Beyond the Pale

by E. J. Wood

  Mesmerised our lips press together again and again transporting us into a parallel universe with ragged breathing our tongues dance together a fiery heat against the cold ocean air. The world surrounding us disappears and we are alone, just alone on the beach. Our desires ignite and we become lost in a sea of lust, spicy power combination sending waves of passion throughout our bodies and the rest of the world is engulfed in our lustful burning flames as our kiss grows more and more urgent. My lips part from his and a gentle breeze flutters extinguishing the flame and my breathing exhales in short desperate gasps as the world slowly returns back into focus. The heat is washed away, and I am brought back to reality. He smiles, not ushering a word and my lips broaden lifting at the sides and so “the dish runs away with the spoon.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The night of Wednesday 17th

  ‘Don’t kill me, please. You can see that I am terrified by my heart beating through my chest. Please don’t kill me.’ Those were her last words, at which a voice answered.

  ‘Haven’t you ever loved someone so much that you can hardly breathe around them? Your heart is missing a beat; you are so beautiful yet scared, apprehensive, defensive and withdrawn. It's like Both Hands by Ani “How hard we tried; how hard we tried and I’m watching your chest rise and fall like the tides of my life and the rest of it all. And your bones have been my bed frame, your flesh has been my pillow and I’ve been waiting for sleep to offer up the deep with both hands, oh with both hands.” ‘It's, for lack of a better word, fucked, yes totally fucked between us. Now take a breath and calm yourself.’

  At last she was dead. The perpetrator touched himself as he saw where there was fear now laid emptiness. A ghastly stare exuded as the gleam faded away from the windows to her soul. Her last gasp released as her expression expired. The woman’s hand still remained in the mouth of the figure that lingered above her as a last attempt to rip away the smirk on the face of her assailant. He rose releasing his grotesque grip from her throat without labouring a breath. He then removed the ropes from around her ankles and her hand fell to the ground. Her fingers slowly parted from the mocking lips of the creature who continued to smirk thinking of the life he had ended. Smiling, he paused and studied his victim. He reached for her carefully manicured but now broken nails, and trailed them around his face and throat as if teasing himself. A chuckle derived from the lurid creature as he trailed his hands over her exposed body, moving them so they stroked every inch of the naked smooth flesh. The deathly soft stroking sensations aroused him further and his body quivered with excitement. Moonlight shone from the crack in the doorway to reveal the perspiring skin of the dissatisfied antagonistic being. The light gave him a smoke like appearance that made even the lowest of evil cower with fear. Its long projections that resembled fingers reached over to the leather sack that held his tools. He laughed with excitement and selected a scalpel. He examined it closely with an eye, the centre of which exposed a satanic black pupil that lead into eternal punishment for the wicked after death. No redemption at all is possible from this black hole.

  Instrument in hand, he sliced open the dead, warm corpse that still had the fearful shock of horror in its eyes. Crimson blood, gleaming in the moonlight, seeped through the incision. He opened the two flaps of flesh and, still trying to find fulfilment, pushed his hands inside the body to bathe them in the crimson liquid of the lifeless, cooling corpse. A sickly odour pervaded the room and he recoiled. Although his incision had not been accurately placed, he was little affected by the smells coming from the dead body. He chose another instrument and reached for the heart, tossing it casually onto the floor where it bounced with a single complete pulsation. He savoured the idea of mutilation and began to sever all appendages from the poor woman and then haphazardly searched the room looking for small objects he could bury inside the body. Finally, with no sense of remorse, but being well satisfied and smiling he drew needle and thread from his bag and stitched the last object into the innocent victim.

  An intense, painful feeling of repugnance and fear beat through my slumbering body and I woke up.

  The sound of a motorbike revving jolts me and my body is frozen still in fear and covered in a sheet of perspiration. Just close your eyes, feel and realise it is a dream, not real, it is beyond reality. The obnoxious jagged and shattering death knell sounds again.

  ‘Fuck off,’ I yell slamming the alarm. I draw a deep breath, tilting my head back in relief for in the words of Henry Fielding, Amelia “It Hath been often said, that it is not death but dying, which is terrible” and thus explained to us by Nathaniel Hawthorne, American Note-books 1836 “we sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream: it may so be the moment after death.” I sigh and look out the bedroom window, where could Guy be going at this hour?

