Rating: PG13; there's some blood, unsettling themes and dark hints.
Feedback: If you would be so kind... Rossi@subreality.com
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Plink.
Anne watched the ripples spread outwards across the water, circles within circles. The sun was warm on her back, the air fragrant with blossom, the grass beneath her soft and springy, like the world's most luxurious carpet. She dabbled her feet in the water, smiling at how they looked like two pale fishes down there, darting about.
It was... Safe.
Plink.
More ripples chasing each other along the clear water. Anne took another pebble, warm from the sun and her hand and tossed it, aiming for the very middle of the small river, where the water ran deep and dark and secret.
Plink.
"It's very nice here, Anne," said the girl who suddenly appeared at Anne's elbow. Anne didn't even blink, which was strange, because normally the slightest thing would startle her. 'Nervous' was how Mother described her. She threw another smooth white pebble.
"Yes, it is. It's my Safe Place."
Plink.
"Took me some time to find you here." The other girl sat down beside Anne.
"I'm good at hiding."
Plink.
"So I see," the other girl remarked, tipping her face upwards towards the sun. Anne thought she looked like a white orchid, the long smooth whiteness of her neck rising from the shadows of her hair and clothes. There was a flash of silver at her throat.
"I've had plenty of practice," Anne explained. "Whenever Father was angry, I'd find somewhere to hide. Never the same place too often, never the obvious places, like under the bed. That's the secret."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Plink.
"And then when I got too big to hide, I found this place, in my head. My Safe Place. The best hiding place of all."
"May I?" the dark girl asked, looking at Anne's handful of stones. Anne nodded. Her fingers, on Anne's, were as smooth and as white as the quartz pebbles.
Together, they threw stones for a while, until the river was filled
with overlapping circles.
Plink-plink.
Plink.
Plink.
Plink-plink-plink.
Plink.
"Why do you hide, Anne?" the dark girl asked quietly.
Anne frowned, and the day dulled.
"Because people don't care. Because Father hurt me and Mother didn't save me. Because no-body loves me." Anne looked down at her feet again, only they didn't look like fishes any more. They looked like giant albino prunes. Wrinkled. Ugly.
Anne frowned again, and threw another stone, harder.
Plunk.
"You can't hide here forever, Anne," the quiet voice said sadly. "It's time to leave."
"I know."
"Then you'll come with me?"
"Yes." Anne smiled, a flash of sunlight on water. "You're nicer than the other one."
"Most people say that. But we both serve our purpose."
Anne held out her arms, and Death laid those smooth white hands on the stick-like wrists. Blood welled from the old scars re-opened, spilling down her arms. Anne stood, pulling her prune-like feet out of the water.
"You've forgotten your shoes."
"Leave them. I won't need them any more."
Anne cast the rest of her pebbles into the river in a wide arc of ruby and quartz. The Safe Place shattered like a thousand mirrors.
Plinkaplinkplinkplinkaplinkplinkplinkaplinkplinkplinkplink.
Plink.
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The glare of the flash bulb was unforgiving in the small bathroom. Detective Roberts shook his head at the figure lying sprawled in the tub.
"Damned waste."
The girl was young- sixteen? Seventeen? Her ID said Anne Morris was twenty-two, but the bird-thin frame and pointed eldritch face were as vulnerable as a small child's. He turned away from the hint of a smile on her lips.
"Who found her?" he asked the uniformed officer on the scene.
"Her shrink. Said she'd called, wanting to see him. Made an appointment but never showed. He was concerned- it's not usual behaviour for her to be late- and came around to see what was wrong." The officer, barely out of the Academy, by the looks of it, was green around the gills. "I just don't understand how they can slice themselves up like that, sir."
"You and me both, Jenkins. But if you're gonna puke, for Christ's sake, do it in the kitchen." Roberts turned back to the girl lying in a mixture of bath-water and blood. "A damned shame."
A bead of water welled from the tap, until it grew too heavy to hang. It fell.
Plink.
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"There's a hole in the river where a memory lies
From the land of the living to the air and sky
She was coming to see him, but something changed her mind,
Drove her down to the river:
There is no return."
"Hole in the River": Crowded House. (1986)
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The End.