Posted

Posted: Tue Oct 21, 2008 12:36 am Post subject: AMANDA'S STATEMENT - 6th
NOV, 5:45 AM

AMANDA'S STATEMENT - 6th NOV, 5:45 AM

AMANDA'S STATEMENT - 6th NOV, 5:45 AM copied over from TC:

Bluetit wrote:

From the Daily Telegraph, Nov. 8th

Police said that Knox, when confronted by police with her boyfriend's evidence,
admitted she had lied in previous interviews.

She maintains she played a "minimal role" in what happened, Corriere della Sera
reported.

The newspaper said Knox appeared "confused" in interviews, repeatedly putting her
head in her hands and shaking it, and that detectives believe she is still not telling the
whole truth.

She reportedly told them during interviews on Tuesday: "I want to talk about what
happened because the incident has left me really upset and I am really scared of
Patrick (Lumumba), the African man who owns the pub Le Chic where I work
sometimes.

"I met him on the evening of November 1 after having replied to a message he
sent me, with the words 'Let's meet up'.

"We met at around 9.00pm at a basketball court in Piazza Grimana and we went
to my house. I don't remember if my friend Meredith was already at home or if
she came in later. All I can say is that they went off together.

"Patrick and Meredith went off into Meredith's room while I stayed in the
kitchen. I can't remember how long they were in there together - I can only say
that at one point I heard Meredith screaming and I was so frightened I blocked
my ears.

"I don't remember anything after that - my head's all confused. I don't
remember if Meredith screamed and I heard thuds too because I was upset, but I
guessed what might have happened.

"I found Patrick this morning (Nov 5) in front of the language school and he
asked me some questions. He wanted to know what the police had been asking
me. I think he also asked me if I wanted to meet some journalists, maybe to find
out if I know anything about Meredith's death.”

Of Sollecito, she said: "I don’t know for sure if Raffaele was there that night, but
I do remember very well waking up at my boyfriend's house, in his bed, and I
went back to my house in the morning where I found the door open."

PS. This too is a stopgap. I shall delete it when a more complete and more reliable
version becomes available.

Posted: Tue Oct 21, 2008 9:53 pm Post subject: TRANSCRIPT OF AMANDA
KNOX'S NOTE - 6th NOV

TRANSCRIPT OF AMANDA KNOX'S NOTE - 6th NOV

Transcript of Amanda Knox's handwritten statement to police on the evening of November 6, the
day she was arrested:

Amanda knox wrote:
This is very strange, I know, but really what happened is as confusing to me as it is to everyone else. I
have been told there is hard evidence saying that I was at the place of the murder of my friend when it
happened. This, I want to confirm, is something that to me, if asked a few days ago, would be
impossible.

I know that Raffaele has placed evidence against me, saying that I was not with him on the night of
Meredith's murder, but let me tell you this. In my mind there are things I remember and things that are
confused. My account of this story goes as follows, despite the evidence stacked against me:

On Thursday November 1 I saw Meredith the last time at my house when she left around 3 or 4 in the
afternoon. Raffaele was with me at the time. We, Raffaele and I, stayed at my house for a little while
longer and around 5 in the evening we left to watch the movie Amelie at his house. After the movie I
received a message from Patrik [sic], for whom I work at the pub "Le Chic". He told me in this
message that it wasn't necessary for me to come into work for the evening because there was no one at
my work.

Now I remember to have also replied with the message: "See you later. Have a good evening!" and this
for me does not mean that I wanted to meet him immediately. In particular because I said: "Good
evening!" What happened after I know does not match up with what Raffaele was saying, but this is
what I remember. I told Raffaele that I didn't have to work and that I could remain at home for the
evening. After that I believe we relaxed in his room together, perhaps I checked my email. Perhaps I
read or studied or perhaps I made love to Raffaele. In fact, I think I did make love with him.

However, I admit that this period of time is rather strange because I am not quite sure. I smoked
marijuana with him and I might even have fallen asleep. These things I am not sure about and I know
they are important to the case and to help myself, but in reality, I don't think I did much. One thing I do
remember is that I took a shower with Raffaele and this might explain how we passed the time. In truth,
I do not remember exactly what day it was, but I do remember that we had a shower and we washed
ourselves for a long time. He cleaned my ears, he dried and combed my hair.

One of the things I am sure that definitely happened the night on which Meredith was murdered was
that Raffaele and I ate fairly late, I think around 11 in the evening, although I can't be sure because I
didn't look at the clock. After dinner I noticed there was blood on Raffaele's hand, but I was under the
impression that it was blood from the fish. After we ate Raffaele washed the dishes but the pipes under
his sink broke and water flooded the floor. But because he didn't have a mop I said we could clean it up
tomorrow because we (Meredith, Laura, Filomena and I) have a mop at home. I remember it was quite
late because we were both very tired (though I can't say the time).

The next thing I remember was waking up the morning of Friday November 2nd around 10am and I
took a plastic bag to take back my dirty cloths to go back to my house. It was then that I arrived home
alone that I found the door to my house was wide open and this all began. In regards to this
"confession" that I made last night, I want to make clear that I'm very doubtful of the verity of my
statements because they were made under the pressures of stress, shock and extreme exhaustion. Not

only was I told I would be arrested and put in jail for 30 years, but I was also hit in the head when I
didn't remember a fact correctly. I understand that the police are under a lot of stress, so I understand
the treatment I received.

However, it was under this pressure and after many hours of confusion that my mind came up with
these answers. In my mind I saw Patrik in flashes of blurred images. I saw him near the basketball
court. I saw him at my front door. I saw myself cowering in the kitchen with my hands over my ears
because in my head I could hear Meredith screaming. But I've said this many times so as to make
myself clear: these things seem unreal to me, like a dream, and I am unsure if they are real things that
happened or are just dreams my head has made to try to answer the questions in my head and the
questions I am being asked.

But the truth is, I am unsure about the truth and here's why:

1. The police have told me that they have hard evidence that places me at the house, my house, at the
time of Meredith's murder. I don't know what proof they are talking about, but if this is true, it means I
am very confused and my dreams must be real.

2. My boyfriend has claimed that I have said things that I know are not true. I KNOW I told him I
didn't have to work that night. I remember that moment very clearly. I also NEVER asked him to lie for
me. This is absolutely a lie. What I don't understand is why Raffaele, who has always been so caring
and gentle with me, would lie about this. What does he have to hide? I don't think he killed Meredith,
but I do think he is scared, like me. He walked into a situation that he has never had to be in, and
perhaps he is trying to find a way out by disassociating himself with me.

Honestly, I understand because this is a very scary situation. I also know that the police don't believe
things of me that I know I can explain, such as:

1. I know the police are confused as to why it took me so long to call someone after I found the door to
my house open and blood in the bathroom. The truth is, I wasn't sure what to think, but I definitely
didn't think the worst, that someone was murdered. I thought a lot of things, mainly that perhaps
someone got hurt and left quickly to take care of it. I also thought that maybe one of my roommates
was having menstral [sic] problems and hadn't cleaned up. Perhaps I was in shock, but at the time I
didn't know what to think and that's the truth. That is why I talked to Raffaele about it in the morning,
because I was worried and wanted advice.

2. I also know that the fact that I can't fully recall the events that I claim took place at Raffaele's home
during the time that Meredith was murdered is incriminating. And I stand by my statements that I made
last night about events that could have taken place in my home with Patrik, but I want to make very
clear that these events seem more unreal to me that what I said before, that I stayed at Raffaele's house.

3. I'm very confused at this time. My head is full of contrasting ideas and I know I can be frustrating to
work with for this reason. But I also want to tell the truth as best I can. Everything I have said in
regards to my involvement in Meredith's death, even though it is contrasting, are the best truth that I
have been able to think.

[illegible section]

I'm trying, I really am, because I'm scared for myself. I know I didn't kill Meredith. That's all I know
for sure. In these flashbacks that I'm having, I see Patrik as the murderer, but the way the truth feels in
my mind, there is no way for me to have known because I don't remember FOR SURE if I was at my
house that night. The questions that need answering, at least for how I'm thinking are:

1. Why did Raffaele lie? (or for you) Did Raffaele lie?
2. Why did I think of Patrik?
3. Is the evidence proving my pressance [sic] at the time and place of the crime reliable? If so, what
does this say about my memory? Is it reliable?
4. Is there any other evidence condemning Patrik or any other person?
3. Who is the REAL murder [sic]? This is particularly important because I don't feel I can be used as
condemning testimone [sic] in this instance.

I have a clearer mind that I've had before, but I'm still missing parts, which I know is bad for me. But
this is the truth and this is what I'm thinking at this time. Please don't yell at me because it only makes
me more confused, which doesn't help anyone. I understand how serious this situation is, and as such, I
want to give you this information as soon and as clearly as possible.

If there are still parts that don't make sense, please ask me. I'm doing the best I can, just like you are.
Please believe me at least in that, although I understand if you don't. All I know is that I didn't kill
Meredith, and so I have nothing but lies to be afraid of.

Posted: Wed Oct 22, 2008 2:36 am Post subject: LA REPUBBLICA THROUGH
HER LAWYER

LA REPUBBLICA THROUGH HER LAWYER

TLC wrote:
Answering questions from La Repubblica through her lawyer, From The Times,
Richard Owen, December 13, 2007, Amanda Knox

“She was a nice girl, she loved life. It makes me feel terrible to think what happened
to her. If I had been at home that evening perhaps I would be dead now too.”

“Both of us were stunned by the tragedy of Meredith’s absurd death, a tragedy we
were unable to explain to ourselves. Now I and Raffaele are both suspects – both of us
are in prison.

“I have tried to write to him from here but I don’t think he got my letter. I only
wanted to tell him that I never believed he had accused me, and that I had never
accused him.”

Asked why she had confessed that she stopped up her ears so as not to hear Ms
Kercher’s screams, Ms Knox replied:

“In reality I have never confessed anything. I had nothing to confess. I said those
things that are now used against me while I was in a state of great confusion.”

THE TRUE CRIME WEBLOG MESSAGE BOARD

The Times wrote:
An American student suspected of being involved in the murder of Meredith Kercher
admitted yesterday that she was “a bit wild” but insisted that she had played no part in
the crime.

In her first interview since being arrested, Amanda Knox, 20, spoke of how moving to
the Italian city of Perugia had left her “intoxicated by freedom”, and said that she had
done things “that now I think were wrong”.

