Free Unknown by Unknown Page A

little past her time and that she ought to be downstairs already, getting supper together. She reached back around her neck, intending to take the amulet off, but could not find the catch. She pulled the chain all the way around looking for it, but the thing appeared to be made of uninterrupted links. She could not pull it over her head. She laughed at herself, blaming her slight grogginess for her momentary blindness and told herself that she would take it off after supper.
    She opened the bedroom door, and the whole house seemed to sigh in relief. Suddenly, from down the hall, several small voices began to argue over a toy; the dog barked downstairs, the television set was turned on, and behind Rachel, the baby began to ciy.
    Normally, this sudden onslaught of noise would not have bothered her. It happened every night; she had grown used to it, and even found it a reassuring bother. But tonight there was something about the noise that irked her horribly. It pressed in on her, but even more wretchedly pressing were the responsibilities that the noises represented: the house, the children, the husband. Her whole life had been subsumed by these six loathsome creatures. She told herself that she had only chosen one of them - Larry - and he had been a mistake. The others had been foisted on her. They had taken everything away from her, and left her with nothing; she wondered that she had got through so many years of it, and wondered even more darkly how she was going to get through another night.
    Rachel screamed out for the children to shut up, she slammed the bedroom door on the crying baby, stormed down the stairs and kicked the dog out the front door. She turned off the television set in the middle of the sports report, and didn't reply at all when Larry in great surprise asked what the matter was.
    She pulled the kitchen door to behind her, and locked it. This had never been done before. Larry wondered greatly at it, and feared for the rest of the evening. Half an hour later, Rachel unhooked the door and commanded them all inside for supper. Larry and the four children who were walking came in meekly and sat down without a word; there was not the shadow of incipient bickering to be found among them. Their mother was upset, and though they didn't know why, it was obviously best at these times (and she had never seemed so bad as this) not to cross her.
    Not even her husband ventured to say anything, for he feared that he was somehow the cause of this anger. He didn't want to get into a fight with Rachel at all, and especially not in front of the children. Rachel told them all to get on with it, and then she left the room. While she was gone, Lany questioned the children in whispers: had they done anything to bother their mother that day, or did they know of anything that might have happened to upset her? The children shook their heads with troubled mystification. In a few moments, Rachel returned with the infant in her arms, sat down huffily at the end of the table, and began to feed the baby with a bottle of warm milk.
    It was the quietest and most.wretched meal that had ever been consumed in that household. Whenever one of the children looked about to speak, Rachel stared him down so hard he choked on his food. They hardly dared to ask for the salt, and pointed out to one another which bowls and platters were to be passed. The children were so unused to this extremity of ill treatment from their mother, this unwholesome sternness directed at them altogether, that they began to feel sick. And even Larry suffered a queasiness in his lower intestines.
    As soon as the food could be bolted down, the children asked to be excused, and Larry indicated that he wouldn't have any coffee, but might watch television for a little while. 'That is', he said quietly, 'if you don't think the noise will bother you.'
    'Do what you want', she said briefly, and cast over him a chilling glance of absolute loathing.
    One of the children, the eldest