  ***

  Trying to awaken myself and remember who I am, I start slapping my cheeks; I Dr. Amelia Sharpe, Forensic Pathologist of Washington, D.C. who am I kidding? I am terrified and cannot help remembering the frightful night. I am saturated in cold sweat, my sheets soaked and my skin is sheeted by goose pimples from a cold October morning. I shower continually; I feel so dirty and hold my hands away from my body in total revulsion and scrub my skin painfully back and forth until it reddens and the skin begins to peel. What am I doing? Thinking of the brutality of her death, I draw back in disgust. The grotesque macabre of this woman only makes me terrified for my life. To think that her aggressor has used sacrilege to the extreme and the thought of her non-existence makes me physically sick. I try to forget the night before. Although I have been around death during my internship, it is one thing to see a murder first hand and have no empowerment to stop it. My eyes were forced to witness robbery and my body was powerless to help. I collapse within the shower cubicle, my hair winding down past my shoulders as I hold my knees close to my chest scrubbing my body again fiercely with the sponge. My arms turning red from the friction and tears begin to descend my cheeks. My stomach churns and I decided to give my usual fried bacon, sausage and egg breakfast a miss this morning! Stepping out of the shower I wrap a soft white towel around my petite body; my breasts hold firm from the chilly air and my nipples are sore and tender. This day has a bad feel to it; however I lift my chin to look in the mirror which reflects nothing other than what I expect; the once sea blue eyes are now grey and frightened, the sleek dark dank hair, carefully tweezed eyebrows and plump cherry lips are lost in my pale ashen cheeks. Shaking my head from side to side I smile. How can I let a dream, just a dream or should I say nightmare affect me this way? I shake my hair running my fingers through it, and dressed as usual; slipping on very sheer thin see-through delicate nylon pantyhose that fits comfortably like a second skin. The door bell rings startling me.

  ‘Who is it?’ I beckon.

  ‘I have a special delivery for a Miss Sharpe.’ I pull the robe back around me and open the front door and a young man of about eighteen stands before me, a typical pimply face, ginger hair, cap and matching overalls.

  ‘Miss Sharpe, please sign here.’ I grab the pen and sign for the square brown wrapped box which he holds.

  ‘Thank you,’ my eyes not leaving the package. What could this be I wonder?

  I place the box on the floor of the front room and un-wrap it like a Christmas present carefully lifting slowly the black lid. On top of the contents is an envelope addressed to Amelia. I turn it over to see a candle wax stamp sealing it closed. Inside a letter which reads:

  ‘My Dirty Little Angel Amelia

  I hope you enjoy my gifts and accept them fully. Gift one; the store man described as charming and elegant, sophisticated like yourself and perfect for an event or black tie affair that I hope you will join me for in the not too distant future. Please try it on. Gift two; this is for the zoo, “seeing as you don’t have anything to wear.”

  Your Guy x.’

  The sarcasm oozes off the letter as I place it down grabbing the gift box. I lift out a gorgeous black g
own featuring a deep v-neckline with a gorgeous flowered lace sheath overlaying along the shoulders and back of the dress. The lace connects to the dress in the centre of the bust with an exquisite silver beaded broach and bow design. It is floor length, stunning and admittedly sophisticated. I will savour that for after work and carefully place it back inside the box so as not to crease it.

  After dressing myself I grab my briefcase and leave the house noticing the F-Type is not present on the driveway. Perhaps it or should I say She is in the garage? But She nor Guy, nor Suzy are anywhere to be seen.

  ***

  Thursday 18th

  I go to work as usual hoping and believing that I have imagined the events of the previous night. I’ve only just graduated and officially been titled Doctor in Forensic Pathology. The work deals with high profile criminal cases which occur around the country and for a short time, involved the Frank family shooting in the Southeast where four family members were brutally murdered by their own Father. He is awaiting trial for murder but peers and the general public have already decided that he is guilty.

  Solving mysteries appeals to my over curious nature, and friends and family see me always to “enjoy an intellectual discovery.” Bodies arrive with the How? And I find it liberating figuring out the answer. Testifying in court is part of my work and I can stand my ground when intimidated by hard core experienced lawyers. I like to believe I am outstandingly opinionated.

  Upon finishing medical school, I took a trip to the middle-east to work alongside Forensic Anthropologist Dr. Edgar Smith, a little man with short curly brown hair always dressed in bright colours (mostly yellow or green), and whom I nicknamed Blinko. He loved to eat and was exceptionally skilled in cooking. This I learned when during my stay he taught me how to make his famous Manakeesh; a pizza of the Arabic world which is a round shaped bread sprinkled with cheese, ground meat or herbs. I’m a sucker for fast food.

  Dr. Smith was better known for his book of studying ancient remains, “What defines Homo Sapiens,” and learning what were the humans physical traits of our ancestors, and this tickled my intellect.

  ***

  After hours of exhaustion, I finally complete my report on the autopsy for Jayne Doe. I love my job, don’t get me wrong but I never become accustomed to not giving someone a final burial. A family tries to live not knowing what has happened to their daughter/son/mother/father/sister or brother without paying their last respects. It’s 7.00 pm and I ache, I really want to go home. I haven’t heard from Guy all day and check my phone in hopes. 1 message:

  From: Guy Davidson

  To: Amelia Sharpe

  Message: Amelia, I thoroughly enjoyed our date last night. I miss you. I can’t bear to be away from you, and I look forward to seeing the dress.

  End Message

  I reply immediately.

  From: Amelia Sharpe

  To: Guy Davidson

  Message: Guy, the dress is gorgeous, you didn’t have to. I look forward to trying it on later after work. I’m confused though, the zoo?

  Smiling I re-concentrate on the report finishing off a few touches before handing it in to Cross. Truth be told, I can’t bear being away from Guy either. He gives me something to look forward to, shows me things I have never experienced and I want more, greedily want more.