Answering questions from La Repubblica through her lawyer, she said that she was
shocked by the death of Ms Kercher. The body of the British exchange student was
found semi-naked with her throat cut in their shared house, on November 2. Her
funeral will be held tomorrow.

Ms Knox told the newspaper: “For a girl of 20 like me, born on the other side of the
ocean, it isn’t easy to be locked up for over a month in an Italian prison.

“It’s made me feel terrible that people think I killed Meredith, just as the things they
said in the newspapers and on TV about me and my family hurt me too.

“My mother was taken to pieces by the Anglo-Saxon papers, and they described me
as if I were a monster.”

Ms Knox, from Seattle, has been held at Capanne jail, outside Perugia, since
November 6, along with Raffaele Sollecito, 23, her Italian boyfriend, also a suspect. A
third man, Rudy Hermann Guede, was arrested in Germany and was extradited last
week.

Ms Knox said that she was looking forward to “explaining the contradictions” in her
testimony when she is questioned by an investigating magistrate on Monday. “I hope
they finally believe me,” she said.

She added: “I am not worried. The love of my parents and confidence in my lawyers
are not only helping me to bear this situation, they also lead me to hope there will be a
positive solution to the inquiry.”

Ms Knox was educated at a Jesuit school, and called herself Foxy Knoxy on internet
profiles. She has been described by those who knew her as a man-eating, drug-taking
“wild child”. She claimed that the media had “talked about me without even knowing
me”. Asked who she really was, she replied: “A girl of 20 who came to Perugia to
learn Italian after she had studied Japanese. I have had boyfriends, just like other girls
of my age, I remember them all. Some were important, others weren’t.

“In Italy I felt intoxicated by freedom: sometimes I went a bit wild. Sometimes I did
things that now I think were wrong. all that comes from my youth and my enthusiasm
for life. It certainly doesn’t come from some obscure and evil side of my personality.”

Ms Knox said it was also untrue that she “quarrelled every day” with Ms Kercher. She
said: “Meredith was sweet and sensitive. I liked living with her. We were friends even
if each of us had their own lives. I had lunch with her at our house on November 1.

We told each other what we had done the night before, at Hallowe’en. I remember her
telling me she had had a lot of fun.

“She was a nice girl, she loved life. It makes me feel terrible to think what happened
to her. If I had been at home that evening perhaps I would be dead now too.”

She said that she had “one of the most intense relationships of my life” with Mr
Sollecito and insisted that they had spent the evening of the murder at his flat and
slept there until morning.

“Both of us were stunned by the tragedy of Meredith’s absurd death, a tragedy we
were unable to explain to ourselves. Now I and Raffaele are both suspects – both of us
are in prison.

“I have tried to write to him from here but I don’t think he got my letter. I only
wanted to tell him that I never believed he had accused me, and that I had never
accused him.”

Asked why she had confessed that she stopped up her ears so as not to hear Ms
Kercher’s screams, Ms Knox replied: “In reality I have never confessed anything. I
had nothing to confess. I said those things that are now used against me while I was in
a state of great confusion.”

Posted: Wed Oct 22, 2008 2:41 am Post subject: LA MIA PRIGIONE

LA MIA PRIGIONE

TLC wrote:
Knox allegedly wrote her new story in a 50-page diary which she has kept since being
jailed.

The journal, which she called La Mia Prigione (my prison) was seized by police from
her cell.

Reports said Knox wrote: "That night I smoked a lot of marijuana and I fell asleep at
my boyfriend's house. I don't remember anything.

"But I think it's possible that Raffaele went to Meredith's house, raped her and then
killed.

"And then when he got home, while I was sleeping, he put my fingerprints on the
knife. But I don't understand why Raffaele would do that."

Knox also writes, if she had been at the home she shared with Meredith on the night
of the murder, that "Meredith would still be alive. She was a wise, smart girl who had
plenty of advice".

The diary, which police are examining, also describes her life in jail.

She adds: "I sing, write and, when I have an hour of outside time, I sit with my face in
the sun, so I can get a tan.

"I have received letters from fellow inmates and ADMIRERS TELLING ME THAT I
AM HOT AND THEY WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME. I have also had insulting
letters."

(odd that in light of the crimes she doesn't find letters from strangers saying they want
to have sex with her as insulting or inappropriate as well as being in very bad taste at
such a moment)


Last edited by Michael on Thu Oct 30, 2008 2:53 pm, edited 2 times in total.

QUOTES FROM AMANDA'S DIARY (PUBLISHED June 24 sq.)

Bluetit wrote:
Quotes from AK's prison diary (published June 24 sq.)

"I'm writing this because I want to remember. I want to remember because this is an experience not
many people will ever have. I am not saying I am glad everything that has happened has happened. If
it were up to me, my friend would never have been killed."

'I wonder if I would have had these letters if I was ugly. I don't think so'.

"I am innocent so I will be free. Free. Free. Free. Freedom. I will have freedom."

"Do you know me? Open your eyes and see that when it is said I am an angel, or I am a devil, or I am
a lost girl, recognise that what is really lost is: the truth!"

(to her American boyfriend) "Dear DJ, I really feel the need to hold you in my arms right now. I have
this knot inside and I feel as if someone really cold and strong is pressing my head. I beg you, I cannot
stay alone right now. I hate being weak, but I am ill and tired. I want to go home. How can I continue
like this for the next 14 days? How can they treat me like this, looking at me as if I was an assassin?
They really believe that I am and that's not ok. This cannot be my life. I beg you, this cannot be my life.
Please hold me in your arms, now"
[«Caro Dj, proprio in questo momento sento il bisogno di tenerti tra le braccia. Ho ancora quel
groppo dentro e sento come se qualcuno, veramente forte e freddo, mi sta comprimendo la testa. Ti
prego, non posso star sola proprio adesso. Mi spiace essere debole, ma sto male e sono stanca. Voglio
andare a casa. Come riuscirò a continuare così per i prossimi 14 giorni? Come possono trattarmi
così, guardarmi come se fossi un'assassina? Loro pensano realmente che lo sia e questo non va bene.
Questa non può essere la mia vita. Ti prego, questa non può essere la mia vita. Ti prego, tienimi tra le
braccia, ora»]

"I've got fat. When I arrived in Italy I weighed 60 kilos, now I weigh 66, six kilos more. Mamma mia! I
must stop eating biscuits. I won't eat any more until I'm down to 55 kilos."

"I do exercises, sing, write, read, sleep, eat, drink and think. I can go to the library. I have eight
television channels I can watch in the cell, I have a bath and a lamp for reading."
[«Faccio i piegamenti, canto, leggo, scrivo, dormo, mangio, bevo. E penso... Ho accesso alla
biblioteca, ho 8 canali televisivi che posso vedere in cella, ho un bagno e una lampada per leggere».]

"It's not right keeping people caged up like this. The evil bottled up inside them comes out when they
get the chance, like wild animals."
[«Non va bene tenere le persone in gabbia in questo modo. Esse covano il male dentro e non possono
fare a meno di tirarlo fuori quando ne hanno la possibilità. Sono come animali furiosi»]

(list) «dei ragazzi con i quali ho fatto sesso da quando sono in Italia»

"I will never smoke marijuana again. When they free me I will go back to the United States, but I will
come back to Italy to study. I’m not afraid of this country, it's part of me now. This is place I call home.
And before all this happened I was so happy."

"My friend was killed. My roommate, my friend. She was beautiful, intelligent, fun and cared for
everyone. Everyone I know is destroyed by sadness for her, but we all have contrasting feelings. We
are angry. We want justice."
[«La mia amica è stata uccisa. La mia compagna di stanza, la mia amica. Era bella, intelligente,
divertente e si preoccupava per tutti. Ed è stata uccisa. Tutti quelli che conosco sono distrutti dal
dolore per lei, ma abbiamo anche tutti sentimenti contraddittori. Siamo arrabbiati. Vogliamo giustizia
».]

«sembra che Raffaele abbia detto ai giornali (ma chi può fidarsi di loro?) che tutto ciò che ho fatto ha
reso la sua vita una follia e non vuole più avere niente a che fare con me. Ahia!»

(re the knife) "E’ così semplice. Non ho mai portato un coltello avanti e indietro da casa mia a quella
di Raffaele. Non l’ho mai fatto. Non ho mai aiutato nessuno. Non so chi ha ucciso la mia amica, io non
ero lì. E’ questa la verità".

"I only made one mistake, when I said that it was Patrick, but I didn't say his name with any bad
intention. I said it only to say something."
["Una sola cosa ho sbagliato, quando ho detto che è stato Patrick, ma non ho detto il suo nome con
una intenzione cattiva. L’ho detto solo per dire qualcosa".]

'a boy whom I know vaguely called Rudy.'
[(parlare dell’altro indagato ivoriano,) "un ragazzo che conosco vagamente che si chiama Rudy".]


Last edited by Michael on Thu Oct 30, 2008 2:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Posted: Wed Oct 22, 2008 1:23 pm Post subject: AMANDA'S DIARY EXTRACT
FROM BOOK

[center]DIARY EXTRACT FROM BOOK - RE-TRANSLATED BY DAMIAN

Bluetit wrote:
"I'm writing this because I want to remember. I want to remember because this is an experience not
many people will ever have. I am not saying I am glad everything that has happened has happened. If it
were up to me, my friend would never have been killed and we would still live together in our

house...We got on well together. We all had our own parts of the house. Meredith was the most
studious and also used to go out with her friends to the disco and to dinner. She was very intelligent
and always a good friend to me. She gave me advice and protected me when I found myself in difficult
situations. She was the most solitary among us, but only because at home she loved to stay in peace and
read her crime/mystery novels, but at the same time she used to join us to watch silly programmes on
TV. And then there was me, the smallest, the youngest, but also very particular. ('particulare' my least
favourite word in Italian since it means a whole host of things. Here maybe it means different from the
others but I'm only guessing. d) I do things like sing and play the guitar... I want to remember also how
I remembered everything that happened that night.

I was in my cell, thinking and thinking, in the hope of remembering, in the hope of having done the
right thing, worried that maybe the police were right, maybe I had seen Meredith's death, maybe I was
confused and not able to remember such a tragic thing. But it's not like this. In my cell I was waiting
for an answer from/through my mind when a nun appeared at my door. She told me to have patience
because God knows everything and would help me to remember. Everything came flooding back to
me, one detail after another, until the moment in which my head fell against the pillow and I fell asleep
when Meredith was killed.

