CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Kathleen was caught somewhere between a state of dreaming and a state of consciousness. She tried to open her eyes, but was too lethargic to do so. An attempt to raise her head initiated a violent vortex spinning wildly inside her head. She was freezing yet burning up at the same time. Shivering and sweating. Every joint in her body ached severely. Every muscle in her body hurt. She was finding it hard to concentrate. She couldn’t remember where she was, but she knew she wasn’t in her bed. The surface she was laying on was much too hard.
As Kathleen was fighting to wake up, she heard a low, almost inaudible sound, but she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. She listened intensely. The sound was close. It was the sound of pain. Soft moans of suffering. Someone was in pain. They needed help. Why wouldn’t someone help them? Make them stop. They sounded so pitiful. Kathleen wanted to cover her ears, block out the cries of misery, but, like her eyes, her arms refused to obey her mental command to move to her ears. So Kathleen was forced to listen to the moans. And then, in a quick flash of clarity, she realized where the moans were coming from. She knew who was sounding so pitiful. Filled with shame, Kathleen realized it was her.
While in her state of fever induced confusion, Kathleen unexpectedly felt a hand on her forehead. The shock of someone touching her fully awakened her, but she was too weak to pull away or open her eyes. The hand on her forehead felt cold against her feverish skin.
“You’re burning up.” It was her kidnapper speaking in a low voice. “You don’t look good. You’ve got a high fever. Why don’t you do you a favor and just end this? Stop being so stubborn, Princess. End this now.”
“No.”
“How much longer do you think you can last? For being a rich, spoiled girl, you’re a tough one. You’ve proven that, but aren’t you tired? Don’t you want all this to end? Give up, Princess.”
“No.”
“Why not? Suddenly you have morals? Why are you acting so virtuous? It’s not like you can lose something you’ve already given away. What I request of you shouldn’t be any problem for a girl like you. End this!”
“No!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Because why?”
“Because I’m a virgin!” Kathleen snapped with tear-filled eyes. “And I don’t want my first time to be with someone like you!”
Kathleen rolled over in a fetal position and sobbed softly. She heard her kidnapper walk away and close the green door behind him. Kathleen felt embarrassed. She had just revealed a secret to her kidnapper that her own friends didn’t know about her. Because all her friends were experienced when it came to sex, Kathleen feared she would be ridiculed if they knew she was still a virgin. She had plenty of opportunities to engage in coitus over the years, but had restrained. Kathleen strived for perfection and, in her mind, the perfect gift she could ever give to her future husband would be her virginity. Unfortunately, her kidnapper was asking for her future husband’s gift. Kathleen cried herself to sleep.
An hour later, Kathleen was awaken again with another hand on her forehead. She struggled to open her eyes, but they remained closed. Her head was still spinning like a top. At first, Kathleen assumed the hand on her forehead was her kidnapper’s, but this hand was smooth. It wasn’t a man’s hand. It belonged to a female. Mommy? No. How could Kathleen’s mother be there with her? She was in Florida. Then who? With a lot of effort, Kathleen managed to crack her eyes open just a little, but everything was blurry. Her eyes would not focus. She could see that someone had been standing just outside her cage, but now that someone was moving away. Out the green door. Then Kathleen heard two people arguing on the other side of the green door. A male voice, her kidnapper’s, and a female voice. Kathleen was surprised to learn that one of her kidnappers was a female. Kathleen listened intensely to their argument, but she could not make out what they were saying. Although, she suspected it was about her.
Kathleen heard the green door open. She heard heavy footsteps coming toward her cage. Then she heard her cage door being unlocked. The cage door squealed against its hinges. Panic filled Kathleen. Why was her kidnapper coming into her cage? He promised not to touch her without her consent. Did he lie to her? Was he breaking his promise? Kathleen tensed her body in preparation of potentially being violated, but she kept her eyes closed and pretended she was sleeping. Maybe he would go away.
“Roll over to your right, Princess,” her kidnapper ordered Kathleen.
Kathleen didn’t move.
“I know you’re awake. Now, roll over.”
Kathleen opened her eyes, but she was still having trouble focusing. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Just roll over.”
