OCR Text |
Show 27 there are no internal organs that might be punctured. The hair on Theresa's belly is thin,,and the needle rests d i r e c t l y on her pale skin. Her body moves a l i t t l e as she struggles, but we see Maia holding her, her thin bare leg clamped across Theresa's chest, her small hands t i g h t around the forelegs. And we see Maia, too, we see the separate strands of her black h a i r , f a l l i n g now into her face, into the face of the dog beneath her. I t is thin h a i r , without curl or gloss. We see her round black-rimmed eyes, but they do not answer: they watch the f l o o r , the cold t i le f l o o r , see the inexact angles of the edges of the t i l e s and the small fissures cracking up between them, study the small scuffs and scratches, the streaks of dull-grey color, the tiny pits and dents, the uneven seepages of mastic, the dull false sheen of ancient wax. She looks once at Boaz and finds him watching her, his eyes wide, staring; her eyes r e c o i l. Her eyes recoil from h i s , and then she feels the dog j e r k , she can almost feel the needle through the dog, the needle plunging into the soft b e l l y , and she clamps her hands more t i g h t l y as the dog's throat arches back, yelping. She is afraid she w i l l lose her g r i p , that the dog w i l l struggle free, w i l l bite her, and she looks once more at Boaz, sees him f i g h t to keep the dog's hind legs clamped between his knees, sees the syringe flap in the thrashing stomach, sees that i t is s t i l l f u l l , sees Boaz break, sweating heavily now, sees him break, lose hold of the syringe. It flaps w i l d l y , and he grabs i t , pulls it out. |