I know I'm not suspected of murder because Meredith was raped and killed, but the police want to
think that I'm involved. They'll probably shout at me again and call me a liar and say I'm protecting
someone... I remember what I did that night and there's no way they can prove I was there and
especially in Meredith's room because it's impossible. They lied to me when they said I was at home. I
WAS NOT AT HOME and so they can't prove it. I'm irritated/annoyed that they lied to me about this.
They think I'm involved and it's sad because it means they have no idea what happened. They don't
know who killed my friend.

" What I want to do is to walk out of here with no proof against me, held in the arms of my mother in a
big hug. She will also cry when she sees me. When I can get out of here with her, hand in hand, I'll
know that I'm finally free. To meet Raffaele and to ask him why. What's he afraid of if he's telling
these lies about me. It's something which I really can't explain. He's important to me and when I look
inside myself I see that he is still important to me. I really want to know why he wants to tell the police
that I have something to do with this when I know he knows I've got nothing to do with this. Why
should he say I told him to lie? It makes no sense...

All I have is this pen and this last page... How will I be after all this? I don't think I'll go around by
night alone. I also hope I won't be afraid to be by myself. I don't want to be traumatized by all this. I
want to be happy like I used to be and a little bit more cautious. I imagine I've grown up a bit... Maybe
now I know that the world can be a dangerous place and the rest. But the world must believe me
because this is the truth."

This is translated from 'Meredith, cronaca di un delitto' (murena editrice) I don't claim
that these are the words of AK. I've translated from the Italian of this book. They
claim that these words were the Italian translation of a part of 'My Prison' written by
AK. I've translated them back.

Last edited by damian on Tue Aug 05, 2008 2:01 pm; edited 1 time in total


Posted: Thu Oct 23, 2008 8:11 pm Post subject: AMANDA KNOX’S PRISON
LIFE

AMANDA KNOX’S PRISON LIFE

From La Nazione Umbria. 22.10.2008. Journalists; Erika Pontini. Enzo Beretta., Translated by
DAMIAN:

Amanda Knox's Prison Life

La Nazione Umbria wrote:
Amanda studies languages, reads Gandhi and practices playing the guitar in her cell.
Amanda ‘la bambina’, as her cell mate calls her, writes to her boyfriend DJ in
America, to her friends, has her haircut at the hairdresser’s and does aerobics. She
wants to see the sweatshirts they are making with ‘Free Amanda’ written on them.
Amanda and her nightmares; “I don’t dream in here…the only thing I dream is that
I’m in court and they tell me ‘You must stay in prison.’” Amanda was contacted by
a publisher who would like to publish her book. She is courted by journalists who
want to interview her.

This is the life of the twenty-one year old student from Seattle, accused of the most
atrocious of crimes; killing her friend at the end of a sex game. She lives to the
rhythm of the strict rules of the Perugian prison and gradually details emerge from her
diaries and from the bugged conversations with her parents.

On Mondays, Amanda does gymnastics. On Tuesdays she is allowed to watch a film.
Thursdays are free and she has guitar lessons on Fridays (”two hours of lessons a
week really isn’t much”). She goes to mass on Saturdays. She says the police are
‘quite cold’ with her since they have understood that she won’t confide in them. She
tells her parents that she is tired of her cellmate (that is believed to have made
advances) because she is “obsessed with cleaning” in so much as that she even
follows her around with a sponge. “I’m tired of having ruined hands because of all the
cleaning I’m forced to do”, she complains, hoping that she’ll be able to change cell.
“Rosa annoys her”, summarise the officers in charge, “she is stubborn. With regard to
her obsession with cleanliness, Amanda says that it has got worse recently, to the
point that Rosa prefers to do the cleaning by herself.”

Amanda reads in prison. “Gandhi, which is about the life and thoughts of the great
Indian man…just yesterday I got one (a book d) written in the seventies about the
condition of women and another about human beings’ emotions and different
reactions.” She’s so into reading that she once read a whole Harry Potter book in just
ten hours. The enigmatic student, who is accused of stabbing her friend/flatmate along
with Raffaele Sollecito and Rudy Guede, dedicates herself to studying languages.

“Her father asks his daughter about her study of languages”, write the police.
“Amanda says that they are going well. She says that French doesn’t create many
problems because the grammar is very similar to Italian. She says that Chinese is
easier to speak than it is too understand. Russian isn’t very difficult but Amanda says
she hasn’t yet understood the written form. In fact, the problem with Russian and
Chinese is connected to the fact that the letters are different in the respective
alphabets.”

During a visit from her parents, she tells of when the Bishop washed her feet at

Easter. “I was very excited. He did this for me and I’m a nobody.”

She doesn’t speak much of her murdered friend (a crime for which she has always
declared her innocence). One day however, the day in which footage of the dead
woman’s body was transmitted on TV she said, “It’s simply horrible.” And the
mother says, “We will pass on a letter of disaproval because we want it to be clear
that we are not responsible for this and that we don’t approve of the fact that this stuff
has been released.”

One day, at the end she says. “I’m certainly not happy but I won’t die of this.”

DAMIAN adds the caveat:

Knox Interview With Italian MP Enrico Gasbarra, After Being Sent to Trial and Refused House
Arrest

As reported in the Daily Mail by Nick Pisa on 30th October 2008:

THE DAILY MAIL

Nick Pisa wrote:
After receiving the fax ordering her to stay in jail until the trial begins, she told a
guard: 'I want to be alone with my suffering.'

Knox shares her cell at Capanne jail with another inmate called Rosa who is serving
life for murder but is allowed to nurse her small child with the American helping out.

She told Mr Gasbarra: 'If I was in America I would vote Obama because he is on the
side of the weak, we are all for him, even my mother.

'I am innocent but no-one believes me. How can they have turned down my
application? I wanted to go to the Caritas (hostel). I know it would have been a
second prison.

"I heard one Nigerian woman asked to come back to jail because it was so hard but I
wanted to go all the same, to work in the fields with people and smell the earth.'

Knox added hopefully: 'If the judge didn't believe me now then when the trial starts I
know the judges there will. I am not giving up - I'm convinced that one day the truth
will come out and I will leave here.'

In an interview given through her lawyers, Carlo Dalla Vedova and Luciano Ghirga,
Knox also revealed further details of her life behind bars and of her relationship with
Sollecito.

She said of him: 'He is a sweet person, I like him. We smiled together during the trial.

Love ? I know have another man who I think about all the time, he's the one I was
with all the time in America.

'He is called David (Johnsrud) and when he writes to me I want to hear him talking
only of love. He's been in China taking photographs and doing volunteer work. I
always wear his clothes, especially a sweatshirt he sent me. He also told me to write
and tell him what books I am reading so he can read the same.'

Knox added: 'I talk to my mum Edda about lots of things all the time, I talk with her
for hours. We cry together and we give each other courage.

'Together we had hoped that I would get house arrest but it didn't happen. Since all
this has happened I have become a lot closer to my parents, my sister and my half
sisters, they're sweet and I love them a lot. I miss them all.'

Of her father Curt she said: 'I laugh a lot with my dad, he tells me a lot of anecdotes,
especially about what her gets up to when he is in Umbria.'

Then she explained why she had initially named Patrick Lumumba as the killer and
said: 'I'm really sorry about all that. The first thing I want to say is sorry, I am deeply
hurt for what I did. I told them that at the hearing, at that moment I was under a lot of
pressure from the police, that's why I spoke about him. I am truly sorry.'

Speaking of prison life Knox said: 'I really miss my freedom. I miss exercise and I
miss playing the guitar and listening to music. Music is my life. It makes me happy
and overcomes my agony.'

Then speaking of herself she said: 'I am a normal girl, who has just found herself in
the wrong story and who has nothing to do with it. I'm innocent. I didn't do what they
said. I am a normal person that says and does normal things. Even in love.'

Then turning on Guede she said: 'I am really angry with him. He's not telling the truth,
he's told lies about me. What he says is not the truth, I wasn't there. He is a liar and he
knows I wasn't there. I had only juts met him three or four times and hardly knew
him.'

Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 6:16 pm Post subject: AMANDA'S DIARY: SEXUAL
HISTORY PAGE

AMANDA'S DIARY: SEXUAL HISTORY PAGE

The following is Amanda Knox's diary page where she logs her sexual history/encounters in order to
work out from whom she may have contracted HIV, a diagnosis later found to be incorrect. According
to Judge Michael Heavey, Raffaele is number 7 on the list:

Last edited by Michael on Sat Dec 06, 2008 7:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Amanda Knox wrote:
Foxy Knoxy

"mmm...life..."

Female
20 years old
SEATTLE, Washington
United States

Last Login: 9/23/2007

MySpace URL:

http://www.myspace.com/foxyknoxy03

Foxy Knoxy's Interests

General

tea, yoga, rock climbing, soccer, writing, reading, people watching, day dreaming,
studying, playing, making coffee, dressing like a dork, eating, cooking for other
people, music, inspiration, photography, art

Music

THE BEATLES, led zepplin, nina simone, cream, eric clapton, outkast, queen,
roxette, cake, red hot chili peppers

Movies

Help!, The Princess Bride, The Lion King, American Beauty, Fight Club, Hero,
Shrek/Shrek 2, Garden State, Moulin Rouge, Finding Nemo, The Fifth Element,
Spaceballs, Robin Hood Men In Tights, James Bond, The Full Monty

Television

don't watch it much, but when i do: Looney Tunes, South Park

Books Currently reading:

assorted language textbooks

Heroes

my mom

Foxy Knoxy's Details

Status: Single

Here for: Networking, Friends

Orientation: Straight

Hometown: West Seattle

Body type: 5' 3" / Athletic

Ethnicity: White / Caucasian

Religion: Agnostic

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Smoke / Drink: No / No

Children: Someday

Education: In college

Occupation: World Cup Barista (52nd and Roosevelt)

Income: Less than $30,000

Foxy Knoxy's Schools

University Of Washington-Seattle Campus
Seattle, WASHINGTON
Graduated: N/A
Major: Italian, German
Minor: Creative Writing

Foxy Knoxy's Networking

Fashion - Modeling - Artist's model

Publishing - Writer - Novelist

Foxy Knoxy's Companies

Contemporary Services
Seattle, Washington US
Event Staff June 2006 -- August 2007

