Jane Cunnings: The girl from the diner

Loud emptiness fills the living room for once in God knows how long as Dick finds himself sitting on the couch, breathing, trying not to think that this moment might be part of yet another nightmare. But it is not, Little Nell is at a birthday party and he is alone, at least for an hour or two.

The house that once knew screams and blood now floats – once more – untouched; without a slight drop of remorse. Dick considers the shadow that his wedding ring left on his finger like a scar, like the brand that was sealed onto sick, unwanted cattle, a reminder of what his dream turned out to be.

The one thing that holds his mind sane is his daughter, a wink of immeasurable joy in a pitch black void of nothingness, the kind of joy that you wish never to fade away and yet there he sits, static, frightened and he knows something is odd, something seems to be out of place and a chill runs up his spine disturbing every muscle, every hair, then… The whistle of steam pierces his nerves and he stands.

It’s teatime.

Jane Cunnings, a girl of little means with a beauty undisputable grew up in desolate West Texas. Not the most flattering of places to become an independent woman, hell, not the best place to keep your mind in one piece.

The sun, it was the sun what Jane hated the most. Some folks there say the sun dries and sickens your soul; it brings the noblest, kindest of men to the dirt, to act like wild beasts. Jane was not exempt from the myriad of difficulties that her hometown imbued into her spirit, she saw days come and go and the pearly whites smile deteriorated and transformed into the hint of a mourning, the look of a mad person trying to reach out for help.

It was then that the twenty-something gal found her chance – some like to remember – The day was Thursday and it was a hot as hell one too. She had been assigned the tables at the far back of a small diner that was not too far from Jane’s folks. She wore the same coffee stained dress and greasy socks for eight hours a day, every day, but that Thursday something happened, a man walked in the place, a different man, well mannered and quiet Oregon lad who was kind enough to smile at Jane on sight. He took out his handkerchief and tried what most folks down there just renounce after a couple of years; he tried to dry his forehead off.

Jane approached the table, needless to say that it was not her client to serve but what the hell? The recently hired meth addict Jim Clemmons wasn’t going to complain.

“Howdy?” she said.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m Jane, It’ll be serving your table sweetheart, and may I get you something to drink?”

“It’s really hot here isn’t it? – He asked.

“Hot and dry, hun. Every day, all day long…

“Help me with that, maybe… water, ice… “

“We ain’t got no water, unless you want some tap water and then die from a nasty gutpain” She looks at him in the eye and then “But hey, I got something better for you cowboy”

She touches his hand and then walks away toward the kitchen. Dick liked the girl; at least she made him forget about the heat for a minute or two, a pretty girl flirting with him the middle of nowhere.  But he felt something deeper too, something dangerous. Jane had brought him uneasy and curious for her manner was confident and blunt. He wanted more of that mysterious southern pearl; he was jinxed and trapped within the sight of Jane Cunnings. Daunting if I might add, for that was the day when desperation met wickedness.

Dick Chambers and Jane Cunnings got married not to long after that Thursday but something obscure had come to life in that West Texas dinner, something far more gruesome than anything those lovebirds could have possibly foreseen. The tension, the desire for total annihilation and regret still ran through Jane’s blood stream. The sun, West Texas sun, still burned her skin and blinded her eyeballs.

They moved to a nice house that belonged to Dick’s late grandmother in the outskirts or Portland. There they developed a normal life, Dick worked a lot out of town and Jane had a chance to little by little let Oregon drop its spell on her. She enjoyed the morning hikes she used to take to the woods; she would even go into the lake naked and swim until wrinkles appeared on her fingertips. No one would ever disturb or confront her. Jane loved it there.

Little Nell came along a year later and added yet another drop of happiness into their lives. Jane loved her daughter deeply and with all her heart. But there was a problem.  Inside those naive dark brown eyes Jane saw the horror that had been hunting her forever. Her child, she felt, could see directly into her soul and there resided the most terrible of monsters… her true self, the Jane Cunnings whose skin is burnt and bloody, the Jane Cunnings who fucked a man with the hopes of being saved from that hell. She knew, and then… Jane Cunnings felt exposed.

Dick moves towards the kitchen and serves a cup of steaming hot black tea with two drops of honey – his favorite -. He walks across the living room, looks through the window, it is almost dusk, the reddish sunlight enters the room uninvited and he glances at the horizon over the woods for a second -Life, what a contradiction! –  Dick walks back to his couch and lies down on it as he turns his TV on. Local news play, the perfect scheme to finally get some sleep.

One night eerie, Jane got up at around four in the morning and without disturbing her husband she left the house wearing nothing but her underwear. She walked and walked until she found the lake and then she went into the lake letting the freezing water got to her bones, to the very fabric of her spirit, she drank the water; she dove and screamed underneath it. It was time, she had to do something, she had to let her family know about the pain she was going through…

A thick drop of fluid smashed against Dick’s forehead.

He opened his eyes.

There she was, Jane Cunnings all covered in blood, her scalp was missing and her eyeballs were bloodshot. She laughed with the wickedness of the devil and wept with the anguish of a dying hog. Her face, her deranged face showed nothing but Hellish release as she screamed her daughter’s name over and over and over again.

Dick pushed her off of him and stood up to find a pool of blood underneath his feet. He saw the woman he once knew lying on the bloody wood twisting and rolling, enjoying every bit of it. He ran toward Little Nell’s room, her tiny bed was also covered in blood and an immobile hump lied under the sheets. He cried, he advanced toward the bed and with one hand took the sheets out to find a headless animal, bleeding.

Then.

He heard a cry, a faint sound of despair coming from the other side of the room. He turned around and opened the closet. There she was – untouched – Little Nell, shivering in terror, drowning in tears. Dick picked her up and exited the house as fast as he could. The newborn sun projected it mighty light over the woods far ahead, the horizon of a new day…

He put Little Nell in his truck and went back in the house. He picked up the phone and went straight to his room. There she was… immobile, eyes wide open, bleeding scalp, deranged face… poor Jane Cunnings…

“911 what’s your emergency?” 

“I…” Dick couldn’t breather, couldn’t believe that the girl from the dinner and that monster were the same creature… “My… my wife, she uh, she is badly hurt she tried to kill my daughter…”

“Sir, are you hurt? Is your wife still in the house?”

“I’m ok, I’m ok… I’m ok” Dick sits on the bloody floor as Jane crawls toward him, in pain. “She’s hurt, please, send someone…

“What’s your location, sir?”

Local news plays on the background as Dick falls asleep. The weather seems to be just about the same and gas prices are going down. Politicians talk their talk and ads fill the space between the known pieces of information, but then something unexpected happens, something that brings Dick back to his everlasting state of vigil.

“Breaking News, not long ago three Seyward Sanatorium for the Mentally Ill patients escaped from the facility. Two of them were apprehended but one is still at large. This woman is considered to be very dangerous…”

Dick then knew that the chill that went up his spine accelerating his heart and disturbing his mind was indeed sustained by something real; the scent of a perfume that came from upstairs haunting him like a ghost from days gone by. It was her perfume, and there was no doubt about it. 

He stood up and as he did a daunting sound impregnated the room. The very laughter of the monster he had sent away… but he didn’t turn, he didn’t look and he walked towards the doo, he found the doorknob in his hand.  The laughter continued and transformed into mourning deep and everlasting, screams full of sorrow and pain…

Dick opened the door, exited the house and step-by-step he went away never to look back again…