"Don't," she is saying between tough swallows. "Don't. Don't go back."
This is worse than when Paul D came to 124 and she cried helplessly into the stove. This is worse.
Then it was for herself. Now she is crying because she has no self. Death is a skipped mealcompared to this. She can feel her thickness thinning, dissolving into nothing. She grabs the hair ather temples to get enough to uproot it and halt the melting for a while. Teeth clamped shut, Denverbrakes her sobs. She doesn't move to open the door because there is no world out there. Shedecides to stay in the cold house and let the dark swallow her like the minnows of light above. Shewon't put up with another leaving, another trick. Waking up to find one brother then another not atthe bottom of the bed, his foot jabbing her spine. Sitting at the table eating turnips and saving theliquor for her grandmother to drink; her mother's hand on the keeping-room door and her voicesaying, "Baby Suggs is gone, Denver." And when she got around to worrying about what would bethe case if Sethe died or Paul D took her away, a dream-come-true comes true just to leave her on apile of newspaper in the dark.
No footfall announces her, but there she is, standing where before there was nobody when Denverlooked. And smiling.
Denver grabs the hem of Beloved's skirt. "I thought you left me. I thought you went back."Beloved smiles, "I don't want that place. This the place I am." She sits down on the pallet and,laughing, lies back looking at the cracklights above.
Surreptitiously, Denver pinches a piece of Beloved's skirt between her fingers and holds on. Agood thing she does because suddenly Beloved sits up.
"What is it?" asks Denver.
"Look," she points to the sunlit cracks.
"What? I don't see nothing." Denver follows the pointing finger.
Beloved drops her hand. "I'm like this."