Truth or Dare
part 6
Something was screaming at me--measure, piercing cries that demanded an answer. At first I thought it might be the lambs, but somehow it didn't sound quite like them. More like....a telephone. Whatever it was, it had to stop before I lost my mind. My arm reached over in the general direction of the sound, somewhere to my left, and I felt a few pieces of what seemed to be paper flutter to the floor as I fumbled around what I think was my nightstand. Why wouldn't the noise just stop? I felt some kind of fabric, managed to open what I eventually realized was my purse, felt the still-ringing phone and somehow managed to get it to my ear and press 'recieve.' Luckily, my caller spoke immediately so I had another few moments to try and get my bearings and reconnect my brain and mouth.
"Starling!! Thank God. Why the hell haven't you called? Are you all right? Starling?" Jack's voice sounded like something between a frantic parent and a furious drill instructor. I winced, tried to remember exactly why I was supposed to call him, and why I hadn't. Slowly, the previous day returned somewhat to me. What time was it, anyways? I felt...dead tired.
"...Sir. Hi. Uh....what time is it?" I sit up a bit, pulling the blanket tighter about me. It's just a little cold in the room, and a quick glance at the window tells me it's night still, and that it has once again been opened. I'm still too tired to think about what that means, though. I try to focus enough so Jack doesn't send out a search party for me.
"It's 4:37, Starling! You were supposed to call me the second you got back. I've been trying to get a hold of you since 2." His voice softened a bit, and now I just hear pure worry. "Clarice, are you okay? You sound horrible."
"..Ya, I'm fine sir. Just completely exhausted. Sorry I didn't call you. Look, I'm still half asleep. Can I call you in like an hour so I can be concious when I'm debriefed?" Anything to make him go away and I can go back to sleep.
"Alright Starling, why don't you take 2 hours and get a bit more sleep. It is awefully early. Or late, whatever. But if you don't call me...." He left the threat hanging. I knew it was just his way of showing how worried he'd been. If I was more awake, I'd feel guilty for making him worry, but right now I was just too tired.
"Thanks sir. Later." I hung up and slumped back onto my pillows. My eyes wouldn't close, though. The previous evening was slowly coming back, and I realized I'd have to reflect on it now; I couldn't just react, like I did last night. I remember how the icy blade at my side contrasted with the warm weight of his arm around my waist, heightening both sensations. I remember the cool scent of his cologne. The tingle of warmth from shoulder to toe of feeling his body pressed close to mine without touching. How unbearably dangerous it felt. Those moments, with the knife blade at my throat still sent chills through my body. Dealing with the Doctor had always sent electricity throughout my system, a peculiar mixture of terror, challenge, and something else, something darker and more dangerous. It was like when, at age twelve, I'd found a book of matches and, out of curiousity, lit a candle in the attic at the Orphanage. We weren't allowed to be up there, let alone near a candle, but I wanted to stare into the flame. I did, amazed at how hypnotic it was. The colors fascinated me, but then I heard one of the other kids and I was afraid she'd see it and accidentally set the whole place on fire. I put my hand around the flame and blew on it, and as the flame winked out some hot wax flew up into my palm, burning it. So beautiful, so hypnotic, so dangerous. Just like Hannibal Lecter.
I shook my head to clear it of the adrenaline which had already begun to surge, just from the remembrances, and jumped out of bed. Suddenly I needed to take a shower. My face felt grimy, and I remembered how I'd been too lazy to wash it last night. I walked to the bathroom and turned on the water. As I was waiting for it to warm up, my eyes fell on the bottle of perfume he'd placed there the night I arrived. I felt rage boil up in me. I didn't want ANYONE to try and redefine who I was. I had no idea what he meant by the gift, but I wanted no part in it. I flung it into the sink and felt a sense of victory when it smashed, spilling amber liquid down the drain. I turned my back and stepped into the shower, enjoying the feel of warm water on my body. I did my best to ignore the delightful smell from the perfume, something beautifully exotic that brought to mind Asian rainforests: I thought I could smell sandalwood, maybe jasmine. It was both floral and dangerous at once. I tried to force all thoughts of a certain mass murderer and his gifts out of my mind, but the scent kept reminding me of blood-red eyes. Finally, I finished and fled the bathroom, shutting the door behind me as if to keep the scent locked in there. I flipped on the light, and finally realized that he must have been in my room AGAIN.
My dress from last night, which I had left in a tangled heap on the floor, I could see now hanging in the open closet. The handbag which I had last seen in the bushes was now laying on the floor next to the nightstand where I had pushed it when I got the phone. The bouquet from yesterday was gone, replaced by a single coral-colored rose. He'd left a program from the ballet at next to it. I felt my anger and terror evaporate, leaving only a sense of helplessness. He had me entirely at his mercy. He completely controlled this game. I sunk into the armchair, still clad in only the oversized towel, and let the tears drip slowly down my face like a child.
