Carla's Side - Delusions of Love

Sunday morning. Carla waited on the subway platform, arms wrapped tightly around body. Her watch read "8:30". Everyone around her was talking at once, either into their phones or at each other. No one seemed to be listening. An endless babble where separate words weren't even recognisable.

She was alone in a sea of people.

-

Ben had come home to find her still on the bed, shaking and mumbling. Strangely, he hadn't asked what was wrong. He hadn't even tried to comfort her. He just stood in the doorway, studying her with a look of concern on his face.

Eventually, he went and cooked dinner. The smell wafted to her up the hallway, and she realised how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten much of anything all day. Slowly, she managed to drag herself off the bed and out into the dining room.

Ben had been waiting, her plate sitting ready beside his. He hadn't started eating yet. Carla sat down and they ate in silence, only interacting to the degree of passing the salt. They washed the dishes. They went to bed (without making love). And Ben held her tightly throughout the whole night.

It wasn't until morning that he said his first words since before going out to buy groceries. He woke up at the same time as her to the vibrations of the watch alarm, and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked.

Carla furrowed her brow in concentration. Strangely, she felt alright inside. The guilt beast seemed to be resting, her fear of Gorilla man had faded. In truth, the only thing she felt was... numbness.

"I think... I'm ok," she replied.

"Are you sure?" Ben asked, sounding concerned, but cautious.

"Yes," she said. "I don't really feel anything at the moment."

Ben was quiet for a long time, but he didn't release his hold around her body.

"I've never seen you like that before," he whispered. "I thought you were upset when you came home in the morning, but last night..." his grip tightened more, "You were different. I was really scared."

"Scared?" she asked, rolling over to look at his face. "Scared of what?"

"That's the thing; I'm not sure," he admitted. "You looked terrified and terrifying at the same time. Shaking so badly, and mumbling those things. I was to afraid to even talk to you in case something I said pushed you over the edge."

Carla studied his face. He truly did look scared, even now. Had she really been that bad? Had she, for a short time, slipped into such a dangerous, unstable state of mind that even Ben felt it unsafe to try and help her?

"You might have done the right thing," she said, putting a hand on the side of his face. "I don't know what happened, but I think I have it under control now."

She smiled and reached up to kiss him. But he averted his face at the last second.

"I... don't know," he said, looking at the wall. "I'm really worried about you. It's not just yesterday either; you've been acting strangely for almost a month now. Maybe you should..."

He paused, pursing his lips together tightly.

"What?" Carla asked, sitting up. "What should I do?"

Ben half rolled out of the bed; sitting on the edge of it, with his legs dangling off the sides.

"No, it's nothing. I shouldn't even be suggesting something like that to the girl I'm in love with."

"What??" Carla grabbed his shoulders. "Please tell me. I won't get upset; really, I'm feeling much better."

He reached back and put one of his hands on hers.

"Maybe... we should think about seeing a professional?" he said sadly. "A relationship councillor or something."

"What? Why??" Carla cried, shocked. "There's nothing wrong with our relationship; we've never even had a fight!"

"I know. But I think it'd just help to ease my worry. I'd hate it to be something I'm doing that's making you this way. I couldn't bear to think that I'm... hurting you."

"You're not, you're not!" Carla wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she could without cutting off his air. "You're perfect. I couldn't ask for anyone better.

Even as she was saying it, the guilt beast began to stir within her. It rolled over slowly in her stomach, dragging its claws as it went. Liar, the pain said. Just tell him. Save him the torment. Save yourself the torment. In her minds eye, she was suddenly back in the lounge room. And the TV had clicked on.

"Carla, you're choking me," Ben said.

"Oh! Sorry." She released him and fell back on the bed. She sat, looking at her hands in her lap. "If you really think it's a good idea that we see a professional... then I think it's a good idea too. I'll do it, if that would make you feel better."

Ben finally turned around, smiling slightly.

"Yes, it would. I don't have to work today, so I'll go into the city and ask around. See who would suit us the best." He tipped her chin up so she was forced to look at his eyes. "What are you going to do? Do you feel well enough for work?"

"Yes," she said. "I have to. Icthyman will fillet me if I don't turn up, and besides; it's double time on Sundays. You know we need the money."

"Mmmmm," he said. She hoped he wasn't thinking about the money he'd seen in the purse. "Alright. But take it easy. If that trout gives you any hassles, or you feel like you're going to... get upset again, come straight home."

"Alright," she smiled at him. "I'll do that. I promise."

-

Carla looked at her watch again. "8:34" it said. The train was running late.

