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| Unchained Melody | |
| By Leo | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 16 July 2006 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
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This piece is a bit longer than i've written before (sort of tea and four chocolate hob-knobs as a rough guesstimate) adult themes MARY HOPKIRK – DIRECTOR – SAFEZONE WOMAN’S REFUGE. PROVIDING LOVE AND SUPPORT 079233 772644 She took the business card tentatively, then immediately started shaking her head. It was as if mere contact with it was enough to trigger a guilty reaction. “I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have come. I’ve got to go…..” “Just remember what I said, twenty four hours a day seven days a week I’m on the end of the phone.. call me… call me anytime.. I’m here to help…" And with that she was gone. -------------- That had been weeks ago. Nothing had changed. She had started keeping a diary, but there was no point in taking any pictures, because he never left any bruises. She made sure she hid it well. He searched her belongings frequently. He went through her bag, checked her phone and went through her bank statements. He controlled her life. Every single aspect. But she loved him. Who else would put a roof over her head, give her somewhere to live. Pay the bills. Love her. He did love. Of that she was sure. He just had difficulty controlling himself. He worked hard. He was under a lot of stress. A lot of stress. And of course his upbringing hadn’t been easy. She understood that better than anyone. She looked at the clock. It was nearly six. He would be home soon. His tea was nearly ready His shirt was ironed for the pub The house was clean She was clean. He liked her to look her best. She heard his key in the door. Her heart raced. She breathed out deeply. Just for a moment worrying that the diary wasn’t tucked in far enough, at the back of the airing cupboard. It was the one place she was convinced he wouldn’t go. But now she was worried. He could. Of course he could. There was nothing to stop him. She shook her head involuntarily. She had to stop it. Stop thinking about it. He was coming. Quick. He came through the door. Within a split second she could tell he had been in the pub already. But she understood, it was Friday. He needed to unwind at the end of the week. “Hallo babe…” she said gently, “had a hard day…want me to run a bath…? While you eat your tea?” He turned and glared at her “Where’ve you been today?” he demanded. “… Nowhere….nowhere…” “I said where’ve you fuckin’ been today” She swallowed hard. She had nothing to hide, but she was terrified. She didn’t want to upset him. “I.. just went down the precinct, to do the shopping.. I got all the things on the list,,.. liked you asked me to..” “You see anyone down there?… You talked to anyone?” “What?.. No.. no-one…I was back in by one…look your teas ready, let me run a bath and you can have a soak…” He looked at her hard, for a long moment. Like he was x-raying her mind. He then turned and walked into the kitchen. A little while later he lay in the bath. She busied herself on the landing, picking up his dirty work wear which he had haphazardly strewn about the place. “I ironed your denim shirt for tonight.. your favourite one”. She called through to him. She didn’t want him going in the airing cupboard. Her heart was racing. Her stomach churned. “Get in here” he demanded. “Babe?” “I said fucking get in here!” he spat venomously She entered the bathroom. He lay in the bath. His huge hog like stomach and thick fleshy breasts poked through the white soapy water creating the appearance of an exotic archipelago. The steam had misted the mirrors. He was unshaven, and the sweat ran down the sides of his face. “Yes babe?” “Do it…” he glared. “Babe what?” “You fucking know,… now do it you little cunt…. DO IT!” She could see his erect penis now rising out of the grimy, soapy water She leant in and grasped the base of it and begun to move her hand up and down along it’s thickening length… -------------- She sat curled up on the sofa watching the TV. She wasn’t allowed out without him. So, she stayed at home. Instead of it being 4 or 5 hours during which she could relax, it was time during which her mind would race ahead. She couldn’t help but think about what would happen when he got in. Her anxiety increased in intensity as the hand on the wall clock moved ever steadily towards midnight…what mood would he be in? Would he go straight to sleep? Would he start on her? She could never tell. One thing was for sure and that was that after he had been in the pub he was unpredictable. She was never sure what he talked about down the pub with his mates. She was sure he didn’t talk about him and her. But sometimes, when he came home, he was so angry. Nasty. Spiteful. She couldn’t settle. She turned and drew breath sharply as she heard his key go in the door. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair. She must look presentable. He lurched in through the doorway. Leaning against the wall for a moment as he turned and locked the door. “You have a good night babe?”. When he turned to face her, there was a greasy sheen of sweat across his face. He said nothing, just staring at her. “I’m gonna go up babe, let you watch the TV” She started to stand, “The boxing’s on in a little while. Look see I marked it in the magazine for you..” She pointed at the TV guide. “You’re not going anywhere ‘til I say you can.” He said with finality. It was like someone had applied electricity to her skin; sweat prickled her hands and face. “Alright babe. I’ll sit down. Let me put the telly on for you…”. She busied herself finding the control. And then turned back. He had unbuttoned his fly and was taking down his trousers. His gut hung out across the top of his jersey boxer shorts. One foot in his trousers. She could see his arousal. She was having difficulty catching her breath. The knowledge of past incidents superheated her anxieties. “Let me just check the front door make sure you locked it babe”. “You fuckin’ stay there…. Get your fuckin dressing gown off.” “Babe please…. You frighten me when you get angry... Please..” “I said fuckin get it off… I won’t say it again.” “Please… babe… please