Losing Inertia
Page 8
‘Hello?’ I called down into the pit. Of course, no one would answer, they would be livingstatues if anyone was down here at all, but all I could hear was the thud thud thud of my heart beating and my voice slicing through the silence, I stepped onto the stairs, one step, two, it reached further down into the darkness. An old-school hymn started playing in my head, ‘do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you,’ I hummed to myself as I found my way to the bottom of the stairs, and held up my candle, casting dark fleeting shadows on the wall.
Her face was the colour of soot and blueberries. At first I thought she was dead, but as I walked closer, holding my candle towards her, I saw the eyes. Dark blood shot eyes, but aware, alive. She was the woman from the videos. But older. So much older. Beaten and bloodied and destroyed.
She was shackled to the wall by a thick metal brace chained round her neck, and by chains on her ankles and wrists. She could have only moved an inch or two in any direction. She sat on bright white sheet, one that was clearly changed daily. And bleached. The room stunk of bleach and bodily fluids. I crinkled my nose in disgust as I stood there.
I didn’t know what to do. There was no one to call, no one to come to our aid - just this woman. Chained to a wall underneath a shed. Her dark hair plastered to her thin face, her wrists red raw.
Her eyes were pained, pleading with me. I could not help her. Her long dress was white, as white as the sheet she sat on, as white as the house inside, the strange too white world created by this man. I put down my candle on the ground in front of her, the shadows loomed behind her, filling the wall with a shadow tale of her tragic existence,
‘I can’t save you, I can’t even touch you without killing you’ my voice hurt, holding back the tears of pain and fear made my head ache, ‘But I can end it,’ I looked at her, she could not tell me what she wanted. How long had she been chained to this wall? I could see scarring on her neck and feet and wrists, how long had he tortured her for? Gently I reached out to her. I could not let her die like this. I could afford her dignity in her statue-stillness. Her hand was cold in mine, but her eyes were glad. I believe that. Her screech of pain filled the dungeon like a murder of crows, enveloping my brain, scorching me like fire. I watched her die and wasn’t sorry. I had saved her at last.
The girl in the cellar.
The sunlight burnt my eyes as I exited the shed. The resonance of her screams carried with me as I stood on the magazine perfect lawn and stared at him. My face contorted into a snarl, lips twisted, pulled back to reveal perfectly aligned, white teeth. He thought he was invincible, standing there, hanging sheets he’d bleached to rid of her humiliation and pain. I needed someone to talk to, someone to scream to and cry. Daniel would hug me and then make light of it. I would be annoyed but the situation would seem lighter anyway, I would feel better. He always made me feel better.
He would take the weight from my shoulders. He would probably kill that man and then everything would seem right.
I didn’t need Daniel. I walked up to that man, that epitome of evil and cruelty and misogyny and I faced him. I stared at him face to face, or as much as I could with our height difference,
‘You are disgusting; a horrible, pitiful excuse for a human being,’ his eyes bored into mine but I did not flinch. I took a breath of the warm autumn air and let it out slowly. Then I reached a hand over, grasping my hand around the man’s thick, wiry neck. I pressed my fingers into his skin as hard as I could, feeling the skin pull away beneath my grasp, screeching, screaming, howling. He died like all the others. His bravado only a mask he wore when hurting those smaller than him. I watched him die and as he turned to dust, a sob escaped my throat. A sob of pain and understanding. Whatever this man had done, I had executed him. I had watched him die. How was I any better than him, or Daniel? Suddenly sickened with my own actions and still feeling the pliable skin beneath my fingers, I turned and ran back to the house
I would not stay here.
As I grabbed my bags from the bedroom, I glimpsed the photo. She was younger, and plumper and happier. But it was her. Stood beneath a blossom tree, in her perfectly white crisp wedding dress. One that felt a mockery of the dress she wore in the shed. The man she stood next to was young, and smiling. His handsome face filled with joy. His familiar presence, tall and wiry.
