Beyond the Pale

by E. J. Wood

  A fierce unseen destructive force howls as the wind whistles through the house. The arctic air spears through my clothing prickling my skin sinking to the very bones.

  ‘GUY?’ I shout.

  ‘Hang on,’ he answers.

  Thank heavens, and my heart sinks with gratitude. I drop the letter and rush to see Guy removing his jacket.

  ‘The wind has really picked up raging through the town. I think I got home before the worst. Is everything OK?’ he questions.

  ‘Thank heavens you are home, the lightning is cutting the electric.’

  ‘You look like you have seen a ghost. What’s happened?’

  ‘The letter on the coffee table,’ I point.

  ‘What letter?’

  ‘The letter you put on the coffee table, addressed to me.’

  ‘Amelia I can assure you that I put no letter on the table.’

  I gulp and run to grab the letter opening it before him.

  ‘It’s from Olivia,’ I hurry my words, panic can be heard.

  ‘It’s just idle threats; I don’t think she’s dangerous.’

  ‘If you didn’t put that letter there then who did? I think she’s dangerous, for most of us jealousy produces tremendous pain and distress and it’s an inner experience that does not cross boundaries with violent action but this is different, it’s intense and you are full aware of its power and potential destructiveness.’

  ‘There is something I haven’t told you,’ his eyes divert to the floor as he opens the kitchen drawer and removes an equally sized envelope unopened addressed to Guy Davidson.

  He draws a deep breath as his lips part, ‘I assumed it was usual post.’

  Again typed in the same manner it reads:

  ‘Guy,

  I find myself curled in bushes watching your every movement through curtains of your lit up windows and often catch glimpses of Her and knowledge of her presence causes me excruciating pain. I write this on a cold winter night and once in a while it drizzles reminding me of the tears I have shed. I know I am a sane woman but have I totally lost my mind? I question myself about my sanity yet I still sit in bushes for hours and hours hypnotised by the hope of seeing your face grace the window until the light disappears. I know you have told me that I must focus on my marriage but the feelings are still very strong towards you. I have tried every attempt to gain control but nothing works, I simply cannot live any longer without one more touch of your skin and smell of your hair. Please don’t make me lose the little self control that remains and resort to acts of violence. I already fantasise about sneaking into your home and crawling under the covers whilst you sleep, but then I remember Her and it makes me so mad I could destroy with a sledge hammer all things, furniture, windows anything in my path. I can virtually hear the glass shattering now as I write to you. Look at what she is doing to us, keeping us apart. Your energy is so focused on keeping her happy you are not seeing the one who truly loves you. Legend says when you can’t sleep at night it’s because you are awake in someone else’s dream. Am I in your dreams Guy? I cannot live without you and I will not let her steal this beautiful disaster of a man, forever away from me.

  Always yours, no matter what.’

  ‘You may be right,’ he whispers. His eyes are intent, dark, soulful and genuine. Concern is written all over his face.

  ‘I knew there was something not quite right with her the first time I laid eyes on her, she is very alluring and a seductive woman, but dangerous in deadly situations. She is an archetypal character and it is what she does is trance and hypnotise her victims. She is a typical prosaic woman ensnaring her would-be lovers into her fantasies, a modern day femme fatale. Look at how she empowers men akin to an enchantress, a demon. She is far from human, more of as a witch. She captivates men by destroying their hearts, wallets and family lives; it is probably what she did to Harold. He seems the gullible type. I wouldn’t put it past her to put poison in your soup she cooked for you in order to tie you to her for the rest of your life.’ I gasp for breath. I’m not daft; I know my stuff on psychos. Hands down, the most infamous bat-shit crazy, stage five clinger was Alex Forrest. Hell, by now, her domestic bunny boiling game is pop culture. If ever there was a bitch to be cautious of, it was Alex. She definitely took the definitive cake. Now that’s “Fatal Attraction.”

  ‘You never cease to amaze me, all this from your first encounter? They say poison is a woman’s weapon,’ he whispers as his face slackens and brows furrow. His eyes dart about in concern as if searching for a place to hide. His skin pinches and his eyes glaze over about to cry but he doesn’t. An emotion I can’t fathom, sad? Concerned? And finally as he grabs my hand I understand. Worry.

