you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.

speeches for dr. frankenstein, margaret atwood

"MOMMY'S GOING OUT WITH A FRIEND, okay?" The little girl gasped, her eyes wide and her mouth dropped. "What? Why are we gasping? We don't need to be gasping." The dropped jaw quickly turned into a wicked smile, something that scared Elaine more than it should have.

"You're going out with Mr. Cohle, aren't you?" The little girl giggled and bounced in her bed. A soft sigh escaped Elaine's lips as her hands reached up to rub her face. "You promised to never lie!" Her little finger pointed in her mother's face as a warning expression crossed her small features.

A smile spread on Elaine's lips as she chuckled. "Yes, Edie, I'm seeing Mr. Cohle tonight." Her eyes rolled as the little girl bounced around with excitement. The smile refused to drop from her lips just at the pure joy in her daughter's expression. "Okay, okay. You're never gon'a fall asleep you keep bouncin' around like that. And then you'll be too tired to hear all about Mr. Cohle when I get home." A chuckle escaped her lips as Edith quickly calmed down, pushing herself back under the princess blankets. "Miss Nora is gon'a stay over and make sure everything's alright. You need me, you tell her to call me, alright?" The little girl simply nodded, a wide, toothy smile shining back at Elaine. Her hand reached out, pushing a piece of the girl's hair out of her face. "I love you, Edie."

"Love you, Mama. Have fun with your boyfriend."

Elaine pinched her side, eliciting a sharp squeal and a fit of giggles from the little girl. She smiled as she stood up from the carpeted floor and turned to near the door. Her finger flipped on the star nightlight before flipping off the lights. Keeping the door cracked, Elaine made her way down the hall where her neighbor stood in the kitchen, a glass of water in hand. "Thank you for looking after her. I won't be home too late, I promise."

The woman waved her off. "It's no worries. After Marcus moved out, you know I don't have anything better to do. You're goin' down to Mack's, right?" Elaine simply nodded, grabbing her purse and checking to make sure all of her essentials were inside: her keys, her wallet, her cigarettes. Check, check, check. "You goin' out with that handsome guy you came home with the other night?" A playful smirk played on her pink-stained lips.

A soft sigh slipped from Elaine's lips as she rolled her eyes. "You sound just like Edie." She chuckled quietly. "In fact, I am. But it's all business. This case we're working on."

Nora hummed unconvincingly, the smirk still dancing on her lips. "Right. Well, I'm sure the hickies you come home with will be from all that business talk."

Elaine raised her middle finger at her friend, smiling as she turned to near the front door. The two shared goodbyes as she made her way to her car. Climbing in, she pulled out of the driveway and started her way to the bar. A knot formed in her stomach as she drove, some preacher on the radio spouting off verses of fire and brimstone. Something about it all was comforting. Reminded her of her home, listening to the same preaching in the back of a one-room church with her sister, giggling about the old women wearing wigs and the older men nodding along to the preachings. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she frowned. A part of her wondered if Sally would forgive her for everything, for that night. If they could talk it out. Or if this guilt eats away at her for a good reason. Something she deserves. You've made your bed, her mother spat at her, now you can lie in it. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she drove from the gravel trail onto the main road.

You used to hate all of this church stuff, she can practically hear Sally laughing. Guess it's grown on me, Elaine wanted to respond. Even her mother's old Bible sits on the nightstand in her bedroom, worn and aged. Elegant handwriting from her mother litters the various bookmarks on her favorite verses. She thinks that she might be able to recall a few off of the top of her head. 'And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.' Revelations 21:6. One of her mother's favorites, always quoted before supper. Hands gathered in prayer, ending with that verse. Elaine and Sally would look across to each other, silently mocking their mother and rolling their eyes. They would spend nights whispering that they would revoke her fate, that they would dodge and avoid and fight against it. And she wants to laugh that Sally sure did. Her elbow rested against the car door, her hand running through her hair. A shaky breath left her lips as she grew closer to the bar.