University of Washington
Barista August 2005-June 2006

World Cup Cafe'
Barista August 2006 -- August 2007

Pacific Gynochology
Office Assistant April 2005 -August 2005

Foxy Knoxy's Latest Blog Entry [Subscribe to this Blog]

Bundestag disaster (view more)

Bundestag (view more)

Italy (view more)

Im Gone! (view more)

Leaving soon (view more)

[View All Blog Entries

Foxy Knoxy's Blurbs

About me:

I love things like good wine, rock climbing, backpacking long distances with people I
love, yoga on a rainy day, making coffee, drinking tea, and lots of languages. I'm
twenty years old and I like new things. Ooh, and soccer, and roller coasters, and harry

lilcowgirl
Sean and I were talking about you today and wondering how you're doi

Miss Kelley Sep 20 2006 8:34P

Hey babe! Have fun camping this weekend. Dang I wish I could do som
go back to school but I'll be busy packin for B-Ham. Life is good but it'
school is starting up so soooon! It'll be fun, though. One more thing- ke
reading and writing you do....it's goona pay off BIG TIME someday I p
easy and have fun! :)
-Kelley
Miss Kelley Sep 18 2006 11:30P

Hey there ms. Knox!!! I haven't talked to you in, well, FOREVER and I
whatsup?! How are you? When do you think HP7 will be released? 7/7/
mugglenet research confirms that she is deciding between two titles righ
you counting down the days? HAHA. We're cool. Ok Amanda, take car
lunch together everyday in A201...those were the days. What classes are
quarter? Well, have fun with those hot UW boys! ow ow! :)

KNOXVILLE Sep 18 2006 11:21P

i won my soccer game 15 to 0

P Funk Sep 2 2006 3:28P

Hello, hopefully your teeth arn't hurting you to bad, but I'm sure you go
now I don't feel as bad for you. just playin but anyway feel better.

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Amanda Knox wrote:
Foxy Knoxy

Last Updated:
Sep 15, 2007

Gender: Female
Status: Single
Age: 20
Sign: Cancer

City: SEATTLE
State: Washington
Country: US

Signup Date: 12/16/04

September 15, 2007 - Saturday

Bundestag disaster
Current mood: rel )) relieved

oops. so, you remember how i said tha i had no idea what i was in for at the
bundestag. aparently i really had no idea, because i left. straight up left the building
because i was sick and they had nothing for me to do there. of course i told them that i
wouldn't be returning and all of that,but what i didnt knwo is 1) how fun berlin is
when you dont have to work, and 2) how much i would piss my family off for mot
sticking to it at the bundestag. so here goes:

i left because there was nothing for me to do. absolutely nothing. i followed my boss
around when he left his office,a nd when we were back in his office i read harry potter
(german style!) in a corner of his office. okay...so i got sick the second day because i
actually had a pretty bad flu that kept me in bed for three straight days the weeks
before, so i went home early and decided i wasnt going back. i was in the way and
they didnt need me there anyway. i called in the next morning and that was that. then i
walked, and walked and walked and walked. all over berlin, for two whole days. it
was great. i was supposed to pick up a bus on friday, so i spent wednesday and
thursday wandering around berlin, seeing things, meeting people, drinking a glass of
wine in a park near my apartment every night. fantastic.

then i got back home to hamburg and found out i was in trouble with my uncle who
ahd landed me the job at the bundestag in the first place. aparently he had to go to a
lot of trouble to get me my spot there and everyone was confused as to what had
happened to me. so i talked to him today and explain ed the mess, but not before
freaking out and crying a little becaue i was afraid i made my uncle look bad in front
of these very importan people. oops. to say the least.

thanks god my uncle uve is one of the nicest guys out there. he heard me out and said
he'd take care of everything, i didn't need to worry about it. i feel like an idiot, but at
least everything is alright.

and now im just going to chill here in hamburg for another week and then im heading
to italy for good. so BWAHAHHAHAAHAH. i have no idea why that's halerious, but
it seemed appropriate. so there.

ciao suckers. loves from across the ocean.

September 10, 2007 - Monday


Bundestag
Current mood: aw))- awake

alright, for those of you who are comletely ignorant about the german government
(don't be ashamed), the Bundestag is a fantasically important and pretty building. It's
where everything gets debated by the representatives of the German senate-like
counsil, and nothing can be passed without going through the Bundestag. And I'm
working there. Cool huh? But let me relate a little further about my sitauation here...

It's a rather interesting development. I had no idea what I was in for in Berlin. In fact,
I still have very little clue. I'm sitting in my office with my coworkers and I'm doing
absolutely nothing. But enough of that for now. I have, however, met my first
installment of my little adventure. I'm borrowing an appartment from a nice couple
who are friends with my uncle Uve. I swear that man knows EVERYONE. The
couple doesn't actually own the place, they are holding it for a friend of theirs, a guy
who is away somewhere and hasn't been there for 3 months. The couple picked me up
from the bus station (I took a 3 hour bus ride from Hamburg to Berlin) and stopped by
their house to pick up sheets and a blanket. And a lamp and a sponge ("Schwamm" I
learned in the car) and some bathroom cleaning soup. Appariently the bathroom is a
little dirty. Hell, I've slept a few nights in a bush, no problem. We get to a nice
building in a nice neighborhood near the center of Berlin. Ernst, my
driver/blanket/keys man tells me about how Berlin is this great party city, a theme I

hear a lot about because of my age. Appariently people are partying here from the
time they can pass as 16, though nobody cares, until they get married. I indeed, fit into
this catagory. I tell Ernst I'd prefer to see the Tiergarten, a big park in the middle of
the city.

My apartment is at the very top and Ernst insists on carrying my one heavy bag the
entire way. (There are no elevators in any apartment buildings in Europe it would
seem. This is of course coming from someone who has only been in 3 apartment
buildings so far - but they were of various income levels so...)

Anyway, my apartment is small, as I expected, a little shabbier than I expected, but
I'm not picky, so I'm happy. Ernst turns on my fridge and shows me how to work the
stove. Oh, the fridge is as tall as the oven. The bedroom is nice, with a good sized
window, a bed, a desk, and a set of shelves. The bathroom is indeed the "scary part".
The tub/shower isn't the sexiest thing I've ever seen, definately could use some elbow
grease, but it's not vomit worthy either. The inside of the toilet is a little scary, but it
doesn't smell and it's the inside, so what do I care, I don't actually live here.

So I make myself a quick bite to eat and as the lights outside grow dimmer I discover
that there are no working lights in the kitchen and bathroom, just in the bedroom. At
least in the bedroom. First thing to make house? Set up the Beatles on my laptop and
groove while I pull everything out of my suticase and make my bed. I decided to wait
until tomorrow to clean the bathroom.

Then I started laying on the floor of the bedroom, wrote a bit, and looked at my
directions for getting to where I'm suppoded to work. I actually have no idea where
thsi office is, nnor what it is called. All I thought I knew was that it has something to
do with the Bundestag, so head there.

So I did. Next morning I get dressed and clean and presentable as I can in the dark. I
eat my breakfast (choco Müseli) and with the directions double and triple checked to
be in my bag, I head out the door. I have to wear my sister's jacket, and inside a
pocket I founf 20 euro. thanks deanna! (she left her jacket in germany by accident).

Outside it's raining of course, and I walk to the subway station near my apartment
building and buy myself a ticket that will last 7 days and allows me to ride buses and
trains within the center districts of Berlin as much as I please. It cost 25 euro, which is
around 30 dollars, but it will help me out a lot, so i take it. then i get on train and
listen for my stop. By the way, it's 7 in the morning and my appointment with my
boss is at 10am. I want to make sure i get there on time, and with my sense of
direction...

Off the train and onto a bus, which Im not at this time sure takes the same ticket as the
train, but it does and I'm good. Get off that bus and wait about 15 minutes for my last
bus to come (getting around berlin gets a little complicated) and this takes me near the
bundestag. so i take a lttle walk. i took about an hour to get there, so im 2 hours early
and i have no idea where the office is. good. I decide to head into the bundestag to see
if i can use a phone.

the bundestag doesnt open for a couple minutes and so i wait with a tourist group
from england who are surprized when i ask them about their trip in english. aparently
i pass well as a german. they head in and we go through security, but no one can seem
to point me in the direction of a telephone, so i head upstairs where the famous dome
is, with thte rest of the tourists, and see if i can find one there. there isnt, but there is a
great view of the city, so i walk around the dom a bit and then head back down. the
guy in the elevator tells me there is a information booth across the street, and maybe
they have a telephone i can use.

i cross the street, avoiding the tourist buses, and the lady inside tells me i can find a
telephone at the end of the street. okay, so, to the end of the street. i finally get to the
phone, dial the number, and no one is in the office. of course. it's only 8:30 in the
morning. so i go back to the information both and sit down at the neighboring cafe to
drink a espresso macchiato. mmm...

back at the telephone both i call again and jürgen schatz, who i've spoke with on the
phone before, answers and gives me directions (in german of course! all of this is in
german!) and tentatively i find my way to the building. I go through some more
clearance, and jürgen comes downt o find me. yeah!

now i'm in the office, and I filled out a pice of paperwork that will get a special
entrance pass, so that i dont have to be escourted by him around the place. i have to
find the building that gives me that special pass though, so im waiting until the other
"trainies" arrive. I think one is being brought up now. anyway, another coworker who
showed a little after I did is Mira, she's very nice and showed me where to pick up the
post. and johannes kahr, my official boss came in soon after her, and he was sweating
from some sort of hurry and didn't pay me much attention. shook my hand, asked me
how long I'd be hanging out with them, and then went into his rather nice office. and
now I'm writing emails. I wonder if i'm getting paid for this?