"Dammit," she hissed. If she was late, she'd be sacked for sure. And while that wasn't too much of a concern at the moment, having to deal with that shrivelled, bitter old mackerel, Icthyman, was something she could do without.

Besides that, Carla just hated the subway. Being underground, underneath so much cement, waiting for a tin box to roll up so they could all cram in like sardines. She would have taken a bus or a taxi, but the traffic was always terrible at this time of morning. Everyone wanted to get to the beach early before it got crowded, or before the waves became filled with swell hogging surfboarders. For today, the subway would have to do.

'Come on, come on,' she silently willed the train. Where the hell was it?

Close by, a business man was keeping himself entertained with a hand held radio. Carla had been listening to it the past few minutes, even though it was tuned to some kind of old fogies' station. A song that sounded like it might have been popular in the nineteen fifties had just ended.

"It's 8:35 on this fine, fine morning," the DJ said in his smooth, cool tone. "You're listening to the Breakfast Blues with me, Rokin' Rickie. We'll be back with more music after a word from our sponsors."

Carla shifted from one foot to the other. Damn train. Maybe she should have taken a bus after all.

"Cars burn gas at a rapid rate," the radio was saying. Carla froze. It was another Captain Nature announcement; his powerful voice blaring from the small handheld device. "Fill your vehicle up with unleaded petrol. Help keep our air clean. And remember to rreeeecycle!" -Tant-dadda-dum-

For a moment, Carla held her breath and waited, listening to the silence after the ad.

Nothing. Captain Nature hadn't talked to her. Hadn't taunted her or tried to reveal any nasty inner truths. She sighed with relief, feeling her face go red with embarrassment. Paranoia. Just paranoia. For all she knew, the incident last night never really happened; just a stress induced illusion. It was all in her head.

"And Carla: be careful. Somebody's watching you nearby," the radio added.

Carla blinked, then put a hand on her forehead. No, not again. Not now, when so many people were around. She couldn't have another freak out. Not now!

The hairs on her neck began to go up, and an uneasy feeling soon followed. It was like she had just walked through a static field; all her senses prickled, becoming eerily alert. Goose bumps began to work their way up her arms.

'What is this?' she thought, looking around and feeling a chill go down her spine.

The radio was right. Someone was watching her. She could sense it. Somewhere, among this crowd of early morning business workers, church goers and beach enthusiasts, someone was staring at her with an intensity she could feel.

'Oh god,' she thought, looking around but trying to make it look casual. 'Where? I can't see anyone?'

"Hey babe," a grating voice said. Carla spun around, clutching her purse tightly.

"Don't!" she cried.

The man that had come up behind her was standing with his hand outstretched. He must have been about to grab her shoulder.

"Hey, relax," he said. "I was just going to ask you something."

Carla stared at him, still holding her bag close. He was about her height, but he looked like a punk. Green, spiked hair. A nose ring. The big leather jacket and neck chain just completed the look. He smiled, and she grimaced when she saw his teeth. They'd been filed into sharps points, like some kind of... vampire.

"Wh-what do you want?" she asked.

The man kept smiling and started to move forward, forcing her to move backwards. He sniffed loudly; a thin trickle of blood beginning to leak out of his nose.

"Need some change," he said. "Got any spare?"

"No... no, I don't," she replied, shaking her head. She tried to push her way back further into the crowd, away from the spiky haired punk.

The man gave a small chuckle, then coughed loudly and spat onto the concrete. He'd attracted the attention of other commuters now; they looked at him with a mixture of fear and disgust. Some were whispering quietly to each other. No one offered to help the blonde girl he was cornering.

"Come on, babe. I know you got something. Everyone always got shrapnel jingling around. Spare a buck."

"I don't have anything!" she cried. "Why are you asking me?"

She kept moving back, and he kept following. In the distance, the loud honk of the train's horn echoed down the tunnel towards them. It would be at the platform soon.

"Why? Well, let's see..."

He barged a women out of the way with his shoulder, knocking her into some other bystanders.

"You're pretty," he said. "Probably sweet and kind. Look like the kind of girl who might actually care, you know? I just thought that out of all these fucking tight arses..."

He yelled the words and gestured widely with his arms. The people around him flinched and began to move away, mumbling and looking over their shoulders.

"Out of all these... anal retentive self-servers, I thought that you," he pointed a finger at her, grinning widely, "might actually help a guy out."

Carla stared at him, not knowing what to do or how to react. Why was he so persistent? Had Gorilla man given him cash to find and harass her? It seemed unlikely. Why wouldn't he just go away?

