Darkroom

by Poppet

  A deep voice speaks from behind us. "Step away from her."

  Twisting I stare at a tall heavy-set gentleman, dressed impeccably, with snow white thick straight hair. Very Clark Gable. My eyes narrow suspiciously as I notice who's with him. Peter the prick.

  Shocking me, Victor stands up, turning and dropping to one knee, taking the man's hand and kissing it. "Father."

  I can see it happening, but my voice is delayed. I can't scream fast enough as Peter pulls out a gun and shoots Victor three times in the chest. He slumps back, blood flying out, my scream sounds so far away. Even the old man looks horrified.

  Peter looks straight at me and smiles maliciously. I start to run toward my darling, when the expression on Peter's face stalls me, understanding what's going on, I turn, and run, straight down the steepest hill I've ever been on. Tumbling, falling, hard things jar into my bony body as I fall crushingly onto the road below. Horns blare, tyres screech, voices yell out in frantic panic. Feeling broken, I beg the man standing over me, "Police! Please!"

  The pain in my abdomen is excruciating. Gasping through aching teeth, "My husband was just murdered."

  Bleeping, endless bleeping. Dark blur comes into focus.

  "Don't be alarmed, you're in hospital."

  Focusing on the woman in dark blue next to me, she smiles gently. "Is it possible for you to tell us what happened?"

  "My husband …"

  A man's voice interjects, "Sorry, but could we have your full name please and your residential address."

  She says, "You're fine. We're here to escort you home."

  "The baby?"

  He smiles at me from behind a disgusting bushy moustache, "You are both fine."

  "My name is Shauna Ward. I was Roberts, but I got married this morning. Victor and myself went up to Signal Hill where we were drinking to our future, when an old man appeared with Victor's friend Peter. Victor called him Father. Then Peter shot him. And I ran."

  "Peter shot who?"

  "Victor."

  "And who is Victor?"

  "Victor Ward is my husband. Is he all right? Can I see him?"

  They exchange glances before the female tells me, "There is no body to recover. There was blood on the ground at the scene in question, but at this time we have to assume he's alive."

  "And you are?"

  "Officer Nancy Sullivan and this is Detective Pierre Johnson."

  At least I got English speaking cops this time.

  "What is Peter's surname?" he asks.

  "I have no idea, I only recently met him. Seth might know. He's Victor's brother. They work together at Ward & Ward in Rondebosch."

  "Who work together?"

  "Seth and Victor."

  "So Seth Ward is your brother-in-law?"

  "Yes."

  Two hours later I wish they'd leave me alone. I'm a mess, I'm worried out of my mind and they don't seem to care. They've inspected the surgery and every inch of Victor's apartment and car, and mine.

  "Mrs Ward please let us into this room."

  "I can't. I don't have the key or the codes. It's retina scan, fingerprint and digital code and key to get in there."

  "What are you hiding in here?"

  "Nothing! It's Victor's darkroom."

  "Darkroom?"

  "Yes, he does photography."

  "What is in there?"

  "Boxes, pegs, photographs and chemicals." That's all I saw in there when he showed it to me.

  "Ma'am this is possibly a homicide. You are the only witness. Your co-operation is the only thing that casts doubt away from you. Did you have a motive to kill your husband?"

  "No! I love him! I saw who did it! I'm pregnant with his baby! Why the hell would I kill him?"

  "We understand you have a psychiatric record of mental delusions."

  "I promise you we're married. I'm not making this up."

  "Do we have your permission to gain forceful entry into this room?"

  "Yes."

  They're desecrating what we hold precious. Like vultures they're picking him apart in his absence, invading his privacy without conscience. He loves me, I am his wife, and even I do not go in there.

  I've taken tablets because I can't handle this. I'm feeling hysterical. I need him. I need him to feel safe. I can't do this on my own. Rubbing my abdomen I try and soothe myself and junior. I can't stop crying. I've answered all of their questions. Dad had to confirm that I've been dating Victor for months. He was so angry to hear I'd married him and not told them. Which makes me look even more guilty. Why is this happening to me? Why?

  "Mrs Ward?"

  "Yes?" I stare at Nancy, willing her to disappear.

  "Please come with me." Oh God that sounds serious.

  Forcing my weak legs to hold me, I let her lead me into Victor's darkroom where five other men cram at the door.

  She holds me by the wrist as if I'm suddenly going to try and run away. I'm confused. There are TV screens everywhere. Five of them show images from my apartment. It still has three months left on the lease, so we just left it. We were going to go house hunting. Adjusting to the dark, my eyes examine five more screens of this apartment. Turning, a sharp pain shoots through my gut. The wall is covered in photographs of me. Tied up, all of the tortures I endured, right there in full colour. Even when Vengeance poured petrol on me, when he raped and beat me, it's all here.

  "Oh God." The room spirals, the pain, oh Jesus!

  I become alert with a siren wailing my ears into pain.

  "It's not him!"

  Sitting up, they shove me back down.

