As Catherine crept past the shiny obelisk of a refrigerator, she saw in its reflection, a refracted image of the man they had dragged inside only forty minutes before. She turned her head apprehensively and gazed at his sunken body. He was battered and broken, and her regret at his situation, washed over her like a sudden nausea. Blood seeped from deep and painful looking cuts; while burn marks, either from fire, water or acid; covered every other part of him. He couldn't possibly still be alive in that condition; she had to have been too late.
Her heart had been pounding a hundred beats a minute, as she crept from room to room in her neighbour's house; but as it struck her that this poor man could be dead already, everything seemed to stop.
She hadn't really understood why she felt the urgent need to do this. She had seen dozens of men go into Sean's house in as bad a way as this guy; and she'd never felt the desire to risk her life for any of them. Sitting listening to the muffled laughter of Sean and his goons outside and watching blood run down the man's chest; she had to ask herself why he was different.
Then it hit her like a cartoon anvil, with the crazy squawks of Daffy Duck screaming at her fogged mind.
'If he's worth risking your life for, why are you sitting their watching him dying?'
With a new tidal wave of blood pumping on through her veins, she pushed herself along the floor and out into the huge glass and pine conservatory. The blond; although it was hardly noticeable under his blood-caked scalp, was inside a little so she wouldn't quite be seen from the garden. Sean was still guffawing at one of his mercenaries' jokes and it seemed that he had many more cruel anecdotes to tell before they returned to torture this guy further. Catherine summoned up every bit of courage she had and got up to grab a knife from the kitchen counter, before walking back across the brightly lit room to the man in the chair.
"Can you hear me?" she whispered close to his ear, while she felt his neck for a pulse. It was feint but he was still alive. She lifted his right hand gently, by holding his fragile fingers in her palm; then slipped the knife under his wrist to saw it free of the leather strap. It came away quite easily and she moved down to cut his ankles free from the rear of the chair. His left leg slipped down from the taught position it had been trapped in and she heard a soft and barely audible moan from above her.
His left hand looked badly damaged and at least two of the fingers were broken. She glanced up at his face again; a mess of blood and tears, it was difficult to even see what he looked like under all the damage. Catherine carefully lifted his hand to cut away the strap and he groaned in agony as his fingers crunched awkwardly together.
"I'm going to help you… can you hear me?" Jack's eyes fluttered open and Catherine tried to quieten that annoying voice in her head that was finding this all very exciting and almost amorous. His eyes, although bloodshot, were blue and green like a Hawaiian sea; and his long lashes flickered open as he tried to make sense of what was happening to him. "Its okay, Sean is outside; I'll get you away. I… I just need to…"
She walked on into the conservatory and pulled a throw from the cane furniture, to wrap around the poor man and maybe make it so they weren't spotted the moment they got outside. If they got outside.
"What's your name?" she asked gently wrapping the deep red throw around him. He was conscious, but only barely; his lips trembled as he tried to speak and Catherine had to bend close to hear what he said.
"J… Ja…Jack!" He stammered with dry, painfully split and cracked lips. Catherine smiled compassionately and nodded.
"I'm Catherine. I live across the street. Can you walk, Jack?"
He knew he had no choice but to try and stand. This was a miracle indeed, but one he'd have to work with. Catherine might have been his heroine; a guardian angel come to give him the peace he'd begged for, wished for, long before he was snatched by Sean O'Malley. But she wasn't a particularly strong woman, physically speaking. She had dark hair; almost black to his hazy sight and honest looking, hazel eyes with tiny flecks of green. Her face was round and her skin was what convinced his suffering mind that she really was saintly. It was like alabaster; with the only blemish upon it being a thin pinkish scar along her left jaw line. She was beautiful and her being there to rescue him was what made her the most perfect creature to ever walk the earth.
He watched her face as she wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and tried vainly, not to press anywhere that might hurt him too much. She moved around to his right side and put his arm across her shoulder. He could smell the perfume she wore and the lavender of her shampoo mingled with the blood and burning scent that filled his nose. She was a breath of fresh air, something he had been sure he would never feel again, until she'd dragged him back to life.