For so many years, she had fought back against the life of a mother. Tried to avoid her mother's fate at all costs. Look at her now. Sometimes she can hardly recognize the person staring back at her in the mirror. She doesn't recognize the wrinkles, the crows feet at the corners of her eyes, the frown lines at the edges of her lips. She doesn't want to recognize any of it. She wants to look away from her reflection, but she can't. Because it looks so much like her mother. If she were a superstitious soul, she might think that she has been cursed or reincarnated before death. But she knows that she has become the very thing she feared. The one thing she fought so tirelessly against has caught her in its grasp, squeezing until there is no oxygen left in the room. And if she thinks too hard, she almost feels she is in the room with Sally once again. All of the oxygen reserved for her. For the golden child who was corrupted by her older sister. An innocent victim of the work of Satan himself. Her car pulled into the parking lot, taking notice of the familiar red truck parked next to her. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she parked the car, her hands rubbing her face. Reaching out, she moved her rearview mirror to look at her reflection. Her fingers swiped at the smudged mascara, cleaning up any evidence that showed she'd been wearing the makeup all day.

Pushing herself out of the car, she entered the bar. It was more crowded than usual, an extra handful of younger couples eating at a table, joking amongst each other. She neared the bar, grabbing the empty seat next to the slouched form of the detective. He was still wearing his outfit from earlier. Had he even gone home? She can already smell the whiskey seeping from him. "Thanks for meeting me." She broke the silence, setting her purse on the bar to her right. The bartender approached her, greeted her with a smile. "Hey, Paula. My usual, please. Put his on my tab." She nodded towards Rust. The older woman glanced between the two before nodding and turning to make her drink. "I take it Lon was pretty upset about me takin' his car."

"You could say that." He quietly spoke before taking a swig from his glass. A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she nodded. His hand reached over to the empty stool next to him and placed the file down on the bar, sliding it over to her. "Here's y'all's file. Figured you'd need that." He's not sure what to say to her. Doesn't know why she invited him to this. Sure, she could say it was about the case, but what did they have to talk about? Marty would know what to say. And he would know what to say to Marty. Because he didn't mind getting on Marty's nerves, didn't mind if the man hated him. But he's seen how she is with the other detectives in the office. And something about being on her good side made him feel a little lighter, a little better. Like maybe he wasn't such a bad man after all. Something about hanging his self-worth on her opinion of him felt foreign - something he hadn't done since trying to date Claire.

"Thanks." She muttered as she grabbed the file from him. "So, what'd you guys think? You think they're connected?" The bartender set down her glass, Elaine thanked her with a smile.

His eyes glanced between the bar and her hands sliding the glass between each other. "They could be. That spiral, though. It looks too amateur to be our guy's." He took another swig from his glass. "I looked over that tox report. Bella-Jo had a lot more of it in her system than Dora."

"So, what're you thinkin'?" She asked before taking a swig of her own drink. A wince crossed her face at the warmth that leaked down her throat.

"Could be a copycat. Someone that enjoys seeing these women get this kind of punishment and is trying to exact his own kind of punishments." She slowly nodded, listening intently to him. But he didn't sound too sold on that theory. "Or... could be someone tryin' to frame our guy."

"Frame him?"

"They already know 'bout these other murders goin' on. Maybe they thought they could add one more onto the pile and nobody'd notice, be happy to pin another body on this guy."

She stared down at her glass, a small frown on her lips. A deep sigh escaped her as she hunched forward. "Jesus," she hissed quietly, exhaustion lacing her voice, "shit never stops. Ain't no rest for the wicked, huh." Shaking her head, she took another swig from her glass. "You ever think it'll all end? That we'll be able to head home and sleep well for once? I think that's all I'd like right now. To just get one good night of sleep."

