re easily。
Brad nodded。 〃Apology accepted。 Now go hang that back up。 You got no business out walking in the rain； anyway。 Specially not in those woods。 What if you were to slip and fall and break your damned hip？ Huh？ Who do you think'd have to hoss your elderly freight back up the hill？〃
〃I don't know；〃 I said。 I just wanted to get away from him。 The more I listened to him； the more he sounded like Percy。 William Wharton； the crazyman who came to the Green Mile in the fall of ‘32； once grabbed Percy and scared him so bad that Percy squirted in his pants。 You talk about this to anyone； Percy told the rest of us afterward； and you'll all be on the breadlines in a week。 Now； these many years later； I could almost hear Brad Dolan saying those same words； in that same tone of voice。 It's as if； by writing about those old times； I have unlocked some unspeakable door that connects the past to the present … Percy Wetmore to Brad Dolan； Janice Edgebe to Elaine Connelly； Cold Mountain Penitentiary to the Georgia Pines old folks' home。 And if that thought doesn't keep me awake tonight； I guess nothing will。
I made as if to go in through the kitchen door and Brad grabbed me by the wrist again。 I don't know about the first one； but this time he was doing it on purpose； squeezing to hurt。 His eyes shifting back and forth； making sure no one was around in the early…morning wet； no one to see he was abusing one of the old folks he was supposed to be taking care of。
〃What do you do down that path？〃 he asked。 〃I know you don't go down there and jerk off； those days are long behind you； so what do you do？〃
〃Nothing；〃 I said； telling myself to be calm； not to show him how bad he was hurting me and to be calm； to remember he'd only mentioned the path； he