May the bullet not find me (part 1)

It was interesting, the way her twitching slumber was overturned. The impetuous onrush of consciousness: the unfamiliar sounds, the unnatural smells, and the taste of sterility. Peculiar, the way the warmth she felt seemed to diminish as awareness returned; the confusion of blackness behind the blindfold.1

The blindfold was out of place. Restrictive. Subdued voices overrode a semi-regular, incessant beeping. The words gradually crept into focus. She’s stirring, awake – but she knew that already. She raised a hand almost as numb as the beeping was regular. Scratched at the bandaging about her eyes. Sought a tear, a fastener – an escape.2

Thoughts. The old ghost train. No longer in use at the broken and colourless fair, it had the same inconsiderate fragrance as this blindfold. The same visionless quality that had so frightened her. As such she preferred to distance herself from that memory. Pretending it had been someone else eliminated any subsequent and sleepless nightmares caused by the memory’s closeness.3

Finally, the murmurings snapped into clarity. Alea registered an enquiry into her health. Unfortunately, her throat protested its first use since before…4

Before? Before was just an empty space. There was no before.5

A hand regaining feeling and a semblance of steadiness – indeed, it was her own hand – accepted the cool, smooth cylinder that was pressed into its palm. A cup, heavy with some form of over-sweet syrup that soothed her throat as she sipped. 6

Another voice. A male voice, not particularly deep but rich in an odd kind of femininity. A memory surfaced. A childhood friend, with the same slightly effeminate quality to his voice. She imagined that this mysteriously feminine man would have a dark and perfectly styled layer of hair on his head. He was immaculately dressed, impossibly friendly, and he kissed other boys behind the sports storerooms but no one was supposed to know that. 7

Manicured fingers teased themselves around the blindfold. 8

Blinded. Pain filled her head and spilled from her throat. Forced her to maintain a foetal position until the screech had faded. 9

Odd that she could detect no difference though told the lights had been turned down. 10

She opened her eyes. There next to her bed was a woman. A square-faced woman who would have benefited from some form of makeup. Possibly a paper bag. A muted voice in her head confirmed that this was her Mother. She immediately cast all disrespectful thoughts from her mind. 11

The man at the foot of her bed studied a clipboard, and she assumed that he had been the one who had spoken. When he glanced at her and his smile uttered sound however, she found that his voice was the rich baritone often associated with tall, dark and male individuals. 12

He patronised a greeting and repeated the enquiry into her health. This time, Alea’s voice cooperated. She wondered if it carried the confusion, the suspicion that she felt. 13

Her Mother needlessly identified herself. Don’t you remember?14

She remembered. However, the man at the end of her bed remained as yet unidentified. Muted eyes moved to indicate him, standing dressed in white. Smugly angelic. 15

The Doctor introduced himself and held out a hand. As though he expected her to grasp his self-satisfied claws and return the show of affability. And automatically, she did, remembering a similar situation – meeting her Mother’s second boyfriend. He had shaken her hand and patted her hair, and she had wondered whether he smelled like whiskey all of the time or if this was just special. He had held the same smokescreen of haughty integrity. As though he had contributed to her life somehow. As though she owed him something.16

With a bland sort of kindness, the Doctor gave his estimation as to when Alea could return home. 17

Two more days in this cell.18

Her Mother smiled nervously at the bed, but hid her agitation behind a greyscale delight that was the shape of a Japanese fan and with the same purpose. She did not see Alea’s pale face upon the pillow: such was its camouflage. Alea had never felt so obscured – and yet somehow, she found this invisibility to be appealing.19

How wonderful that Alea could return home, especially since her room was still just as her memory described it. Pink walls, darker pink floral trim, and a red that did not suit but covered the bed nonetheless. Familiarly generic music stacked beside a slightly dusty CD player, and a photo of her Boyfriend on the bedside table. Air spins down from the fan, and the nightlight illuminates an iniquitous smirk in the corner. 20

Perhaps redecoration is in order. Somehow, the thought of spending time in a chamber of pink walls did not appeal; that, and she wished to eliminate the corner in which she remembered noticing that smile.21

* * * *22

The house was just as her memory had described. The familiar red-tiled roof, ruddy bricks, and brown door all combined into the generic sunburn coating the majority of the street. 23