A silent moment passed between them, his words stuck in his throat. He knows better than most what she meant. Ever since Sophia, he hasn't slept more than a couple of hours at a time. Some nights, in the still darkness, he can still hear her little sighs when she was deep asleep. He can hear Claire's quiet snore, and feel her kick in her sleep. So many things that had irritated him then, he now craved to have back. The mattress on the floor of his house too still and too soft. Not lived-in. His hands reached up to rub his face. As much as he'd like to go to his house and sleep, he knows that the second he steps foot in the building, his eyes will refuse to shut. So, he resigns himself to this stool, at this bar, at Elaine's side. Because where else would he go? Where else could he go that he could feel like this? His body feels at ease. Whether it's her or the whiskey, he isn't sure. But he isn't going to complain about either. She's one of the few people he can stand to listen to. "I met Marty's family the other night." He finally spoke, frowning with each word. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her turn to look at him, study him.

"You met the famous Maggie, huh?" She chuckled quietly, turning her body in the stool to face him. "And what'd you think?"

"You don't like her?"

"No, I do." She shook her head. "I just don't think she's a big fan of me. Not many are. I'm an... acquired taste, I guess." Raising the glass to her lips, she hesitated for a moment. Her mind harkened back to the office Christmas party that she had met Maggie at. His oldest daughter was barely two years old by then. And she remembered Maggie introducing herself before Marty could, a bright grin on her red-painted lips. It struck her how Marty had been able to convince such a beautiful woman to marry him and even have children with him. The conversation was normal, small talk. She asked if Elaine was married, had any kids. Edith wasn't even a thought by this point. So, the common ground between the women was small and growing smaller by the minute. "I don't know. We really only talked a few years ago, before Edith was even an idea. Maybe we'd get along now. How was it?"

His shoulders half-heartedly shrugged. "I guess that kind of suburbia isn't for me. Some facade we tell ourselves that our lives are normal when they're usually more fucked up than the rest of us."

Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment. A chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head. "Well, now I'm thinkin' you didn't like her."

"Marty don't strike me as a family man is all." He mumbled as he took a final swig from his glass, emptying it and setting it on the bar.

Shrugging her own shoulders, she hummed. "None of us do, really. Lon's got like five kids. Him and his wife are the happiest people I've ever met. Wouldn't think I'd have a kid, of all people." A huff of air escaped her lips as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "What was your wife like?"

His eyes glanced over to her, a frown on his lips. His mind is a blank. Everything in him battles between whether he didn't want to answer or simply couldn't answer. Claire feels lightyears away from this moment. To even think of her almost feels like a desecration. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came forth. A soft sigh slipped instead. The phone on the wall rang, grabbing the bartender's attention. "She was better than me. I think I wore her down. I think it all made her unhappy-"

"Nora's on the phone." The bartender approached the two, holding out the phone to Elaine.

"Nora? Everything alright?"

"Elaine, I think you should come home." In the background, she can faintly hear crying. "I don't know what happened, I was watching TV and she just started screaming in her room. And I don't know... I think I heard someone outside maybe. I don't know what's going on. I just think you should get home."

"Shit. Yeah, yeah. I'll leave now and come back. I'll be there in a few minutes." She handed the phone back to the bartender, thanking her. "You mind if I come back and get the tab tomorrow? Something's wrong with Edith-." Before she could finish her sentence, Rust pulled his wallet out and tossed down some money. Her protests went ignored as he pushed himself from the stool, grabbing the file and her purse. "I'm sorry to cut you off and all that."

"Let's go check on her." He simply spoke, holding her things out to her.

A small smile spread on her lips as she took her things and led him out to her car. This is familiar to him. This car, the smell of it, the feeling of the seats. She is a dark red, her body filled with anxiety. Something he sees when she's usually angry. But this is completely different for her. He watched as her hands tighten their grip around the steering wheel, as her foot pressed down on the gas pedal to rush back. His pickup truck is forgotten as he watched her, listened to the radio preacher she has playing. His eyebrows furrowed. He can't help but think about the Bible on her nightstand. And he wonders if maybe she's like Marty, a believer. But he remained silent, listening to the talk of fire and brimstone and Heaven and Hell.