Catherine used all her strength to lift him awkwardly to his feet. She knew he was trying to support himself, but it was of little use as she walked him out towards the front door. He stumbled and slipped against her, covering her olive vest with his blood; it took all of her strength just to get him out of the room, let alone out the front door, down the steps and across the street to her own house.
Her arm was giving way as they wearily covered the tarmac driveway and Catherine found herself saying muttered prayers, that Sean wouldn't catch them getting away. Jack winced with every slight movement and stepping down off the kerb made him groan in agony. It felt like hours had past when they finally made it into the family room of Catherine's opulently decorated home. She had thought ahead and managed to struggle with Jack's now rather limp body a few steps further, into the back of the house. Along with the benefits of washable upholstery, were the facts that the only window to that room looked out on the back of the house, which was completely out of view from the front door where she knew Sean would eventually come calling.
Jack moaned as she lowered him down onto the couch and she was about to go for the medical chest that her husband had insisted on, when he grabbed her arm and beckoned her to him.
"He'll kill you… you shouldn't have… brought me… into your… home."
Catherine didn't know whether to be hurt or grateful for his words. She'd expected him to be appreciative; she'd begun to hope that he'd feel indebted to her and maybe stick around. He could have been some nasty hit man or a member of the mob, but frankly it hadn't even entered her head. He was a good man and he deserved her help. He maybe even deserved a lot more than her help too; but he was right. Sean O'Malley would be furious when he found his victim gone and he would definitely check out the neighbourhood, since he knew Jack wouldn't get far. When he found Jack with Catherine, he'd kill them both rather than go to jail for leaving a witness.
It was surprising how easy the plan came to her and she marvelled at how well a usually timid young woman could be so constructive in these terrifying circumstances. She knelt beside Jack and asked him if there was anything he needed right away. He shook his head a little and watched her worriedly eyeing him. She knew what she had to do and looking into the murky sea of his eyes, she knew why she had to do it.
Jack knew he'd lose consciousness again pretty soon if he didn't get some kind of adrenaline shot quickly. He couldn't just lie there knowing the potentially fatal outcomes that lay ahead of him. He had to get up, he had to fix himself up and get out of there before…
His foggy mind was too sluggish to work out the best way to fix things. He was about to stop Catherine again, when she stood up and hurried out of the room, taking the throw that he'd been draped in with her. He tried to speak, he tried to stop her doing anything else 'courageous' before she got herself killed, but the words wouldn't come out. His mind and body were failing him in practically every way now. His stamina had given out completely and he knew that if Catherine hadn't come along when she did; he'd likely have gone along with Sean and finally turned to the other side; the way his superiors constantly worried that he would.
He lay on her thick velvety couch, staring around the lines of his vision at the alien surroundings he found himself in. There were toys around the room, colouring books and pencils; and there on a notice board, in the alcove to what must have been the kitchen, were displayed a myriad of children's drawings. In them were depicted 'happy family' scenes with a cheerful looking middle aged man in what appeared to be a three piece suit and sunglasses. In his now dimming operational mind, Jack began to piece together a profile of the man in the picture. Of course this profile would have been obtained through the eyes of a naïve child, but it still held a lot of truth.
He was older than Catherine appeared; although perhaps this was more in manner than in terms of age. He wore a suit, perhaps an official of some kind, or at least someone who commanded respect from others lower down the food chain. Though despite the authoritative air created by the dark glasses and smart attire, it seemed he wasn't the relaxed man that may appear to go with such superiority. His son saw him as stuffy and somewhat unassailable by reading the little characters' proximity to one another. The child quite obviously doted on his mother and who could blame him? Jack wondered, as he addressed the nature of the third character in the image.
