She sat in the back of the hut, staring straight ahead, and Awa bit her lip. She wanted Omorose to tell her it was different, to tell her it was a lie, but the corpse only sat there until Awa told it to get up. “You’re not Omorose,” Awa said, her voice cracking. “I am her body,” said the corpse. “You’re not supposed to lie. He said you couldn’t lie.” “I never lied,” said the corpse. “You did!” Awa shouted, her stomach heaving. “You did! You told me those things, you told me, you told me you loved … oh no no no, not that, no, not that.” “Yes,” said the corpse, its eyes still staring ahead. “I’ve been talking to myself using her, her body, I’ve put the words I want to hear in her mouth, and I made her touch—” Awa was sick, hunched over and crying and unable to think. When she finished she staggered away down the cliff face and sat on the edge wondering how much she had imagined, how much she had dreamed. She had known her tutor was mad, obviously mad, but was madness contagious?