The car is pulling onto the gravel path towards her street quicker than usual. Her heart is in her throat as she pulls into her driveway, parking the car and flinging herself out. Her fingers fumbled with her keys as she unlocked the door and pushed herself inside. Rust pulled out his gun and his flashlight, staying outside to look around the house. His flashlight shined around the corner, his gun drawn as he looked along the edges of the house. His feet carried him quietly around to the edge of the back of the house. Turning the corner, he shined his light around the small backyard. A wooden playhouse sits alone, holding a slide and a swingset. A few feet from it sits a small plastic house, bright pink and yellow. A frown spread on his lips as his mind trailed back to Sophia. Shaking his head, he shined his light along the house, catching on something under one of the windows. He neared it, crouching to get a better look. On the ground under the window, a small stick structure stood. His frown deepened at the familiarity of it. From his spot outside, he can faintly hear crying. Holstering his gun, he made his way back to the front of the house.

He pushed the door open quietly, his body stiffening at the sight in the living room. Elaine is knelt on the floor, a sobbing child in her arms. She's whispering soft comforts, promising that everything is okay and that she is okay. Nora stands off to the side, a frown on her lips. She approached Rust. "Did you look around the house?" He nodded. "Did you see anything? I don't know, maybe I was hearin' things. I just swear I thought I heard someone out back. Could've been a raccoon or somethin', though." He silently shook his head again. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she turned back to the mother and daughter. "I'm gon'a head back to my house. You take care of 'em, okay?" The woman sent a warning look towards him, something that almost confused him. But he simply nodded, watching her grab her purse and walk out the front door. He leaned out the door, watching to make sure she made it back to her house next door okay. When she shut the front door, he closed Elaine's own front door, locking it.

Elaine looked over to Rust, mouthing an apology. He simply shook his head, denying her apologies for there was no need for them. He understood. There were nights that Sophia would wake up from nightmares, screaming for them. The nightmares were almost laughable some nights. Giant spiders, killer clowns, a haunted house. All things little kids had nightmares about. The nights he'd spent in the same position as Elaine, holding Sophia in his arms and whispering sweet comforts that she'd be alright, that he would protect her. What a fucking joke that was. He quietly moved past her, nearing her sliding glass back door and double checking the lock. His hand slid the curtain shut, making sure no one could see inside the house.

"Edie, baby," she spoke softly, pulling back from their hug with the girl still in her arms, "what happened? Did you have another nightmare?" The little girl nodded, tears staining her red-splotched face. "Do you want to tell me what it was about?"

Her small hands reached up to wipe away at the tears. "There was this tall tree man. And he was chasing me through the woods. He was so scary, Mama. I think he wanted to eat me." Her voice cracked as she began crying again. Elaine frowned as she pulled Edith into another hug, her hand rubbing the girl's back soothingly.

Rust's eyebrows furrowed at the words. A tall tree man. His frown returned as he thought about the warden of the penitentiary him and Marty had gone to earlier in the day, talking about how a girl had seen a spaghetti monster chasing her through the woods. That police sketch of the face she'd seen. His feet brought him closer to the two on the floor. He crouched next to them, his hand reaching out to gently place itself on the little girl's back. She pulled back from Elaine, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. Something in his stomach flipped, something in his heart tugged. "Miss Edith," he spoke softly, "is there any way you could draw this tree man for me? Maybe your mom and I could keep an eye out for him, make sure he don't come around here." Somehow, the girl's face flushed more as she wiped away at her tears. After a silent moment, she nodded, climbing out of Elaine's lap.