  "Please Madam stay calm. You are haemorrhaging severely. We're almost there."

  I can't stop the tears. The baby! No! Not the baby too! They inject something into the clear tube. The sight of the needle strips the last of my strength.

  Beep. Beep. Beep …

  "She's coming around."

  "Mrs Ward?"

  "Shauna can you hear me?"

  "Uhm … " Blearily I force my eyes to focus. It's her again.

  "Shauna?"

  "The baby?"

  She looks away, probably at the moustache man. Her expression answers my question. She blurs again as grief grips my heart, my throat, my hope, and twists the light out of my soul with an executioner's malice. Tissues are forced into my hand as someone rubs my shoulder, "We're very sorry for your loss."

  "Fuck you! Just fuck off."

  A male baritone interjects, "Mrs Ward … Shauna, we'd love to leave you alone with your grief, but we have an ongoing murder investigation into the disappearance of your husband. You have motive to kill him."

  Forcing down the lump in my throat as I wipe my nose, "Why would I ever kill him? He was my angel!" My voice cracks. A glass of water gets presented to my hand and I take it.

  "Your husband is the man you told the police and your psychiatrist, was Vengeance."

  "Never. He could never be Vengeance!"

  Nancy interjects again, "Shauna, we have video footage that we found in your husband's darkroom. He is the man who beat you."

  Detective Moustache holds up the leather outfit that Vengeance wears, "We found this in his storeroom too."

  "Liar! Peter framed him! It's Peter! Vengeance came to me three times when I was with Victor. If it's anyone it's Peter. I was alone on a boat for weeks with just Pete and Vic. And Vic was in bed with me when I saw Vengeance in the middle of the night. It's NOT VICTOR!" My voice rises to a hysterical screech. I know I'm getting hysterical. They don't believe me! I can see that they don't believe me.

  "Where is he? WHERE IS HE! He's bleeding and hurt! DO SOMETHING!"

  "Mrs Ward please calm down … ."

  "NO! HOW DARE YOU! YOU'VE MURDERED MY BABY AND NOW YOU'RE CALLING MY HUSBAND A MURDERER!"

  "Nurse! Nurse assistance please!"

  I'm wailing. I can hardly breathe. I'm breathing in and my body is getting no air. So hot, I can feel the pressure gathering in my head like it wants to explode like a pressure cooker; lik
e an egg in the microwave.

  "Shauna, I'm so sorry for your loss. But your husband is a wanted man. He has broken many laws. If we find him, he will be arrested." She sounds really sweet and concerned.

  His voice says, "Your brother-in-law has confirmed that you were married and that you signed a pre-nup."

  "Seth? Is he here?"

  "He is your doctor is that correct?"

  "Y … yes."

  "We've given him clearance to see you."

  "Please … " I take her hand and squeeze it as the nurse injects more shit into my body, "Find Victor. I love him. Please … "

  She nods and her partner leads her out of the door where I hear him say, "Well that's a classic case of Stockholm syndrome."

  I'm so angry, but I can't focus as the sedative takes control of my body.

  I thought about that tree, and the wind. I did not bow and I did not break. I became the wind. I was soaring free. I was strong, and happy, and free. Nothing can catch the wind. Nothing can hold it, hurt it, break it. I was the wind. But the wind doesn't blow any more. The world that I lived in has dissolved like tears left in the sun. Evaporated to nothing.

  "Oh Victor …" I miss … you.

  I do not hear when the door opens again. I do not hear the entry of a new man into my life. I do not hear his words as Seth holds my hand, "His wife shall not be married outside the family to a stranger. Her husband's brother shall go in to her and take her as his wife and perform the duty of a husband's brother to her. Deuteronomy 25:5."

  THE END

  Biography

  Poppet lives in her own little world, and suffers from an intense crush on Cupid. So much so she's taken up archery to impress him. She's currently giving up her addiction to sarcasm by going cold turkey, loves jelly beans, and has a closet Lamborghini fetish. She also thinks planets rock, because they take up space.

  Poppet has the novel Exploits published with Night Publishing and also writes under the name Gemma Rice, with two novels under this name currently to her credit.

  Visit Poppet

  This novel was written on a Mac

  I would like to thank Surrounded By Idiots (SBI) the rock band from New Jersey, in particular Scott Norton, for permission to use their songs and lyrics in this novel and for all promotional materials. Also a huge thank you to the South African rock band Point of View, for permission to use their songs and lyrics in Darkroom and for promotional material, (in particular Nic James and Marc Klein). Also thanks to Andy Chester for permission to use Float.

  I must thank the many writers who reviewed Darkroom for me, the most in depth review being from Dawn Evans (thank you Dawn), also Simon Corbin, Lesley Uhl, Steven Wyatt and KR Jones. Your support makes all the difference.

  Lastly, thank you to the people who share my life, who don't complain when I'm stuck at my computer for months, writing and editing. Thank you for your unwavering support and patience. I love you, and my success wouldn't be sweet without you to share it.