Life Rage

by L. L. Soares

  Yes, the broken mirror reminded her of the old days. Things would get broken a lot back then. Clearly, it was a message to her. Sam was angry, and when he returned, it might get ugly.

  It had been so long since she’d had a reason to be afraid of him.

  She wished she could go back to the motel room, to Viv. But the room would be empty now. And she had no idea how to contact her. She hadn’t even gotten her phone number. Or her last name.

  The bar where they’d met? Maggie thought about it, but was too tired to leave again. She just wanted to bring this bottle with her to the bedroom, turn on the television, and roll up in a ball on the bed. Wanting so badly for the wine to numb the pain, and maybe she could even get some sleep.

  If she slept, she wouldn’t worry about Sam. Wouldn’t dwell on what their relationship had become. And that it was getting worse.

  I’ve got to make plans, she thought. I’ve got to plan my escape from this house.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sitting alone in the motel room, in the dark, Viv found herself feeling conflicted about Maggie.

  There had been a kind of instant rapport between them, and once they had come here, to this room, Maggie had felt so comfortable with her, so at ease, that she had poured her heart out to her. Not that the alcohol had hurt much.

  It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened to Viv. She had a way about her that put people at ease, that made people trust her. If not, she wouldn’t be as effective at what she did. It was a gift. A spider had its web. She had the ability to comfort people.

  When they made love, Viv knew it was Maggie’s first time with a woman, but that made it all the sweeter, that she would give herself to her. Not only had Viv been attracted to her from the start, but this surrendering of herself really touched Viv in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  For once it hadn’t just been a matter of fucking.

  But then again, it never really was all about fucking. It was about something a lot more. Feeding. But usually all Viv cared about was giving them a good time, while she rode them out to oblivion.

  This time, she had felt more, and it scared her.

  She knew that if she hadn’t recently fed on that Richard Croix guy, she would have taken Maggie’s life today. The desire was still there, and while they made love, she could feel that predator inside her feeling around inside of Maggie, trying to find the lock that her key fit, and she came really close. But chances were slim she could resist it again.

  Now that she was aware of Maggie’s pain, she wouldn’t be able to ignore it next time. Once they’d had sex, the process had begun. That was why she had never gone that far with Jeremy. She didn’t want to be put in a situation where she had to take his life. Not after all he had done for her. She felt closer to him than she ever had to any other person. And even then, she was quite sure that he felt distanced from her. Because her closest was still not close enough for normal people.

  But now that she had a taste of what was making Maggie hurt, she wouldn’t be able to stop what was meant to happen. They would meet up again, and then Viv would have to let things run their course.

  It hurt her very much to realize that. She almost cried. But she hadn’t cried in so long, that she had forgotten how.

  She could still smell their scents in the room, their musk. Maggie’s presence was still very much here, even though she had left.

  I wish I could protect you, Maggie, she thought. But I was put on this earth to end your pain. And there’s no turning back now.

  In most cases, Viv felt like she was performing a service. Ending the pain of those who were suffering. But in Maggie’s case, she just felt miserable.

  * * *

  I saw Colleen again today. It’s been so long, I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. I remember her saying that she was going to go to Hollywood and become a movie star. But she never did. I was so glad to see her again.

  Some ashes fell on the page and she brushed them away.

  Colleen was stretched out on her bed, reading Turney’s diary. When she first opened it, breaking the little lock, she felt weird. But it wasn’t like she was invading his privacy. Turney was dead.

  I was probably as close to him as anybody, she thought. And he talks about me in here, so why shouldn’t I read it?

  His family had moved away years ago, and she had no idea how to reach them. Not that she would know what to say if she could. If Turney had a wallet and some form of identification, it was on him when he died. Because there was nothing like that in his bag. The only truly personal thing he had left behind was his diary.

  Which she had opened and was now reading.

  The police must have notified his parents by now. They had ways of finding out stuff like that. So, it was out of her hands.

  Luckily, they hadn’t come looking for her. Since there were no other witnesses that night, there was probably nothing to link her to what happened. Unless anyone had seen them together before that. The police might want to talk to her at some point. But she hoped they would never be able to find her here.

  Back in high school, I really thought I loved Colleen, but I never told her. Sometimes I wish I had.

  She read the words, feeling even more lost and alone. Sure Jeremy was right down the hall, but despite all his kindness, he was still a stranger to her. She had known Turney for years. Even when there were long stretches of time when they hadn’t seen each other, she used to hear things about him. It sounded like he was having a worse time than she was, getting through life. But he’d seemed like he was getting back on track when she saw him last. Maybe she was deluding herself about this, but he didn’t seem messed up or using when he came to stay with her. And they did talk a couple of times about life. About how sometimes life seemed to be going nowhere.

  No matter how much he said, though, he always seemed to be holding a lot back. She suspected that there were some things he never told anyone.

  Except, maybe, his diary.

