Page 275 - A Little Life: A Novel

his eyes and remembered: Willem had hit him. Then he remembered why,
and he shut his eyes very tightly, howling but not making a noise.
The moment passed and he opened his eyes again. He turned his head to

the left, where an ugly blue curtain blocked his view of the door. And then
he turned his head to the right, toward the early-morning light, and saw
Jude, asleep in the chair next to his bed. The chair was too small for him to
sleep in, and he had folded himself into a terrible-looking position: his
knees drawn up to his chest, his cheek resting atop them, his arms wrapped
around his calves.
You know you shouldn’t sleep like that, Jude, he told him in his head.

Your back is going to hurt when you wake up. But even if he could have
reached his arm over to wake him, he wouldn’t have.
Oh god, he thought. Oh god. What have I done?
I’m sorry, Jude, he said in his head, and this time he was able to cry
properly, the tears running into his mouth, the mucus that he was unable to
clean away bubbling over as well. But he was silent; he didn’t make any

noise. I’m sorry, Jude, I’m so sorry, he repeated to himself, and then he
whispered the words aloud, but quietly, so quietly that he could hear only
his lips opening and closing, nothing more. Forgive me, Jude. Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.