Beside the man was what Jack believed to be Catherine, though it wasn't entirely the same woman he'd just met with. Her long dark hair had been drawn straighter than he'd witnessed it being, and this was a drawback in his opinion. Perhaps it was merely fantasy, but the natural curl of her dark hair seemed to make her face even more angelic in his fragile state. Her eyes were brighter and greener than the deep russet brown shades that he'd noticed. The little boy obviously saw another side to his mother which coloured his view of her in art. The character wore a pink summer dress, which wasn't how Jack imagined her to normally dress, as he watched her lifting him in an olive coloured vest and khaki combat pants. She didn't seem the type to go for frills and powder, she didn't need them. She was beguiling, intimidating and beautiful, in all the ways that mattered to Jack; making her into an irresistible conundrum and a peaceful rest all at once. By far the most intriguing thing to Jack's mind, as he drifted away from the rest of the world, was her smile.
Under the circumstances they found themselves in, it didn't seem out of the ordinary that Jack had never once seen his heroine smile. It didn't seem strange now that these people had different sides to themselves, beyond the views that their children held. He himself had never once seemed like a junkie to his daughter, but all through his literature degree, it would have been how his professors described him. There were sides that Jack hid from his daughter; this particular side of him had been hidden for a very long time, for instance.
Jack let his mind drift to the drawings Kim had done in school at the age he presumed Catherine's son to be. She would draw images much the same; smiling little girl with ribbons in her hair and floral print dresses. Two rather inanely grinning parents each holding her hand as though they were about to swing her up into the air. Fact was that Teri never enjoyed the frolicking and day trips with their daughter as much as Jack did and it showed in the distance at which Teri was drawn to the other two. Kim's distancing from her mother started long before her rebellious teenage years.
Once again Jack let his mind wander around the perimeter fence he'd built to keep his guilty memories at bay. He'd cheated, Teri had asked him to leave, and he knew it was his fault. He truly regretted his tryst with Nina, enough to be overwhelmingly repentant, to the point of agreeing with whatever Teri wanted. He had done his best to make amends for his adultery and it seemed to be working, at least between the two of them. Kim however, could never forgive her mother for throwing Jack out of their home and now she was dead, she would always harbour her own guilt for not seeing the importance of those little things, those special things; a smile for instance.
Jack looked around the room at some of the family photos that sat in silver frames along the dresser and mantelpiece. They didn't look much different to the drawings, only the details were more precise. Catherine did have a beguiling smile, but there was a coolness in her eyes that he recognised from other places than the art her son had created.
Her eyes held a distance that he knew very well. Her heart wasn't completely in it, her mind was wandering to other places, different times and spaces which would challenge and test her. As Jack finally lost consciousness his mind began to wonder.
"Was today the day she waited her whole life for? Was this cool fall morning, the pinnacle of her existence so far? More to the point was it the same for him?"
Beads of perspiration ran down Catherine's round cheeks. Her pulse was racing once more, and as the distance grew between her and the sound of Sean's mocking laughter, she became more fearful than courageous. If pushing the black van down onto Lloyd Crest Drive wasn't taxing enough on her nerves; the prospect of having to soon start the engine, and possibly draw Sean's attention made her sick with dread. Though start it she must, so sliding up into the driver's seat, she clicked on the engine with the spare keys she'd taken from the visor. The engine rumbled into action, thankfully quietly, and she pulled the door shut and drove down the road with only one fleeting glimpse at the still street behind her.
After driving for almost five minutes she parked the van under the trees at Foxtons Supermarket car park and got out. She had worn the latex gloves from the medical box, so as not to leave any prints. It seemed a little excessive, but she didn't know what measures Sean was able to take in hunting down his victim. She took the throw from the passenger seat and wiped it on the steering wheel for authenticity, then left it lying on the seat with the door open.
It was a good job; now if she could get home without being seen outside by Sean, she would have gotten away with it. Adrenaline was running through her body, swimming in her blood and igniting fires around her body to drive her on. She glanced around her as though she was seeing the world for the first time. Today was what her life had been waiting for. The feelings she had at that very moment, were ones she'd craved for years of stifled married life. Today was one that would change her life forever and she felt her mind drawn back to why.