Kathleen did as she was told. She rolled over to her right and was surprised when she rolled onto a blanket her kidnapper had laid on the floor next to her. Her fears intensified. What was his intentions? Was the blanket to make her more comfortable or her kidnapper? Not like this, she pleaded silently. Not like this. Her kidnapper then covered Kathleen with another blanket. Relief instantly came over Kathleen. Her fears were put to rest.
“Try to sit up for me for a second.”
Kathleen raised up. Her head twirled vehemently and she had to brace herself with her hands on the floor. She strained to focus her eyes. The man in the hockey mask was kneeling on one knee beside her.
“Here. Drink this.” The kidnapper held up a small plastic cup for Kathleen to see. “It’s for your fever. It’s extremely powerful medicine and, I warn you, it’s going to make you very loopy. You might even start seeing things that aren’t there, but I guarantee it will knock the fever out of you.” The kidnapper held the cup to Kathleen’s lips and she obediently drank the rancid medicine. “Now lay back down. This stuff is going to kick your butt.”
Kathleen laid back down on the blanket and pulled the other blanket up to her neck while her kidnapper left her cage and walked out the green door. This was the most comfortable Kathleen had been since being imprisoned, but she was baffled at the reason why her kidnapper was showing her compassion. If his goal was to make Kathleen suffer, why was he showing her mercy? Perhaps Kathleen was sicker than she realized and her kidnapper didn’t want her to die. That thought gave Kathleen a bit of comfort, but for just a second. Was her kidnapper actually worried she would die or was it that he didn’t want her to die before he got what he wanted? Earlier, Kathleen had heard her kidnappers arguing and she presumed the argument was probably over whether to give her the blankets or not. Over whether to show her mercy or allow her to continue to suffer. She couldn’t help but wonder if the man in the hockey mask had won his argument or had lost his argument. Was he the humane one or the merciless one? Kathleen’s head hurt too much to contemplate any longer over why she was being shown compassion. She snuggled in her blanket and passed out.
Several hours later, as Kathleen struggled to wake up, she felt as though she was stuck somewhere between the world of dreams and the twilight of consciousness. Her entire body felt numb, like she was in a peaceful intoxication. She had the sensation that her body was floating like a feather on a tranquil updraft. She would have been certain that she was dreaming if it wasn’t for the fact that she was much too aware. Too aware of her surroundings. Much too in control of her thoughts to be dreaming. She was conscious enough to know that if she opened her eyes, she would still be inside her cage. So she kept her eyes closed, enjoying the serene state she found herself in.
Suddenly, Kathleen felt a presence. She felt like someone was watching her. She could feel someone’s eyes on her. She assumed it was her kidnapper and it was making her uncomfortable. She also grew perturbed that he was ruining her placid state of mind. With an annoyed sigh, Kathleen opened her eyes and found herself laying on her back looking up at where the ceiling of her cage should have been, but it wasn’t there. All she saw was black sky and millions of glimmering stars as if she was outside at night, but she knew she couldn’t be. She knew she w
asn’t dreaming, yet, if this was real and she was outside at night all alone, she should have been terrified, but she wasn’t. So, if this wasn’t a dream, she had to be hallucinating. An apparent side effect of the medicine her kidnapper had given her.
Kathleen could see that she was still surrounded by her cage bars, bars that rose high into the night sky, so high that Kathleen could not see where they ended. She turned her head to the right, looking through the cage bars, and saw only a sea of dark ocean. The black waters of the ocean were relatively calm, only small bobbing waves, the crescent of each wave sparkling, reflecting the light of an abnormally huge moon that hung low in the sky. Kathleen remained relatively calm despite the fact she was outside alone at night floating around in a cage in the middle of an ocean. Knowing that what she was seeing wasn’t real undermined any fear of the night she would have normally possessed.
The feeling someone was watching her was still strong with Kathleen. She looked toward where the green door was supposed to be, but she saw only glimmering water. She then looked to her left and nearly jumped out of her skin at what she saw. Standing in the far corner of Kathleen’s cage was a girl…a girl Kathleen recognized…the waitress from Sam’s Bar and Grill…the one Kathleen had made cry…Josephine.
