Norman Bates heard the noise and a shock went through him. It sounded as though somebody was tapping on the windowpane.
He winced at the realization, then took a deep breath. This was no time to be self-conscious or self-critical. One had to be prctical. Very practical, very careful, very calm.
She raised her face defiantly, and the sharp shadow line slashed across her neck. For a moment, it looked as though somebody had just cut off Lila's head...
"She was afrad of him, now. Yes, she must be. Because not once, all through this, had she called him "son"."
Besides, that thing was waiting for him. Waiting for him —
You didn't really forget. It's just that you don't want anyone to come, you hope they don't come.
That was the most important thing. He had to stop talking to himself. He had to get back that calm feeling agan. He had to face reality. And what was reality?
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Norman sighed and shook his head. He couldn't afford the risk. Not while that thing still sprawled in the shower stall back at the motel. Leaving it there was even more risky.
But she didn't listen, she was in the bathroom, she was getting dressed, she was putting on make-up, she was getting ready. Getting ready.