He was there in her home, the reason behind all this strange and unexpected behaviour was lying half dead on her couch. She had to help him, she had to get home and finish what she'd started. He needed her, someone finally needed her.
Her heart had been pounding a hundred beats a minute, as she crept from room to room in her neighbour's house; but as it struck her that this poor man could be dead already, everything seemed to stop.
She hadn't really understood why she felt the urgent need to do this. She had seen dozens of men go into Sean's house in as bad a way as this guy; and she'd never felt the desire to risk her life for any of them. Sitting listening to the muffled laughter of Sean and his goons outside and watching blood run down the man's chest; she had to ask herself why he was different.
Then it hit her like a cartoon anvil, with the crazy squawks of Daffy Duck screaming at her fogged mind.
'If he's worth risking your life for, why are you sitting their watching him dying?'
With a new tidal wave of blood pumping on through her veins, she pushed herself along the floor and out into the huge glass and pine conservatory. The blond; although it was hardly noticeable under his blood-caked scalp, was inside a little so she wouldn't quite be seen from the garden. Sean was still guffawing at one of his mercenaries' jokes and it seemed that he had many more cruel anecdotes to tell before they returned to torture this guy further. Catherine summoned up every bit of courage she had and got up to grab a knife from the kitchen counter, before walking back across the brightly lit room to the man in the chair.
"Can you hear me?" she whispered close to his ear, while she felt his neck for a pulse. It was feint but he was still alive. She lifted his right hand gently, by holding his fragile fingers in her palm; then slipped the knife under his wrist to saw it free of the leather strap. It came away quite easily and she moved down to cut his ankles free from the rear of the chair. His left leg slipped down from the taught position it had been trapped in and she heard a soft and barely audible moan from above her.
His left hand looked badly damaged and at least two of the fingers were broken. She glanced up at his face again; a mess of blood and tears, it was difficult to even see what he looked like under all the damage. Catherine carefully lifted his hand to cut away the strap and he groaned in agony as his fingers crunched awkwardly together.
"I'm going to help you… can you hear me?" Jack's eyes fluttered open and Catherine tried to quieten that annoying voice in her head that was finding this all very exciting and almost amorous. His eyes, although bloodshot, were blue and green like a Hawaiian sea; and his long lashes flickered open as he tried to make sense of what was happening to him. "Its okay, Sean is outside; I'll get you away. I… I just need to…"
She walked on into the conservatory and pulled a throw from the cane furniture, to wrap around the poor man and maybe make it so they weren't spotted the moment they got outside. If they got outside.
"What's your name?" she asked gently wrapping the deep red throw around him. He was conscious, but only barely; his lips trembled as he tried to speak and Catherine had to bend close to hear what he said.
"J… Ja…Jack!" He stammered with dry, painfully split and cracked lips. Catherine smiled compassionately and nodded.
"I'm Catherine. I live across the street. Can you walk, Jack?"
He knew he had no choice but to try and stand. This was a miracle indeed, but one he'd have to work with. Catherine might have been his heroine; a guardian angel come to give him the peace he'd begged for, wished for, long before he was snatched by Sean O'Malley. But she wasn't a particularly strong woman, physically speaking. She had dark hair; almost black to his hazy sight and honest looking, hazel eyes with tiny flecks of green. Her face was round and her skin was what convinced his suffering mind that she really was saintly. It was like alabaster; with the only blemish upon it being a thin pinkish scar along her left jaw line. She was beautiful and her being there to rescue him was what made her the most perfect creature to ever walk the earth.
He watched her face as she wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and tried vainly, not to press anywhere that might hurt him too much. She moved around to his right side and put his arm across her shoulder. He could smell the perfume she wore and the lavender of her shampoo mingled with the blood and burning scent that filled his nose. She was a breath of fresh air, something he had been sure he would never feel again, until she'd dragged him back to life.
