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file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm“I did. I do.”She paused, thinking.“I know she died. . . spinal meningitis. . .““Spinal meningitis,” she repeated. “There are no pictures of her in the house anymore.”“There’s a picture of a young girl in your father’s—”“In his study. Yes, I forgot that one. And my mother carries one in her wallet still, I think. She was twoyears older than I was. She caught it. . . and she was in the back bedroom. . . she was in the backbedroom like a dirty secret, Louis, she was dying in there, my sister died in the back bedroom and that’swhat she was, a dirty secret—she was always a dirty secret!”Rachel suddenly broke down completely, and in the loud, rising quality of her sobs, Louis sensed theonset of hysteria and became alarmed. He reached for her and caught a shoulder, which was pulled awayfrom him as soon as he touched it. He could feel the whisper of her nightdress under his fingertips.“Rachel—babe—don’t—”“Don’t tell me don’t,” she said. “Don’t stop me, Louis. I’ve only got the strength to tell this once, andthen I don’t want to ever talk about it again. I probably won’t sleep tonight as it is.”“Was it that horrible?” he asked, knowing the answer already. It explained so much, and even things hehad never connected before or only suspected vaguely suddenly came together in his mind, She hadnever attended a funeral with him, he realized— not even that of Al Locke, a fellow med student whohad been killed when his motorcycle had collided with a city bus. Al had been a regular visitor at theirapartment, and Rachel had always liked him. Yet she had not gone to his funeral.She was sick that day, Louis remembered suddenly. Got the flu or something. Looked serious. But thenext day she was okay again.After the funeral she was all right again, he corrected himself. He remembered thinking even then thather sickness might just be psychosomatic.“It was horrible, all right. Worse than you can ever imagine. Louis, we watched her degenerate day byday, and there was nothing anyone could do. She was in constant pain. Her body seemed to shrivel. . .pull in on itself. . . her shoulders hunched up and her face pulled down until it was like a mask. Herhands were like birds’ feet. I had to feed her sometimes. I hated it, but I did it and never said boo aboutit. When the pain got bad enough, they started giving her drugs—mild ones at first and then ones thatfile:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (161 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:49 PM