  She remembered that thing she used to say in high school, about going away to California, and being a star. It seemed so stupid now. It almost made her laugh that Turney had actually believed it. It would have been kind of funny, except that it was too sad now. She’d never have gotten the nerve to move so far away, but he didn’t know that. She wondered what would have happened if she had gotten the nerve, though. She probably would have ended up acting in porno movies or something. It wasn’t like she had some kind of real talent she could cash in on. There was no way she could really act. Or sing.

  But fucking. She could do that.

  She remembered this guy once who had paid her a hundred bucks to take some pictures. At the time, she thought they were just for him. But now, she wondered if maybe those pictures were published somewhere. Hell, they were probably all over the Internet at this point. She was glad she didn’t have a computer.

  There had been one or two guys who had tried to talk her into fucking on video, but she had always found a way to avoid it. The truth was, she didn’t like the idea of being captured on film. To be there for anybody to see, whether she knew about it or not. The idea made her feel very uncomfortable.

  She flipped through the diary. A lot of the entries were short and mundane. Stuff about people she’d never heard of, and most of it wasn’t very interesting. She scanned the pages for mentions of her name. But there were only a few at the beginning, and some at the end. In between, there wasn’t much reason to mention her.

  The ones at the beginning, though, showed that he thought about her sometimes, even when he hadn’t seen her. Which made her feel good. It sounded like he’d never really gotten over her.

  I wish you’d told me, Turney, she thought. At the same time, she knew it would have been uncomfortable for her. She didn’t share his feelings, after all. But who knows, over time, she might have felt the same. Maybe she could have helped him get off the streets. Could have turned his life around.

  Yeah, right, she thoug
ht. What really would have happened is we would have both ended up in the gutter.

  The diary started a few months back. Which made her wonder if there were other, earlier books. She wondered where he would have kept them. Maybe in a locker somewhere? Maybe this was the first one he’d ever tried to write. Maybe this whole diary thing was new to him.

  Early on, there were some mentions about a psychologist he was seeing. Some guy called Dr. Wayne. There was something about the man that scared Turney. After about three visits, he stopped going. But there weren’t a lot of details about why the man scared him.

  I wish you’d gone into more detail, Colleen thought. Don’t you know you’re supposed to reveal all in your diary?

  But, as in life, Turney was guarded in his diary. He gave some clues, but very little in the way of details.

  She wondered if the doctor abused him in some way. Maybe the guy came onto him.

  Then she thought about the way he was acting when he first asked to stay at her place. He seemed to be afraid of something. Something he wouldn’t tell her about. Could it have been this doctor?

  Well, there was no proof either way.

  She flipped toward the back.

  Colleen and me made love last night. It was great. All these years I’d thought about it. We were sitting on her bed, and I just kissed her. I couldn’t help myself. And she was into it. I couldn’t believe it finally happened. And no problems this time.

  Colleen could feel her eyes getting misty. She hadn’t realized he had such feelings for her. She’d just assumed it was something that happened. Not that it was something he’d wanted for so long.

  And then, despite her trying to block it out, she saw his death in her mind’s eye again. It was something she played over and over in her head. Like picking at a scab. She didn’t want to think about it, but it kept returning. Seeing Turney torn apart in front of her. His head being thrown, bouncing off the wall. Landing at her feet.

  And the man who did it. His face full of rage.

  She would never forget that face as long as she lived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Maggie woke in the middle of the night. She could hear a sound in the darkness. It was water running. The shower.

  Normally she would have slept through such a subtle sound, but something woke her this time, and she realized she had to go to the bathroom anyway. So she slipped out of bed and walked softly to the door. She opened it and walked down the hall toward the source of the sound.

  The bathroom door was closed, but not completely. It was open a crack. Softly, she pushed it open, forgetting about the cracked mirror in the hall. Forgetting about the chance that Sam might be angry with her for getting home late.

  She could see his silhouette in the shower curtain. She knew it was him. As her head cleared, she found herself wondering why he was taking a shower so late. It was still dark, not yet sunrise. It was then that she looked down at the floor, then that she took in the whole picture.

  There was blood on the floor, and blood on his discarded clothes, in a heap in the corner.

  “Sam?” she said softly, finding herself suddenly concerned for him. Wondering what had happened while he was gone. Had he gotten hurt somehow? A car crash, maybe?

  “Sam?” a little louder.

  She could see his shape behind the shower curtain. He shut off the water. The sound stopped.

  “Sam, are you okay?” she asked him, louder now, wanting to go to him, to pull the curtain aside, but she was so afraid of what the blood on the floor might mean. It made her stay where she was.

  “I thought you were asleep,” Sam said. His voice was calm.

  “Sam, the blood. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “Go to bed, Maggie.”

  “Sam, do you need me to do anything?”

  He was suddenly angry. “Go to fucking bed, Maggie.”

  “What’s wrong, Sam?”

