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“FLIGHT”: The city is still hungry. The city is always hungry. But tonight, the heartbeat slows. They fly, they fly, they fly.”

“MASK”: Stabler and his wife dance all over the house, mouse masks on their faces. The kids stare at the scene in horror, and run to their room, where one is busy forgetting and the other is remembering what will, one day, be a chapter in her well-received memoir. Father Jones didn’t touch just Stabler and Lucy, you know.”

“ACE”: Abler and Henson sense what is coming. They fuck, they eat, they drink, they smoke. They go dancing, tangoing on the chairs; a gavotte across the finished walnut. When the Beasley family comes home, there are heel marks in the soft wood of their dining room table, and half of the plates are broken.”

“SHADOW”: If the day had been sunny and not overcast, she would have seen him coming. Everyone blames the weatherman.”

“LUNACY”: Benson doesn’t think about the moon very often, but when she does, she always undoes her top four buttons, tilts her throat up to the sky.”

“CAGE”: The rapist is raped. The raped are rapists. “Some days,” the prison doctor says to a resident as they stitch up another torn rectum, “I wonder if the bars make the monsters, and not the other way around.”

“DESIGN”: “If this child is part of the Plan, then the Plan was that I would be raped. If this child is not part of the Plan, then my rape was a violation of the Plan, in which case the Plan is not a Plan at all, but a Polite Fucking Suggestion.” ”

“HOOKED”: “I choose this life,Please put your energy into helping girls who aren’t here by choice.” She is so right. She is murdered anyway.
“GHOST”: A prostitute is murdered. She is too tired to become a spirit.
“RAGE”: A prostitute is murdered. She is too angry to become a spirit.
“PURE”: A prostitute is murdered. She is too sad to become a spirit.”

“People can be monsters, or vulnerable as lambs. They—no, we—are perpetrators and victims at the same time. It takes so little to tip the scale one way or the other. ”

“DOLLS”: The bells ring, ring, ring through the night, the peals stripping skin from Benson’s body, or that’s how it feels, anyway. Faster, faster, go faster. “I need to sleep,” Benson says. “I need to sleep to go faster.” That makes no sense. We never get to sleep. We never sleep. We tirelessly pursue justice at all hours. “Don’t you remember needing sleep?” Benson asks "No no no no no no no"

“VULNERABLE”: For three days in a row, there is not a single victim in the entire precinct. No rapes. No murders. No rape-murders. No kidnappings. No child pornography made, bought, or sold. No molestations. No sexual assaults. Then, in the gloaming of a Wednesday, a man wolf-whistles at a woman on her way to an AA meeting. The whole city releases its long-held breath, and everything returns to normal.”

“GUILT”: Benson can translate the bells so well, now. There is no delay between their chiming and her understanding. She pulls her pillow over her head until she can barely breathe. Give us voices. Give us voices. Give us voices. Tell him. Tell him. Tell him. Find us. Find us. Find us. Please. Please. Please.”

“REDEMPTION”: Benson accidentally catches a rapist when she Google-stalks her newest OkCupid date. She can’t decide whether or not to mark this in the “success” (“caught rapist”) or “failure” (“date didn’t work out”) column. She marks it in both.”

“MISLEADER”: Father Jones has never touched a child, but when he closes his eyes at night, he still remembers his high school girlfriend: her soft thighs, her lined hands, the way she dropped off that roof like a falcon.
”

“OR JUST LOOK LIKE ONE”: Two underage models are attacked while walking home from a club. They are raped and murdered. To add insult to injury, they are confused with two other raped and murdered underage models, who coincidentally are their respective twins, and both pairs are buried beneath the wrong tombstones.”

nu mai vreau bebelusi nu am empatie pt ei luati de aici VA ROG

“ Thank god we cannot make a baby. We can fuck senselessly and endlessly and come into each other, no condoms or pills or fear or negotiating days of the month or slumping against bathroom counters holding that stupid white stick up for inspection,”

me when

“It is like him to not understand what there is to be afraid of in this world, but I am still furious. ”

“Then she saw the face of the dead woman, and recognized her own mouth and eyes. She looked down at her abdomen, remembering, now, how she carved into her belly. She bled freely there in the bed, whispering something over and over as she died, something you and I will never be privy to”

" I confess it to him. I even describe the details of her ribbon, releasing an extra flood of shame.
He is so glad of this development that he begins to mutter a long and exhaustive fantasy as he removes his pants and enters me, and I cannot even hear all of it, though I imagine that within its parameters she and I are together, or perhaps both of us are with him.”
🥲

“ I know that I should not want her, not because she is a woman and not because she is a stranger, but because it is her job to disrobe, and I feel shame taking advantage of such a state. No small amount of guilt comes along with my wandering eyes, but as my pencil traces her contours, so does my hand in the secret recesses of my mind.”

“My son touches my ribbon, but never in a way that makes me afraid. He thinks of it as a part of me, and he treats it no differently than he would an ear or a finger. It gives him delight in a way that houses no wanting, and this pleases me.”

“Then one day I take him in my hand, and afterward he is so content I realize that I can sate him, even if I remain unsated. ”

“My husband jokes around with the doctor as he holds my hand.
“How much to get that extra stitch?” he asks. “You offer that, right?”

i despise men

“When you think about it, stories have this way of running together like raindrops in a pond. Each is borne from the clouds separate, but once they have come together, there is no way to tell them apart.
(If you are reading this story out loud, move aside the curtain to illustrate this final point to your listeners. It’ll be raining, I promise.)”

“(If you are reading this story out loud, make the sound of the bed under the tension of train travel and lovemaking by straining a metal folding chair against its hinges. When you are exhausted with that, sing the half-remembered lyrics of old songs to the person closest to you, thinking of lullabies for children.)”

“ I had seen them with my own eyes. But beneath the sunbeam of my father’s logic, I felt my doubt unfurl.”

“(If you read this story out loud, the sounds of the clearing can be best reproduced by taking a deep breath and holding it for a long moment. Then release the air all at once, permitting your chest to collapse like a block tower knocked to the ground. Do this again, and again, shortening the time between the held breath and the release.)”

"Did you stop to wonder how the crane came to the man’s doorstep in the first place?

“Marry me,” you beg.

Did he shoot her out of the sky himself?"