples；　Momma。'
'Your　pimples　are　the　Lord's　way　of　chastising　you。　Now　eat　your　pie。'
'Momma？'
'Yes？'
Carrie　plunged。　'I've　been　invited　to　the　Spring　Ball　next　Friday　by　Tommy　Ross…'
The　tract　was　forgotten。　Momma　was　staring　at　her　with　wide　my　ears…are…deceiving…me　eyes。　Her　nostrils　flared　like　those　of　a　horse　that　has　heard　the　dry　rattle　of　a　snake。
Carrie　tried　to　swallow　an　obstruction　and　only
（i　am　not　afraid　o　yes　i　am）
got　rid　of　part　of　it。
'…and　he's　a　very　nice　boy。　He's　promised　to　stop　in　and　meet　you　before　and…'
'No。'
'…to　have　me　in　by　eleven。　I've…'
'No；　no；　no！'
'…accepted。　Momma；　please　see　that　I　have　to　start　to；　to　try　and　get　along　with　the　world。　I'm　not　like　you。　I'm　funny　…　I　mean；　the　kids　think　I'm　funny。　I　don't　want　to　be。　I　want　to　try　and　be　a　whole　person　before　it's　too　late　to…'
Mrs　White　threw　her　tea　in　Carrie's　face。
It　was　only　lukewarm；　but　it　could　not　have　shut　of　Carrie's　words　more　suddenly　if　it　had　been　scalding。　She　sat　numbly；　the　amber　fluid　dripping　from　her　chin　and　cheeks　on　to　her　white　blouse；　spreading。　It　was　sticky　and　smelled　like　cinnamon。
Mrs　White　sat　trembling；　her　face　frozen　except　for　her　nostrils；　which　continued　to　flare。　Abruptly　she　threw　back　her　head　and　screamed　at　the　ceiling。
'God！　God！　God！'　Her　jaw　snapped　brutally　over　each　syllable。
Carrie　sat　without　moving。
Mrs　White　got　up　and　came　around　the　table。　Her　hands　were　hooked　into　shaking　claws。　Her　face　bore　a　half…mad　expression　of　passion　mixed　with　hate。
'The　closet；'　she　said。　'Go　to　your　closet　and　pray。'
'No；　Momma。'
'Boys。　Yes；　boys　e　next。　After　the　blood　the　boys　e。　Like　sniffing　dogs；　grinning　and　slobbering；　trying　to　find　out　where　that　smell　is。　That　。。。　smell！'
She　swung　her　whole　arm　into　the　blow；　and　the　sound　of　her　palm　against　Carrie's　face
（o　god　i　am　so　afraid　now）
was　like　that　flat　sound　of　a　leather　belt　being　snapped　in　air。　Carrie　remained　seated；　although　her　upper　body　swayed。　The　mark　on　her　cheek　was　first　white；　then　blood　red。
'The　mark；'　Mrs　White　said。　Her　eyes　were　large　but　blank；　she　was　breathing　in　rapid；　snatching　gulps　of　air。　She　seemed　to　be　talking　to　herself　as　the　claw　hand　descended　on　to　Carrie's　shoulder　and　pulled　her　out　of　her　chair。
'I've　seen　it；　all　right。　Oh　yes。　But。　I。　Never。　Did。　But　for　him。　He。　Took。　Me　。　。　。'　She　paused；　her　eyes　wandering　vaguely　toward　the　ceiling。　Carrie　was　terrified。　Momma　seemed　in　the　throes　of　some　great　revelation　which　might　destroy　her。
'Momma…'
'In　cars。　Oh；　I　know　where　they　take　you　in　their　arms。　City　limits。　Roadhouses。　Whiskey。　Smelling　。。。　oh　they　smell　it　on　you！'　Her　voice　rose　to　a　scream。　Tendons　stood　out　on　her　neck；　and　her　head　twisted　in　a　questing　upward　rotation。
'Momma；　you　better　stop。'
This　seemed　to　snap　her　back　to　some　kind　of　hazy　reality。　Her　lips　twitched　in　a　kind　of　elementary　surprise　and　she　halted；　as　if　groping　for　old　bearings　in　a　new　world。
'The　closet；'　she；　muttered。　'Go　to　your　closet　and　pray。
'No。'
Momma　raised　her　hand　to　strike。
'No！'
The　hand　stopped　in　the　dead　air。　Momma　stared　up　at　it；　as　if　to　confirm　that　it　was　still　there；　and　whole。
The　pie　pan　suddenly　rose　from　the　trivet　on　the　table　and　hurled　itself　across　the　room　to　impact　beside　the　living…room　door　in　a　splash　of　blueberry　drool。
'I'm　going；　Momma！'
Momma's　overturned　teacup　rose　and　flew　past　her　head　to　shatter　above　the　stove。　Momma　shrieked　and　dropped　to　her　knees　with　her　hands　over　her　head。
'Devil's　child；'　she　moaned。　'Devil's　child。　Satan　spawn…'
'Momma；　stand　up。'
'Lust　and　licentiousness；　the　cravings　of　the　flesh…'
'Stand　up！'
Momma's　voice　faded　her　but　she　did　stand　up；　with　her　hands　still　on　her　head；　like　a　prisoner　of　war。
Her　lips　moved。　To　Carrie　she　seemed　to　be　reciting　the　Lord's　＇Prayer。
'I　don't　want　to　fight　with　you；　Momma；'　Carrie　said；　and　her　voice　almost　broke　from　her　and　dissolved。　She　struggled　to　control　it。　'I　only　want　to　be　let　to　live　my　own　life。　I。。。　I　don't　like　yours。'　She　stopped；　horrified　in　spite　of　herself。　The　ultimate　blasphemy　had　been　spoken；　and　it　was　a　thousand　times　worse　than　the　Eff　Word。
'Witch；'　Momma　whispered。　'It　says　in　the　Lord's　Book：　〃Thou　shalt　not　suffer　a　witch　to　bye。〃　Your　father　did　the　Lord's　work…'
'I　don't　want　to　talk　about　that；'　Carrie　said。　It　always　disturbed　her　to　hear　Momma　talk　about　her　father。　'I　just　want　you　to　understand　that　things　are　going　to　change　around　here；　Momma。'　Her　eyes　gleamed。　'They　better　understand　it；　too。'
But　Momma　was　whispering　to　herself　again。
Unsatisfied；　with　a　feeling　of　anticlimax　in　her　throat　and　the　dismal　rolling　of　emotional　upset　in　her　belly；　she　went　to　the　cellar　to　get　her　dress　material。
It　was　better　than　the　closet。　There　was　that。　Anything　was　better　than　the　closet　with　its　blue　light　and　the　overpowering　stench　of　sweat　and　her　own　sin。　Anything。　Everything。
She　stood　with　the　wrapped　package　hugged　against　her　breast　and　closed　her　eyes；　shutting　out　the　weak　glow　of　the　cellar's　bare；　cobweb…festooned　bulb。　Tommy　Ross　didn't　love　her；　she　knew　that。　This　was　some　strange　kind　of　atonement；　and　she　could　understand　that　and　respond　to　it。　She　had　lain　cheek　and　jowl　with　the　concept　of　penance　since　she　had　been　old　enough　to　reason。
He　had　said　it　would　be　good…that　they　would　see　to　it。　Well；　she　would　see　to　it。　They　better　not　start　anything。　They　just