  He pulled the curtain aside now, and stared out at her. At first, she had a really hard time focusing on his face. When he finally came into focus, the way he was looking at her made her remember the fear again. She remembered the way he used to be, before he got control of his temper. When he used to hit her.

  “Don’t make me get out of this shower, Maggie,” he told her. “Don’t give me a reason.”

  She was frozen, staring at him. The way he looked at her, she just wanted to get very far away from him, but it was as if she’d forgotten how to move.

  “Just go back to bed,” he said, softer now. Regaining control again. “Just get out of here.”

  He turned the shower back on.

  She stood there, not knowing what to do. Her eyes kept being drawn to the blood. But he hadn’t looked injured. Not that she’d been able to examine him or anything. But he certainly didn’t seem incapacitated in any way.

  Who was this man she shared a house with? If she felt before that he was a stranger, that feeling was worse now. With his late night sojourns to unknown places. His bloodstained clothes.

  She didn’t even use the toilet; she’d forgotten about her bladder. Instead she went down the hall, back to the bedroom, where she got under the covers and wrapped herself up in them. Rolled herself into a ball and closed her eyes, hoping it had all been just a dream, and the blood hadn’t been real.

  But sleep did not come, and the fear would not go away.

  ***

  About an hour later, Sam came to bed. He slid in next to her, but he did not touch her. She tried to avoid coming into contact with him, but did not want to tip him off that she was still awake.

  She tried to control her breathing, but realized that the more she thought about it, the closer she was to hyperventilating. Somehow, she was able to blank her mind and get control of herself.

  Maggie wondered if there were any traces of blood left in the bathroom.

  She found herself waiting for the sun to rise. Hoping that Sam would leave soon.

  * * *

  Colleen woke to find the light still on. She had fallen asleep reading Turney’s diary. She closed it and slipped it under her pillow.

  She could hear movements in the house. It was probably Viv. She came and went at such odd times. It was hard to think of her as living there at all. She was pretty enough, but Colleen wondered what Jeremy really saw in her that he felt they had such a strong bond. What kept Jeremy so loyal to her?

  The sounds stopped. Colleen resisted the urge to get up and investigate. It wasn’t like it was some great mystery after all. And besides, if it was trouble, what was she going to do about it?

  She wondered if Jeremy was still awake. She had the urge to go to his room, slip into bed with him and hold him as he slept, but she knew she wouldn’t act on this urge, at least not tonight.

  She reached over to shut off the light, when there was a knock at her door.

  “Come in.”

  Jeremy popped his head in. “I saw your light was on. I thought you might be awake.”

  “I was just reading,” Colleen told him. “But I probably should turn in.”

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked her. “I wanted you to hear something.”

  “Okay.”

  She got up and followed him out into the living room where the stereo was. She lit a cigarette as he found an old 45 record and put it on the turntable. She hadn’t seen a turntable in years.

  “I just wanted you to listen to this,” he said. “Tell me what you think.”

  There was a brief crackle and then the song began. It was something she had definitely heard when she was younger, on the radio. The tune was very familiar.

  Then the voice began singing.

  There are stairs. That go upstairs. Only there’s nobody there.

  “I know this song,” she said.

  “That’s me,” he told her.

  “What, singing?”

  “Yep, I was about seventeen there. My father owned a recording studio. I used to be in a band back then and he let us cut a record. Somehow some
record label got wind of it and turned it into a minor hit. But we never made another song. We were definitely one-hit wonders.”

  “I can’t believe that’s you,” she said, and then got very quiet, listening to his voice at seventeen.

  “I actually think it’s kind of embarrassing,” he said. “I’ve only played it for one or two other people. I guess it’s something I’d rather time forgot.”

  “But I used to love this song when I was a kid,” Colleen said.

  “When you were a kid? When was that, last week?”

  “I’m not that young. I remember hearing this song on the radio.”

  “You know, I still hear it played, even now, every once in a while,” he said. “It’s always unexpected, and it always sends a chill through me. To think I once sounded like that.”

  “Why didn’t you pursue a career in music?” Colleen asked.

  “I don’t know. It just wasn’t meant to be. After our taste of success, the band broke up. We were all too young to appreciate it, and we just couldn’t get along. After that, I dabbled in all kinds of things over the years. Never did find something I was really good at.”

  “I bet you’re good at plenty of things,” she said.

  “Maybe. I didn’t mean to drag you out of bed. I just got this whim to play the song for you. It kind of made sense at this late hour for some reason.”

  “I’m glad you shared it with me.”

  “Just don’t tell anyone else about it,” he said. “Or else.”

  She laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  He shut off the stereo. “We both better get some sleep now,” he said. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

  “What do you have planned, Jeremy?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he said. “But it will be something good.”

  * * *

  “So tell me about your childhood,” Sam said, putting on his best therapist face. Trying to set the boundaries between doctor and patient, and finding it increasingly difficult.