thought people would never see. I’d do it in the bathroom when no one was there, or down in the tunnels, or out on the grounds. Once in the music room, when I was trying my best to set my sock on fire, an attendant went by, saw what I was doing, and tsk-tsked in a mild tone, “Elyn, really, you mustn’t do that, it’s simply not on, you know.” In fact, many staff members knew what was happening; after all, they dressed my wounds, putting salve on the burns, noting the when and where in their charts. “Aren’t you concerned,” one said to me during a repair session, “that in summer, when you wear a
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“…the commanding impulse came from inside my head but was not mine.” Again, demons.
