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…