At first, Kathleen was filled with fear and confusion, but the peaceful, angelic look in Josephine’s eyes quickly put Kathleen at ease. Kathleen sat up, but didn’t take her eyes off Josephine’s eyes. Those eyes were so captivating, almost hypnotic. Kathleen didn’t remember the young waitress’s eyes being so mesmerizing, but, then again, she couldn’t recall actually ever making eye contact with Josephine when she and her friends were belittling the young girl. That evening, at the bar and grill, Kathleen had felt dominant over Josephine, superior over the one who was serving her, but now, for reasons she didn’t understand, she felt inferior, almost submissive in Josephine’s presence. Kathleen also felt extremely nervous like the first time she was called into the principal’s office for punching a classmate in the eye because she refused to give up her window seat on the school bus to Kathleen.
“How did…what…what are you doing here?” Kathleen asked, stumbling over her own thoughts.
“Why do you think I’m here?” Josephine asked in a celestial voice that sounded otherworldly. Kathleen remembered the young waitress’s voice being soft and timid. Now it was full of confidence and authority.
“I have no clue why you’re here. But I do know there’s no way you could actually be here and I’m almost certain that I’m not dreaming. Am I losing my mind?”
“No, Kathleen. You’re not losing your mind.”
“Are you real?”
“I’m as real as you want me to be.”
“What is that supposed to mean? You’re either real or you’re not.”
“It’s never that simple.”
Kathleen managed to pry her gaze from Josephine’s eyes and began to visually examine the waitress to gather information that might tell Kathleen what was happening. It was something she was taught to do by her father when Kathleen asked him what makes a good lawyer. When assessing someone, observe with your eyes, her father had instructed Kathleen. Pay attention to the details. A lot of times, the details you observe will tell you more about the person than the person actually will.
Kathleen first examined the young waitress’s face. Her face was illuminated more than it should have been by the small amount of light the moon was shining into the cage. Josephine’s face was one of compassion and kindness. She showed no signs of ill will toward Kathleen that Kathleen had expected to see. Josephine’s hair was being slightly blown about upon a breeze that Kathleen could not feel, adding to the waitress’s already heavenly appearance. Josephine was wearing a shiny white simple gown that flowed to the floor of the cage concealing her feet. Josephine’s arms hung down in front of her and her hands were crossed. But what immediately grabbed Kathleen’s attention, dominantly highlighted against the pure white of Josephine’s gown like a red rose in the snow, was a fresh blood stain that ran from Josephine’s crossed hands, down the front of her gown, and gathered around the hem of the gown.
“You’re bleeding! What happened to you?” Kathleen asked.
Josephine lifted her hands up and showed Kathleen her wrists. Both her wrists had been deeply slashed.
“What did you do? Did you cut your own wrists?”
For a split second, Josephine’s face showed shame.
“Are you…dead? Are you a ghost? Are you an angel?” Kathleen couldn’t believe she had asked such questions. She didn’t believed in ghosts or angels. She suspected that Josephine was just a fabrication of her medicated mind, yet she found herself unable, or unwilling, to stop having a conversation with this apparition.
“I’m whatever you want me to be.” Josephine said.
“Why did you do that to yourself?”
“The world was so mean. Life was so cruel. People were so heartless. So merciless. Without compassion. There was no kindness. I could no longer handle being life’s punching bag.”
“So you killed yourself,” Kathleen stated with disgust. “Life got tough for you and you took the easy way out. The coward’s way.”
“What makes you feel suicide is easy? Have you ever attempted it?”
“Of course not.”
“Then, how can you say it’s the easy way out?”
“Because, life is tough. It is for most, but we don’t all go around killing ourselves. Life knocks us down, but we get back up and brush the dust off. We keep treading forward. We keep living. We keep living for ourselves and for our loved ones. I’m sure when you did what you did, someone was heartbroken. Someone missed you. Someone didn’t understand why you did it. Someone was angry with you because you didn’t have the backbone to endure life.”
“There was no one to miss me.”
“No one? Are you telling me you had no one? No one in your life? What about your parents? You didn’t have any siblings? Any friends? Any family? Grandparents? Cousins? Come on! You had to have someone. Everyone has someone.”
“I didn’t. But you could have been that someone I lived for. You could have been a friend. You could have been the one reason I stayed in this world.”
“You’re blaming me for your suicide?”