  ‘Yes, why you do think I was so off with her at the Gala?’ I answer.

  ‘You learn quickly.’

  ‘I have the best tutor,’ I whisper as I lean in close and all questions about Olivia’s intentions are eradicated from my mind as I feel my lips pressing against his. I have a strange sensation as they tingle in synchronisation. I close my eyes hoping to feel his kiss return, but it does not. I open my eyes to find him pulling away staring directly at me, my mouth is dry and my stomach turns somersaults as for the first time I feel rejection.

  ‘I love you Amelia,’ he says as his hand strokes the side of my face. I close my eyes and savour the moment, maybe fairy tales do come true and there really is a Prince Charming?

  ‘I love you too;’ I whisper ‘I have been looking for you since I heard my first fairy tale.’

  ‘You flatter me, but one thing we have learned from fairy tales is that we men can be frogs, beasts, monsters, dwarfs and ogres and you women still fall in love with us.’

  ‘Guy, you aren’t a monster.’

  ‘Not to you, but I have had my moments,’ he pauses, ‘come on Sleeping Beauty let’s get something to eat and forget this for tonight, run a bath, it will be ready when you are done.’

  I nod in agreement, the weather is torrid and warm water seems a heavenly escape.

  I return his smile that melts my heart and wander towards the bathroom mumbling under my breath.

  ‘They say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true.’

  CHAPTER 21

  The first contact of water to hit my skin steams as I slide into the hot spring of eternal youth. The voices banging in my head, every word from Olivia’s mouth inscribed on the letter. They say the same thing over and over, how much clearer can it be? I burn from the water morphing into blades of fire on my skin as I delve further into the pool of burning lava.

  Vibrations of soft-rock music ripple the water as my eyes peek over the top. Guy must have put it on whilst cooking. Unusual chord changes catch my attention and it sounds good as it deafens out the voices and I close my eyes to feel my consciousness ebbing away.

  ***

  ‘Amelia you are out of control.’

  ‘Get the fuck away from me.’

  ‘Calm down.’

  ‘GET AWAY FROM ME.’

  Guy approaches me closer and closer, my blood boils, my face reddens from the exhaustion and the furry imploded ‘GET AWAY,’ I scream.

  ‘Put the knife down,’ his hand gesturing that I lower the carving knife that threatened him.

  ‘I will do it, I will slice it right here, right now.’

  ‘You don’t know what you are doing; just put the knife down, calm down.’

  ‘DON’T TELL ME TO FUCKING CALM DOWN.’

  ‘I want you off this case Amelia, it’s not good for you. You are driving yourself insane, look at yourself.’

  I grab the knife and place it on my arm.

  ***

  Her voice becomes so loud and thunderous. He didn’t pay much attention to her words but did so at her transformation. She had become a whole different person, who’s once ocean blue eyes had now changed to a black dark pit. She clenched her teeth in rage and rolled her hands up into fists with the knife pointed right at him. Her pulse accelerated and her brea
thing became very shallow. Her muscles grew tense and her temperature rose visibly on her cheeks with blood boiling in her veins. Silence followed and each passing second caused her to become more annoyed and outraged. Her comments were sarcastic, acrimonious and harsh. His eyes stared at hers begging her to lower the knife but she persisted. Her expression was full of emotions and furry as her face and neck became red and her heart resentful. The tart taste in her mouth with all her bones shaking, spitefully convinced her that he did it. She spat hurtful words through clenched teeth not giving him a moment’s pause to interject and once passive features were now consumed with rage, anger, resentment and fury. She lunged towards him waving the knife from side to side. In a split second he grabs her wrist and removes the knife twisting her into a headlock to subdue her. He forces her to the floor. In her fit of rage, she lashes out to harm herself by punching her arms. She ran from the house, jumping into the car before he could stop her and he followed her until she stopped.

  ***

  She suffered from parasomnias which for most meant a bad night’s sleep leading to blurry eyes the following day. But, for those with sleep disorders, it involves sleep walking and night terrors. A bad night can often end up a catastrophe. While asleep, victims have been known to drive, make phone calls with no recollection of their actions come the following morning. They can pose a threat to themselves and others. According to Mark Mahowald, director of the Minnesota regional sleep disorder centre and a neurologist at the university of Minnesota, such people have ran into traffic while asleep or woke up realising their respective partners are trapped in a headlock. For her, the parasomnia manifested as terrors from her past, an obsession of finding herself.