September 2, 2007 - Sunday

Italy
Current mood: ch )) cheerful

alright, so i just got back from my little visit to italy with my sister. for all of those of
you who are really confused about what im actually doing over here right now, here's
the layout:

1-plane to hamburg (stop in amsterdam, and no, i didnt get to smoke up)

2-chill in hamburg for a little to hang with the the fam at my aunt dolly's house with
her husband manoj, and son anil, plus my sister and my oma

3-tour germany and austria with the fam. my oma really wanted to show me wien and
graz (where she grew up) and then munich

4-from munich deanna and i flew off to italy together. landed in milan took a train to
florence (on the way we met frederico, an italian guy who doesnt speak english)

5-train from florence to perugia, where deanna and i spent 3 days checking out my
new home and trying to find a place for me to live

6-full day of traveling: from perugia-bus-train-train-train-bus-plane to hamburg

7-few more days in hamburg until my sister and oma return to the us, leaving me here,
yes, to myself, at my aunt's

8-i go alone to berlin, to work around two weeks in the german government, and yes
live with some random government fellow who i have yet to meet

9-return to hamburg, where i will gather al of my things and my uncle uve will drive
me, yes, for some reason they want to drive me, to perugia with all of my shizznat

10-move in and start school finally

right now im at number 7. i returned last night from the full day of traveling, and
listening to my sister whisper-sing whatever music she listens to from her ipod. not
too bad. we didnt have to wait anywhere terrible. it was pretty chill.

but let me update the things that have happened before then...

1) plane was f*@ing long (<- why is it highlighted, i dont understand technology).
anyway, deanna took a halerious series of pictures, from the begining of our journey
to the end. as expected, we gradually become more and more scary looking. we might
have exaggerated how we REALLY looked in the pictures though. and yes, ill try to
snag those pics from my sister to put them up as well. one more thing, the plane food
was surprisingly satisfying.

2) deanna wanted to go shopping. so yeah, i spent a LOT of time in hamburg
shopping with my sister. we bonded, fo sho. we also met manoj's coworker, who was
actually the one who hooked me up with a job, and he looks, i wouldnt say
disturbingly similar, but yes, similar o john lennon. deanna thinks im in love with
him. alright, he has a cute butt. get over it. other than that, uve, my uncle, and tore, my
unlce who's 25 (and inadvertantly hit on us when he first saw us, much to his
embarassment-ewwwww) took deanna and i to the reeperbahn, the red light district in
hamburg, where ther is only place for drinking, dancing, and hookering. there was a
street that deanna and i were warned for staying away from, because the hookers will
apparently throw their own urine on you if you entire and you are a woman. nice. (i
snuck a peek though, to a disgruntled hooker's displeasure). seriously, it's a street
where naked women are posing in front of red tinted windows that they can open to
make the deal. ewwww. it was fun though. my uncle got me a drunk that was on fire
and it was actually quite tasty. sweet, and warm. went down really easy. so that's
hamburg.

3)ugh. i was stuck in a car or on a really tiny train or in a rom with my sister, my 3

year cousin, my aunt, and my oma. i got a little claustrophobic after a while. still, i got
to see where my oma grew up, very weird experience and meet my oma's cousin hansi
and her husband peter in trofaiah, a really small town near graz. they were rally nice,
and everything hansi made was unique and artistic, especially the sandwiches and
food she made for us. very sweet woman. we spent a few days chilling in trofaiah and
from there taking trips to graz and the surounding areas. got to go up and mountain
and go on this funky tour inside a really really cold mountain.

4)plane was chill, and the train wasnt hard. in fact, met a guy named frederico on the
train to florence from milan, and we ended up hanging out together in florence, where
he bought both deanna and i dinner and then, when deanna went to bed, we smoked
up together, my first time in italy.... took pictures early the next day of neptune's
fountain and naked david, conveniently located right next to each other.

5)then the train the next day to perugia, wasnt bad. had a little adventure trying to find
our hotel though. carrying everything on our back, deanna and i buy a map and
discover that the hotel booked for us is actually as far on the edge of the map as it can
get on some random little road that doesnt list it's whole name. 2 hours of hiking up
and down perugia's hills, we were lost. deanna was drowning in her own sweat, and i
was pissed to say the least. or at least hot. i just wanted to find this place, but it was
ridiculous. then some 40-something italian guy pulls over and looks at our map. he
offeres us a rie when he explains that it's another 20minutes away by CAR and there
is no bus to it. alright, ill risk my life to get to my hotel. so deanna and i pile in and we
do indeed get to our hotel alive, the only awkward part is when i have to try to explain
to our driver in broken italian that we aren't interested to going out with his 40-
something year old self this evening. we check in and our brains check out.

the next three days are great. we figure out how to find a bus somewhat close to our
hotel that will take us downtown. once there we make friends with the two workers at
this cafe that we visit everyday. deanna wants to shop some more, but i need to find a
place to live, so i search desperately through italian classifieds. i also buy a phone.
then, when we walk down a steep road to my university, we run into a very skinny
girl who looks a little older than me putting up a page with her number on the outer
wall of the unviersity. i chat it up with her, she speaks english really well, and we go
immediately to her place, literally 2minntes walk from my university. it's a cute house
that is right in the middle of this random garden int he middle of perugia. around us
are apartment buildings, but we enter through a gate and there it is. im in love. i meet
her roommate molly. the house has a kitchen, 2 bathrooms, and four bathrooms. not to
mention a washing maschine, and internet access. not to mention, she owns two
guitars and wants to play with me. not to mention the view is amazing. not to mention
i have a terrace that looks over the perugian city/countryside. not to mention she
wants me to teach erh yoga. not to mention they both smoke like chimneys. and, she
offers me one of the open rooms after we hang out for a bit. we exchange numbers. i
put down a down payment. im feeling sky high. these girls are awesome. really sweet,
really down to earth, funny as hell. neither are students, they actually both work int he
same law office, and they are desperate for roommates because the two they had
decided they wanted to disappear all of a sudden. they are relieved to meet me believe
it or not, because aparently everyone else they have met have been really not cool. an
rude, uptight german guy, and girl who cant speak english or italian. only japanese,
and an italian guy who wont answer his phone. that, and a bunch of others who had to

"think about it". the rent for this HOUSE is only 300 euro a month, whereas, ive
looked at holes in the wall "apartments" with nothing going for them for 500 euro a
month. fuck that. im hooked. we hung out for a good long time the day before
yesturday, just laughing about crazy people and in general getting to know each other.
then, deanna and i went to grab a sandwich at the same cafe and i bumped into the
most beautiful black man i have ever seen. he said he'd see me when i come back
from germany. eheheheh and our waiter, nerti, from albania, hung out with us a bit
and talked politics.

6) then the full day of traveling (<-what the hell???i dont ever care anymore) and now

7) im back in dolly's house in hamburg writing emails and studying italian.

one more awesome thing. i read the first harry potter in german, and it wasnt hard at
all. i only looked up stuff for the first chapter, but it was distracting, and as i went
long i figured out the vocabulary i didnt know before from the contexts of the
situations, and by the end of it, i was reading it like english. today's sunday, so no
stores are open, but im going to go tomorrow to a book store to get the second. i
bought the thrid harry pooter in italian in perugia, but i cant read it yet. i dont know
enough vocabulary yet to even get the contexts. but let it be known, that im becoming
fluent because of harry potter. there you go.

ciao peeps. i love you. im also updating my pics, so check those out.

August 14, 2007 - Tuesday

Im Gone!
Current mood: aw))- awake

ciao! tschuss! im gone! today im heading out, and for starters i want to thank seliber,
chris, brett, alex, dj, andrew cheung, stefani and ben for showing me an awesome time
last night and suffering through rush hour 3. you all are troopers! just to let you guys
know, i got teary-eyed the minute i walked out the door because im really going to
mis you guys a lot, my crew.

alright, enough of that sincere sorority girl high school yearbook bullshit. peace out
suckers. loves, Amanda

December 11, 2006 - Monday

Baby Brother (short story, Dec. 2006)
Current mood: ar )) artistic
Category: Writing and Poetry

Baby Brother

Edgar told himself to breathe. It was hard. His chest kept pulling tight on the breaths
he was trying to make bigger. He couldn't fill his chest up the way he wanted to.
Instead his head felt too heavy, and his neck felt smooched. It sent nauseating waves
all the way from the top of his head, through his eyes, and into the tips of his fingers.
The energy of it shook his fingertips as he pushed his silver key into the slot above the
doorknob.

Edgar stepped stiffly into the studio apartment over the hiking boots and sneakers in
the entryway. Kyle was sitting on one side of the room on his bed and the setting sun
shone threw in horizontal lines across Edgar's own mattress that rested across from
him. Edgar went to it and sat down with a heavy sigh into a sunken spot, and it too
sighed under his gangly weight.

"What's up?" said Kyle, looking up from his textbook. He was both protective and
authoritative towards Edgar, even though he was eight years younger. In all other
things besides financial, he provided for Edgar persistent counsel. In return, there was
a constant quiet respect that Edgar paid his younger brother in his allowance of Kyle's
worldly lifestyle. It was because of Edgar that Kyle needn't suffer from rent dues,
work responsibilities, and grocery shopping. But Edgar also always questioned Kyle
about his daily offenses and when he was silent it made Kyle immediately perk up
and set aside his calculus homework. "What's your problem?"

Edgar's face turned upwards and his eyes lit up, dark pupils against bright whites. His
mouth was drawn tight and creased at the edges, and for a second Edgar thought he
was going to say something, but he felt the tightness of his brow ease and he
swallowed a large, slippery gulp of the aching, burning rage that pulsated in his
forehead, chest, and throat. His fists peeled open and revealed the crescent moon
dimples in his palms where his fingernails had dug too deep. His throat was choking
on the bile and the question, where was his soul, but instead he asked, "Did you know
her name?"

Kyle raised his eyebrows and leaned back. His brow furrowed and he frowned. He
stared at his brother for a moment and leaned forward. "Do I know whose name,
exactly?" Kyle's eye twitched in the corner.

Edgar's brow was webbed with deep, troubled lines and his hands stretched like
starfish over his knees. He blinked slowly, deliberately, and he watched Kyle's face
shift awkwardly through familiar expressions. Then Edgar used the same voice he had
used when he and Kyle had played hide-and-go-seek, the coaxing voice to lure Kyle
out of his hiding spot. "The girl you raped, Kyle. Did you know her name?"

There were scrapings of the metal chair legs against the wooden floor and the soft
whooshing sound of the gathering of pencils and papers. Edgar curled up as if his
chair was his shell and his arms wrapped around his knees that were drawn up to his
chest. Over his arms he watched Maya scoot back her chair and reach for her
backpack. Her thin arms reached down and he stared as if obliging her, silently
appreciating the aesthetic gracefulness. She reminded Edgar of a dancer who,
although doing regular things, still looked as though onstage. She stood up and her

purple backpack swung in an arch and her other thin arm went through the strap. She
tapped Sandra's desk with a pointed index finder in passing and Ms. Sandra nodded at
her leaving.

