Sixty Seconds

by Farrell, Claire

  The shame of it. The absolute horror. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in the three months since it happened. She felt like she never would. What was the point in living? Everything had gone to hell. Solemn now, Janice made a decision and hurried around, looking for pills and alcohol. Quickly, before her mother came home from work.

  She laid out the pills on the floor of the bathroom. Who cared about germs? She took a sip of vodka and shuddered as it burned her throat. It brought back memories of the funeral, of the first time she’d drank vodka straight, of the night Graeme Moore had forced himself on her while she screamed in pain. The memory forced her to throw up, for real this time. That was no good. The pills wouldn’t have an effect if she puked them back up.

  She took deep breaths, steadied herself, forced the memories out of her brain. She picked up a pill, swallowed, washed it down with vodka – more of a pleasant heat this time. Janice looked at herself in the mirror and liked how mournful her eyes looked, how grownup she seemed holding the vodka. Black eyeliner streaked her cheeks and she watched herself with a grim smile as she picked up more pills to swallow.

  She played her favourite songs as loud as she could, and popped more pills, half enjoying the drama, never really considering what it meant to die. She only wanted to end the pain she was in. She only wanted to end the trouble she was in.

  Wendy came home early and took the scene in. A split second to understand – the pregnancy tests, the alcohol, the pills, her daughter’s face.

  Disappointed. That’s how her mother looked. A lump formed in Janice’s throat and she couldn’t swallow any more, she choked on vodka and sobbed. Vomited when Wendy reacted by sticking her fingers down Janice’s throat and holding her over the toilet.

  Afterwards, when they had both cried and Janice’s stomach was empty of tablets, she sucked her thumb while Wendy held her, gathered her in her arms and let motherly love rush over her.

  “I’m sorry, Ma. It wasn’t my fault, I swear. I said no,” Janice whispered to her mother who held her tight.

  “I believe you, love. I believe you.”

  For some reason, that made Janice cry all the more. Her mother let her, hoping all of her sorrow would release itself and fly away.

  “Who was it?” she asked when Janice’s sobs quietened. “We’ll go to the police, get him charged.”

  “We can’t. He’s a scumbag, Ma. He’ll kill us first, he promised me that.”

  “Nobody’s above the law.” Wendy’s statement was firm but Janice rolled her eyes.

  “It was Graeme Moore. You know about it, even the police are scared of him.”

  Wendy let out a hiss. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll fix this. One way or another.”

  Janice swallowed down her shame. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

  “So you decided to save me the job? Don’t ever try anything like that again, Janice. I mean it. Nothing’s worth that.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do. My life’s over.” Fresh tears rolled down Janice’s cheeks.

  “It’s not over. It’s a baby, not a disease. There are lots of women who would love to take that baby for you.”

  Janice thought of handing over a baby. “What kind of person gives away their baby?”

  Wendy made Janice look her in the eye. “Listen to me. Smart people want to give a child the best start. Sometimes that means sacrifice. You could give someone the best gift ever, Janice. Imagine it that way.”

  “What if it’s evil? It’s his. He was evil. What if it grows up just like him?” Janice bit her lips, wanting it out of her before it corrupted her.

  “It’s not evil. No baby is. Do you want to . . . get rid of it?”

  Janice imagined his baby growing inside her. Imagined if nature was stronger than nurture. “I don’t want it inside me,” she whispered. “I can’t sleep knowing it’s in there. I can’t do it.”

  Wendy nodded, her mouth a tight, grim line. “We’ll go to England. Get it sorted.”

  “Can we afford it?”

  “Of course, don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of you. Promise.” Wendy tried to sound cheerful but she hadn’t a clue how she was going to come up with the money. She was barely making enough to support them, never mind taking trips to England for an abortion that wasn’t legal in Ireland.

  She kissed Janice’s cheek. “We’ll keep it a secret. Just you and me. We’ll get through this. Then we’ll move. I swear to you, we’ll get out of here. I’ll give you a future, even if it kills me.”

