Silence replied in startling, heavy fashion.
Sophie moved her head and looked at her gown on the floor.
Searching for something…anything.
Right, this could work. You read about it in some magazine.
The one in the airport? Yeah, I remember.
I remember the article, not the magazine.
Please don’t let it be Cosmo. Please be true.
Sophie closed her eyes. She breathed in and counted to ten. She breathed out.
Opening her eyes, she tried to move and couldn’t. Her body remained inert.
"Shit." Sophie stifled some tears and sniffed.
Bath bombs. That’s it!
Remember to clean the bath out afterwards.
Helpful, thanks!
Why are you telling me…?
Sophie felt her weight shift beneath her. Her leg moved, slipped and idled away from her rump. She saw it rest against the side of the tub.
She noticed her buttocks lower.
As did her chest and legs.
And her chin.
The water rose an inch, touching the underside of her jaw, swallowing her neck.
Sophie's eyes widened. Fuck.
Bath bombs are slippery…
No shit, Sherlock.
It's why we're in this position.
You're going to slip into the water.
Sophie realized her predicament. As the bath bomb continued to spread, the enamel became slippery and slick.
"HELP ME, PLEASE, HELP MEEEEEEEE!"
Sophie couldn’t feel the tub against her back, legs or arms, but she could see her body sliding slowly, lowering, the water bobbed and waved as her body immersed itself. She could no longer see her pubic region, hidden beneath a cloud of blue glitter, dirt and bubbles.
She paused for a second. Her body settled once more.
For now.
I've gotta get out of here.
How are you going to do that? You're lifeless in a bathtub full of water.
There has to be a way.
Sophie saw her leg slide a little further. The water rose another couple of centimeters. The purple liquid now lapped against her chin, below her lips.
If you don’t get out of here, you'll drown.
Do something.
An idea slipped into her head. Sophie considered the option carefully. It might be her only chance. She ran the prospect through her mind.
It could also kill you; push you further into the bath.
You're going to drown otherwise.
Worth a shot.
Sophie calculated that the water wasn't too deep.
She arched her head upwards. Her neck sent a shot of pain into her brain. She grimaced in agony but continued. Her face rose, her chin slurping out of the water with a plop. The cooling sensation of humid air on wet skin licked her face.
Her head was facing up, away from the water. The back of her skull was balanced on the rim of the bath behind her, giving her a little pushed leverage. She couldn’t feel anything below the neckline. Her movement was purely a balance equation. Force, her skull pushing off the bath rim itself, using it as a platform. A constant throbbing, now isolated away from the enamel, made her gasp.
You hit your spine.
This isn't good.
Sophie gulped, tears slipped from her eyes and coursed down the side of her cheeks. They rolled off her face and plinked into the water below.
Sophie felt her neck muscles tightening, a pressure building.
How long can you keep this up?
What happens if you lower? Will you go under?
Do it slowly?
Stay here. You'll be safe. Less risk. Henry will be home soon.
What if he's not out with the boys?
What if he's working and forgot to tell me?
You can't wait.
It's either this or drown.
She began to shake. Her skull began to ache. Sophie closed her eyes.
Lower and then push up again. Keep doing it. It gets you away from the water.
On three. One, two…
Sophie's leg squeaked along the bath and slammed against the corner. The leverage holding her up, poised by her balanced body, was lost. The weight of her prone body pulled her off balance.
Sophie dropped into the water with a loud splash.
Water splattered the tiles and the floor. Her inability to move meant she dropped onto the base of the bath and bounced off the slick surface with a muted thud. Sophie closed her eyes but was a little late with her mouth. Warm, bubbly water sluiced between her lips, pouring down her throat, choking her. She spluttered and coughed. The water dipped, allowing her breathing room, until the miniature waves lashed back and slammed over her head, engulfing her in purple, hazy water. Sophie shook her head from side to side, fizzing up the liquid; a gargling noise erupted from beneath the waves.
Her face broke the surface.
