Eugenides covered his face with his arm. “I tell myself that, and I think I believe it, until I go to sleep. I tell myself that she isn’t—that she wouldn’t do those things. But I am afraid that she would,” he whispered. “And then I wish she’d hanged me. I wish in my god’s name that she’d hanged me, and I hate that Mede.” He laughed, and Eddis winced.