Fin
part 6
part 6
Something was screaming at me--measure, piercing cries that demanded an answer. At first I thought it might be the lambs, but somehow it didn't sound quite like them. More like....a telephone. Whatever it was, it had to stop before I lost my mind. My arm reached over in the general direction of the sound, somewhere to my left, and I felt a few pieces of what seemed to be paper flutter to the floor as I fumbled around what I think was my nightstand. Why wouldn't the noise just stop? I felt some kind of fabric, managed to open what I eventually realized was my purse, felt the still-ringing phone and somehow managed to get it to my ear and press 'recieve.' Luckily, my caller spoke immediately so I had another few moments to try and get my bearings and reconnect my brain and mouth.
"Starling!! Thank God. Why the hell haven't you called? Are you all right? Starling?" Jack's voice sounded like something between a frantic parent and a furious drill instructor. I winced, tried to remember exactly why I was supposed to call him, and why I hadn't. Slowly, the previous day returned somewhat to me. What time was it, anyways? I felt...dead tired.
"...Sir. Hi. Uh....what time is it?" I sit up a bit, pulling the blanket tighter about me. It's just a little cold in the room, and a quick glance at the window tells me it's night still, and that it has once again been opened. I'm still too tired to think about what that means, though. I try to focus enough so Jack doesn't send out a search party for me.
"It's 4:37, Starling! You were supposed to call me the second you got back. I've been trying to get a hold of you since 2." His voice softened a bit, and now I just hear pure worry. "Clarice, are you okay? You sound horrible."
"..Ya, I'm fine sir. Just completely exhausted. Sorry I didn't call you. Look, I'm still half asleep. Can I call you in like an hour so I can be concious when I'm debriefed?" Anything to make him go away and I can go back to sleep.
"Alright Starling, why don't you take 2 hours and get a bit more sleep. It is awefully early. Or late, whatever. But if you don't call me...." He left the threat hanging. I knew it was just his way of showing how worried he'd been. If I was more awake, I'd feel guilty for making him worry, but right now I was just too tired.
"Thanks sir. Later." I hung up and slumped back onto my pillows. My eyes wouldn't close, though. The previous evening was slowly coming back, and I realized I'd have to reflect on it now; I couldn't just react, like I did last night. I remember how the icy blade at my side contrasted with the warm weight of his arm around my waist, heightening both sensations. I remember the cool scent of his cologne. The tingle of warmth from shoulder to toe of feeling his body pressed close to mine without touching. How unbearably dangerous it felt. Those moments, with the knife blade at my throat still sent chills through my body. Dealing with the Doctor had always sent electricity throughout my system, a peculiar mixture of terror, challenge, and something else, something darker and more dangerous. It was like when, at age twelve, I'd found a book of matches and, out of curiousity, lit a candle in the attic at the Orphanage. We weren't allowed to be up there, let alone near a candle, but I wanted to stare into the flame. I did, amazed at how hypnotic it was. The colors fascinated me, but then I heard one of the other kids and I was afraid she'd see it and accidentally set the whole place on fire. I put my hand around the flame and blew on it, and as the flame winked out some hot wax flew up into my palm, burning it. So beautiful, so hypnotic, so dangerous. Just like Hannibal Lecter.
I shook my head to clear it of the adrenaline which had already begun to surge, just from the remembrances, and jumped out of bed. Suddenly I needed to take a shower. My face felt grimy, and I remembered how I'd been too lazy to wash it last night. I walked to the bathroom and turned on the water. As I was waiting for it to warm up, my eyes fell on the bottle of perfume he'd placed there the night I arrived. I felt rage boil up in me. I didn't want ANYONE to try and redefine who I was. I had no idea what he meant by the gift, but I wanted no part in it. I flung it into the sink and felt a sense of victory when it smashed, spilling amber liquid down the drain. I turned my back and stepped into the shower, enjoying the feel of warm water on my body. I did my best to ignore the delightful smell from the perfume, something beautifully exotic that brought to mind Asian rainforests: I thought I could smell sandalwood, maybe jasmine. It was both floral and dangerous at once. I tried to force all thoughts of a certain mass murderer and his gifts out of my mind, but the scent kept reminding me of blood-red eyes. Finally, I finished and fled the bathroom, shutting the door behind me as if to keep the scent locked in there. I flipped on the light, and finally realized that he must have been in my room AGAIN.
My dress from last night, which I had left in a tangled heap on the floor, I could see now hanging in the open closet. The handbag which I had last seen in the bushes was now laying on the floor next to the nightstand where I had pushed it when I got the phone. The bouquet from yesterday was gone, replaced by a single coral-colored rose. He'd left a program from the ballet at next to it. I felt my anger and terror evaporate, leaving only a sense of helplessness. He had me entirely at his mercy. He completely controlled this game. I sunk into the armchair, still clad in only the oversized towel, and let the tears drip slowly down my face like a child.
Fin
part 6