“No. I’m not blaming anyone. I did this. I did this to myself. I’m just pointing out how something as simple as kindness shown to a stranger could change that person’s whole attitude toward life. A simple act of compassion. A simple act of friendship can make a world of difference to someone struggling to keep their head above water.”
“And because I was mean to you, you slit your wrists? It sure sounds like you’re trying to blame me. But it’s not my fault you’re so weak…or were so weak. Life isn’t always a bowl of cherries. Sometimes it’s a bowl of black licorice. You just have to deal with it. You can’t be so fragile.”
“Why are you so judgmental? Why are you so harsh? You don’t know a thing about me, nor have you even asked. How can you judge me when you haven’t even walked a single footstep in my shoes? How can you be so uncaring?”
“You don’t deserve my sympathy or my pity. Not after what you did. You crossed the line to where you no longer deserve anyone’s pity.”
“I’m not asking for your pity. I’m asking for your understanding. Aren’t you even curious?”
“Okay, fine. What was so terrible in your life that you couldn’t go on living any longer? What was so horrible that you couldn’t take it anymore? Tell me. I’m listening.”
“I have felt the cold breath of Death on the back of my neck throughout my entire life. Death has been a steadfast fixture in my life from the time I was an innocent little girl. My parents were both only children and they had each lost their parents before I was born. I never saw my grandparents, but in pictures. When I was at the tender age of six, my little one year old sister died in her crib. SIDS the doctors called it. When I turned ten, my father died of an aneurysm.
We were all sitting at the dining room table eating dinner when my father suddenly dropped dead in his mashed potatoes. For my sixteenth birthday, Death took my older brother from me. My brother had made a special trip to the mall to get me this watch I had wanted. On the way home, he was hit head-on by a cement truck. They said my brother died instantly, like knowing that was supposed to make everyone feel better. The watch he bought me was found in the wreckage still wrapped up in birthday paper. It turned out my brother had picked out the wrong watch. The one he bought me was an ugly green watch, but I wore it every day. For the last three years of my life, I watched helplessly as cancer slowly took my mother from me. And then I was alone.”
“Didn’t you have any friends?”
“Because of all the tragedy in my life, I was always very shy and timid. I became an introvert of sorts and that made me an outcast. The butt of everyone’s jokes. I also choose to stay away from everyone because I actually thought I may be the cause of everyone dying around me. That maybe I was somehow cursed. I know it’s crazy to think like that, but that’s how I felt and I feared if anyone got close to me or became my friend, Death would take them from me too. So I didn’t even try to make friends. I couldn’t handle anyone else dying around me.”
“When did you lose your mother?”
“Three months ago. After she passed, I became extremely depressed, but I was trying to go on with my life, as empty as it was. But I was losing the will to keep fighting though the depression. I was in such a fragile state the night I waited on you and your friends.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know? I’m so far from being a fragile person that it’s not a concept that I can understand. I’m tough and I surround myself with strong people. I detest weakness.”
“I’m weak in your eyes?”
“Yes. I hate to be so frank, but I do consider you weak.”
“Even after knowing everything you know about me now? There’s still not even a small speck of understanding?”
“Your life sucked. I’ll give you that, but opting out of life is never the answer. There’s always something to live for even if it’s only for yourself. Everything that you could have been in life will never be. You could have taken all the bad stuff you’ve gone through and used it to become a stronger person. You didn’t have to give up.”
“Perhaps you’re right. But what is done is done. I can’t undo it. Even if I wanted to. I’m at peace with what I did.”
“I still don’t understand why you’re here. Are you here to help me?”
“Are you asking for help? That doesn’t seem like you. Not someone as strong as you. You must be desperate asking me for help.”
“I’m trying so hard to stay strong, but this is more than anyone could expect to endure. You would have to be an exceptional person not to cave in a situation like this. I just want to know why this is happening to me. Why me? What did I do to deserve this?” Kathleen had to fight back her tears.
“You’re asking why bad things happen to bad people? I would guess…justice.”
“I’m not a bad person.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. I might be hard and express my opinion freely, but how is that bad? I shed light on a person’s weakness, thus allowing them to become a better person. I show them where their weakness lies so that they may improve themselves. My mother has done it for me over the years and I’m glad that she did. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it wasn’t for her.”
