The music is soft as the two ballerinas dance. Agent Mapp watches. The background is that of a mirror so it isn't just the two, her eyes follow. Each reflection twinkles in her eye. Though there is no twinkle in her eyes by it self, the sparks having long died. Even the embers of that long gone light can no longer be seen. Her soul dark …withdrawn peeps through. Its twilight. Clarice Starling will walk in any second .The thought provokes feelings she dare not face. But it's time isn't it… Ardelia? The music box carries on. But it is not enough. Agent Mapp needs a distraction .A rhythm. Clarice used to find it in the hum of the washing machine, that of the refrigerator, the cool enamel of the bathroom tiles… But she has looked there and beyond .She wonders why pain plagues this house. In a way it always has. But you can feel it here stronger than ever as one tries to break free from it's clutches desperately, insanely; but it clings to you, rings in the ribcage, sucks everything into that void …that vacuum that is denied fulfilment
Ardelia Mapp recalls the paramedic van to her mind's eye as it many -a -time appeared at the end of her day
"Please… yes, here Agent Mapp is it? Hmm…this will require stitches…the hospital then…"
At the hospital Mapp would get in rhythm with the sting of the needle and the pain that accompanied it. It gave her a sort of immunity .She preferred a doctor who did do it with precise regularity, the periodicity of the pain letting only part of her mind bothered and letting the rest figure the mind trap. She'd call it a defence mechanism against …well…ruining your reputation in front of the doctor. Going in… coming out… stitch 1… stitch 2. …Breathe…almost done…
She wondered why this time she has no mind trap to it. The pain, She means. She had once had a M.R.I. done. Somehow she had survived the noise- the way it made you feel that the sky was falling …how had she fought it? She doesn't quite remember. She needs that knowledge. It might help her deal with the present situation. Do I block it out till the walls have caved it or will it be I that am caved? Do I deal with it here and now? …A sense of false security that Clarice got each time…each time they stopped? Sweet relief? I wonder why I am so afraid to…end it. But will it? Fifteen years…could it really have been that long? Time has coagulated for me. Sitting here in her part of the duplex… Her couch…
Ardelia Mapp sits thinking…
Thinking and mourning…
Clarice…