Trembling With Fear 05/12/2019

Succumbing

Skittering firework embers shed ruby streaks into the sky. The naked branches of clustered trees framed and then obscured the show from sight. It was the silences in between volleys that tore at her nerves the most, the pauses that spurred her staggering into sprinting.

Her long dress had split up to her thigh, revealing flesh mottled with golden-blue bruises. She wanted to ruin the rest. Her fingers flexed over her collarbone. Would that she could, tear the pearl necklace and scatter it; but the beads would only turn into bread crumbs, into a bridge that leads to the worst ending within a fairy tale.

Won’t let him catch me. Won’t be caught. Can’t be caught.

Another firework whistled overhead. They wouldn’t keep his attention. Soon he’d return to the checkered blanket, the lukewarm wine and untouched food to find her gone.

He’ll wait for me. And when I come back, it’ll be the look. He’ll hold me inside it, hold me there until it hurts, hold me until I drown inside the black of his pupils, until I can’t breathe and–

 

She ran. The question of where was no more present in her mind than it is for any prey fleeing its predator. She ran until she had cleared the woods and found herself before a broad, black-watered fountain. The decimated remains of fall leaves floated in broken clumps. Branches cleaved the moon and starlight into a quivering stratum.

She tottered over to the fountain and gazed down at her reflection. At her red-rimmed eyes. The cheap foundation, smeared and flaked over swollen knots.

I won’t be caught. I can’t be caught.

Sudden motion caught her off guard: a beetle, crawling over her temple, feelers wriggling. When she batted at it, the creature toppled down into the water and fractured her reflection into trembling pieces.

She watched the beetle fight to keep afloat.

Can’t be caught.

“help”

Its legs splayed out and squirmed.

Can’t be caught.

Bile filled her throat.

“help”

She raised her hand and struck. Created a wave to pull the drowning thing under.

“ah”

Glancing down, her reflection held its jaw and smiled. An angry red welt blazed upon the reflection’s skin.

“i wanted him to stay with me”

It mouthed the words with the corners of its chapped lips upturned. Its eyes were slit into mirthful razors.

I’m hallucinating.

“i wanted him to hold me hold me” Its plaintive note sank like a nail between her eyes. “hold me hold me hold me hold me”

“Stop it, you’re hallucinating,” she snarled into her palm, but the reflection did not copy her, only continued to gaze up with mocking eyes.

“i wanted him to hold me down and”

“STOP IT!”

She thrust her hand into the fountain, crushing the water into ripples and foam, soaking her dress, catching grime in her fingers.

When her reflection reassembled, it was with cuts and bruises. Still, the eyes glinted merrily. Still, the lips, the bleeding lips, mouthed the words:

t-o -d-e-v-o-u-r -m-e

“STOP”

She plunged both her hands into water. There they found not wetness, but flesh, a neck to squeeze, and so she squeezed it, squeezed against the flesh and blood and bone, until the water went still.

Upon withdrawing her hands from the fountain, she found them slick with black blood. The reflection’s face broke above the water with a plop. It bobbed slack-jawed, laughter still trapped inside its lifeless eyes.

Drawing back, she screamed. A fresh wave of fireworks erupted overhead.

I killed her!

Triumph or despair?

I KILLED HER!

She turned from the fountain and ran.

When she cleared the forest, the show had only just ended, firework smoke staining the sky, but there were no more picnic blankets to be found, no rows of cars or lukewarm coolers. Instead she found herself standing at the foot of a long, unraveling silk white carpet.

The carpet stretched out towards seven figures who stood gathered in the field. Dazed, she stepped onto the carpet. Her body pitched forward–or was she walking towards them, the scenery running fast beside her?

She came close. Six of the seven moved off into the grass. Whether they were shadow or flesh, man or woman remained unknown and unseen. The moonlight promised nothing.

As the carpet carried her down, her filthy feet smeared mud and water over the ivory silk. When she reached the six shadows, she cast her eyes down, terrified and abashed. They took no breath, only stood and drank her in with black, glittering beast eyes.

The seventh, the one waiting for her, gnawed at his fingernails, smiling even as he tore them bloody. The whites of his eyes were pitch-black, but this only served to enhance the beauty of his features.

The seventh’s stare swept over her dress, her bruises, her pulverized face.

Shame overtook her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For… for being…” A sob flexed in her throat. “…for being like this.”

The seventh shook his head. “Please. Give me your hand.”

The six shadows drew closer. Their combined anticipation was heavy, palpable. When she raised her hand, the seventh reached out without hesitation and squeezed her bloodied fingers into his own.

“Now, look at me.”

When she did, he caught her right inside his gaze, and smiled.

“You’re perfect.”