  ***

  AUTOPSY REPORT 24-00194 Victim UNIDENTIFIED

  I, Dr Amelia Sharpe witnessed the autopsy of ‘Jayne Doe Number 24-00194’ at the Washington Institute of Forensic Pathology on October 20th 2017.

  From the academic findings and pertinent history revealed in the remains, I ascribe the death to: MULTIPLE SHARP FORCE INJURIES (here after referred to MSFI) Due to or as a consequence of:

  1.Multiple stab wounds to neck and scalp

  2.Scalp bruise, right parietal

  3.Incisions, left, right internal jugular veins

  EXTERNAL EXAMINATION

  Caucasian female, approximately 32 years of age. Body weight 130 lbs and 1.65 in height from crown to sole. The deceased has brown hair and dilated brown eyes.

  No tattoos are present nor deformities or amputations.

  The head is normocephalic and the neck shows sharp force injury with the larynx visible through the gaping wound.

  Examination of the posterior surface of the trunk shows some excoriations compatible with post-mortem injuries in the upper back and right side.

  CLOTHING

  The decedent was wearing denim jeans and a grey t shirt with white lace panties and bra. There is no evidence of cut or tear.

  C.O.D – Cause of Death

  The gaping wound exposes the cervical vertebra column and the Larynx measuring 6 x 3 inches in length. Close examination reveals that the wound on the right side is upwardly angulated toward the right earlobe. The edges smooth with subcutaneous and intramuscular haemorrhage. Fresh, dark and purple is evident.

  ABRASIONS TO HANDS

  Further examination discloses that the injuries were self defence. On the dorsal surface of the right hand at the base of the middle finger there is a 1/16 inch punctuate abrasion.

  OPINION

  Death is attributed to MSFI of deep incised wounds to the neck. Fatal exsanguination. Haemorrhage was caused by incisions to the left and right internal jugular veins.

  Injuries present on the hands are compatible with defence wounds.

  DR. AMELIA SHARPE Forensic Pathologist.

  ***

  ‘Excellent,’ Cross reads looking up at me from his desk, ‘I’d like to invite you to a drink, to celebrate our working relationship; you have come a long way Amelia.’

  ‘Thank you but I have plans for tonight.’ I smile awkwardly.

  ‘Another time maybe?’

  ‘Yes maybe.’

  This is awkward, please stop ogling, your neck is cranked right in a very specific direction and, with your mouth agape you couldn’t be any more obvious. So much for the platonic friendship among work colleagues! I never knew creepy men have so many nuances. Seriously stop. I politely smile and return back to my desk glancing over my shoulder one last time to make sure he isn’t following and see him staring and shudder as I finish up for the night. Next he will be saying when he eats spaghetti he imagines it’s my hair. I cringe at the thought.

  Tidying my desk and locking draws I contemplate Cross’s behaviour. I wish I could take action but he is clever, too clever. I don’t want a confrontation and if I confront him directly it could make the situation worse, I could lose my job! Who would believe me anyway? I have no hard evidence of the untoward behaviour; perhaps I am imagining it, he could just be harmless and going to my human resources rep or Stephen Fielding might be a little over the top considering I don’t actually have any documentation to justify my claim, I’d look rather stupid if the offhand incidents aren’t technically harassment.

  ‘Goodnight Cross,’ I wave as I pass his office.

  ‘Goodnight, Amelia,’ he whispers softly.

  I shudder as the spine chilling words enter my ears, I can sense this somehow is going to come crashing down on me and being the only woman on the team I am subject to so much crap. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother waking up in the morning.

  I knew today was going to be long for I haven’t felt well since I awoke from the previous night. An empty cold dark atmosphere reflects the feeling I had from the nightmare.

  As I leave the building, my face lights up with a joyful smile as I see my newly purchased maroon Cadillac XLR. A beautiful companion for a weekend getaway, who needs a man? It has an inviting eucalyptus wood cabin accented with real aluminium. The retractable hardtop for a full open air experience makes this the lipstick in a woman’s handbag. I have been hanging out with Guy far too long! I can’t wait to see his face, I’m sure he had a private moment when he saw my old ride compared to his MPV, that’s multi purpose vehicle the F-Type Jaguar – my lower muscles clenching from the thought of what we could get up to with that car!

  I drive down the open unusually des
olate road with not another car insight. A slight breeze causes the red and orange leaves to skip along the quiet road and expose cracks in the worn surface which make the road look older than it really is. The breeze picks up as I put pedal to metal and the tall grass and flowers that align the road wave at me as I pass. A car comes flying towards me and has to brake with tyres screeching to avoid the many brown muddied water pot holes that fill an entire section of road; tree roots grow too closely together stretch to create dips and bumps in otherwise smooth concrete. The road gets worse, my speed becomes slower as the warm fog descends in front of me and waits to swallow up each and every traveller. As the light disappears and the breeze waves through my lose hair I sigh in contentment and tune the radio to listen, who am I fooling? I am rocking it like a rock star

  “Get your motor runnin

  Head out on the highway

  Lookin for adventure

  And whatever comes our way

  Yeah Darlin´ go make it happen

  Take all the world in a love embrace

  Fire all of your guns at once