The windscreen. A nice big sheet of glass. A non-conductor. If she could push it onto the bonnet, she could easily jump away from the car.
Dotty twisted round to face the front. She squatted on the passenger seat inspecting the windscreen joins. She gave it a push, which produced no effect at all. The glove box would have the manual. Hopefully, a nice set of instructions on how to push out a windscreen. Dotty opened the glove box. Neat as a pin, bloody Dave, tidying up before the big event. He had, of course, removed the manual. You couldn’t make it too easy. Dotty looked across at Dave. His grin reflected the satisfaction of thorough planning.
Fury rose like bile. Dotty grabbed the bolt tightener and smashed the windscreen. It cracked. She smashed again and again. It cracked, then split and finally shattered. Dotty kept bashing the bolt tightener against it. She became an automaton, determined to smash every last shred of glass out of the windscreen. Glass flew everywhere. She was covered in it. Blood seeped from small cuts to her face, arms and legs. A piece flew towards her eye. It hit her glasses.
That stopped her. The glasses, metal frames, she had forgotten her glasses. She couldn’t see a bloody thing without them. Well, she could see something, blurred outlines. She could see enough to know where the car ended. They would have to go, but not yet.
Dotty used her discarded skirt to brush the glass off the dash. Sweeping the skirt in front of her, she crawled up to the dash and out onto the bonnet. She was out of the car. She took off her glasses. All she had to do now was jump. She couldn’t do it.
“Come on, Dave. You can see I can make it. Turn off the power and we can get some dinner,” Dotty said. She was too tired to yell.
“Scared, Babe? Just because you can’t see? Afraid of the bogey man in the blur?” Dave knew her fear of moving without her glasses.
“Look at me,” Dotty thought as she spoke. “This whole game was up once I did anything other than get out of the car. How are you going to explain these cuts? How are you going to let them think I had a simple heart attack when the car is smashed? Didn’t think of that did you, smart arse?”
“Now, now. No need for language.” Dave didn’t seem worried .
Dotty wondered what else he had planned. Maybe he just didn’t care. He might hate her enough to just want her dead. His calm infuriated her. To calm herself, she took deep breaths.
“That’s the way, Babe,” Dave encouraged her. “I know you can do it.”
Dotty tried to ignore him. She cleared her mind of all thought. Slowly she straightened and stood, balancing against the disorientation brought on by blurred vision. One last breath and she leapt.
She landed with a crunch. The pain in her ankle proved she was still alive. Relief and pain overcame her. Suddenly all she wanted to do was to curl up and go to sleep right there. She could deal with everything else after she had a sleep.
“Well done, Babe,” Dave was looking down at her.
“Just go away. I won, so leave me alone.”
“You haven’t won, Babe,” Dave said softly.
“I’m here, aren’t I? So I won. Or have you changed the rules again?” Dotty didn’t care at this stage.
“Just perfecting the system, Babe. Ironing out the rough edges before the main game.”
Siobhan Mullany
First Prize Trophy, 1997
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Scarlet Stiletto - the First Cut Page 35