"Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. "Choose between good and evil;— between him and me. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. He had mentioned teaching her how to read Latin one day when she had wandered into the library.
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