The little girl entered the kitchen, opening one of the drawers to grab her paper and box of crayons. The adults watched her set them on the floor and begin to draw her depiction of the face of a tree man. With squiggles around the bottom of his face, she drew him smiling. A chill ran down Elaine's spine as she stared down at the drawing. Setting her crayons to the side, she handed the paper over to Rust. "This is the tree man?" He asked, glancing up at the little girl. She silently nodded. It was eerie how similar it looked to the other girl's drawing from the warden. "Miss Edith, would you mind if I kept this? I'll be sure to show all the guys down at the station, make sure we get this man and make sure he can't come get you." She frowned and nodded again, quick to move back onto her mother's lap.

"Let's get you back in bed, yeah?" Elaine offered a small smile to her daughter.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" She asked in her little voice, broken from her sobs. Elaine smiled, of course, she'd said. Picking up the little girl, she carried her into the master bedroom and set her down on the bed. She climbed under the blankets, watching Elaine tuck them around her. "I'm sorry I ruined your date." Edith frowned.

A small smile spread on Elaine's lips as she chuckled. "You didn't ruin anything. I will always choose you. It's you and I, okay?" The girl slowly nodded, her frown becoming a smile as her mother pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'm gon'a go talk to Mr. Cohle, okay? Then I'll be back in and we can sleep, yeah?" She nodded again.

Straightening up, she left the door cracked and made her way back into the living room. Rust sat on the couch, staring down at the drawing Edith had made. His eyes glanced up, watching her walk into the room. "I'm sorry about all of that. She hasn't had a nightmare like that in a while." She stood at the edge of the living room, leaning against the wall of the hall. "I can drive you back real quick, but I'd have to bring her. I don't feel comfortable leaving her here-"

"Come outside with me." He cut her off, standing from the couch and setting the drawing on the armrest. Her eyebrows furrowed as she nodded, following him out the front door. Pulling out his flashlight again, he led her to the back of the house where the small stick structure sat. His light shined on it, letting her crouch next to it and stare at it. Her eyes were wide and her frown was deep. Her mind drew a blank as she stared at it, a pit settling in her stomach. "I can stay the night. Make sure he don't come back."

Her hand covered her mouth as she stared at the familiar creation. Tears swelled in her eyes the longer she stared. That intimate feeling that washed over her when they'd found the structure next to Sally's corpse began to bulldoze over her once again. Her heart dropped deep into her stomach as she pushed herself up. Her jaw clenched as she slammed her boot down on it, stomping it to pieces. "Fucking Christ." She hissed under her breath as she attempted to control her breathing and the tears that slipped down her cheeks. "He knows where I live. He knows that my daughter's here." Her eyes stared down at the broken sticks only connected by bits of string. "I don't know what to do, Rust." Her words are mumbled into a whisper as a sense of helplessness began to wash over her.

His hand pressed to the small of her back, gently guiding her away from the bundle of sticks. "Let's get inside." He muttered as he led her back to the front of the house and back inside. Locking the door behind him, he watched her near the couch and grab the drawing, looking it over. "The warden of the penitentiary," he spoke, grabbing her attention, "he had this drawing this girl had made. Said she'd been chased by some spaghetti monster in the woods. Drawing looked just like this."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "This is your suspect?" Her finger pointed down at the drawing.

"We think the guy might have some facial scarring. Marty and I are goin' down to some tent revival on Monday to talk to the members."

She slowly nodded, her frown deepening. "Thanks for stayin', Rusty. Sorry you have to keep doin' it. I'm sure you'd rather be back in your own bed and all." Handing the drawing back to him, she offered him a smile. "It really does mean a lot to me." Her hand grabbed his forearm, gently squeezing it as a thank you before she turned to make her way down the hall to grab the pillow and blanket she'd given to him the night before when he'd stayed over. "Let me know if somethin' happens or if you need anythin', alright?"

He silently nodded, avoiding her gaze as he took the pillow and blanket from her. Without another word, she turned and made her way down the hall and into her bedroom, flicking off the light and climbing into bed with her sleeping daughter.

†

"Detective Greenwood, did your relationship with Cohle ever become more personal?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Romantic, maybe?"

A beat of silence. "It's complicated."

"Would you please elaborate on that?"

"No, I would not. Thank you."