Native Son - Richard Wright [80]
“She just won’t.”
“You did kill her.”
“Aw, forget the girl.”
She stood up.
“If you killed her you’ll kill me,” she said. “I ain’t in this.”
“Don’t be a fool. I love you.”
“You told me you never was going to kill.”
“All right. They white folks. They done killed plenty of us.”
“That don’t make it right.”
He began to doubt her; he had never heard this tone in her voice before. He saw her tear-wet eyes looking at him in stark fear and he remembered that no one had seen him leave his room. To stop Bessie who now knew too much would be easy. He could take the butcher knife and cut her throat. He had to make certain of her, one way or the other, before he went back to Dalton’s. Quickly, he stooped over her, his fists clenched. He was feeling as he had felt when he stood over Mary’s bed with the white blur drawing near; an iota more of fear would have sent him plunging again into murder.
“I don’t want no playing from you now.”
“I’m scared, Bigger,” she whimpered.
She tried to get up; he knew she had seen the mad light in his eyes. Fear sheathed him in fire. His words came in a thick whisper.
“Keep still, now. I ain’t playing. Pretty soon they’ll be after me, maybe. And I ain’t going to let ’em catch me, see? I ain’t going to let ’em! The first thing they’ll do in looking for me is to come to you. They’ll grill you about me and you, you drunk fool, you’ll tell! You’ll tell if you ain’t in it, too. If you ain’t in it for your life, you’ll tell.”
“Naw; Bigger!” she whimpered tensely. At that moment she was too scared even to cry.
“You going to do what I say?”
She wrenched herself free and rolled across the bed and stood up on the other side. He ran round the bed and followed her as she backed into a corner. His voice hissed from his throat:
“I ain’t going to leave you behind to snitch!”
“I ain’t going to snitch! I swear I ain’t.”
He held his face a few inches from hers. He had to bind her to him.
“Yeah; I killed the girl,” he said. “Now, you know. You got to help me. You in it as deep as me! You done spent some of the money….”
She sank to the bed again, sobbing, her breath catching in her throat. He stood looking down at her, waiting for her to quiet. When she had control of herself, he lifted her and stood her upon her feet. He reached under the pillow and brought out the bottle and took out the stopper and put his hand round her and tilted her head.
“Here; take a shot.”
“Naw.”
“Drink….”
He carried the bottle to her lips; she drank a small swallow. When he attempted to put the bottle away, she took it from him.
“That’s enough, now. You don’t want to get sloppy drunk.”
He turned her loose and she lay back on the bed, limp, whimpering. He bent to her.
“Listen, Bessie.”
“Bigger, please! Don’t do this to me! Please! All I do is work, work like a dog! From morning till night. I ain’t got no happiness. I ain’t never had none. I ain’t got nothing and you do this to me. After how good I been to you. Now you just spoil my whole life. I’ve done everything for you I know how and you do this to me. Please, Bigger….” She turned her head away and stared at the floor. “Lord, don’t let this happen to me! I ain’t done nothing for this to come to me! I just work! I ain’t had no happiness, no nothing. I just work. I’m black and I work and don’t bother nobody….”
“Go on,” Bigger said, nodding his head affirmatively; he knew the truth of all she spoke without her telling it. “Go on and see what that gets you.”
“But I don’t want to do it, Bigger. They’ll catch us. God knows they will.”
“I ain’t going to leave you here to snitch on me.”
“I won’t tell. Honest, I won’t. I cross my heart and swear by God, I won’t. You can run away….”
“I ain’t got no money.”
“You have got money. I paid rent out of what you gave me and I bought some liquor. But the rest is there.”
“That ain’t enough. I got to have some real dough.”
She cried again. He got the knife and stood over her.
“I can stop it all right now,” he said.
She started up, her mouth opening to scream.
“If you scream, I’ll have to kill you. So help me God!