In you go, nice and easy. That's it, slide right in. Don't be afraid-the water's fine. Don't struggle, now-there's no point. The drugs should make you feel all nice and sleepy, so this shouldn't hurt a bit. If you had been a better girl, there would have been no need for this, no need, but some women are just born bad. It's sad, but that's the way it is.
Caleb stood and watched as she floated away, looking so peaceful, her limbs spreading out from her still form, her white-blond hair blooming like water lilies around her head. His father would be so pleased. He could still hear his father's voice in his head, as if it were only yesterday.
"Your mother was born bad-wicked and evil and bad. So this is what you do to bad women. Watch, boy-no, don't turn away! And don't cry. Only sissy boys cry. No son of mine will turn out to be a sissy boy, not if I can help it. That's better-be a man, and take it like a man. Only women cry-don't you ever forget that. And women are bad-nasty, evil creatures. They have this thing between their legs that makes them bad-this bleeding, gaping thing that will eat you up or bite off your manhood if you 're not careful."
This one had nice hair-so pale and thick, like a white halo around her head. Just like Ophelia, floating down the stream.
Oh, yes, Ophelia killed herself out of love, my dear, didn't she? Well, that was a bit of inspiration on my part, I must admit. A nice touch-I hope they like it when they find you. Of course, you won't look so pretty when they find you, will you? Not pretty at all-you'll be bloated like a watermelon, I should think, all white and ghastly and gruesome. Maybe some young policeman will even throw up when he sees you-some of them do, you know. I've seen them. That would be too bad, but you only have yourself to blame. I could have taught you some manners, but it's too late now, I'm afraid. Well, it's getting colder out, so I'm going to have to leave you. Bon voyage-sweet dreams.