Trauma Read Online Free PDF

dried blood. The room was prettily wallpapered in blue stripes and knotted pink flowers. A blue-painted toy chest stood under the window, crammed with Barbiesand doll’s-house furniture and model automobiles and
Star Wars
figures. On the walls were framed prints of
The House That Jack Built
by Randolph Caldecott.
    The bunk beds, however, were almost impossible to look at. Both children had been fast asleep in Disney comforters with pictures of the Lion King on them, and these had been blown into bloody blackened shreds, like monstrous flower blossoms. The Lion King still smiled benevolently at Bonnie out of the carnage, here and there. The mattresses of both beds were completely soaked in crimson. There was blood all the way up the walls, and two umbrella-shaped sprays of blood on the ceiling. It was no consolation at all that the children couldn’t have known what hit them.
    Bonnie picked up a Raggedy Ann doll, only to find that it had a thin string of unidentifiable human tissue draped across its face. Dan was watching her so all she did was put it down again.
    â€œYou know, we have a whole lot in common, you and me,” said Dan.
    â€œYou think so?”
    â€œMaybe we should meet for a drink one evening, talk.”
    Bonnie turned. “Why would you want to talk to me, Dan? I’m a thirty-four-year-old mother with only three topics of conversation. Cookery, cosmetics and cleaning up messes like this.”
    She could see that Dan wanted to say something to her, but he didn’t. He turned and led the way into the nine-year-old’s bedroom. Pink curtains, tied back with bows. A small dressing table, with play cosmeticsset out neatly on top of it, as well as three or four nearly finished lipsticks that she must have been given by her mother. Bonnie picked one up. It was Startling Scarlet, by Glamorex.
    The bed was the same bloody riot as the other two, but here it looked as if the father’s first shot hadn’t been immediately fatal. There were handprints on the wall, and the white sheepskin rug beside the bed was matted with blood, so that it looked like a slaughtered animal.
    Dan said, “She had half her pelvis blown away, but she tried to escape. She managed to get as far as the window.”
    â€œYes, I can see.”
    They looked around the bedroom a few moments longer, and then Dan said, “Think you can do it?”
    Bonnie nodded. “Let me go talk to the mother.”

Discussing Terms
    Mrs. Goodman sat at the kitchen table. A black woman police officer stood beside her, with one hand on her shoulder. Mrs. Goodman was a thin woman with a prominent nose and blond-highlighted hair that was pinned back in a tight French pleat. She wore a black dress with a diamante poodle brooch. She was holding an undrunk mug of coffee in her lap and staring at nothing at all.
    Bonnie gave the police officer a little finger wave, and the officer smiled back. “Hi, Martha,” she whispered. “Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. How’s Tyce?”
    Dan leaned over Mrs. Goodman and said, “Mrs. Goodman? This is the cleaning lady I was telling you about.”
    Bonnie leaned over her, too. “Mrs. Goodman? Myname’s Bonnie Winter, from Bonnie’s the cleaners. If this is all too soon for you, just let me know. I can always call again some other time. But Lieutenant Munoz here said that you wanted to normalize your apartment as soon as possible.”
    Mrs. Goodman didn’t answer at first, didn’t look up. “Is she still in shock?” asked Bonnie. “Shouldn’t you take her to the hospital?”
    But Mrs. Goodman lifted her head and said, “No, no, I’m all right. I want to stay here. This is where my babies died. I want to stay.”
    Bonnie drew up one of the kitchen chairs and sat down close to her. The sawtoothed shadow of a yucca was nodding up and down on the Venetian blind, and for some reason it put Bonnie in mind of a