  Janice relaxed against her mother and felt all of her worries float away as her mother took control of the situation. They hadn’t been as close in years. Graeme Moore thought he’d won but really, he’d given her a gift – she had her mother back.

  Final Call

  For the first time in her life, Mary Thornton allowed her children to open their presents before Christmas morning. If the experts were right, and she suspected they were, the world wouldn’t make it that far. Why waste the carefully wrapped presents?

  For so many years, she – and many others – had scoffed the rumours. There was no denying it now. Earthquakes, tornadoes, freak landslides - these were just some of the natural disasters happening on a daily basis across the world. Major ones, ones that devastated millions of people at a time. When Mary felt the ground tremble beneath her all afternoon, she knew. It was almost time.

  She gathered her family around her. All teenagers now, but still, the same care went into their gifts. They all embraced each other, exchanged presents, even laughed and joked together. Nothing could cut through the tension and nervousness when glasses of wine fell over as the tremors increased in strength.

  At three in the afternoon, the world turned dark and the television stations cut out. Mary’s youngest daughter had cried in her arms. Now they waited. A lull in the air, except for the howls of neighbouring dogs. The mournfulness of their cries scared Mary more than anything else. At least she was with her family – better to die with those you love than to die alone.

  “How do you think it’ll happen?” Her son’s voice cut through the silence. Mary gasped at the question.

  “What kind of thing is that to say?” she said.

  “It’s gonna happen whether we talk about it or not, Ma. Might as well chat while we’re waiting.”

  The rest of the family began to giggle, nerves making the situation hysterical. Mary joined in and laughed until she cried, wiping the tears away with shaky hands.

  “I think it’ll be soon,” her eldest daughter whispered, grabbing her mother’s hand.

  Mary blessed herself, even though she hadn’t believed in God in a very long time. “At least we’re together,” she said out loud, although she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

  Her husband gripped her shoulder and began to speak but a huge crack in the floor silenced them all. The world seemed to break in half and Mary felt her family drift away from her as she floated in the air. Gravity reset itself and slammed Mary against the wall.

  Slumped on the floor, Mary wasn’t sure if she hallucinated the scene before her. The room seemed to spin, literally, although she stayed put. The Christmas tree was hurled across the room and through the window but the splinters of the glass stayed in the air for a few seconds before falling to the ground.

  The floor shook so hard that Mary’s teeth chattered together and she felt drill like vibrations under her. One of her daughter’s rolled too close to the crack in the ground. Even though she knew they would all die, Mary grabbed her child’s ankle and held on tight, unwilling to let go. She could hear screaming but over it was another sound, something she had never heard before.

  From the crack in the ground rose a spirit, or at least, that’s what it looked like to Mary. It grabbed Mary’s daughter and pulled, dragging the girl back into the crack with it. Mary scrambled to see where she went but the hole was dark – she couldn’t see a thing.

  The spirit appeared in front of Mary’s
face before she could pull back, close enough to see it didn’t have a distinguishable face. It put its hands on Mary’s cheeks and she felt drenched through. It pulled her into the crack, into an unimaginable darkness. Mary felt like she was falling from a cliff but never felt the landing. She screamed and screamed as she fell and heard voices whispering in her eyes.

  “Final call.”

  “Last chance.”

  “Get it right this time.”

  “Welcome to the next world.”

  “Welcome to the final world.”

  Mary wondered if she was in hell, in a dream, if she had gone insane.

  The darkness enclosed itself around her until she felt trapped in a soft, wet cage. She felt her knees tip her nose. She struggled to break free, pushing herself in the one direction that gave her a little leeway. She felt herself move and began to hear noises again.

  Through the darkness, she moved slowly, feeling the darkness expel her through a crevice. She couldn’t breathe and screamed out loud as she finally made her way into light. Hands gripped her roughly and she shivered, a cold, wet mess. Gigantic people who cleaned her off, ignored her terror and finally covered her in a blanket.

