Read Eve Out of Her Ruins for Free Online Page A

one who talks over there like he’s forgotten everything, he’s fake.
    The toad yells on the roof. It welcomes the night.
    It yells, yells, yells. Carlo’s blood drips. If I stretch out my arms, will I fly away?
    Tell me, since you know.

EVE
    He helps me, of course. So it’s a trade-off. He gives me books, he pays more attention while correcting my papers. He makes sure, in class, not to look at me more than anyone else, not to ogle me with his milky, wandering eyes, but everybody knows. The smell of a man around the woman he’s lusting after doesn’t fool anyone. His jerky steps toward her don’t, either.
    He tells me that he’ll tutor me. He tells me to wait after class in the small biology room, since he has a key.
    After class, when everybody’s left, I stay behind. His searchlight gaze is aimed at me. My eyes burn while I refuse to blink.
    His pursuit was ridiculous. It was clear he wasn’t used to it. It took him weeks to summon up the courage to tell me to stay after class. He’s surprised I say yes so quickly, so coldly. How could it be this easy? He wonders if I really know what his intentions are.
    He gives me the key and tells me to go into the room, he’ll be there soon. Maybe he’s going to regain his courage in the bathroom. Or cool off his burning skin with icy water. Get condoms from his car, I don’t know. But I walk into the small room that smells like sulfur and formaldehyde. My steps echo in the hallway lined with vinyl scratched up by thousands of feet. Something flies across the dusty windows. I don’t have time to see if it’s me.
    He’s taken care of the setup. The table is at the back of the room, against the wall, in the shadows. We’ll sit side by side. I’ll be right by the wall. The table’s big and solid. And there are also lab benches along the walls. Immediately, the room’s function is transformed.
    When he comes in and sits down next to me, I see that he hasn’t cleaned up. He’s stilloozing desire. He stammers nervously. He opens a book at random, tries to discuss something with me. He wants to keep up the masquerade until he’s sure I won’t run out screaming. He asks me questions and doesn’t notice that I’m clearly avoiding direct answers. I just have to smile.
    With this smile, he finally seizes the opportunity, turns to me, and holds my face in his hands, his mouth struggles to find mine, he’s in such a rush he misses his target.
    I love you, I love you, he says, blind with desire. It’s so awkward I’m almost insulted. Does he really think I’ll believe him? His tongue is in my ear. The words bunch up around the thick mass. That moisture, his hot breath, his fumbling, it all disgusts me. I want to push him away, but I’m up against the wall, his hand’s rubbing all over and I hear him whispering, you’re not wearing a bra, and then he doesn’t say anything at all, he’s all hurried and stuck and drowning.
    I let him.
    He can’t even get my clothes off, I have to do it for him. He frees himself and tries to push into me. My head bangs against the wall, but all I feel is tired. He’s lost in my body. He’s thin in places, flabby in others. I watch him. I notice the bald spot at the top of his head. He’s so tall that nobody can see he’s losing his hair. I feel like I’m learning things about him that boil down to a few words, things that will destroy him.
    The disgust I felt at first has disappeared. Things are boring again. As usual, I don’t feel anything anymore. He hammers away. He doesn’t come. Do something, he begs. I shrug, then nod.
    While he’s grabbing my hair, I think to myself how I would have really liked a cigarette.

    Acigarette to mask the bitterness in your mouth. Eyes open, you work. Seventeen years old and you dream of nothing. Except continuing to walk beside yourself, fleeing your