“So, you’re doing people a favor by being nasty to them?
“I am. Everyone becomes stronger after dealing with me.”
“I didn’t. I could have used a kind word. I could have used some compassion, some encouragement, but all I received from you was chastisement. I don’t see how your maliciousness helped me.” Josephine showed her wrists again. “I don’t see how it made my situation better.”
“Well, maybe not yours, but I’m sure I’ve helped others become better people.”
“How do you know? You don’t really know, do you? I don’t think you really care. You’re trying to justify being a mean person. Your criticism of people isn’t righteousness.”
“I am who I am. This is the person I am. I can’t change.”
“Or you don’t want to change.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with me.”
“I don’t suppose you would.”
“Is that why you’re here? To judge me?”
“I’m not judging you. I’m just pointing out a few things you could change to become a more hospitable person. I’m just showing you how your words can be damaging. That there are consequences for how you treat people even if you never see the results of your meanness. Not everyone walks away a better person after a run end with you. Sometimes, you’re like a mac truck plowing through a residential neighborhood, not caring who you smash into. Not ever looking back to see what damage you have caused.”
“Okay. I think we have established that I’m not a nice person. Fine. But did I deserve to be kidnapped and made to suffer like this?”
“No. You did not. No one deserves this.”
“How do I get out of this? I’m asking for your help. Please tell me.”
“You must realize that it’s okay to show weakness sometimes. Stop being so strong.”
“What does that mean?”
Suddenly, the black waters around Kathleen’s cage began to swell. The ocean was growing rough and dark clouds began to drift in front of the moon blocking out most of its light. The gentle breeze around Josephine was growing stronger.
Josephine looked warily across the dark ocean. “I’ve got to go,” she announced. She then looked back at Kathleen. “You sleep now and remember, even the mighty oak will bend when the storm gets too strong. Stop trying to be so strong.”
Kathleen’s eyes grew very heavy and she couldn’t hold them open any longer no matter how hard she tried. She grew intensely sleepy. She laid down in her blanket and fell asleep.
When Kathleen woke, it was dark inside the abandoned factory and everything was back to normal. The ceiling of her cage had returned. Kathleen immediately looked around her cage for Josephine, but the young waitress was nowhere to be seen. Kathleen didn’t really expect her to be. A heavy loneliness settled over Kathleen. She was alone again. She looked through her cage bars. The ocean was also gone. Of course, she realized it had never been there. It was simply a figment of her mind’s imagination. Likely a side effect from the medicine her kidnapper had given her. Kathleen then realized that her fever had broken. She was feeling better.
Kathleen began to mull over the meeting she had with Josephine. Had Josephine really been there or had Kathleen simply been talking to herself? Did the young waitress actually commit suicide or was she still alive and waiting tables? If it was all just a hallucination, why did Kathleen’s mind choose to have a conversation with a waitress? Why not her mother or her father? Why not someone she knew? Why not one of her friends? Why a stranger? Perhaps a stranger was the only one who would truly be honest with Kathleen. A stranger would have no reason to stroke Kathleen’s ego as her friends did. A stranger had no reason to tell Kathleen she was better than everyone else as her father did. A stranger had no reason to expect perfection from Kathleen as her mother did. A stranger was free to tell it like it was without bias.
Josephine had told Kathleen that she was a mean person, something that Kathleen had already realized early in life, but Josephine was the first to make Kathleen feel bad about it. For the first time in her life, Kathleen began to wonder how many people she had hurt in the past by being who she was. How many people had she hurt beyond repair? How many people had she hurt who weren’t strong enough to take Kathleen’s harsh criticism? Did they all really deserve the cold dish Kathleen often served to the ones she considered weak? And why did Kathleen feel it was her place in life to point out the weakness in others? Maybe she was just mimicking what she was receiving at home from her mother. Even though her mother drove
her crazy with her constant critiques of her daughter, Kathleen had always felt it was for her own good. That it made her a better person. Now, she wasn’t so sure. She had always strived to be perfect. She had thought she was, but did being perfect include things like compassion, empathy, and kindness? Kathleen began to think that it might. She began to think she had been wrong. It was a feeling she wasn’t comfortable with.
Breaking Point (Short Story) Page 6