دانلود رمان انگلیسی “بدن‌های هیولایی ما”

‘You’ll be lonely in this city.’ My sister appeared as a disembodied head on the screen of my phone. I cradled the screen in my hand before my own face, looking into hers: the lift of her thin eyebrows, dark wells beneath her eyes. ‘Are you sure you want to come?’ Pallid sunlight filled the window behind her, the city she wasn’t inviting me to a scant presence beyond the glass. Her head was wrapped in a stained white towel, leaching a purply dye from her hairline. It made my scalp itch just to look at it. ‘You’ll be bored,’ she warned. ‘It’s not like you think. It’s a long way from home, Brooke.’ Since I’d left Japan that summer, I’d been living back at Mum and Dad’s, temping wherever the agency sent me and applying to arts programs with funding packages, wherever they might take me: Lancaster, Brighton, Glasgow. I was living in my childhood bedroom with a view of the other council house gardens, a little claustrophobic, my ideas of the future more or less adrift. Mum had wallpapered the bedroom to her own taste while I was living abroad, but the walls underneath were still pockmarked from the art brut posters I’d tacked up as a teenager, and the fashion prints Izzy had pinned up before me, Parisian women sucking dainty cigarette holders. Our childhoods barely overlapped. Izzy was eleven years older and still treated me like a kid. ‘I won’t be lonely,’ I told my sister, her face freezing for a moment and then returning to me with a curl in her upper lip, a familial expression we shared. ‘I’ll have you.’ I’d just got the bus home from a shift at the university library, which housed the collections for the science, technology, and engineering faculties. I shelved books, made photocopies, and answered the telephone. ‘Hello, I’m a robot,’ I’d say in my most professional phone voice. No one ever reacted.