The Rise And Falling Out Of Saint Leslie Of Security - Plot & Excerpts
Sweet, warm and sexual, the slightest hint of amniotic fluid; as if coming out of her skin is the reminder of her most basic origins and her most deeply hidden dread. And like that smell, like that hint of remembered smell, are the shadows just beyond her dreams. In her sleep she still gasps thick wet air in the dark, splinters from the door she cannot see needling under her tender fingernails. She still tastes the salt of dried tears, still listens for the return of her father's soft singing. There is still the overpowering convulsion of her cunt, the burst of hot fluid and that sudden sweet, oily smell. And the renewed panic. And the stifling, smothering feeling of being alone. Because in her sleep, the new shape of her mind hangs over her thinking like a soft sheet, less a part of her. Beneath the sheet, her memories lie in a slumber of their own. Still.* * * *Two agents escorted her in to stand on a blood-red carpet before a large oak desk, then stepped out the door behind her. Which left her with her superior, Staff Chief Russell, and she finally had to look at him.
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