"After Ginger Snaps"
36. Sense of Unease, II
Brigitte grips the carving knife as hard as she can without ripping the stitches on her arm, and paces her own orbit around the birch coffee table. The drone of the television is growing louder every second, it seems, and the pain is immense.
She paces, circling, circling, retracing the same line in an endless loop. Her sense of unease is brought on more by the fact that she can't go out, than anything else – oh, she's been shut in the greenhouse, except for that odd police interview about whether or not she killed Norman, for the whole week, yes. But being shut in with the option of going out and being shut in without that are two different modes of being altogether.
So Brigitte, in pain, circles the same line, like the arms of the clock, and waits to hear the tell-tale crunch of the van's wheels, carving knife in hand. The tip is still stained, she notices.