Catherine used all her strength to lift him awkwardly to his feet. She knew he was trying to support himself, but it was of little use as she walked him out towards the front door. He stumbled and slipped against her, covering her olive vest with his blood; it took all of her strength just to get him out of the room, let alone out the front door, down the steps and across the street to her own house.
Her arm was giving way as they wearily covered the tarmac driveway and Catherine found herself saying muttered prayers, that Sean wouldn't catch them getting away. Jack winced with every slight movement and stepping down off the kerb made him groan in agony. It felt like hours had past when they finally made it into the family room of Catherine's opulently decorated home. She had thought ahead and managed to struggle with Jack's now rather limp body a few steps further, into the back of the house. Along with the benefits of washable upholstery, were the facts that the only window to that room looked out on the back of the house, which was completely out of view from the front door where she knew Sean would eventually come calling.
Jack moaned as she lowered him down onto the couch and she was about to go for the medical chest that her husband had insisted on, when he grabbed her arm and beckoned her to him.
"He'll kill you… you shouldn't have… brought me… into your… home."
Catherine didn't know whether to be hurt or grateful for his words. She'd expected him to be appreciative; she'd begun to hope that he'd feel indebted to her and maybe stick around. He could have been some nasty hit man or a member of the mob, but frankly it hadn't even entered her head. He was a good man and he deserved her help. He maybe even deserved a lot more than her help too; but he was right. Sean O'Malley would be furious when he found his victim gone and he would definitely check out the neighbourhood, since he knew Jack wouldn't get far. When he found Jack with Catherine, he'd kill them both rather than go to jail for leaving a witness.
It was surprising how easy the plan came to her and she marvelled at how well a usually timid young woman could be so constructive in these terrifying circumstances. She knelt beside Jack and asked him if there was anything he needed right away. He shook his head a little and watched her worriedly eyeing him. She knew what she had to do and looking into the murky sea of his eyes, she knew why she had to do it.
Jack knew he'd lose consciousness again pretty soon if he didn't get some kind of adrenaline shot quickly. He couldn't just lie there knowing the potentially fatal outcomes that lay ahead of him. He had to get up, he had to fix himself up and get out of there before…
His foggy mind was too sluggish to work out the best way to fix things. He was about to stop Catherine again, when she stood up and hurried out of the room, taking the throw that he'd been draped in with her. He tried to speak, he tried to stop her doing anything else 'courageous' before she got herself killed, but the words wouldn't come out. His mind and body were failing him in practically every way now. His stamina had given out completely and he knew that if Catherine hadn't come along when she did; he'd likely have gone along with Sean and finally turned to the other side; the way his superiors constantly worried that he would.
He lay on her thick velvety couch, staring around the lines of his vision at the alien surroundings he found himself in. There were toys around the room, colouring books and pencils; and there on a notice board, in the alcove to what must have been the kitchen, were displayed a myriad of children's drawings. In them were depicted 'happy family' scenes with a cheerful looking middle aged man in what appeared to be a three piece suit and sunglasses. In his now dimming operational mind, Jack began to piece together a profile of the man in the picture. Of course this profile would have been obtained through the eyes of a naïve child, but it still held a lot of truth.
He was older than Catherine appeared; although perhaps this was more in manner than in terms of age. He wore a suit, perhaps an official of some kind, or at least someone who commanded respect from others lower down the food chain. Though despite the authoritative air created by the dark glasses and smart attire, it seemed he wasn't the relaxed man that may appear to go with such superiority. His son saw him as stuffy and somewhat unassailable by reading the little characters' proximity to one another. The child quite obviously doted on his mother and who could blame him? Jack wondered, as he addressed the nature of the third character in the image.