Alea stood on the path, fighting a peculiar sense of wrongness. It caused the capriciously serpentine edges of the path to writhe as though seeking to drown her. 24

Fortunately, this sensation was brief, and slid behind her thoughts as she ascended the stairs.25

Inside, the sunburn transformed to natural artifice. Manufactured greenery lined the hall as she cautiously explored. Familiarity seemed delayed, objects warped. Her fingertips did not recognise the wall; she realised she did not yet know how long she had been away. 26

Her Mother paused at the enquiry, and had to be prompted before a careful reply was made. 27

In hospital for six months, in and out of consciousness for most of that time. It was doubtful she would remember much; anyway, why would she want to?28

Sure enough, all that came to mind was an array of indistinct images, hazy faces with glaring eyes and saccharine smiles promising that these were the final tests. Nothing specific; no clue as to what had placed her into the hospital in the first place. 29

* * * *30

It had been a wonderful evening. Dinner with her Mother at her favourite restaurant. Supply made mango mint frappes unmatched by any other, and old-fashioned thickshakes (the best kind) and it was so pretty with its chic cushioned window seats. After dinner they saw a movie, and then they walked home together. Slipped through the ageing-chocolate door and giggled at a tipsy joke. 31

Pink walls, darker pink floral trim, and a red that did not suit but covered the bed nonetheless. Familiarly generic music stacked beside a slightly dusty CD player, and a photo of her Boyfriend on the bedside table. Air spun down from the fan and the nightlight illuminated an iniquitous smirk in the corner. 32

An instinctive scream teetered on her tongue, her lips, but the smirking face swiftly moved to smother it. Her Mother was drunk, and Alea was helpless.33

The eyes; the eyes were blackened out, the lips unsettlingly crimson behind an orderly curtain of glowing dark hair. 34

A panicked thought: vampire, a vampire had come to initiate her into the undead legions.35

No such luck – a terrifying gash opened its cherry eye across her arm as she raised it to fight, her scream muffled by an unnervingly cool hand. Another slash came to life, her left arm losing consciousness and falling limply to her side. She could not fight. A breath sliced into her ear: “This is not my choice. I’m saving you, remember that.” The chance to disagree was not given. Fluid fell from throat to incongruous corset as the blade lanced across a white expanse of flesh. 36

A haze eclipsed her mind.37

* * * *38

The memory was intangible; strange that she could not quite distinguish whose eyes she stared through to watch it unfold. Her Mother had discovered her, melting into the bedroom floor. The Paramedics had worked desperately to revive her and she had been in hospital ever since, her Mother surrounded by the fear she would lose Alea. Her Mother hugged her tightly, breaking her gaze from the slight crack in the wall. Alea sought any recollections that would reveal her Mother had visited her. 39

She watched as the wall filled with images of doctors in white coats, vast silver machines she could not identify, hypodermics, and the beep-beep-beep of an unusual doom she had never sensed before. Blurred faces, none of them familiar – none of them her Mother.40

Nevertheless, she smiled and accepted her Mother’s words. 41

A quick hug, a statement of her tiredness, and she walked up gradual stairs to her bedroom. Belatedly familiar candy walls watched her slide into a similar shade of satin pink. Continued watching as she masked herself with misplaced red, curling into her own body-warmth as it infused the sheets. 42

Alea switched off the light, but did not dream through her eyes – the eyes with which she viewed her sleeping thoughts were those of a stranger.43

* * * *44

Morning leeched in around powdered fuchsia curtains, and the dusty sunbeams tickled Alea into a state of awareness. She blinked until she felt she was in familiar surroundings, and sat up. Reflexively catlike, she bent forward, and winced in amusement as her spine cracked along its length. 45

Rummaging through her closet, Alea searched for a suitable outfit. She found herself digging through several options before she found her solution. She stared at her reflection. Such a pretty skirt, light with flowers and butterflies creeping onto her shirt. Brightness and memories, she was invisible; she knew people would look at her and see just another pretty little post-teen grasping at lost childhood with both hands and a credit card.46

