House of Skin

MEMOIRS OF THE TEMPLAR SOCIETY (8)

Stadtler was awake for some time before he realized that he indeed was. Sleep. Awake. Dream. Reality. They were all the same, weren’t they? All segments of common cloth? Cloth? For a moment he couldn’t remember what cloth was.

It’s something you wear, silly boy.

He laughed under his breath. No, no, no, that’s clothes… not cloth. Cloth is something you make clothes of. You can make many things out of cloth. Yes, yes, that was right. Ha, ha, Zero, he thought, you can’t drive me mad. See, I remember everything. I remember that mama makes things out of cloth and she uses her sewing machine. I’m perfectly fine.

Don’t you dare go outside in your new clothes.

No, Mama, I won’t. I promise.

He felt his body and started to giggle. Why, he was naked! He didn’t have any clothes on! What was she thinking of? Poor Mama.

I’m not wearing any clothes!

He moved and his ankle throbbed with pain. Ouch. Oh God, oh Jeezus, that hurt. Mama, please take this chain off me, it hurts so. A terrible, terrible hurt. Please take it off.

Not until you’re broken.

Mama? No, it was the bad man. What was his name? A number name, wasn’t it? One? Two? Three? Three? Two? One? Zero? Zero? Yes, Zero! I haven’t forgotten who you are, you bastard, you bad man you rotten terrible—

Noise.

Oh, that ugly noise and the light flashing on and off.

That voice speaking over and over. A man’s voice. Not Zero. Someone else. A man telling about his life over and over again. Every meaningless detail.

I won’t listen to your life! I don’t care about your life! I won’t be you! I won’t!

The voice ended sometime later. Hours? Days?

The badman was talking now.

What’s your name?

I won’t tell you that.

What’s your name?

I know my name, I know who I am. But I won’t tell you because it’s a secret, a private personal secret and I won’t tell you!

Your name?

I know it! Stennbetter! Starling! Studlater! Those are my names!

Name.

I know who I am I know who I am I know… And he did and he didn’t. If he could only remember. Just think and you’ll remember, he told himself, it’ll come to you. Just think. That other voice started again, telling about his life. I won’t listen! He curled up and started to cry, sucking his thumb. I know my name, I know my name, it’s… it’s… it’s— But he did not know anymore. He knew very little. It had been seven weeks.