“We have to try to get rid of it,” said the sister, addressing only the father because the mother could hear nothing over her coughing. “It’ll kill you both, I can see that coming. We all work too hard to come home to this interminable torture. And I can’t stand it anymore.” And she began sobbing so violently that her tears coursed down onto the mother’s face, where she mechanically wiped them away.
“Oh, child,” said the father compassionately and with apparent understanding, “what can we do?”
The sister just shrugged her shoulders, displaying the helplessness that had overtaken her during her crying jag in stark contrast to her former self-confidence.
“If only he could understand us,” the father said, almost as a question; the sister, still sobbing, vehemently waved her hand to show how unthinkable it was.
“If only he could understand us,” repeated the father, dosing his eyes to absorb the sister’s conviction that this was impossible, “then we might be able to come to some sort of agreement with him. But as it is—”
“It has to go,” the sister cried, “that’s the only way, Father. You have to try to stop thinking that this is Gregor. Our true misfortune is that we’ve believed it so long. But how can it be Gregor? Because Gregor would have understood long ago that people can’t possibly live with such a creature, and he would have gone away of his own accord. Then we would have no brother, but we could go on living and honor his memory. But instead this creature persecutes us and drives out the boarders; it obviously wants to take over the whole apartment and throw us out into the gutter. Just look, Father,” she suddenly screamed, “he’s at it again!” And in a state of panic that was totally incomprehensible to Gregor—she even abandoned the mother, she literally bolted from the chair as if she would rather sacrifice the mother than stay in the vicinity of Gregor—she rushed behind the father, who got to his feet only out of agitation from her behavior and half-raised his arms as if to protect her.
But Gregor had no intention of frightening anyone, least of all his sister. He had merely begun to turn around to start the journey back to his room, although it was an alarming operation to watch, since his enfeebled condition forced him to use his head to achieve the complex rotations by alternately lifting it and then banging it down. He paused and looked around him. His good intentions appeared to have been recognized; it had only been a momentary alarm. Now they all watched him in glum silence. The mother lay back in her chair, her legs outstretched but squeezed together and her eyes almost shut from exhaustion; the father and sister sat side by side—her hand around his neck.
“Now maybe I can turn around,” Gregor thought, and resumed his labor. He could not help panting from the effort and had to rest every once in a while. At least he left on his own with no one harassing him. As soon as he had finished turning, he started to crawl straight back. He was astonished by how far away the room was and could not understand how he had recently and in his pathetic condition so unknowingly traveled that great a distance. He was so intent on crawling rapidly that he barely noticed that not a single word or any interference came from his family. Only when he was already in the doorway did he turn his head—not all the way, for he felt his neck stiffening—and saw that nothing had changed behind him except that the sister had risen. His final gaze fell on the mother, who was now deeply asleep.
He was hardly in his room when the door was shut hastily, then bolted and locked. The sudden noise behind him rattled Gregor so much that the little legs gave way beneath him. It was the sister who had been in such a rush. She had been standing by ready and waiting and had lightly leapt forward before Gregor even heard her coming; “Finally!” she cried to the parents as she turned the key in the lock.