Nonetheless an automatic smile was smeared on her face, and she followed the semi-familiar route downstairs and into the kitchen, lured by the unmistakeable morning fragrance of bacon, toast and the newspaper. Her Mother turned and chirped a greeting as she entered. Alea felt a striking urge to grind her teeth at that voice, but consciously refrained from doing so. A nails-on-blackboard croak offered bacon and indicated the toast on the table. Repetitive crow. Alea nodded, smile fixed, and seated herself. With a mouthful of toast, she enquired about the day’s plans. 47

How many times had she been asked not to speak with her mouth full? 48

Her Mother’s plan was to make a start on redecorating Alea’s room. They would leave just before lunch, eat at a café in town, and visit Spotlight. Alea smiled faintly at recollections of similar past shopping trips, and her Mother’s attempts at enthusiasm.49

Her Mother’s descriptions of the events lying ahead ceased. Alea nodded her acquiescence and finished her toast, politely refusing the bacon. A quick hug for her Mother and she walked back upstairs, intending to survey her room. It would be beneficial to have a plan of sorts; improvisation was rarely a sensible approach in any matter. 50

* * * *51

In Alea’s memory, Spotlight was not quite so unnervingly large. Reality spat forth more aisles, more faceless crowds jostling for the last metre of deep purple tie-dyed linen for their pseudo-Goth son’s curtains – apparently a discouragement from black. Alea stared, and was dragged along by her Mother’s hand to a scattering of discounted material. Obligingly, she began investigating the mass of linen. Although, she did seem to recall the last time her Mother had declared such freedom of choice. The result had been a mismatching blur of pinks and reds: Alea living inside a candy cane whose colour had bled all over itself. 52

Her eye was abruptly caught by a burnished cerise, and she tugged it out, ran her fingers over its surface. Turned hopeful eyes to a Mother already disagreeing. 53

She was not even sure why she was attracted to the blood-dusted colour. It seemed to fill her eyes as she gazed at it, tugging a mysterious strand buried deep in her stomach. 54

Her Mother made a commendable attempt to admire the colour, but ultimately could not. Disappointed momentarily, Alea returned the material to the table.55

However, the rich purple that next caught her eye was met with approval. Mother and daughter moved to another store to purchase paint. 56

Alea held up a colour card that had been coated in starless ink, weighing it with the swatch of linen they had brought in for comparison purposes. Such a dark colour would make the mornings more pleasant, she thought. Not so bright. Her eyes seemed unaccustomed to so much sunlight. A contrast to edge-frayed memories of tanning breaches and summertime meanderings with a friend whose face she could not quite see.57

Yet, her Mother once again disagreed with her choice – much to Alea’s unusual annoyance – and a tin of lilac paint was selected.58

So, Alea was to sleep inside a bouquet of lavenders and violets. How pleasantly feminine. It appeared that all she could do now was to find some posters, some images to distract from the sea of purple. 59

After half an hour of searching, Alea came upon a portrait entitled “Deity”. It depicted a goddess, swathed in minimal velvet and the carpet of her own hair, the chains that wound around her mostly-naked body controlled by skeletal hands. Inexplicably, Alea was drawn to the image, finding a fascination in the cavalier arrogance of the Deity’s eyes and the chain clenched between her teeth. Since her Mother had given her money, and moved away to examine houseplants, Alea decided to purchase this poster before she could be discouraged; then wondered why she needed her Mother’s approval at all. 60

There was something alluring, inspiring, about the murkiness of the image. Besides, the hints of purple in the velvet would complement her curtains. 61

Purchase made, she collected her Mother and they headed home. While her Mother made plans to repaint Alea’s bedroom that very evening, Alea made plans as to where she could hang her Deity poster. The Deity’s eyes twitched at her memory, a fascination, and she wished to discover the reason they did so. 62

* * * *63

True, the room now smelled uncomfortably of paint fumes, but at least there was no longer an uncanny domination of pinkly sweetness. Moreover, that corner was now filled with a subtle green bookcase. 64

Deciding that paint of such a colour really should be lavender-scented, Alea prised open the window. She lay on her bed, staring up at the Deity poster she had placed on the ceiling. 65

The high-handed returning stare of the goddess made her smile with an inexplicable nostalgia. How perplexing that it lacked the warmth usually associated with such an emotion. The Deity reminded her of a face she could not quite remember. She flicked through a cache of memories in search of an answer, much as she had flicked through the display rack in search of the poster. 66

