Gone-Girl-by-Gillian-Flynn

B: You deserve that. So if you’re ready to begin, can we start with the time line:
What time did Desi arrive at your door? Do you remember?
A: About ten a.m. A little after, because I remember hearing the Teverers talking
as they walked to their car for church.
B: What happened when you opened the door?
A: Something felt wrong immediately. First of all, Desi has written me letters all
my life. But his obsession seemed to have become less intense over the years.
He seemed to think of himself as just an old friend, and since the police
couldn’t do anything about it, I made my peace with that. I never felt like he
meant me active harm, although I really didn’t like being this close to him.
Geographically. I think that’s what put him over the edge. Knowing I was so
close. He walked into my house with … He was sweaty and sort of nervous
but also determined-looking. I’d been upstairs, I’d been about to iron my
dress when I noticed the big wooden handle of the Judy puppet on the floor –
I guess it had fallen off. Bummer because I’d already hidden the puppets in
the woodshed. So I grabbed the handle, and I had that in my hand when I
opened the door.
B: Very good memory.
A: Thank you.
B: What happened next?
A: Desi barged in, and he was pacing around the living room, all flustered and
kind of frantic, and he said, What are you doing for your anniversary? It
frightened me, that he knew today was our anniversary, and he seemed angry
about it, and then his arm flashed out and he had me by the wrist and was
twisting it behind my back, and we struggled. I put up a real fight.
B: What next?
A: I kicked him and got away for a second and ran to the kitchen, and we
struggled more and he clubbed me once with the big wooden Judy handle,
and I went flying and then he hit me two or three more times. I remember not
being able to see for a second, just dizzy, my head was throbbing and I tried
to grab for the handle and he stabbed my arm with this pocketknife he was
carrying. I still have the scar. See?
B: Yes, that was noted in your medical examination. You were lucky it was only
a flesh wound.
A: It doesn’t feel like a flesh wound, believe me.