Boundaries Read Online Free PDF

in. "This is exactly the time. What better time is there, Karen? This is my friend, here, and for some damned stupid reason, he—"
    "I went over," David cut in. He did not turn his head to look at them. "I went over to the other side." He looked at Christian, saw that the muscles of the man’s square face were rigid, as if in anger, and that his large gray eyes were wide with disbelief.
    "I’m not going to listen to it," Christian managed, as if preparatory to leaving the room. But he stayed where he was.
    Karen said, her voice low, clearly embarrassed, "I’m sure you believe that, David—"
    "I don’t believe it, I know it." He waited a moment for his sudden anger to subside. He looked away again, at the ceiling. "I’m sorry," he whispered. "But it’s simply not a matter this time of belief or disbelief. I went over to the other side, again, and it . . . scared the hell out of me."
    Christian said, "They’re probably going to charge you. Attempting suicide is illegal—"
    Karen admonished, "Please, Christian."
    "No," David said. "Let him talk. I know this confuses him. Of course it confuses him." He looked at Christian. "Forgive me," he said.
    Christian said, still angry, "It’s weak, it’s a weak thing you did. Weak and selfish." He paused. "And damned unnatural, too."
    David gave him a quick, puzzled look. "You don’t understand. I went looking for Anne. And for him, too. For Brian Fisher. I must find them, I have to find them."
    "Why?" Karen asked.
    David looked earnestly at her. "Karen, it’s clear, isn’t it? I need to know why she died. I have to know the reason for it. I need to know if she’s happy, now." He looked away. His eyes misted over. "And I need to find him , too!"
    "Him?" Karen asked.
    "Brian Fisher. My sister’s murderer. He thinks he’s gotten away with something. But he hasn’t. He probably thinks that he’s punished himself for my sister’s murder—but it’s not good enough, it’s not nearly good enough!"
    " Goddammit !" Christian whispered.

SIX

    I n the room the days came and went like leaves turning over in a wind. Time was not measured well by them; the days measured only the passing of events—snow fell and covered the house to a depth of several inches, then was gone; a breeze passed through the house, pushed the dust about, and when it dissipated, the dust collected itself again.
    The dust was sturdy and flesh-colored. It sat up a little as it collected itself, then it lay down again.
    In the cellar, during the passage of darkness, the things that lived there slithered up the stairs, out the doors and over the windowsills, and found the fields of clover empty.
    They went back to their cellar.
    And they waited.
    ~ * ~
    Christian Grieg said, "I’ve told you this before, David—I think you sound flaky when you talk about going over to the other side."
    David was surprised. "You never told me that," he said. It was the morning after Christian and Karen’s first visit, and he was sitting up in his hospital bed and thinking that he felt good. "You said you believed me," he went on.
    "No, David. I never believed you. And if I haven’t told you before that you sounded flaky, then I meant to."
    Karen said, trying to be the peacemaker, "This is getting nowhere."
    "We’ve nowhere at all to go," Christian snapped. "This is a dead end. We’re visiting our friend who’s crazy, our friend who tried to kill himself." He shook his head. "There’s nothing to discuss, there’s nowhere to go, Karen."
    David said, "I’ve never heard you sound like this before, Christian."
    Christian smiled. It was as quick as a pulse beat, and as tiny as the smile of a baby that has burped, but David saw it and wondered about it. Christian hurried on, his mouth set and serious, "I don’t understand you, David. I don’t think I’ve ever understood you. And it doesn’t make me feel good. You’re my friend, and I think I’m supposed to understand you. But here’s the thing; if I don’t understand