no… come on babe….” He lurched forward with surprising speed, grabbing her hair. Twisting it at the roots. White-hot pain burst across the surface of her scalp. Her face flushed. “You get your trousers off and bend over that chair..” The stale alcohol fumes were now all pervading, “ Bend over, like I like it… you’re gonna get fucked proper...” He let go of her hair and plunged his index finger into his mouth to baste it in saliva. The start of his ritual. Tears spilled over her eyelids and down her cheeks. She couldn’t take it again. It hurt so much. No, not again. He swayed and slumped back into the chair. He set about removing his remaining trouser leg. She saw the look on his face. She saw the battle he was having, as he fought the intoxication. His mind knew what it wanted, but at the same time his body was battling to close down after being pumped full of alcohol… she had seen the battle before sometimes he won sometimes he lost. She needed to try and delay him, to distract him. “Let me put my blue nightie on babe you like that… with the shoulder straps…” “Get here now!!!” he snarled, his lips curling to expose his yellow teeth. He seemed to jar himself awake with his outburst. She was sobbing and shaking. He lurched even closer, she just couldn’t take it. Not again. Enough was enough She trembled, and sobbed, “No babe NO!” she screamed. And then she saw it. The whiskey bottle by the side of his chair. Half full of coins. All his change from the pub. Without anymore thought she grabbed it by the neck and hoisted it up high above her shoulder. Without hesitation, before her actions had registered in his brain, she brought it down, with both hands, in one smooth, ferocious movement. Hitting him hard and full across the top of his forehead; just over his left eye. It made sickening contact. It bounced with a wet thunk, but didn’t break. She was instantly terrified. It should have shattered! Had she stopped him? Within a second, hot, red blood poured from the inch wide incision which had scythed open his scalp. The wound ran up into his hairline. She could see miniscule baubles of greyish yellow subcutaneous fat that burst out from under the skin. The blood was already down his face. In his ear. On his shirt. She dropped the bottle. He looked dazed, disorientated, shocked. He stumbled back and crumpled into the sofa. His hands now clutching his head as he tried to compute what was happening. They looked at each other. His eyes wide. His teeth gritted as adrenalin gave him a second wind. His eyes widened as he committed to hunting her down. She didn’t waste another moment. She ran past him into the kitchen. The knife in the sink. She needed protection. She had been using it earlier when she prepared his tea. It was her sharp knife. She wanted to just get out of the house. She grabbed her bag and made for the front door. He rolled off chair onto hands and knees. He reached up and used the arm to pull himself to his feet. She screamed. He shook his head and tried to orientate himself. She burst past him, running down the hallway for the door. Single minded. She turned the latch and pulled hard to escape. Nothing. I t was locked! He must have thrown the Chubb when got in. Quickly, her bag. She reached in and rummaged for her big key ring. Too late. He charged down the hall. The blood now soaking through his boxer shorts. She was vaguely aware of blood on his leg. His sock. There was no time. She dropped the bag and held the knife out in front of her. “Get away!! Don’t come any closer!! LEAVE ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!!” she screamed at him. “If I get my hands on you I’ll fucking kill you.” He spat back with contempt, as he looked at his hand in bewilderment, taking in all the blood that covered it, “FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!!” He moved closer. She could see his eyes. She knew he wouldn’t stop. She knew he couldn’t. He lunged at her. She struck out with the knife. He shrieked like some sort of wounded animal. She felt the knife puncture the soft tissue under his chin. She felt hot warm sticky fluid on her hands. An intense smell of raw meat surged through the air like the electric ozone vapour following a thunderstorm. She could feel the weight of his body keeping coming. Snorting like a pig. Clawing out for her face. She struck out again. And again. His huge frame was still bearing down on her. She was screaming and stabbing. Stabbing and screaming. All sense of time and place was lost. Panic and fury possessed her simultaneously. She kept going. Kept going until she could feel his bulk no more. It was as if her eyes had just opened. He was on the floor. Gasping and coughing. Getting ever quieter. His arms and legs were moving in strange, aimless and pointless spasm. Like a beetle on its back that had been blasted with insecticide. Slowing, then finally stopping. She was dazed. And shocked. And frightened. And strangely euphoric all at the same time. She was lost. And lonely. And exhausted. She slid down the door to the floor. The knife fell from her hand. She could smell copper, and taste it She was aware of the vein in her neck pounding, she fought for her breath. Her bag. Her bag. Quickly. Her bag. With her hands covered in blood she picked her bag and tipped out the contents. Fighting through the contents she picked up her diary. Quickly, she thumbed through the contacts section until it came to Dr Mary Hopkirk. She had entered her name under the guise of a doctor. Next to the name in brackets she had scribbled (breast screening) just to add authenticity. Finally she remembered she had reversed the digits on the second half of the number, as a final precaution. It took a while to work out the right number. She dialled the number. It was answered after three rings A woman’s voice.. “Mary Hopkirk, Safezone refuge. How can I help?” “…………………………….” “Hello? Is somebody there?” “……………………..” “It’s ok,… I know it difficult,….. I’m here to help… hello…..” “……Mrs Hopkirk,... it’s Mel… Melody Fairchild….I came to see you… you gave me your card…” words tumbled out, “ you said call… I need help…,” she was still fighting for her breath, “ I need help…. I’ve done it.. I’ve just.. I’ve just killed my brother….”
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