Psycho - Three Complete Novels by Robert Bloch Read Free Book Online

reached out his hand. It was trembling again, but not with fear. This was anticipation; he knew what he was going to do. He was going to tilt the framed license on the wall to one side and peek through the little hole he’d drilled so long ago. Nobody else knew about the little hole, not even Mother. Most certainly not Mother. It was his secret.
    The little hole was just a crack in the plaster on the other side, but he could see through it. See through it into the lighted bathroom. Sometimes he’d catch a person standing right in front of it. Sometimes he’d catch their reflection on the door mirror beyond. But he could see. He could see plenty. Let the bitches laugh at him. He knew more about them than they ever dreamed.
    It was hard for Norman to focus his eyes. He felt hot and dizzy, hot and dizzy. Part of it was due to the drinks, part to the excitement. But most of it was due to her.
    She was in the bathroom now, standing there facing the wall. But she wouldn’t notice the crack. They never did. She was smiling, fluffing out her hair. Now she stooped, sliding down her stockings. And as she straightened up, yes, she was going to do it, the dress was coming off over her head, he could see the bra and panties, she mustn’t stop now, she mustn’t turn away.
    But she did turn away, and Norman almost called out to her, “Come back here, you bitch!” but he remembered just in time, and then he saw that she was unhooking her bra in front of the door mirror and he could see. Except that the mirror was all wavy lines and lights that made him dizzy, and it was hard to make out anything until she stepped a little to one side. Then he could see her . . .
    Now she was going to take them off, she was taking them off, and he could see, she was standing before the mirror and actually gesturing!
    Did she know? Had she known all along, known about the hole in the wall, known that he was watching? Did she want him to watch, was she doing this to him on purpose, the bitch? She was swaying back and forth, back and forth, and now the mirror was wavy again and she was wavy, and he couldn’t stand it, he wanted to pound on the wall, he wanted to scream at her to stop because this was an evil, perverted thing she was doing and she must stop before he became evil and perverted too. That’s what the bitches did to you, they perverted you, and she was a bitch, they were all bitches, Mother was a—
    Suddenly she was gone, and there was only the roaring. It welled up, shaking the wall, drowning out the words and the thoughts. It was coming from inside his head, and he fell back in the chair. I’m drunk, he told himself. I’m passing out.
    But that was not entirely so. The roaring continued, and somewhere inside it he heard another sound. The office door was opening. How could that be? He’d locked it, hadn’t he? And he still had the key. If only he’d open his eyes, he could find it. But he couldn’t open his eyes. He didn’t dare. Because now he knew.
    Mother had a key too.
    She had a key to her room. She had a key to the house. She had a key to the office.
    And she was standing there now, looking down at him. He hoped she would think he had just fallen asleep. What was she doing here, anyway? Had she heard him leave with the girl, come down to spy on him?
    Norman slumped back, not daring to move, not wanting to move. Every instant it was getting harder and harder to move even if he had wanted to. The roaring was steady now, and the vibration was rocking him to sleep. That was nice. To be rocked to sleep, with mother standing watching you—
    Then she was gone. She’d turned around without saying anything and gone out. There was nothing to be afraid of. She’d come to protect him from the bitches. Yes, that was it. She’d come to protect him. Whenever he needed her, Mother was there. And now he could sleep. There was no trick to it at all. You merely went into the roaring, and then past the roaring. Then everything was silent.