  Mary tried to talk to them, beg them to help her. Even though they smiled, none of them listened. They carried her once again and lay her somewhere soft and warm. Mary yawned, feeling comfortable all of a sudden. A woman looked down on her with a huge smile on her face.

  “She’s beautiful,” she said, and looked down at Mary, awestruck. Mary blinked a couple of times, felt something touch her lip and turned her head to clasp it, even though she wasn’t sure why. Something warm flooded through her entire body and she relaxed completely in her new mother’s arms, her previous life fading into darkness.

  Shark

  Sharkey buttoned his shirt up to his chin. “Thanks for that, love,” he said, and threw money onto the bed. The girl grabbed the notes greedily and gathered her clothes together. “Don’t forget,” he added as she passed him by. “First payment’s due next week.”

  He knew she wouldn’t forget but it was always good to remind them. Just in case.

  He took a steak and kidney pie out of the oven and a cold can of beer from the fridge. He should have used a good, homemade meal as a loan guarantee, not sex. He snorted with laughter but nobody was around to hear.

  After his meal, he made his rounds – knocking on the doors of the poor to collect repayments. Hefty loans with even heftier rates of interest. They called him Sharkey because he was the most blood-thirsty loan shark around. Hey, he was helping people out. Not his fault they got over their heads in their own desperation. All he asked for was his money back – and then some.

  Same shit, different day. Money owed, some handed it over, some needed another week – more interest, no problem. Others tried to hide. That’s when he earned his nickname. He didn’t need heavies to get his money back. Everyone was scared of Sharkey’s tempers.

  He had plenty of money. If someone missed a week, it was no skin off his nose but that wasn’t the point. Lessons had to be taught and examples had to be made. When Damien Murphy answered the door with a still broken nose and handed Sharkey cash without saying a word – that was a lesson learned. When Rachel Doyle had to use her left hand to pay him because her right wrist was still sprained – that was a lesson learned. And when Della Conway opened her door with no bra on, well, it was all in a day’s work.

  Money pocketed and non-payers adequately scared, Sharkey headed to the pub alone. Carrying around that amount of cash was foolish for some. For Sharkey, nobody would be stupid enough to look at him crooked. That’s how it was. In the pub, everyone steered clear of him. He downed pint after pint but the chairs around him remained conspicuously empty.

  He was cool with being alone. Nobody to nag him, upset him, break his heart. He had enough company doing his job. Women offered themselves to him on a regular basis – to persuade him to give them a loan or to keep him happy if they couldn’t meet a payment. He knew it and he didn’t care.

  People didn’t approach him, even to ask for a loan. They made appointments, dealt with him through text messages, but only after they had been recommended.

  When the dark-haired woman sat next to him in the pub, uninvited, he was beyond surprised.

  “They tell me you’re Sharkey,” she said, and held his stare, something that didn’t happen very often.

  He nodded, unsure of himself for a change.

  “I need a loan, pretty quickly. I can pay you back.”

  He sneered. “Why not go to a bank then?”

  “Because it’s urgent. I don’t have time to wait.”

  She looked desperate enough but something told him she wouldn’t be spreading her legs for money. He kind of liked that. He liked how her chin jutted out and she held her head up like she knew her worth. There was something defiant in her eyes. Not the kind of defiance he was used to, the one that needed to be knocked out of people. More like the proud kind. It was interesting.

  “How much you need?”

  “How much you got?”

  He tried not to smile. “Why should I give you a loan?”

  Her forehead creased. “That’s what you do, right? Play on people’s desperation? Give them money they can’t afford to pay back? Well, I can pay it back, I just need it right away.”

  “What do you need it for?”

  Her cheeks flushed red and she looked away. “I need to take a trip.”

  “One way? Trying to scam a poor man out of his money?”

  Sharkey was joking but she looked aghast. “No! I just need to go to England. For a weekend.”

