Why do we destroy the ones we love?  Rachel Drummond was allegedly shot, but I was as responsible for her death if it were not for me.  I failed her just as I’ve failed every woman I ever loved — by being what I am.

As a distraction:

At present, Magda has brought home a “cure” for Quentin: a severed hand.  Yes, “King” Johnny Romana and Magda have attempted to play me for a fool, but a severed hand is a severed and is a a severed hand.  Between this grotesque memento and the performance of Pansy Faye, this has ceased to be a great estate and become a traveling carnival.  As I questioned the “powers of the hand,” I looked away, and Magda announced that the hand moved.

Of course, Magda.  Of course.

Miss Drummond’s death eclipses these concerns.  Had I not ventured back, none of this would have happened.  How many more have to die before my errand of mercy is satisfied?



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