THE THING IS, I don't think my husband expected me to be able to talk. I don't blame him for this exactly, since he had known me only as a statue, pure and beautiful and yielding to his art.
Naturally, when he wished me to live, that's what he wanted still, only warm so that he might fuck me. But it does seem foolish that he didn't think it through, how I could not both live and still be a statue. I have only been born for eleven years, and even I know that.