  He caught it then. The look of shame. “Ah. That kind of trouble.”

  “Not me!” She was quick to deny it. She shrugged. “It’s my daughter. A man . . . took advantage, she doesn’t need to be burdened with the consequences. It’s her choice, I’ll do what she needs.”

  “She needs to pay for her own mistakes,” Sharkey said, hoping to draw her out.

  “She’s just a kid and it wasn’t her mistake. The bastard attacked her knowing she’d be too scared to tell.” The flush in her cheeks was warmed by anger, not embarrassment.

  This interested Sharkey. He pushed around the people who deserved it, he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a bully in his neighbourhood.

  “Maybe I can help. If you work for me.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think about it. What was he doing?

  “I . . . I’m not that kind of woman.” She edged away from him, making sure her body faced away from him. She crossed her arms.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not asking for anything. I need an employee. Office work, someone to help me keep track of things. Maybe make a dinner sometimes, maybe accompany me on an outing. Someone with their ear to the ground, able to pass on info.”

  “Are you looking for a companion?” Her eyes opened wide but she didn’t laugh.

  He shrugged. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Sometimes he felt lonely but he would rather pay for the company. That way, he controlled the situation. Not an escort because they were greedy and had usually been around the block. This woman though, he could work with a woman like her.

  She shook her head. “I have a job. I’m a nurse. I don’t have time for more work.”

  “You don’t have time for a baby either then. It’s a part-time thing, flexible, a bit of change. Tell you what, to sweeten the deal, I’ll help you in another way. Make sure baby daddy deals with some consequences. What do you say?”

  He wasn’t sure what he expected but the look in her eye thrilled him. She leaned forward, her cheek twitching. “I can’t tell you how badly I want him to deal with consequences.”

  Sharkey laughed. “What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Wendy.” She stood up to leave. “How do we do this?”

  “Leave your number, I’ll contact you tomorrow when I’ve roped a couple of grand together. That be enough?”

  She nodded. “Wh
y me?”

  “What?”

  “Why do you want me to work for you?”

  Sharkey frowned. He didn’t have a fucking clue. “Well, you’re smart. And you obviously ain’t gonna sleep with me for it so I have to figure something else out. The world doesn’t need any more unwanted babies, right?”

  She gave him her contact details and the name of the man who impregnated her daughter. “You’re not as bad as they say,” she told him.

  He showed her his teeth. “Tell that to your man.”

  He was sad to see her leave. “Going fucking soft,” he muttered under his breath. Sharkey finished his pint and went home alone, feeling hopeful. Maybe it was time the shark had some real company.

  That evening, Sharkey wondered how much pain the rapist had to be in before it impressed Wendy.

  Somebody to Love

  The nurse pushed her into a wheelchair, more rough than necessary. Annie didn’t mind. She didn’t care about anything anymore. The wheels squeaked as they moved, like a tiny person crying out to Annie. She did her best to ignore the sound.

  “Some fresh air will you good, Mrs. O’Reilly.”

  Annie didn’t answer. Nobody expected her to. Outside was still nippy enough to make a blanket necessary. The nurse tucked the corners under Annie’s legs, knowing she wouldn’t make an effort to stop the blanket flying away in the wind. She knew Annie wouldn’t care.

  “There,” she said. “Now sit there for a while, I’ll be back in a bit.” She hesitated. “Maybe take a walk today.” She didn’t believe Annie would but it didn’t hurt to try.

  Annie stayed silent and stared at the tree a few feet ahead of her. She didn’t see it at first, nor did she hear the nurse’s footsteps fade away.

  Instead, she saw the only thing she ever saw. The car crash that wiped out her family. The one instant that changed everything and turned her to stone. When she woke, they told her. They spoke of the dead in hushed tones. But tears didn’t come for Annie, neither did death nor hunger nor pain. Nothing happened and Annie did nothing, not to live, not to die – she didn’t care.