Juvenile Delinquent
Copyright© 2020 by Buffalo Bangkok
Chapter 40
While in the hospital, she turned for the worse, was calling me daily, berating me for putting her there. Saying the worst possible things she could say. Hurtful, personal things. Things I never thought her capable of uttering. She blamed me for ruining her life. That everything was my fault.
In a way, seeing her disintegrate the way she did, it was similar to watching my father die. She’d become emaciated like him. She’d been overtaken by this terrible disease. And like him, she was in denial about it.
I’d done what I could to help her but was exasperated. I’d talked to her parents, neighbors, and a couple schoolmates of hers. All told me really awful things, stories of her temper, her lashing out at people, her conflicts. She’d driven away most everyone and didn’t have any friends. It turns out that was part of why she went to South Beach, to start anew.
It was like the person I’d met and fallen in love was dead. I blamed myself. I figured that we should have stayed in South Beach. Then none of this would have happened. I started blaming myself for Gertrud’s death too. Like I should have done more to help her, taken her away from this crazy village, and maybe she’d still be alive, have had my baby.
The nightmares were continuing too. Every night seeing death, tormented by my sleep, and every day felt like 100 years...
I was starting to think that not only was my wife not right for me, maybe Austria, too, wasn’t for me. At first the history had disturbed me, the nightmares, but it was becoming more about teleology, with all these crazy people and death. I came to believe in a negative mist, an energy, a form, a heart of darkness there.
Insane cases in the media came out too, like Josef Fritzl, the arrant psychopath, who’d kept his daughter as a captive sex slave for years, in a locked basement of their house, and had kids with her, the kids also forced to live as prisoners in the basement.
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