Sophie gasped, breathed, and gulped for fresh air. Water spilled from her nose and mouth, the stinging sensation on her throat telling her she'd swallowed some of the tub’s contents. She coughed, spewing water and vomit into the bath water. The yellow bile blended with the purple to create a brown mixture of blue glitter, stomach lining and dirty, stagnant water.
The acidic stench of vomit pierced the lavender smell and soiled the air in the bathroom. Sophie let her body bob in the water and her body slid back to its former position. She arched her head back against the rim to balance herself.
After a moment, the water settled and all was back to normal.
Close one, she thought.
Sophie lowered her eyes. Small red lumps of stomach lining floated around her body, sticking to her skin. One sliver rested against her nipple. The water was tepid now, cooling from the activity in the tub. Wet hair matted to her forehead, a few strands coming loose from her ponytail. Sophie flicked her head from side to side in an attempt to move them. It failed.
You need to get help. You're going to die in here otherwise.
Sophie swallowed, her throat stung, making her flinch.
Impossible. I can't move.
"Sophie?"
Sophie flinched. At first, she thought her ears had played a trick on her. She looked around, seeing nothing.
"Sophie? You home?"
Henry!
"HENRY!"
"Sophie?"
"BATHROOM. QUICK!"
Sophie angled her head so she could see the door. Faint footsteps grew louder and within seconds, Henry appeared. He came through the door and slipped on the wet floor. He regained his footing and ambled into the bathroom carefully. His stark, blue eyes settled on his wife.
"What the fuck?"
"Henry, help me, please!"
"What did you do?" Henry took his shoes off and threw them into the bedroom behind him. He angled towards the bath.
"I slipped and fell. I bashed my neck and I can't move. I can’t move, Henry. I can’t fucking move…"
"Okay, okay, calm down. You'll be fine. We need to get you out of that bath."
Sophie smiled at her husband. Her knight in shining armor.
Henry stood still, surveying the situation. For a moment, he didn’t do anything.
"Henry?"
"What?"
"Take the plug out, it'll solve the problem. At least that way I won't drown."
"I'm trying to figure out how to get you out without injuring you further."
"Well, pull the plug and we can take our time. I can still drown like this."
"Good point."
Henry stepped over to the corner of the bath, towards Sophie's feet. The bath had a latch plug, which opened via a lever behind the taps. His hand touched on it and paused.
"What are you waiting for?"
Henry frowned.
"What?" Sophie was becoming irritated. Her body was starting to slip again.
"I didn’t mean for this to happen."
"What? This?"
"Yeah…I mean no. No."
"This was an accident. I slipped in the bath. This wasn’t your doing."
"I don’t mean this."
"Well, fucking spit it out. I'm not in the best position…"
"You found my billfold." Henry bit his lip.
"So?"
"You weren’t meant to."
"It's a billfold, not secret FBI documents. And you didn’t hide it very well."
"You weren’t supposed to find it. Or read it. It's my private life."
"I didn’t read it." Sophie lowered another inch.
"Liar."
"I didn’t! Anyway, what's so important about it?"
"Stop pretending. Stop putting it off…"
"I don’t have a clue what…"
"Don’t lie!"
"Henry…I don’t know what you're talking about. We can discuss it in a minute. Okay? Until then, get me out of this fucking bath!"
"You shouldn’t read about my private life."
"We're married. We don’t have secrets." Rage burned across Sophie's face.
"Well…I do."
"What?"
Henry said nothing.
"Henry?"
"I'm sorry, Sophie. Really I am."
Sophie frowned. Something changed in Henry's eyes.
She couldn’t move.
It didn’t matter.
He lunged forward, clasped Sophie's head, and forced her beneath the water. As she slipped beneath the murky surface, her eyes widened in surprise. Her mouth opened and Henry held his wife's head under. "I'm sorry, Sophie. I really am. I can't, and won't, be married to a cripple…and I can't be married to you anymore. This marriage has been stagnant for some time."
Henry's large hands easily held Sophie down. Bubbles erupted from her mouth as he drowned her. Her useless body provided no way of fighting back. Strands of her hair tangled around his fingers and surfed the water's surface.
