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Left alone in the dark, this secret festers, until everything around it is infected with its rot and it has become impossible to ignore, forcing us to witness the most depraved sides of humanity.
This, too, was intentional: she wanted me to look like a little girl, innocent and defenseless.
“Nothing,” she told me, “appeals more to a man than a young girl who’s not been had yet, apart from a girl who’s not been had yet and gives the impression she’ll be had by him.” She made me think of myself as a piece of fruit and the act of sex like plucking a plum with a rough hand, bruising the flesh.
The only spirit ever present was Ruth, my protector and only friend.
After Mama gave me my cue, I’d invite Ruth into me to tether herself to my flesh and the white meat of my spine, and once she went down my throat, I’d be possessed.
I sometimes think it would have been better if she never had, for her and me both.
Some things are so horrible that the only sane response is a bit of madness.
“Because the truth scares people. They’re always afraid of what they can’t explain, and my Ruth can’t be so easily explained.”
“Sometimes, she looks almost alive, and at other times, she’s unmistakably dead.
I’ve started to think that perhaps most of us don’t become a spirit when we die, and there was never anything for her to lure.
Spirits like her are not drawn to the happy and carefree; they want salt, be it blood or be it tears.
She smells like autumn—that is to say, like wet earth and leaves sweet with the first touch of rot.
“You need never be alone again now, Roos. You have named me and let me drink from you. We are wedded to each other now, you and I. You’re my helpmeet and yokemate, and I am yours. I shall keep you safe.”
If I had not so carelessly spilled my blood, would Ruth have found another little girl to love and hold and feed from?
“All spirits have a thirst for blood.”
Some spiritualists say that a person who dies a violent death is shackled to the earth.
her name is Ruth like my bestfriend that had a horrible death... idk if i can finish this
I’ve read the reports from the police and the coroner. I’ve seen the pictures, too (won’t be able to forget them anytime soon, either). What, I wonder, could have moved my patient to an act so vicious and brutal? Avenues to explore: sex, hate, jealousy, fear.
“It’s never like that. Ruth is my friend. She would never stay when I ask her to leave. She protects and loves me.”
I hated her then, hated her with a passion so fierce, it scared me. It made tears spring into my eyes, sharp, bitter tears that pricked and burned. Even the fact we weren’t really related couldn’t soothe me.
“She could see me. I swear that Knoop woman could see me, darling Roosje mine.”
And I was glad to see that dark splash of blood because…
You didn’t tell him about Mr. Mesman, for instance?”
Roos shall live with me from now on as my companion.”
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I hissed. “If you do, I won’t answer for the consequences. Ruth doesn’t take kindly to people who hurt me, and now that you’ve sold me, there’s no reason for me to protect you from her anymore.”
“You make it out as if Ruth is a sadist. She isn’t. It’s just…I’ve read a theory once that prehistoric man sacrificed the most precious things they owned to the bogs to appease its gods and spirits. That’s why we find swords and jewelry and other lovely things there. Ruth was drowned in a bog. That means she was someone’s precious thing once, so precious they cut and choked and stabbed her till she finally died. It’s not so strange then, is it, that Ruth sometimes shows her love for me through violence? And now I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“You must be careful with that, Roos. It’s a dangerous thing, to try and give someone everything. One day, you might find you’ve given away things you should’ve kept. Some parts of us must remain inviolate if we are to survive as a person.”
“She’s not really my mama, you know. She just makes me call her that because she thinks it makes us sound genteel. We’re not even related.”
“My real mother died when I was very young, and my father was a sailor. He didn’t want me to end up in an orphanage, so he gave me to Mama instead. He paid her to keep me, only then he died.”