Beside the man was what Jack believed to be Catherine, though it wasn't entirely the same woman he'd just met with. Her long dark hair had been drawn straighter than he'd witnessed it being, and this was a drawback in his opinion. Perhaps it was merely fantasy, but the natural curl of her dark hair seemed to make her face even more angelic in his fragile state. Her eyes were brighter and greener than the deep russet brown shades that he'd noticed. The little boy obviously saw another side to his mother which coloured his view of her in art. The character wore a pink summer dress, which wasn't how Jack imagined her to normally dress, as he watched her lifting him in an olive coloured vest and khaki combat pants. She didn't seem the type to go for frills and powder, she didn't need them. She was beguiling, intimidating and beautiful, in all the ways that mattered to Jack; making her into an irresistible conundrum and a peaceful rest all at once. By far the most intriguing thing to Jack's mind, as he drifted away from the rest of the world, was her smile.
Under the circumstances they found themselves in, it didn't seem out of the ordinary that Jack had never once seen his heroine smile. It didn't seem strange now that these people had different sides to themselves, beyond the views that their children held. He himself had never once seemed like a junkie to his daughter, but all through his literature degree, it would have been how his professors described him. There were sides that Jack hid from his daughter; this particular side of him had been hidden for a very long time, for instance.
Jack let his mind drift to the drawings Kim had done in school at the age he presumed Catherine's son to be. She would draw images much the same; smiling little girl with ribbons in her hair and floral print dresses. Two rather inanely grinning parents each holding her hand as though they were about to swing her up into the air. Fact was that Teri never enjoyed the frolicking and day trips with their daughter as much as Jack did and it showed in the distance at which Teri was drawn to the other two. Kim's distancing from her mother started long before her rebellious teenage years.
Once again Jack let his mind wander around the perimeter fence he'd built to keep his guilty memories at bay. He'd cheated, Teri had asked him to leave, and he knew it was his fault. He truly regretted his tryst with Nina, enough to be overwhelmingly repentant, to the point of agreeing with whatever Teri wanted. He had done his best to make amends for his adultery and it seemed to be working, at least between the two of them. Kim however, could never forgive her mother for throwing Jack out of their home and now she was dead, she would always harbour her own guilt for not seeing the importance of those little things, those special things; a smile for instance.
Jack looked around the room at some of the family photos that sat in silver frames along the dresser and mantelpiece. They didn't look much different to the drawings, only the details were more precise. Catherine did have a beguiling smile, but there was a coolness in her eyes that he recognised from other places than the art her son had created.
Her eyes held a distance that he knew very well. Her heart wasn't completely in it, her mind was wandering to other places, different times and spaces which would challenge and test her. As Jack finally lost consciousness his mind began to wonder.
"Was today the day she waited her whole life for? Was this cool fall morning, the pinnacle of her existence so far? More to the point was it the same for him?"
Beads of perspiration ran down Catherine's round cheeks. Her pulse was racing once more, and as the distance grew between her and the sound of Sean's mocking laughter, she became more fearful than courageous. If pushing the black van down onto Lloyd Crest Drive wasn't taxing enough on her nerves; the prospect of having to soon start the engine, and possibly draw Sean's attention made her sick with dread. Though start it she must, so sliding up into the driver's seat, she clicked on the engine with the spare keys she'd taken from the visor. The engine rumbled into action, thankfully quietly, and she pulled the door shut and drove down the road with only one fleeting glimpse at the still street behind her.
After driving for almost five minutes she parked the van under the trees at Foxtons Supermarket car park and got out. She had worn the latex gloves from the medical box, so as not to leave any prints. It seemed a little excessive, but she didn't know what measures Sean was able to take in hunting down his victim. She took the throw from the passenger seat and wiped it on the steering wheel for authenticity, then left it lying on the seat with the door open.
It was a good job; now if she could get home without being seen outside by Sean, she would have gotten away with it. Adrenaline was running through her body, swimming in her blood and igniting fires around her body to drive her on. She glanced around her as though she was seeing the world for the first time. Today was what her life had been waiting for. The feelings she had at that very moment, were ones she'd craved for years of stifled married life. Today was one that would change her life forever and she felt her mind drawn back to why.
He was there in her home, the reason behind all this strange and unexpected behaviour was lying half dead on her couch. She had to help him, she had to get home and finish what she'd started. He needed her, someone finally needed her.