  ***

  Light cascaded through the canopy of trees as the wind blew through his hair bringing the scent of pine needles through his nostrils reminding him of untold memories. The high performance Jaguar hugs the ground at every corner, the tyres disturbing the fallen leaves leaving them swirling as he disappears into the distance. Guy rocketed through red lights at intersections, nipping in and out of traffic. A semi truck nearly blindsided him but he hardly noticed. Pedestrians moulded into blurs as the Jag jetted past narrowly avoiding an SUVs side mirror as he pivots and turns blindly into a street. The g-force pulled him a hard left and he gunned it as fast as he could eking every bit of horsepower he could muscle from the F-Type. He came in Dukes of Hazard style, gettin’ it, diggin’ it like that, like Dale Earnhardt Jr., and then hooked up and shot forward. And when he hooked up and shot forward, that’s when he came and hit. She was quick and lost him momentarily on the last bend.

  The crisp air surrounds him as the fiery colours of the setting sun melts into a star studded canvas. He continues to pursue Amelia through the country roads and there she was; the Cadillac parked along side the road and steam stewed from beneath the bonnet. He pulled up near, she hadn’t seen him. As he got out of the car he weaved through the trees edging closer to her, cautious not to make a sound. He had little more than a memory to guide him having visited the woodlands on various accounts during his adulthood. The night is a sombre theatre freckled with stars, a black velvet blanket revealing pinholes of light from heaven. The tall trees stood together sheltering in the cold wind with the saplings shivering. The canopy overhead thickened and his steps grew muffled by the pine needles that blanketed the forest floor. Moss drips from sickly trees like decaying flesh and shadows moved threatening their own volition, each branch holding promise to something dark hiding a ghastly ghoul of a secret. The wind whistled through branches removing the last of the leaves and their roots curled around his legs casting eerie shadows, mutants of the night, all eyes watching you. This was no place for a stranded woman. She looked bewildered and wide eyed not really knowing where she was or what she was doing. Her head darts back and forth not trusting a sound, she kicked the tyre, pleaded with the car and sauntered her way in search of help. He had to be quick and as quiet as a mouse if he was to attempt to restrain her. The sweet smelling liquid was poured onto the cloth and smothered her mouth, she struggled, pushing mercilessly.

  ‘Don't struggle, just relax and breathe. Please don’t struggle. Come on Sweetie; be a good little girl just follow my instructions! That’s a good girl, relax.’

  The gentle sensation of floating to the surface of water is like a mild breeze arousing her to consciousness. Her disorientated visions that were infrequent and incoherent fade in and out.

  ***

  ‘Amelia?’ a voice shouts.

  A vicious wave hits me as I gulp dragging air from my lungs. My body and mind are screaming for air. I try to cry out as my legs and arms thrash wildly praying for freedom feeling like a heavy blanket is lying over me. I can’t breathe, crushing, devastating and horrifying. Finally my eyes open and the panic fades into numbness as my mind blanks and all I see is the bathroom ceiling swaying from side to side. My air supply is now gone as my mouth instinctively opens for more yet cold water floods in. My throat burns as if a thousand needles plunge into it and I claw at the water trying to reach the surface as my lungs swamp with soapy water. My body convulses uncontrollably.

  ‘Amelia,’ my name is shouted and diffused by the water. Then oddly my muscles relax and calm for a moment before my eyes slowly fade to black.

  Water discharges with force from my mouth as I cough and splutter. My stomach palpitating as Guy leans above me. His expression is frightened and his eyes are wide with worry pulling me into a tight embrace from the cold tile floor I lie on.

  ‘Thank god,’ his tone is hoarse.

  ‘What happened’ I croak.

  ‘You didn’t answer me; thank god I found you in time! You fell asleep in the bath!’

  My eyelashes flicker as I try to gain control and sit upright on the floor and flashes of the nightmare flood in.

  ‘It wasn’t you?’ My words are forced from my sore throat as I grab it with my hand to sooth.

  ‘What wasn’t?’

  ‘The dungeon, it was all me. I remember what happened.’