Flashes of his videos filled my mind. The journey from normal couple to a woman shackled in the shed and a man her captor looked nothing like I could have imagined. It had been slow, insidious, unexpected but inevitable. I pushed the photo face down on the bleach white doily.
I dragged my tired body through the streets, my long brown hair kept blowing into my face, sticking to my lips, but I was too tired and distraught to care.
I lifted my head to the sky, feeling the start of cold, light drizzle on my forehead. The dark black cloud overhead signalled a downpour was imminent, I started to look for shelter.
My heavy bag pulled on my shoulder, digging into my neck. I was tired but buoyed with anger and righteousness at the events of the morning. I tried not to think too much, allowing the simple sounds my feet on the road to hypnotize me. I barely noticed the sounds of car alarms, or the smell of smoke. It had become part of the fabric of the world. The blood of my fellow man spilled across roads before me, and I walked past with barely a flinch. Fresh in my mind was the feel of that man’s neck against my fingers. A moment of thick wiry muscle, followed by the wilting, the quiver of rotting flesh beneath my fingertips. Had he felt it? Had he really seen me and known why I did it?
I wanted him to know.
When the rain started, I knew it was time to get indoors, at this point any house would do. Ahead of me stood a row of three terraced houses. I walked to the farthest one.
I pushed on the door, jiggling the handle and rattling at the wood, but the door was locked. I pushed against the windows, searching for something open, but I was offered no reward. I had two choices, find another house, or break in.
Breaking in could be too obvious if Daniel came this way, he might find me, and then what would happen? I considered that, it didn’t hold quite the same fear it used to. I walked to the end of the house and snuck around the back, looking for an open door. One house had a conservatory and the door stood open; I spied the owner tending to plants inside. I made my way inside just as the drizzle turned to big fat drops of cold rain against my skin.
The middle-aged woman held a red trowel in her hands as she dug in a plant pot. Her eyes found mine as I stepped into her house. I let all the pain I felt, everything I had seen and done that morning, rest in my responsive gaze and then I walked into the kitchen.
When the world cannot change, you must adapt. I looked around the kitchen without any guilt. I could not survive here as the highly sensitive and empathic person I had always been. Who knew that empathy was like a light? I could switch it off. But could I switch it back on again? Could I become like Daniel? Uncaring, selfish, self-serving? I passed by a young boy on the way to the living room, he was frozen in a mimicry of dance, but it barely bothered me. I sat down on their sofa, I ate their foods, I trespassed in their house, and I felt nothing. Their world was gone. Only mine survived now. This was all mine.
I allowed the tiredness to turn to sleep and dreamt of waking up in the morning to a moving world with a very angry owner wondering what I was doing in her house.
Chapter Ten
Something caught my eye as I glanced out my window one evening a few nights later. It could have been movement, or something out of place, something different. I stared from behind the glass, waiting for something to happen again but nothing moved. The orange glow in the distance warned of night soon to come, I didn’t want to leave the house when it was dark; I didn’t want to risk running into Danny. I knew my showdown was coming, but I wasn’t ready. I wanted it on my terms. My show. Not his.
I surveyed the area, there was only one livingstatue clearly visible from my window. He stood across the road, staring forwards. I hesitated, shoul
d I go out? He hadn’t moved and I had no reason to think he had ever moved, but I had to be sure. I opened my door, checking the area for signs of Daniel. Then I walked out towards him. He looked tall, probably a bit older than me, his sepia skin almost mahogany in the sunset. I stared at him closely; although he stood completely still, something felt wrong. The air felt moved, like life had come this way. I could feel it on my skin, like a breeze that wasn’t. I walked closer to him, looking closely at his amber eyes for any sign of life. There was only silence.
Suddenly he gasped, drawing in a huge whoosh of air that seemed to suck the oxygen from around us both, and stumbled forward into me. Automatically I held out my hands to catch him as he fell; his strong muscular body, weakened by weeks as a livingstatue. He tumbled onto me, forcing me to crash to the ground as we landed together on the road. My small frame crushed beneath his weight, I struggled to breathe in.
