back into herself like someone who has been punched in the stomach.
Where were her keys? Had she left them dangling from the lock in the outside door?
She let go of Bill so she could feel in the left hand pocket of the leather jacket he had loaned her, and as she did, Norman’s hand closed softly and persuasively around her calf, like the coil of a snake which squeezes its prey rather than poisoning it with venom. Without thinking, she kicked powerfully backward with her other foot. The sole of her sneaker connected squarely with Norman’s already battered nose, and he gave voice to a sick howl of pain. This changed to a yell of surprise as he grabbed for the bannister, missed it, and toppled backward into the darkened stairwell. Rosie heard a double crash as he somersaulted twice, heels over head.
Break your neck! she screamed silently at him as her hand closed on the comforting round shape of the keyring in her jacket pocket—she had stuck it in there after all, thank Christ, thank God, thank all the angels in the Kingdom of Heaven. Break your neck, let it end right here in the dark, break your stinking neck, die and leave me alone!
But no. She could already hear him stirring and moving around down there, and then he was cursing her, and then there was the unmistakable marching thud of his knees as he started crawling up the stairs again, calling her all his names—cunt and dyke and whore and bitch—as he came.
“I can walk,” Bill said suddenly. His voice was pinched and small, but she was grateful to hear it just the same. “I can walk, Rosie, let’s get to your room. The crazy bastard is coming again.”
Bill started coughing. Below them—but not much below—Norman laughed. “That’s right, Sunny Jim, the crazy bastard is coming again. The crazy bastard is going to poke your eyeballs right out of your fucking head and then make you eat them. I wonder how they’ll taste?”
“STAY AWAY, NORMAN!” Rosie shrieked, and began to guide Bill down the pitch-black hall. Her left arm was still wrapped around his midsection; with her right hand she felt the wall, trailing her fingers along it, hunting for her door. Her left hand was a fist against Bill’s side with the only three keys she had so far accumulated in this new life—front door key, mailbox key, and room key—clutched in it. “STAY AWAY, I’M WARNING YOUI”
And from the dark behind her—still on the stairs but now very close to the top of them again—the ultimate absurdity came floating: “Don’t you DARE warn me, you BITCH!”
The wall notched in to a door that had to be hers. She let go of Bill, picked out the key that opened this one—unlike the one to the front door, her room key had a square head— and then jabbed it at the lock in the dark. She could no longer hear Norman. Was he on the stairs? In the hall? Right behind them, and reaching toward the sounds of Bill’s choked breathing? She found the lock, pressed her right index finger over the vertical slot of the keyway as a guide, then brought the key to it. It wouldn’t go in. She could feel the tip of it pressing into the slot, but it refused to budge beyond that point. She felt panic starting to rip at her mind with busy little rat-teeth.
“It won’t go in!” she panted at Bill. “It’s the right key but it won’t go in!”
“Turn it over. You’re probably trying it upside-down.”
“Say, what’s going on down there?” This was a new voice, farther down the hall and above them. Probably on the third-floor landing. It was followed by the fruitless click-click-click of a light switch. “And why’re the lights out?”
“Stay—” Bill shouted, and immediately started coughing again. He made a terrific grinding sound in his throat, trying to clear his voice. “Stay where you are! Don’t come down here! Call the p—”
“I am the police, fuckstick,” a soft, strangely muffled voice said from the darkness right beside them. There was a low, thick grunt, a sound that was both eager and satisfied. Bill was jerked away from her just as she finally managed to run her room key into its slot.
“No!” she screamed, flailing in the dark with her left hand. On her upper arm, the circlet was hotter than ever. “No, leave him alone! LEAVE HIM ALONE!”
She grasped smooth leather—Bill’s jacket—and then it