  ‘Shush, it’s not important,’ he leans in close whispering in my ear as his hands slide beneath me pulling me close to carry me into the bedroom. Guy wraps me in a warm blanket. His touch is soft as his fingers caress my face like a gentle summer breeze tucking a stray hair behind my ear. My hair is curling around his finger as he weaves it through his fingers. I have never felt something so soft and alluring in all my life and the mere smell of his hands intoxicates me making me want more and more. My heart showing its love, embarrassed at the sincerity of Guy’s expression. My stomach’s butterflies flap their wings to the beat of my heart rushing heat to my face and I feel a thousand kisses on my lips wanting to express my love. I look deep into his eyes and I’m overcome with glee and as he touches my face. It turns to a reddish hue like a hot day.

  ‘You frightened me that night,’ I hush.

  ‘Shush, its not important right now,’ he strokes my face.

  ‘But it is, all this time I have thought.’

  ‘Thought what?’

  ‘I thought you were someone different,’ my words painfully leaving my mouth.

  ‘And I too, I thought you were under the influence, drugged or something. You were crazed. I didn’t know what else to do, I just had to get you somewhere safe, you really scared me.’

  ‘I want you to take me back there,’ I beg, something reaching inside me tearing out my heart from my chest, throwing it on the ground and stamping on it as I see his face crumple at my demand. Suddenly I can see the pain he had been holding inside for so many years. The pain is so deep, so agonising, so intense that my heart mangles beyond any recognition. I lean forward and grab his shoulders and my mind goes numb but at the same time races in circles unable to make sense of what is happening and how I can comfort him. What had I just asked?

  ‘I’ve never taken anyone there,’ he whispers. His voice is shaking, barely covering his sob as if he is about to break out. He keeps his voice low and speak
s softly to relay a sense of steadiness.

  ‘I want you to tell me, what it is and why you have it,’ I remain calm before the storm of grief, emotionally dying. His hand grasps mine and he emits air through his perfect teeth as his voice pours like a river.

  ‘It’s a place I’m not sure I am mentally ready to share.’

  ‘One thing I have learned being with you Guy is that keeping something bottled up is harder than sharing. A problem shared is a problem halved remember?’

  ‘If you insist, we will go to the woods,’ as he says ´th´ his tongue glides beautifully over his perfect celebrity smile. He keeps his voice deep and brooding, yet like sweet chocolate, it is velvety and mesmerising conveying every syllable. Like hot chocolate, it relaxes me no matter what dark secret he holds. I trust him.

  ***

  I hold his hands from the point of leaving the Jag, through the forestry floor stepping over twigs and rotting vegetation until we arrive. I never looked back on my first visit to appreciate its structure. The roof is caved in and the windows are dark and black with dirt while ivy cling to the outer walls. Its unkempt growth looks as if the house had grown from the ground like a mere weed. Guy steps forward and pushes a door open as we step inside. The house stands proud like a sentry to the windows of time.

  ‘Careful where you step, it’s not safe.’

  Inside the streaks of black cross the walls from mouldy and damp nights. The floor boards creak with voices of a hundred tortured souls in the shadows ready to devour the brightest of lights. Disused wooden furniture rots and stains with lichen as the curtains hang limp and moth eaten. The house was once loved yet the flaking speckles of paint line the floor along with dust and cobwebs from corpses of unknown and unfortunate creatures. Light emits through the holes in the ceiling with a view of the sky and tress that surround the house. The house is old and rickety, abandoned for many years, dilapidated and weeds and shrubs creep inside and cover the windows so they look sinister and desolate. As we creep further inside watching our step we disturb the dust that lies over every surface like brown snow, and old tea cups lie on a coffee table thick with encrusted dried mould. The stale air is thick with dust and mildew from the damp and shafts of light burst through gaps in the boarded up windows and heavy curtains. Absolute silence, there is not even the hum of a refrigerator, just slight drafts of billowing cobwebs. White fungus grows and a foul odour prevails the house and I follow Guy in spectral fascination as he leads me to a doorway. Particles of dust are suspended in stagnant air creating dust clouds as we continue nearer and nearer. I can’t feel afraid even with the paint curling with age and with brass handles consumed by cobwebs. This is a part of Guy’s past and he comes here for a reason, he brought me here that night for a reason.