Ms. Sandra, a pale and robust, wheezing, older woman and his third grade teacher
flopped a heavy forearm onto her cheap metal desk so that the sound of her palm
slapping the cold surface was almost a 'splat'. Her blue eyes matched the blue
discoloration of the thin, hanging skin beneath them, and they smiled at him, bringing
him to release his knees. Edgar felt the skin prickle up the back of his neck. He
rubbed the hairs down with his palm, but kept in his seat. He put his head down,
knowing he should be leaving, but the heavy feeling pressed harder and harder onto
his shoulders, and Edgar wasn't sure if was going to be able to get up again.

"Why don't you move your chair up here, Edgar?" Sandra indicated the space next to
her desk with a nod of her head. She coughed deeply in her throat, bringing her thick
hand up to cover her mouth.

Edgar swung his legs out and he picked up his chair, and wobbled under the weight of
it to the front of the room. He put his chair down and again sat, but looked down at his
fingers. Sandra knew Edgar was smart and she observed him, sensing his quiet, fragile
sense of dignity. She waited to see if he would speak first by clucking her tongue
softly, a habit she had picked up over the years from her starch peers, and she
thumbed through the pages of her lesson plan. When he didn't speak or move, she
said, "So, Edgar, what seems to be the problem?"

Edgar crossed his feet underneath the chair and slouched over, slightly hunchbacked.
He was thin and bony and had large front teeth and purple bruises on his arms. He felt
a deep red warm up his high cheek bones and he pulled his forearms in through the
sleeves of his shirt into the body cavity. Inside he wrapped his arms around his bony
torso and breathed slow, tired breaths.

Sandra put a hand underneath her double chin and smoothed the lines between her
eyes with a thumb. She decided on, "How's your brother coming along, Edgar? I hear
he's about a yard long now."

Edgar shook his head and looked up seriously. "No, he can't be." His husky voice
sounded like it was crawling out of a bucket of sand. He pulled his arms out of his
sleeves and held them two feet apart. "He can't be more than this," he explained, "Or
else my mom would be huge!" He stretched his arms as far as they would go.

They revealed cuts in his upper inner arms, lacerations that were surrounded by dark
stains in his copper skin.

Kyle smiled without showing his teeth. He leaned back into the bean bag and
muttered, "Hum."

"Huh? What's huh?" Edgar stared with open, unblinking eyes that betrayed his
earnestness. They pleaded with gentle, watery intent, eyebrows pulled way back.

"Hum is where the hell are you getting the crazy idea that I'd rape some chick?" Kyle
ventured. His smile had vanished and he leaned forward, glaring back into Edgar's
eyes.

Edgar hesitated. He had expected a full explanation, perhaps naively expected the
same sort of bored explanation that he always received from his younger brother. He
waited, feeling the hot pressure of Kyle's stare press into his own eye sockets. He
managed, "A girl named Victoria found me today. She went out asking especially for
me." His voice grew quiet. "She said you drugged and raped her."

Kyle laughed deep in his throat. "Icky Vicky, huh? Jeez, Edgar. You had me going
there." He picked up his calculus book and flicked with his thumb to find his page,
shook his head side to side with his smile still confident on his face. "A thing you
have to know about chicks is that they don't know what they want." Kyle winked his
eye. "You have to show it to them. Trust me. In any case," He cocked his eyebrows
up and one side of his mouth rose into a grin. "I think we both know hard A is hardly
a drug."

Edgar brought his arms down and looked away. He pinched his wrists with his
fingernails. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Sandra's expression didn't
change. Instead she opened one of the doors of her desk and rustled through a
collection of books stacked inside. She brought out a small paperback. "Here," she
said. "Try your hand at this."

Edgar released his arms and took the book, turned it over, and read the cover.
"Hamlet, very interesting…" Edgar said, copying a deep impressive voice.

"Yes," Sandra choked. She sputtered and wheezed in breath like it was thick and
painful, like she was breathing boiled water. She clutched her chest. "Whew!" She
howled at last when it was over.

Edgar touched his own chest with small fingers. "Got a cold, Ms. Sandra?"

Sandra smiled. "A little more than that." She waved a hand at him. "Forget it. What
do you say? You like hanging out here so much with a wispy old hag?"

Edgar frowned, closed the small book, and placed it lightly on Sandra's metal desk.
"First of all, you're not a wispy old hag, you're just old." He said very seriously, the
frown still in his face. He fumbled with his fingers and inadvertently felt the scratches
in his arms. "Second of all…" He picked at a scab to distract from the hard feeling in
his chest. His skin reminded him of sand, and how sand was all stretched and washed
out on a cold beach.

Sandra waited, watching him pick at the thin scabs on his wrists that were nothing
compared to the wounds under his arms. She wanted to ask who had hurt him, which
kid, so she could actually do something to help. She at least had authority over her
third graders. But she was silent, waiting like she did when she asked a student to read

for her, waiting for them to figure it out. Children were impressionable, often out of
laziness, and would take any answer given to them when they could. She didn't want
to put any names into Edgar's mouth for him.

Edgar started crying, started with shaking little sighs that broke the barrier and small,
steady tears rolled down to the corners of his mouth. He whispered, "You love me,
huh?"

Many answers came to the tip of Sandra's tongue at once. The consequences of saying
yes, his devotion, his dependency, his emotional health were immediately delivered to
her as something she could proceed with or deny. The consequences of saying no,
however, because of his obviously low sense of self-esteem, haunted her even more. It
took perhaps two seconds to say, "How'd you know?" She petted his head. He was
sweating.

"I don't want to go home. My mom's all full up with my brother and they don't talk to
me anymore. They just go to bed. Dad and her used to fight to read me stories…"
Edgar squeezed the upper insides of his arms and winced. But he felt relieved, felt his
shoulders fall a little, give a little slack. It was like he wasn't wound up as tight, wasn't
busting at the seams. He felt Sandra wrap her floppy arms around his shoulders and he
rested on the fleshy part above her collarbone.

Kyle turned away from Edgar, meaning that the conversation was over, meaning
Edgar wouldn't say anything about it anymore. If Edgar had felt the same as he had
his entire life, he would have done just that. He would have shut up. He would have
put it down in his mind as the disorientation of spirits in other lives. Kyle couldn't be
exactly what Edgar wanted him to be.

But Edgar was tired, more tired than he had ever felt. He watched Kyle turn away and
felt his fists close up again. He stood up and went over to Kyle, took up the calculus
textbook from his lap, and threw it across them room. It slammed into the wall next to
the bathroom door and left a small indent.

"What, Edgar?" Kyle's face contorted, revealing conflicting narrowed eyes and a wide
awkward mouth. He stood and pushed Edgar on his shoulders, shoving him
backwards a few feet. There was no doubt who was the stronger of the two. Kyle was
lean but with broad shoulders and a stocky stature, more like their father. Edgar was
tall and gangly, never having really appreciated sports or his own body.

"You're not supposed to be this way," Edgar said, and he started to cry. He started to
shake and the barrier let loose in him until streams cascaded down his face. Edgar
mourned the loss, and felt cold waves trickle through his insides into the hard, empty
spot near his heart, where he felt the burn cold in his soul. Edgar put his hands there,
and remembered her face in his mind, remembered how she had touched the wounds
on his arms, dressed them, and never reprimanded. She had told him that she would
never let anything like it ever happen again, but now she was really gone.

His eyes were red where the whites had always been, and Kyle's eyes opened wide

defensively, like Edgar resembled a demon, with glowing red eyes and stringy limbs
that ended in curled fists. Shaking, he pulled back his right shoulder and punched
Edgar's weeping face.

Edgar finally walked through his front door as his mother was calling up the stairs for
him for dinner. It was just the same, whether he was there or not, but Edgar at least
didn't feel the same. He didn't take his knife with him after dinner. Instead he
carefully pealed off the bandages Sandra had put on his arms and cleaned himself in
the shower, like normal people did. He didn't cry out, but hummed along to the
Jeopardy tune he heard coming from the living room TV. He tucked himself in and
slept.

Edgar was on the playground of his school before the sun had risen the next morning.
He trudged faithfully through the parking lot to the entrance and frowned when the
metal doors wouldn't open, no matter how hard he pulled. He heard the sounds of a
car pulling up and spun around, narrowing his eyes when the car's lights flashed over
him. They went out.

Edgar didn't know the teacher and didn't say anything when the broad, Native
American man opened the doors for him. The doors closed swallowing a whoosh of
air back out as they thudded heavily on the metal frames. The main hallway of the
school seemed more enclosed in the dark. Edgar put a hand on the wall and followed
it to the opening of his classroom. Only half the lights, the ones near the front of the
classroom were on. Sandra was at her desk, flipping through her lesson plan. He stood
in the doorway and waited, watched her throw a curtain of sandy blond hair behind
her round shoulder. She coughed and drew her head down, drew in a shuddering
breath. Edgar cleared his throat and Sandra's eyes found his.

She blinked at him and sighed deeply. Edgar blinked back and itched a scab on his
elbow. Sandra closed her eyes. She opened them again slowly and said, "Come here,
Edgar."

Edgar felt cold. He went to her desk and sat down. His chair was still beside it.

"You can't be here, Edgar," Sandra's face was calm, her voice soft. She held Edgar's
bony hand in her own fleshy one.

"Why?" Edgar said. His brows furrowed together, cleaving old lines in his young
face.

"Because, it can't always be me, Edgar…" Sandra touched his temple and ran her
thumb across his forehead, smoothing out the lines.

Edgar stared into Sandra's face and watched her eyes drift towards the doorway. She
leaned back, away from him, and he turned around.

"Thank God!" It was his father, heavy-shouldered, charging through the doorway of
the classroom. Edgar felt his heavy hand squeeze his shoulder. He felt himself lifted

up and turned around. "Excuse me," his father nodded at Sandra. His breath blew hot
down Edgar's neck. "I've been looking all over for you. The baby's coming, so we're
going to the hospital."

Edgar turned around and Sandra nodded towards the door. Edgar felt like he was deep
inside his body, or as if this body was bigger than he had ever felt it to be, so that he
felt it surround him and his soul was small and shrunk inside so that he could see his
body around him. Sandra said she couldn't be with him.