"Think of this as a humane decision. It's best for all involved. I did love you, Sophie. This opportunity is perfect for us. I get to start again. You get to die in peace."
Sophie's eyes closed as her oxygen diminished. A jet of urine sprayed into the bath silently. Sophie shook her head violently, fighting a losing battle. Henry was just too strong.
A smile crossed his lips.
"You found out about my affair. I knew you would. You're a clever woman. I'm not that bothered, it's best that you knew anyway. At least this way I'm being honest and upfront with you. I just can't have an ex-wife who's crippled. It'll ruin my life. I can't be the man who divorced a cripple…I couldn’t stand that; it wouldn’t do my career any good. I can't have you taking me to the cleaners, Sophie, I just can't."
Sophie ceased moving. Her limp body floated in the dirty water, her eyes slowly closed, her lips—and her skin—glittery blue and purple.
The stench of hot urine and stale bath water filled the bathroom.
"I loved you, Sophie. I can't let you do this to me. If you loved me, you'd understand too."
Henry released his dead wife and stood up, wiping his hands on a towel. He looked around and walked out of the bathroom.
Sophie stayed under the water, face down. Her body bumped against the side of the bath.
"Bye, Sophie." Henry walked out of the room. As he went, he turned off the lights and closed the door.
"Well?"
Henry spun around and smiled. Before him stood Katrina, his new girlfriend. He closed the door behind him and leant against it. Katrina sucked on a lollipop and smiled. "I got bored of waiting outside. Hope that's okay?"
Henry nodded.
"You have a nice home." Katrina stepped out into the hallway.
"It's not mine. This is the wife's…now. Like I told you, I'm leaving her for you. She'll understand."
"Is she home?" Katrina seemed startled.
"No, she must have gone out." Henry noticed Sophie's clothes scattered around the room and walked towards Katrina, distracting her. "Let's say we get out of here. There's nothing keeping me here anymore. Where shall we go?"
"A hotel?"
"I was thinking Paris or Rome."
"Oooh, how romantic."
"How would you like to live there?"
"You're joking, right?"
"I never joke about Paris or Rome."
"What, just up and go?"
"Why not?"
"It's a hell of a decision."
"We’re actors. We can go anywhere."
Katrina smiled. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
Henry ushered her out of the front door. He closed it behind him but didn’t secure the latch. They'll think someone broke in. Henry smiled again.
He placed a hand on Katrina's rump. "So, what will it be?"
"I can’t decide. Paris or Rome?"
"Let's do both."
"Really?"
"What's stopping us?"
"Nothing."
"So?"
Katrina chuckled. "This is insane. Yes."
"Yes? Excellent. We can buy clothes on the way."
"How exciting. Shopping and a holiday. Are you a catch or what?" Katrina leaned in and kissed her beau on the lips. Henry reciprocated. He pulled away and smiled, his blue eyes mesmerizing her. "Shall we?"
"Yes, let's go."
Within moments, Katrina and Henry climbed into the BMW at the curb. The car scooted off into the night. Then, all was silent. The night was crisp, damp with imminent rain.
In the bathtub, Sophie opened her eyes.
Vermilion – A Traveler's Tale
Napkin 1
People say that life flashes before your eyes when you die.
They might be right and I suppose time will tell. I always thought stuff like that was hokum and made-up, bullshit created by a number of religions to give their servants peace at the crucial time, to make shuffling off the mortal coil a little less terrifying.
I’m not dead.
Not yet.
I do feel that time is imminent.
Facing your own mortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Not that death is tapping me on the shoulder. In all honesty, with the amount of J.D. I’ve consumed in the past hour, if I saw a bloke in a black dress with a hood I would probably laugh so hard I’d die anyway. Could make his job easier, eh? Death…who’d have thunk it. Such a horrifying prospect becomes the butt of a joke in a drunk man’s mind.
Drunk’s the wrong word.
I wanted to put inibri…inb…inebrie… yeah, let’s stick with drunk.
