She flounces off, and Andy's all frustrated, but now think about it. You've got Andy, who puts all his mysteries on Jason and has become creepily obsessed with him as a result. You've got Drew, standing inside a costume made of his own skin, killing indiscriminately now: Adele, Amy, Jason. You've got Rene, who loves his fiancée and wants to be a good friend to Jason, whom he thinks of as a little brother. And you've got Jason, who created masks out of thin air and pretended, again and again, to be the Drew who never existed. That's a complete circle: Jason carrying Andy's shit, Drew carrying Jason's shit, Rene carrying Drew's shit, and Sookie Stackhouse -- who can look inside your mind, see into your heart -- setting every one of these decisions on fire, radicalizing every wall in every kingdom, just by being there. In one short scene she's managed to blow everybody's minds, just by telling the truth. She wasn't even that cool or interesting, but that's what she did. And in all that chaos, they harden as men must: Jason resolves himself to his damnation, Andy resolves to overcome her assessment of him by any means necessary, and Drew realizes she's got to die before anything else can happen.

The key is finding a story that makes it fit, so it tells you what happens next and what the outcomes are. Drew and Cindy Marshall are Kay and Greta. Jason and Sookie Stackhouse are Hansel and Gretel. Tara Thornton is Psyche, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty: the princess locked in a castle, the evil stepmother wearing our beloved mother's face, the Fairy Godmother, the Blue Angel sent from Heaven, Satan in a Sunday hat. Dawn and Sookie are Little Red Riding Hood, grinning in the shadows. Maudette's story is the story of O, and of criminal desires; is self-extinguishment and Rimbaud and Artaud's lovely daughter. Andy is Hitchcockian, Andy is a Barth Chimera, a Phil Dick gumshoe, the son and heir of nothing in particular; Andy Bellefleur knows the key to the secret is the secret. Coroner Mike is Gepetto and Abraham, losing sons that were never his to the one world coroners can never know, but can only guard its gates.