The Debt
Gunshot.
Light-noise-pain-panic. Another-shot. Two-more. Screams. Pain. WHAT’SHAPPENING? More-pain. CAN’TMOVE!! Need-to-getoutofhere!-run!-RUN!!
. . .
Silence.
Where-am-I?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I came to, I was lying in the middle of the road. My left cheek stung and wept with grazes and my palms were shredded and full of grit. On every inhalation my lungs felt laboured, as if they were fighting against the natural instinct of breathing; penetrating points of pain ran from below my left shoulder blade. The ferociousness of the sun and humidity were like a suffocating blanket on my back and I could feel the nape of my neck burning.
I closed my eyes, taking stock of my situation, when I realised I couldn’t hear any cars; in fact, I couldn’t hear anything at all. No traffic, no voices, not even the steady hum of air conditioning units battling the afternoon heat. Wincing with the effort, I lifted my head only to come face to face with the nose of a BMW. Using the bumper bar for support, I got to my feet and looked around.
Everything was frozen still. Cars, devoid of drivers, lined the streets and an empty train sat at the station overhead. Lights still shone in shop windows and the television nestled between chic mannequins in surfwear still flickered through its silent montage of waves and boards.
But there was not a person to be seen.
I leant on the bonnet of the BMW, exhausted from the pain, and tried to remember what had happened. My mind was blank. Not just blank, but completely empty and I could feel the panic rising again. Sweat trickled down my face, stinging the wounds on my cheek.
There had to be something . . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wait . . . Remember . . .
. . .
Alleyway. He’s-there.
“Where’s the money, bitch?”
I-have-no-money. Never-had-money. See-the-gun. See-his-face. He’s-serious. Panic.
“You said you’d have it!”
Go! He-means-it. Get-out-of-here. RUN!RUN!RUN!RUN!RUN!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The intensity of the flashback nearly knocked what little breath I had out of me. That man! I recognised him!
I knew him, knew him intimately. I knew every inch of his flesh; I knew his smell, his smile, his passion, his hatred – but I couldn’t name him. I knew him, but I didn’t know who he was.
All this confusion was making me anxious, and I could feel my chest tightening as my lungs fought to breathe. I had to get out of here, I had to find someone and get help, but there was nothing but the oppressive heat and silence. On the kerb to my right I could see a small souvlaki shop nestled amongst the terrace houses and boarded up shops, its umbrellas and tables set up ready for customers who were disturbingly absent.
Gingerly, gasping for air, I made my way across the street and slumped down on a metal chair in the shade, the sound of the legs scraping against the pavement echoing in the empty soundscape. I drank deeply from the half-empty glass on the table, still ringed by an invisible stranger’s lipstick; the water was like an analgesic, and the liquid cold radiated from my stomach and up into my chest, numbing the pain in my lungs.
Closing my eyes, I put my head down on the table . . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wait . . . Remember . . .
. . .
His-penthouse. Sitting-on-the-bed. I’m-naked. He’s-doing-lines.
Again.
“Can I have some too, baby?”
He-leans-back. Smiles.
“Sure, but it’s not free.”
I-want. “Yeah, whatever. Put it on my tab.” I-need.
Grabs-my-wrist. Pulls-me. Pain. “Your tab’s so big darling, you’ll never pay that sucker back.”
He-laughs. Pain-wrist. Grabs-my-face. Pain. Kisses-me.
I-want. I-need. He-gives.
. . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I jolted upright, gasping as the memory filled me like an electric shock.
He could be anywhere, and if he was speeding again he could do anything. Despite the consequences, I had to call the police before he killed me. I struggled to my feet and stumbled into the shop. I called out, but there was no one there; behind the counter I found a phone.
No dial tone.
I bit my lip so hard it bled, trying to stem the tears that were threatening to sink me. If I cried now I’d lose control and I’d be finished. Looking around, I noticed the till; I tried to open it, take all that I could inside and run, but it wouldn’t budge. The LED screen shone brightly but none of the buttons worked. I staggered over to the light switches, but no matter how I many times I switched them off and on the lights didn’t change. It was as if the world had been frozen in time and space, empty of people or logic.
I couldn’t handle this.
I had to get away, but I needed help. I was struggling. Despite the humidity, I was starting to shiver and I was turning numb all over. Stumbling back outside and into the heat, I collapsed . . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s-black-and-cold. Beeping. I-feel-nothing. Mum-crying. Holding-my-hand. Mum-saying-goodbye.
Mum?
Mum!
I-need-to-open-my-eyes. Please-open-eyes!
Mum!! Don’t-cry!!
!!
Beeping-stops.
Can’t-breath! Mum! I-can’t-breath! Help-me-Mum!!
help
m
e
. . .
© Molly Cule, July 2008