Moaning in pain, I tried to push him off me, desperately flailing beneath him.
“Can’t breathe” I cried. I thought he wouldn’t hear me, and I would suffocate right there in the street, but suddenly he seemed to force himself to roll away, landing with a thud and a cry next to me. I took a moment to inhale air as I lay there, staring at the sky and the setting sun. The peace didn’t last long, sudden panic made my chest hurt
I could hear him next to me, breathing heavily. Was I safe? Should I run? I knew nothing about this man. He lay on his side, curled up as if in great pain and discomfort, moaning quietly. I could leave now, while he was recovering. Pushing myself up I turned to look at him,
I could run, he would never catch me in his weakened state. But here he was, the first moving person I had seen in weeks - other than Daniel.
‘Are you okay?’ I finally asked, nervous and afraid to talk,
‘Hurts,’ his voice was deep and rattling and he coughed with the effort,
‘Where?’
‘Everywhere,’ he turned his face towards me and looked at me through half-closed eyes, “What happened,” I shook my head and hesitated, trying to imagine explaining the last few weeks of my life to this stranger. He grimaced as he tried to push himself up to sitting position, falling back down again on his elbow. His hands tightened into fists. ‘What? I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,’
I sat down next to him on the road, and carefully helped him up to sitting position, his weight pulling on my back as I lifted him by the arm. He hung onto me as I lowered him and then sat next to him to support him.
‘I’m sorry’ I said. He looked over at me and frowned, he didn’t appear threatening and I relaxed a little,
‘Why?’
‘For your pain. It’s hard to even begin to explain what happened,’
‘I feel like I’ve been in an accident. Or run a marathon. The pain in my legs. And the hunger,’ his voice was still rattling as he struggled to speak. Abruptly he slumped over, resting his head into his arms, hunching over onto his knees. For a while he stayed like that, supported by me, his head in his hands, his short dark hair shiny in the sunset. It was getting late,
‘You should come back with me,’ I finally said, when the silence had stretched for too long and the sky was fading into darkness,
‘Why? Isn’t the ambulance coming?’
‘No, no ambulance,’ I couldn’t think of the words to explain. He had assumed that help was coming and I could only sit with him, promising nothing,
‘I live near here,’ He said at last, lifting his head, his face sagging and tired, ‘I’ll call my mate to pick me up, I don’t think I can walk,’ he gave me an odd look, one that spoke of confusion and a little fear. Then he took out his phone and tried to turn it on. It had obviously run out of batteries some time ago. He stared without comprehension,
‘It’s not working,’
‘It’ll be out of batteries, just come on, I’ll explain on the way,’ he tried to stand, but his legs were too weak and he staggered back. I tried to lift him but he was heavy and I was weak. In the end I let him slump over me as I half carried him to his feet, feeling the pain in my own ailing body. He was not light, even after weeks of starvation, he outweighed me by at least 60 pounds. When we finally started walking, him resting his big arms around my neck as he dragged on me, he turned to me and smiled,
‘It’s not often I have to be carried home by small white women,’ I grinned at him as I puffed in exhaustion, ‘I’m Dean by the way, so go on tell me.’ I was expending all my energy supporting him, so I answered slowly,
‘It was about 4 weeks ago,. I was in the hardware store, when it happened, everyone just stopped. Every living person,’
‘What? What do you mean, stopped?’ he stopped and paused to look at me, his eyes searching me for signs of humour or craziness. He looked at me good naturedly, waiting for the punch line.
‘Look’ I pointed with my free hand towards a couple further down the road, frozen in a moment of argument, the woman gesticulating wildly at the man, the man pleading with open arms.
‘Hey’ he called to them as we approached, then he glanced at me. I almost wondered if they would come to life like Dean had, but they remained perfectly still. We stopped before them and Dean just stared, his face paling, ‘hey, come on,’ he turned at me confused, ‘are they okay?’ I struggled, unable to answer that question,
‘It’s everyone, there’s no one left moving, except us,’ His face contorted with comprehension, the smile falling away, his eyes narrowing.
