11/07/2009
[072] Reincarnation
She could hear shouting, screaming. Ahead of her, an angry crowd approached, waving bats and wielding guns and knives. Frightened, she turned and ran down the long and narrow alleyway presented to her. Her feet splashed in murky, dank puddles as she tried to escape the mob that was chasing. She didn’t know why they were after her, but she could sense the need and the urgency for them to capture her, and so she ran.
It wasn’t long before her frail form started to burn, the muscles aching and her chest heaving for much-needed air. Turning to glance behind her, she watched as they began to gain, swarming down the alley like a tidal wave of bodies.
Her gaze darting around as she ran, looking for a hiding place or a door or ladder to escape, she found none, only the continuing alley that seemed to stretch for miles into the unknown. Panic started to set in when their voices got louder as they closed in. She turned once again to look at the mob chasing her and lost her footing. Slipping in a puddle she fell forward and landed hard on the concrete ground.
They were upon her.
Masses of hands, each pulling and tearing, trying to grab a hold of her. Feet, kicking and stomping down, preventing her from getting up or crawling away, a never-ending rain of blows. The wind was knocked from her, and she could only watch as they lifted her high up and set upon her with triumphant vigour. She screamed.
Suddenly, she found herself alone, in a small dark room. The grey concrete walls were dull and uninviting. The only thing of note was the desk in front of her, and the monitor on top of that. It was blank. She looked for an on switch when she heard the voice.
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
She tried to turn, but was stuck in the chair, gazing forward. She found herself replying automatically.
“The same goes for you.”
“No, it doesn’t. There is a certain level of trust in all relationships. You have just thrown away your trust.”
“I want out.”
“So you steal information that you think will keep you safe from us, while you run.”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“Neither.”
Kim gasped as she felt something cold and hard being placed on the nape of her neck, pushing roughly into the back of her head.
“I will give you your wish, however. You will be out.” the voice said quietly and pulled the trigger.
10/07/2009
[071] Cage
It was late when Kimberly finally got home, and she slid her key into the bronze lock and twisted gently, pushing the oaken door open slowly so as to not disturb whoever was inside. Silently, she moved into the dark hall and placed her holdall on the floor, turning to close the door and lock it. It was sad, she thought, that trapping yourself into your own home brought a sense of inescapability rather than the loving protection it should.
Gathering her bag, she left the lights off and tip-toed down the hall towards the stairs. As she passed the lounge, she could see her mother slumped in the corner of the old leather settee. An empty bottle of liquor was on the floor beside her feet, and she groaned and shifted in the chair. In front of her the television had been left on, and now all that it showed was the crackling static that danced around the dark room like it did on the screen. Creeping in, Kim turned the television off and left, pulling the door almost closed as she did. She hoped she’d not have to encounter her father as she traversed the rest of the house in the dim light. Work had been tiring, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with such a meeting.
When she slowly climbed the stairs and reached the safe haven of her bedroom, she allowed herself a sigh. Even something as small as checking her parents’ bedroom to see if her father was in the house was too much for her tonight, as she was well aware that anything could bring his anger out. Dropping her bag to the floor she walked over to her dresser and sat on the small chair in front of it. The reflection of a tired and weary girl smiled back at her forlornly, and she began to take the clips out of her long brown hair, causing it to fall in ringlets over her face and shoulders. Satisfied that they were all out, she opened the top drawer and produced a small packet of wet wipes. Taking one she begun to remove the layers of foundation and blush off her face. As the day’s makeup was cleaned away, the flowered colours of a bruised eye and cheek were slowly revealed. Tears sprung to her eyes as her hand touched the tender flesh, not yet healed and still sensitive. The cleaning done, she smiled at herself again, a small reassuring smile. It wasn’t effective at cheering her mood.
