Run Into Space

I left the room with a feeling of satisfaction accompanied by a tingling of guilt. My fears had been confirmed, and in the aftermath of the sex I began to question the motives behind my actions. My prediction of remorse was accurate; however I could not expect it to manifest itself so evidently when I returned home.

We meandered through the car park, arms entwined, witling away the walk in idle conversation. The lights were dim; however not dim enough to prevent me from admiring her ***** hair. It was framing her pale skin, illuminating her face so that I could read every minute emotion that flickered across it. Her heels tapped against the concrete floor in a metronomic rhythm, like a clock ticking ominously towards an unwanted hour. It was then I felt the first chill and a rush of apprehensive tension surge from my heart outwards. The exit we were heading for was beckoning, but for a green sedan parked in our way. We separated our hands and each chose a different route around the obstruction, her walking around the rear end of the vehicle, I around the front. As I emerged on the other side, green exit light luring me away from this increasingly yet unreasonably fretful scenario, I paused to allow her to catch me up. The second chill ran up my spine when she did not appear as would have been expected by our walking pace. I called out her name, but the only reply was the timid echo of my voice that came from every corner of the car park. I leapt around the far side of the car, hoping to see her. I did not. Desperation rising, I fished my mobile from my pocket and hit redial. As the busy signal beeped monotonously against my ear, I realised that she was no longer in that car park and I knew that she had not left of her own accord. I ran underneath the exit sign, my heart constricted by a chain of barbed wire that grew tighter with each frantic step.

Some hours later, back at my apartment, the memories of that ill-fated stroll washed through me again, and I felt the chill return. Fuelled by this bubbling unease, I quickly arose from the kitchen table and strode purposefully towards the hallway (of which my bedroom was situated at the end). The barbed wire returned, tighter this time, as I noticed my bedroom door ajar, and a pale yellow light emanating from the gap. I quickened my stride, curious to know who had been in the room, although something told me that I already knew the answer. I reached out the palm of my hand towards the door, scared of what lay ahead of me; I noticed my right hand glistening with sweat. The barbed wire tightened agonizingly further, constricting my breath as well as any last remaining drops of hope.

///

Befitting the degree of illumination I had observed from the hallway, the only light in the room was from a bedside lamp. It cast a dim aura over the entire scene, which made it hard to distinguish her malformed body lying limply on the end of my bed. She was in a horrible variation of the foetal position, knees up around the chest but arms splayed in opposite directions, face buried in the mattress. She was wearing only a **** *** *** skirt, hitched high around her waste. Her ****** hair had lost its lustre and now enveloped her once youthful face like a death mask. Pain filled the air, and as tears began to well in my eyes, I realised that she would never be the same again. I quickly covered the five or so metres from my door to the end of the bed in two large strides, and slid my hand underneath her midriff to turn her onto her back and witness the damage that had been done. The whites of her eyes had long since disappeared, replace by the kind of red that I deduced was from a mixture of methamphetamines and sustained crying. Despite this, the loss of innocence in those eyes was heartbreakingly evident. She was murmuring and sobbing, and I joined her in a moment of complete despair. “***** ***** ***** *****”, she managed to mumble, before seeming to give in to the horror by lolling her head back and crying as though this was the end. I took the warning quite literally, and with fear and sadness suffocating my every move, I lifted her resistless form onto my forearms and about faced, returning towards the door carrying both the physical burden of her body and the much heavier emotional weight which multiplied with each disgusting shuffle forward. I was too afraid to look into the shadows of my room for the culprit. I knew he was there watching, and I remember briefly wondering as to his reaction to this sorry sight. I left the room with her in my arms, but I knew that there was a part of her that would never leave that dimly lit chamber. A part that was forever lost; and a part which I had played the lead role in destroying. Neither she, nor I, would ever be the same again.