This single thought occupied his mind in the waiting room. He was alone, and he felt
waves of hot and cold pulsate in a spiral around him. Hot when he was angry and he
dug his fingernails into his palms. Cold when he realized the hurt under his arms and
the ache that pushed in the sides of his head. Then a nurse in a flowery scrub
distracted him, held his hand, and led him into his mother's room.

His father picked him up onto his hip, like Edgar never thought he would again, so he
could see over the bed to his mother and the baby. He could only see the face, which
was light brown and pudgy. It reminded him of Sandra.

"This is Kyle," his father whispered into his neck. "Aren't you glad you're a big
brother?"

Edgar felt relieved. He reached his arm slowly out and brushed the tip of Kyle's soft
nose with his pointer finger. Kyle twitched his head to the side. The baby attracted
him, and of what Edgar could see, it was pudgy like Sandra, and Edgar decided this
was what she had meant. Edgar smiled, and he felt the inclination to coo at the baby,
to make soft, encouraging noises at it, so Kyle would know who he was, and so
Sandra would recognize him.

Edgar dropped to the floor and tasted the blood in his mouth and swallowed it. He
couldn't move his jaw and it felt like someone was jabbing a razor into the left side of
his face. His eyes blurred and became focused intermittently and he gently shook this
off, watching his hands until they came into focus. He looked up at Kyle and waited a
moment to focus there too. Kyle's hands covered his face.

"Get out." Edgar whispered. It was surprising, that the thought of the statement was
easier than the actual physical statement of the words.

Kyle's hands fell from his face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was partially open.
"What?" he said, unmoving.

"Get out." Edgar said again. His mouth was bleeding and pulsated fire.

"What? Where am I supposed to go?" Kyle paced a few feet and back, avoiding eye
contact with his brother. His hands went to cover his face, but he threw them down,
and then covered his face again.

"Who do you think you are?" Edgar said, knowing the full gravity of the statement

wouldn't register. "Get out."

Kyle stopped pacing and stared down at Edgar with his wide eyes. He hesitated, and
then grabbed a jacket from his bed, went to the door, and slammed it behind him.

Edgar let himself fully rest on the carpet and felt the blood ooze between his teeth and
out of his lips onto the floor. He spit into the blossoming smudge beside his head. He
closed his eyes and his head felt cold, and he laid there until the tears slowly crept up
on him again. Of course, Kyle would return, probably smelling like the inside of an
alcoholic's mouth, and like any responsible brother, Edgar would open the door.
Edgar would let Kyle back into his own meaningless space, with a spot stained
purple-red on the carpet of their one shared room. It was the last remnant of the
floppy, pale spirit between them.

The Model (short story, Nov.2006)
Current mood: cur )) curious
Category: Writing and Poetry

The Model

I slouched unsmiling in my plush green rocking chair swaying back and forth with a
manuscript of 123 pages lying open on my lap. My eyes weaved back and forth across
the page and my mind absorbed the words, translating the language into images in my
mind. I tasted their cohesion, their flow, with my tongue slightly out, and made a little
red, what I liked to call "tick" mark on the corner of those pages that lacked sufficient
eloquence, or rather, made some part of me pull taut and even twanged some horrible
note that meant it didn't fit. It was my second full manuscript of the day, a task
unmatched by most of my peers. I was a machine. I had thirty more pages to go and
then a thorough reflection to write, though I could somewhat tell it was getting
towards closing time. The interns were darting around like startled ants finishing and
transporting grammatical proofreads and unfinished manuscripts. I felt their
adrenaline radiating from their alert and tired bodies, and there was a subtle, hot,
sticky smell from their sweat that swamped the office common room. I turned them
away from my mind, coming back into complete focus.

My fingers manipulated the keyboard like crafty spider legs. It was all so routine. I
was disappointed with my routine manuscript, a lack-luster romantic-comedy plotline
dedicated to the twenty-something dateless readers our company tended to cater to. I
slouched, rejected, as I wrote out the clone review I did for these sorts of stories. It
had become so mechanic it felt like filling out a job application, back when I had been
doing that. My mind drifted elsewhere, towards feelings that left me hollow in my
chest, like my insides had been poured out through my mouth, and my eyes throbbed
painfully before I realized I was crying. I sat there thinking about how I had changed
since David, and then, how I perhaps had changed since the interlude with Malcolm.
How I had opened up to something so completely different because I was tired, and
felt old. I shuddered, feeling the tenseness in my neck. I had sometime stopped
writing the report and sat swaying slightly back and forth staring at my blinking

computer screen.

"Mrs. Parker, it's eleven o'clock."

I blinked. My eyes felt stale, like a wet rag left out over night. It was Jesse, one of the
smaller, diminutive interns. He appeared slightly hunched in over himself, tall and
gangly and his arms hung weakly out of his half-length sleeves like misshapen
spaghetti noodles. In one of his hands he held a nine by twelve tan envelope.

I said nothing for a long time, feeling the redness in my eyes and I hardened in my
chest at this betrayal. Jesse's eyes avoided my face and I silently accepted his
courtesy. "Mrs. Parker, this is for you." He held out the envelope.

I took it and tore open the top. Before diving in, I held back, feeling the twang without
even reading yet. Then I realized it, the envelope was completely blank. I flipped the
package over and found the back similarly unmarked, an amateur manuscript in my
hands. Strange. In the editing business it was extremely unlikely for an experienced
client to send anything without distinguishing characteristics, a name, a number, a
coversheet glued to the front detailing the contents, because it was more unlikely that
an editor would subconsciously commit it to memory and thus it was more unlikely to
be published. I wrinkled my nose. What was I doing with this?

"Who assigned me this manuscript?" I said, turning to Jesse. His pale cheeks flushed a
soft pink and he quickly shrugged his shoulders.

I turned back to the envelope and turned it upside down, carefully sliding its contents
onto my desktop. But instead of a manuscript, there were pictures. The second after it
took my mind to register this bizarre exchange, I realized the picture on top was of
me. I half-swallowed, the spit caught painfully midway down my throat. I shot up out
from my chair, knocking it backwards so that it swayed violently and beat against the
backs of my legs. My heart beat rapidly against my sternum and my eyes felt like they
were swelling.

From the dimensions, the picture looked like it had been taken by a regular disposable
camera, though the picture was in black and white. Could disposable cameras do that?
In it I was lying in my bed in some awkward sleeping position that, from the angle of
the camera, made it look like my neck and limbs were twisted grotesquely. My lips
were calm, but there was a slight crease in my forehead, that now knitted tightly in my
real brow.

I turned to where Jesse had been standing, but he had gone. I picked up the first image
and threw it aside like it was red hot. I avoided looking at it. The second was of me
walking across an empty street, my head bowed down from the rain and my body
consumed by my long raincoat. There was a framing to the shot, like it had been taken
through a window. I looked small.

There was a third, of my townhouse. This one looked up the front of my house from
where my front stoop would be. From this angle a glimpse of my naked upper body
could be seen through a gap in my sheer curtains.

My chest heaved up and down and my breath felt sharp and cold, like I was
swallowing shards of ice. The pulsating pumped around my hairline, expanding
outwards into the space around me and contracting until it felt like a tight knot in the
very center of my head. My eyes blurred slightly, a foggy curtain drifted over my iris.

I gathered the images and put them back into the envelope and stepped away from
them. My mind raced but nothing cohesive came. Things inside spun in my internal
typhoon that also began to make me feel dizzy, lightheaded. My throat felt enclosed
like something was wrapping tight around it, and I finally gasped in breath. Aislin.

I picked up my leather bag from the ground and threw it on my desk. I pitched my
wallet, my keys, and my phone inside. I didn't bother to turn off my computer or my
screen, though I did hesitate at the envelope. I held my breath and then let go, shoving
it hastily inside as well.

Aislin. The shining black street in front of my townhouse attempted to reflect the
streetlamp light with warped dimensions. The other buildings squeezed in around me
and even my own home towered over me menacingly, like overhanging branches in a
half-dead forest. I shivered violently and fumbled with my kids.

My house was unearthly quiet, like it hadn't been for a long time, and a pulsing flash
of cold crept up from my lower abdomen at the thought of Aislin not being there,
leaving the house vacant like a new tomb. I locked the door behind me and grasped
the wooden railing of the narrow staircase and waited at the bottom, listening like a
burglar for signs of life in my own home. The silence descended down the stairs with
the darkness, pressing down on me and trickling down my insides like freezing rain.

Small, cold fingers curled around my open hand and I gasped, ripping my hand away.
Aislin, narrowed hazel eyes and immobile pink lips, flipped on the light of the
stairway and stared at me. She was quiet, and the hand that had reached for mine hung
limp in the space between us like the wrist was broken.

I grabbed her hand back and held it to my lips, kissing the little fingers. It drew her
closer to me and she pulled weakly for her hand back. "What are you doing?"

I didn't let her go, but grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the front window. "Did
you lock the back door when you came home from school?" I searched the dark space
in front of our lot.

"You're late, again." Her voice was earthy and slightly bitter, like red wine.

I tuned back to her and stared hard into her face so that her eyes blinked and avoided
the full affront. She turned her focus away from my face and to my hand that grasped
her hard around the wrist. I let go. "Did you lock the back door?"

"I came through the front. What the heck is wrong with you?" She rubbed at her wrist
and sat down at the foot of the stairway. I exhaled deeply as I took a seat next to her.
She scooted an inch away.

"It's Malcolm. He's been watching me."

Aislin flinched. "What?" She stared back up at my face, her eyebrows came close
together and she frowned, a look that said she was angry that I was crazy without
having to say it.

I hid my face in my hands and shivered, began to convulse slightly. I rubbed the parts
of my body that felt cold and exposed, the back of my neck, the backs of my arms, my
inner thighs. "He sent me pictures, Aislin. He's been watching me at work, in my
sleep…"

Aislin's frown deepened. "What did they look like?"

"Ugly," I responded immediately, and then reflected on the statement. They weren't
anything, they were just pictures, but they were ugly, like the photos themselves had
betrayed me, catching me unawares and vulnerable.

Malcolm. It wasn't the first time he had done that. Malcolm, with his large hands and
five o'clock shadow who for some reason captivated my disoriented attention for a
short while. I remembered the feeling of his rough hands against my skin, callused
and strange, and I shivered again, and a soft upwards thrust clenched my throat. I
swallowed. My face grew hot and I shook hard then, my shoulders shuddering up and
down. My fingers hook and my stomach clenched. My legs curled up to my chest and
my toes curled up in my boots as my body shook without command and I silently
wept. Tears so hot I thought they would rise, steaming, leaked down my numb cheeks.