A knock at the door ended her reverie, and Alea called out with permission of entry. Her Mother stepped inside, a smile on her face as she surveyed the room. Alea returned her smile, reflecting that fresh air was very much preferable to paint fumes. 67

Alea suggested they go out for dinner and replenish the energy spent on Alea’s room. Although, her Mother’s eyes mumbled, recollections of their last visit to Supply were unpleasant to say the very least. 68

Her Mother managed a smile despite the fact she was biting her lip. Alea saw no uncertainty in compressed eyes as her Mother made the suggestion that she should close her window this time. 69

Don’t want any intruders, now do we? Alea grinned as she acceded, immediately saw the expression was inappropriate. Her Mother cautiously departed, closing the door in silence behind her. 70

Once dressed, Alea followed the stairs down to where her Mother now stood in the kitchen, staring aimlessly out of the window at the quickening evening. She watched the shiveringly faint reflection of her own smile in the window beside her Mother’s face. Watched as the expression was returned. Her Mother seemed to be indecisive, but Alea could not think of a reason why her Mother would be such a thing. 71

As together they stepped through the door, Alea blinked and wondered why she would have felt more comfortable exiting via the window. 72

* * * *73

The walk home was as uneventful as their meal at Supply had been, but Alea enjoyed the quiet and the pleasantly chilling glow from a cloudless evening. Odd that Supply had been so different, the mango mint frappes with an unpleasant tang that she had not expected.74

Alea recalled feasting crowds and inexplicably cheerful staff. A disparity existed between these people in her mind and the people she had seen tonight. It was much quieter than in memory, with less people seated at the tables and a strange, glacial hostility emanating from the staff. Alea would have been far more convivial. 75

Perhaps she should get a job. The thought of the independence of occupation and income was an attractive one. 76

Alea smiled at her Mother’s eventual agreement, recalling that she had handed in her résumé at Supply before she went to hospital. Her Mother’s hesitation at the mentioning of this fact was somewhat unexpected, and Alea’s smile faded as she awaited a response. 77

At the back of her mind, Alea wondered why she even required her Mother’s approval. She certainly did not need this old woman to… Alea consciously drove those thoughts from her mind. Surely her Mother was merely concerned with her safety.78

Finally, her Mother emitted a sigh of reluctant acquiescence. 79

Alea’s smile was satisfied as she hugged her Mother – such a reaction was the remembered method of thanks – yet she still felt an inexplicable frustration. 80

* * * *81

Inside the Manager’s office, the temperature seemed inexplicably high; far too much friendliness concentrated into one space. Alea noticed the way the Manager kept a distance between them, moving behind his desk as soon as unsuspiciously possible. However, his tone was kind: of course he understood, but there were simply no vacancies. 82

The Manager watched as her expression changed, visibly tensing up at her frustration. Repetitive kindness morphed to caution as he suggested the transfer of a member of his staff. Controlled and desperate to please, he requested that she wait outside his office.83

It was only after the door had closed that Alea remembered she should have thanked the Manager. Somehow, the thought didn’t worry her as it probably should have. She felt almost as though the Manager should be thanking her for offering her services in the first place. 84

The Manager appeared at the door once more with a smile on his face. Injected an overly enthusiastic affirmation of her new position at Supply. Alea assured the Manager that he would not regret his decision.85

The Manager’s eyes contradicted his vocal sentiments. Alea returned the favour. 86

* * * *87

The morning consisted of a tour through the restaurant’s innards. The Manager’s descriptions were suspiciously tremulous, so Alea watched him carefully from behind her own smile. Although the customers kept studious gazes on their meals, Alea could feel their eyes like portraits in a gallery. 88

A flash of blonde to her left caused Alea’s head to snap around, as though reacting to a gunshot. Flicking through her memories, Alea’s eyes widened as she recognised crackling blue eyes and a porcelain smile. Aimee. 89

Watching the blonde, Alea considered memories of Aimee and their parting several years ago. No letters since; perhaps Aimee had been too busy. 90

The Manager apologetically returned to his duties. With a glance to silence the stares that followed, Alea approached Aimee’s table. 91

Cobalt rose charily to meet Alea’s eyes. There was no recognition. Instead there was confusion, puzzlement; nausea swirling and spilling between eyelashes. Fear storming through twin skies. And she vanished, forgetting her jacket on the chair. 92