I’m not drunk, just for the record. I’m a little on the way but let’s just say I’ve had plenty of practice and my body is immune to the fabled hangover. Getting drunk is rare but it takes the edge off. My friend, Jack, knows how to soothe my soul and calm my nerves.
He’s certainly having that effect now. Actually, I need a top-up, hang on…
…I’m back. Nearly dropped my pen then. I have two pens, stolen from the bar, both black. Oh yeah, I’m writing on bar napkins. I have a pile here so it should keep me busy for a while. I couldn’t find a pad and no one in here owns an iPad. I’m sat in my regular haunt, a bar called Jericho. Cool name, right? Coming here after work allows me to unwind and chill out. I know the regulars on a first name basis but rarely interact with them. Until tonight, that is.
God, this J.D. smells good. I’m going to take a sip now.
HA, guess what I just did?
I stuck my finger in the dead barman’s eyehole. Mainly because the eyeball isn’t there anymore, hence the hole. It’s more of a groove, a fleshy tunnel. My finger slid right in, warm and comfortable. It’s hot and slick and I swear I just tickled his brain in there. As I stroked the membrane, I watched the body. It didn’t move.
Shame, that would have been too awesomeeeee!
The brain felt like the top of a Twinkie. Only a little more soggy.
Man, I could kill for a Twinkie right now.
You’re probably wondering why I molested some dead guy’s newly created face anus. Well, he’s dead, for
one. Second, he’s lying on the bar beside me. That’s right, my new drinking buddy is a corpse, one with a hole where his eye used to be but you probably already guessed that. The victim of a rather cool shootout. I’ll get to that.
By the time his obese frame collapsed onto the bar he was toes-up. Who wouldn’t be tempted to slide a finger in..?
Napkin 2
My actual drinking buddy, Richard, didn’t fare much better. To be honest, I hardly know … knew the guy. I came here from work just under two hours ago and he tagged along for the ride. Nice guy, but retarded in the fact he stutters and can’t speak properly but if he’s drinking and keeping his tongue occupied (drink, stripper’s nipple, whatever) then he’s a blast. It’s when he talks that I want to decapitate him and tell him to Shhhh.
Needless to say, someone beat me to it. During the chaos a Chinese guy, all short and screeching, lunged at him with a fire axe. I didn’t think to duck but it didn’t matter. Once the blade sliced into Richard’s neck it stopped dead. Probably lodged in a vertebra or muscle. Richard isn’t the muscly type though, so I’m going with the spine. God’s creation saved me this day. And the Chinese man’s lack of upper body strength. Remind me to attend church if I get out of here alive.
Richard died but not before spraying me in the face with his gaping gash of Hades. Blood got in my eyes and nose and ears and mouth and J.D. and, before I knew it, I was screaming at Richard to turn away because he was tainting my J.D. and getting my only Ben Sherman shirt covered in bodily fluids, and he obliged and plunged forward and landed on the axe which sliced through the remaining spine, and his head bounced along the ground all the way over there. Another body, also dead, sat with her legs spread, is now the final resting place for Richard’s head. Pussy and Dick’s head. HA!
Dick’s head.
Hilarious!
Why do I find this amusing? I just got a little excited and carried away. The above paragraph turned me on a little. If you’d seen what happened in the past hour, you’d be disconnected and cold too. But, napkins pending, I will get to that.
Also, I kill people. I’m a psychopath. Yes, you heard that right. Which explains the previous comments in all their psychological glory.
Shhhh. People don’t know this, I’ve got some issues. I keep them to myself. I want to be able to blend in, and bragging about my bloodlust…well, that’s not friendly, is it? I actually came here with Richard for a reason. I was going to kill him in the alley out back. It’s not monitored and doesn’t have CCTV so it’s the perfect location. A man can only take so much of that fucking stutter. Obviously I’ve been denied the pleasure of killing my workmate. I don’t hate the Chinese but I’m not their biggest fan right now.
Whispers - Volume 1: A Collection Page 2