Except for my sobs, there was silence. I couldn't open my eyes to see her, so I couldn't
read Aislin's face. I was scared to, hesitant, afraid I would catch some glare of blame.
I told you so. At thirteen she wouldn't understand that no one told me so, that no, I
didn't know better. Or maybe I wouldn't be able to read her at all. She would look at
me and her face would be strange to me, unrecognizable, because I had slowly been
emptying out everything I had ever known all this time. Maybe I had rung myself out
of her. Malcolm had filled me up with nothing but air, and now I drifted, hollow like a
drum. Where was my girl in that? I had forgotten her.

"We're leaving." I said, forcibly pulling myself back inside my body. "Go get some
clothes for tomorrow."

"Mom, you've got to be kidding. Where the hell are we going to go?" I could see
Aislin's face now. She wasn't glaring but her eyes were wide in her face, her mouth
slightly open, like she was trying to suck up all the stuff that didn't make sense.
"Mom, where are we going to go?"

"We're going to Dad's new place, said unflinchingly, though a hard part in my chest
recoiled in on itself, tying all the tissue and tendons of my chest into a knot.

"Who the hell do you think you are, Mom?" Aislin stood up her skin blotched red at
her temples. She clenched her fists and tears began in her eyes. "You think
everything's about you, don't you? You are such an idiot!"

"idiot or not, I'm your mother, in case you forgot, and I'm telling you to get some

clothes and get your butt back down here so we can leave." I stood up and my legs felt
like gelatin. I pointed up the stairs, "Go. Now."

She glared at me for one more moment before turning away and charging up the
stairs. When she was out of sight I grasped quickly for the railing and braced myself
while my legs wobbled. My head was swirling, but I no longer had any confusion.
David's place was the safest place to go. Aislin thumped back downstairs wearing
jeans and a new shirt. She carried her backpack and I marveled at how she could
remember school at a time like this.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she said as she reached the bottom step. She bowed
her head and lowered her voice. Murmured, "You're such a bitch."

I straightened myself and swung my own bag back over my arm. "Let's go."

David had relocated to a two bedroom apartment closer to the market district. I had
turned his life backwards. There was a fish vendor next door to the front of his
building and the stench consumed my nostrils as I rang the bell. I held onto Aislin's
arm that was folded across her chest. She bowed her head and wouldn't look at me.
She was quiet and I wondered if she was afraid.

"Yeah? Who is it?" David's friendly tenor voice came in crackly through the intercom.

"David. It's me. I'm sorry, can you let us up?" my voice shook harder than I thought it
would, worse than when David and I had our first date. It sounded like I was going
through puberty again.

"Nadya?" David's voice dropped in tone. "Yeah. Of course." A harsh buzzing was
released by the door and I pushed it open, pulling Aislin beside me. David met us at
the top of the stairs. He took Aislin's backpack and kissed her forehead. She didn't
smile, but she took his hand. How could he make her do that? He had left his door
open and we walked inside, me for the first time.

It was a spacious two-bedroom apartment, too big for just David on his own. Aislin
took her backpack and left us, shutting the door to her room behind her, still with no
word.

David's eyes followed her until she disappeared and then he turned them on me. His
eyes were wide but his brows were furrowed which put splits in his forehead. I felt
like I grew smaller the more I looked in his face, literally shrinking away from him.

David jumped to catch me. "Jesus, Nadya! Sit down. Here, sit." He took my bag from
me and eased me onto his couch where I folded inward. He put his arm behind my
lower back and rubbed slow circles. "What's wrong?'

I looked into his face as I leaned forward and grabbed the envelope tucked in my bag,
setting it on his lap before I fell back onto his couch. He took his hand from behind
me, narrowing his eyes, and turned over the envelope on his lap. He picked it up and
fit his finger in the top and pulled out my sleeping image. His eyes scanned the print
and his body hunched over it. He drew his finger over the odd angles in my neck and

legs.

"I'm sorry," I said.

He didn't take his face away from the image and his fingers traced the lines in the
sheets that loosely wrapped around my body. He frowned.

"And I'm not just sorry because of these." I put my hand on his forearm and pressed
lightly there. He turned back to me, dropping the image in his hand on the floor. He
didn't say anything, and I felt myself beginning again, filling the void. "I really fucked
things up." He flinched. "See? I can't even say that anymore…"

David shook his head, his curly dark hair falling into his face. But he was still quiet. I
wanted him to say something. My heart felt like it was reaching out to him, pulling
painfully outwards from my chest at him. Then I felt the reaching go past him, behind
him, down the hallway to the closed door that radiated outward for me. My mind
stuck there and buzzed like a broken television set. My heart drew back, folded in on
itself. I looked up at him.

Hot tears blurred my vision and my hands began to tremble. I felt her cold fingers
touch mine again, felt myself rip my hand away. Broken. I hadn't known. "I might
have lost her." I muttered. I was trembling all over now, muffling my words. I felt like
a helpless child, blinded and sniffling snot. "I want to ask her things, I want to talk to
her, but I don't know how to begin. How are you supposed to start something like that
if it was supposed to be there forever? What am I supposed to say?"

David blinked at me and his mouth pinched closed. His brows furrowed and he closed
his eyes, leaving me for a moment. When he wasn't looking at me I felt far away, and
I felt myself strengthen a little deep in my stomach, like some breath finally
permeated through my system. I felt lighter and sat up towards him, felt the strength
to grasp his hands.

He opened his eyes at me, opened his lips and leaned close. "She's here, in her room,"
he whispered softly into my lips, warming me with his breath. "Listen to what she has
to say."

I breathed in deeply and released. I lifted my chest up and used my hands holding his
to push myself up. "What are you going to do?" I asked, more to test my voice than
really to ask.

He stood up beside me and walked towards the kitchen. "I'm going to call the cops
about your problem."

Aislin's door wasn't closed. It stood slightly ajar and I watched my hand push it open
like it belonged to another body. She sat immobile on the floor, hunched in over
herself. I couldn't see her face and she didn't turned towards me when I sat down on
the floor beside her. She looked smaller, and for the first time all night I noticed her
hair. The wispy brown strands were tangled , and a sense of curiosity mingled with
nurturing instinct brought my hands to touch the back of her head and stroke her there
with me fingers, winding the fingers through the strands.

She shuddered hard at my touch, but it was an inward shudder, like she was letting
something go. I knew the feeling. It was like something hard and strange, almost like
a wounded animal, which had been clawing at your insides, had finally found it's way
out, and the empty feeling of the space it had left bubbled up inside, and then
disintegrated. My voice pressed against the inside of my mouth. "I'm sorry."

Aislin shook her head and pulled her hair away from her face, looked hard into mine.
She wasn't glaring at me, but small tears rolled down her cheeks and her eyes were
moving, searching my face like she couldn't recognize it. I felt self-conscious, but
forced myself not to turn inwards, keeping my attention on her.

Aislin pulled her backpack towards her. Sniffling she unzipped the top and her fingers
brushed through the insides. I watched with my mouth slightly open, and she pulled
out a small rectangle of shiny paper. She pushed it facedown towards me across the
carpet and watched me as I picked it up, as I turned it slowly over in my hands. I was
afraid of what I'd see and what it meant. If Malcolm had taken pictures of her, how far
had he gone? What had he done to me and to her?

The picture was of her, but it was different from what I thought I'd see. It was her
face, her glassy eyes penetrating me with a hard, desperate, tear-stained stare. Her
arms extended outward from her body, towards me from the picture, framing it, her
hands not visible because they were behind the camera, pulling the trigger. My heart
slowed and I put the picture aside, facedown and away from us. I took my fingers
again and put them through her hair, touching her head and drawing patterns there.
She closed her eyes and leaned back into my fingers, drawing her face up, letting it
relax. "I'm sorry too," she said.

September 15, 2007 - Saturday

Bundestag disaster
Current mood: relieved

oops. so, you remember how i said tha i had no idea what i was
in for at the bundestag. aparently i really had no idea, because i
left. straight up left the building because i was sick and they had
nothing for me to do there. of course i told them that i wouldn't
be returning and all of that,but what i didnt knwo is 1) how fun
berlin is when you dont have to work, and 2) how much i would
piss my family off for mot sticking to it at the bundestag. so
here goes:

i left because there was nothing for me to do. absolutely
nothing. i followed my boss around when he left his office,a nd
when we were back in his office i read harry potter (german
style!) in a corner of his office. okay...so i got sick the second
day because i actually had a pretty bad flu that kept me in bed

for three straight days the weeks before, so i went home early
and decided i wasnt going back. i was in the way and they didnt
need me there anyway. i called in the next morning and that
was that. then i walked, and walked and walked and walked. all
over berlin, for two whole days. it was great. i was supposed to
pick up a bus on friday, so i spent wednesday and thursday
wandering around berlin, seeing things, meeting people,
drinking a glass of wine in a park near my apartment every
night. fantastic.

then i got back home to hamburg and found out i was in trouble
with my uncle who ahd landed me the job at the bundestag in
the first place. aparently he had to go to a lot of trouble to get
me my spot there and everyone was confused as to what had
happened to me. so i talked to him today and explain ed the
mess, but not before freaking out and crying a little becaue i
was afraid i made my uncle look bad in front of these very
importan people. oops. to say the least.

thanks god my uncle uve is one of the nicest guys out there. he
heard me out and said he'd take care of everything, i didn't
need to worry about it. i feel like an idiot, but at least
everything is alright.

and now im just going to chill here in hamburg for another week
and then im heading to italy for good. so BWAHAHHAHAAHAH. i
have no idea why that's halerious, but it seemed appropriate. so
there.

ciao suckers. loves from across the ocean.


Bundestag
Current mood: awake

alright, for those of you who are comletely ignorant about the german
government (don't be ashamed), the Bundestag is a fantasically important
and pretty building. It's where everything gets debated by the
representatives of the German senate-like counsil, and nothing can be
passed without going through the Bundestag. And I'm working there. Cool
huh? But let me relate a little further about my sitauation here...

It's a rather interesting development. I had no idea what I was in for in
Berlin. In fact, I still have very little clue. I'm sitting in my office with my
coworkers and I'm doing absolutely nothing. But enough of that for now. I
have, however, met my first installment of my little adventure. I'm borrowing

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