‘Everyone?’
‘Yes, well except me, and my friend. And now you,’ he looked from me to the couple, alarm spread over his face,
‘Is this a joke?’ he wouldn’t tear his eyes from the couple, I shook my head,
‘No, it’s not, I wish it were. We need to get back,’ I tried to redirect him back to the house, but he didn’t move,
‘Back? No. I’ve had enough, I have to see my family,’ suddenly he pulled away, staggering with the effort. For a second he stood on his own two feet, and then he sagged, I ran to help him but he pushed me away, ‘You’re insane.’ He puffed through the pain, ‘You’re crazy. I don’t even know what kind of joke this is, but it’s not funny,’ he gasped as he tried to support himself,
‘It’s not funny. This is real!’
‘Why are you doing this?’ I could see anger rising in Dean, but he was controlling it better than Danny ever did. It burned behind his eyes but did not bubble and froth from his mouth, or explode in his words,
‘You think I want to do this? I would do anything to get back to my world, this is hell, I hate it here, and you are the first moving person I’ve spoken to in 3 weeks, apart from my friend,’
‘Right. And where is this friend?’ he stared at me, waiting, listening. How to answer that question without scaring him more. I looked away,
‘—I left him. Turns out I didn’t know him so well. But he’s around,’ Dean shot me a look of momentary concern and then shook his head, a vein popping out of his neck as he considered me,
‘None of this makes any sense,’ he said at last,
‘I don’t know what else to say, this is my reality. I’ve got no reason to lie,’
‘Thanks for your help, but I’m going home. Alone,’ I nodded, and then made a quick decision. I didn’t know Dean. I didn’t know if he was dangerous. But I had to have faith in my judgement that he was not like Daniel, I pointed to the house where I was staying,
‘I’m in there, it’s not my house, it’s just where I’m staying. If you want me, you know where I am,’ he folded his arms defensively and nodded. I turned to go, ‘Oh…don’t touch the livingstatues, you’ll kill them,’ horror overtook his face as he turned to the couple he had seen,
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah. And I’m here when you’re ready,’ and then I turned to go. Inside I was praying he would follow me. His company was welcome and needed. But there were no sounds of footsteps behind me, and when I glanced behind me as I went into the house, Dean hadn’t moved from the r
oad. He stood hunched over, watching me with wary eyes and a face filled with the swarming shadow of dread.
I watched him from the window in my living room for some time. Eventually he sat down on the pavement, resting. I knew he would struggle to walk home, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t blame him for refusing to come back with me. Or even refusing to believe me. I wouldn’t believe me.
He knew I was watching him. Occasionally, he would glance up at the window, towards me, and then back down at his feet. I didn’t know if he was considering his next move, or guarding where he lived carefully, either way he wasn’t going anywhere while he knew I was watching. Eventually I had to go to bed, I was tired, my eyes closing forcibly against my will. I pulled the curtains closed and lay down on the sofa, knowing he would be gone by the morning but hopeful that once he saw I was telling the truth, he would return. When I woke late the next morning, after a deep, dreamless sleep, the road was empty. I stared at where Dean had been and I sighed. I longed for company. Any company but my own. Or Daniel’s.
Chapter Eleven
It was 11am the next day when the door finally knocked. I had been waiting, knowing he would eventually have to come back to me. There was no one else. But even expecting him, when the door knocked, my insides twisted into knots. I was excited, I was afraid, I was hopeful.
Dean stood on the doorstep looking tired and confused, his eyes were red and his body was slumped over in exaggerated defeat. He looked at me as I opened the door and practically fell through it as I, once again, caught him. I helped him to the sofa, and brought him some water and a packet of crisps,
‘Sorry, most things require electricity,’ he stared at the glass as if it were alien to him and then put it down on the ground, untouched,
‘What happened?’ he rubbed his hands on his face, ‘everyone, I mean everyone is not moving. My mother, my sister, my girlfriend. Seeing them like that—’ he shut his eyes as if blocking out a memory,