Tommy was still
fine when I got there. He seemed grumpy. I assumed he was pissed that his
"X" wasn't doing him any good. Lilly must have ordered him to keep
his mouth shut about it. He looked at her pointedly a few times, but she didn't
budge. When Tommy started to look really
irritated and moved to sit on the floor, Lilly and I went out to her back yard
for a very long smoke break.
It started with
small things. Lilly and I would say words wrong on purpose, then deny it. We
started to talk to each other in surreal nonsense, and our laughter only made
Tommy frustrated with us. Suddenly, Lilly turned off the TV that she'd left
grumbling in the background and stared directly at Tommy. I tried to follow
suit, but Lilly kept on so long that I gave up. I don't know what Tommy thought
was happening, but he looked uncomfortable.
"I know what you did," she started.
"What?" he asked.
She was silent.
"What did I do?" he pressed.
"Take off your shirt."
Tommy looked at me, then looked at Lilly, and then shook his head. "I don't have to!" he announced.
"Take off your damn shirt!" Lilly almost growled when she said this. She got up from her chair, walked over to Tommy, still on the floor, and wrestled his shirt off him. He stared at himself for a while. I remember thinking that he looked confused.
When he finally looked back up, Lilly was ready to stare him down again. She was completely absorbed in it - she didn't look up at me once. "I know, Tommy," she told him.
Tommy looked like he genuinely didn't understand. I felt bad for him in that moment. Lilly, apparently, did not. She crouched down to meet him eye to eye, then reached out and grabbed the multicolored bruise on his shoulder. Tommy looked at me. Lilly slapped him in response.
I thought maybe she was done. She stood up, walked back over the to the TV, then started to put on a DVD. She pressed play, and in one fluid motion, walked across the room, grabbed my wrist, and closed her bedroom door behind us. She produced a chair and spent some time shoving it under the doorknob.
"Have you ever heard of Cannibal Holocaust?" she asked me.
"No."
"Maybe one of the goriest movies ever made. Banned in a lot of places. It's so bad, some people thought it was a legitimate snuff film. Anyway, I just started it."
"How long are you going to leave him in there?"
"Till the movie's over."
"I know what you did," she started.
"What?" he asked.
She was silent.
"What did I do?" he pressed.
"Take off your shirt."
Tommy looked at me, then looked at Lilly, and then shook his head. "I don't have to!" he announced.
"Take off your damn shirt!" Lilly almost growled when she said this. She got up from her chair, walked over to Tommy, still on the floor, and wrestled his shirt off him. He stared at himself for a while. I remember thinking that he looked confused.
When he finally looked back up, Lilly was ready to stare him down again. She was completely absorbed in it - she didn't look up at me once. "I know, Tommy," she told him.
Tommy looked like he genuinely didn't understand. I felt bad for him in that moment. Lilly, apparently, did not. She crouched down to meet him eye to eye, then reached out and grabbed the multicolored bruise on his shoulder. Tommy looked at me. Lilly slapped him in response.
I thought maybe she was done. She stood up, walked back over the to the TV, then started to put on a DVD. She pressed play, and in one fluid motion, walked across the room, grabbed my wrist, and closed her bedroom door behind us. She produced a chair and spent some time shoving it under the doorknob.
"Have you ever heard of Cannibal Holocaust?" she asked me.
"No."
"Maybe one of the goriest movies ever made. Banned in a lot of places. It's so bad, some people thought it was a legitimate snuff film. Anyway, I just started it."
"How long are you going to leave him in there?"
"Till the movie's over."
When we opened
the door to let Tommy out, he was gone.
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