-ORN-OOOORRRRRRRRNNKKK-

The train was getting closer. She could hear the grinding of the wheels on the track now. Another minute and she could get on and escape.

"I don't have any money," she yelled, hoping the extra attention would deter him. "Please, leave me alone!"

The punk tilted his head, grinning, and slowly licked his teeth. Carla saw that his tongue had been forked, like a snake.

"Come on, baby. Give us the goods."

"Get away from me!" Carla screamed. She turned and began to push her way into the crowd on the edge of the platform. People had heard the train and were beginning to bunch up near the front, hoping to be the first inside so they could get a good seat. Carla had to barge with all her strength to get through.

"Where you going, baby?" the punk yelled. "Don't be like these assholes!"

"Get out of the way!" Carla cried, still trying to get through. As she pushed past, someone's elbow jutted out and caught her in the temple. Her vision flashed red and she had to close her eyes from the pain.

"Watch it, bitch," a voice said.

Anger consumed her. Didn't anyone care? Couldn't they see she was in trouble? In a crowd of over a hundred people, not one person tried to stop the punk or come to her rescue. All they cared about were their own appointments; no one was willing to get involved in conflict if it meant being late or dirtying their goddam Armani suits.

"Fuck you!" she cried, shoving back blindly.

She pushed forward, her head still throbbing from the elbow blow. Behind her, someone screamed and the crowd let out a shared gasp. All of a sudden, the gridlock of people broke and Carla was able to move.

'Thank god!' she thought, and ran towards across the platform towards the stairs. She had to get out of there.

The crowd was alive with movement and people shouting.

"Let me go! I gotta get down there!" a man yelled.

"It's too late," a teenage girl cried. "The train's coming!"

Carla ran up the stairs, wishing only for freedom and fresh air. Below, there was a screeching of brakes from the train, followed by a single long horn blow. It drowned out most of the screams.

-

Sunlight! Carla finally burst out of the subway and onto the street. She'd made it. But was the punk still following her? She turned to look down the stairs leading to the train platform. Nothing. No one had chased her.

Slightly relieved, she looked up the street and she saw a taxi coming her way. To hell with the traffic; there was no way she was going back into the subway. She quickly ran onto the road and held her hands up.

"Stop! Please!" she cried.

The cab hit its brakes hard and came to rest a metre away from her; a thin trail of blue smoke coming up from the back wheels. Inside, the driver pounded the horn angrily a few times, then leaned out the window. His skin was tanned, and he sported a thick moustache. Carla guessed he was of Italian origin.

"Jesus Christ, lady," he yelled, shaking his fist at her. "Haven't you ever heard of whistling? You coulda been freakin' roadkill!"

She ran around to the passenger's side door and tried the handle. It was locked.

"Please, I need to get out of here now."

"There ain't no way you riding up front. Get in the back, like everyone else."

Carla obeyed, opening the back door and climbing inside. She was instantly hit by a smell that was both familiar and disgusting, and had to hold her nose to stop from gagging. The driver saw her reaction in the rear view mirror and looked back apologetically.

"Ah, yeah, sorry 'bout that. Saturday nights are always big, see. Usually a chunderer or two. I was on the way to cleaners right now."

"That's ok," Carla choked. "I need to get to 'Icthy Fishy' on 23rd Bane Street."

"Well, if you think you can handle the smell, that's fine by me." He put the cab into gear and started to move on down the road. "So what's got you in such a razz?"

Carla took her hand off her nose, finding she was able to cope by breathing through her mouth.

"Someone was chasing me in the subway," she said. "A real creepy punk guy."

"Aahh. You poor thing. Gotta be careful, you know? There's a lot of crazy people in this world."

"Yeah..." Carla agreed, thinking back to the hand held radio and Captain Nature's mysterious warning. "You might be right."

-

She made it with a good five minutes to spare. The driver was kind enough to pull up right in front of her shop.

"Here you are, lady," he said, leaning back and smiling. "Thirteen fifty, that'll be."

Carla rummaged through her purse, but was unable to find anything bar Gorilla man's hundred dollar notes. Slightly sheepish, she passed it through the metal mesh that divided the cab.

"Um... that's all I have. Sorry," she said meekly.

The driver looked at the note for awhile, then waved it away.

"I don't got the change for that. This one's on me; you had to bear the smell, so I'll call us even. Just be careful 'round those subways, eh?"

"I'll try. Thanks so much!"

Carla hopped out of the cab onto the sidewalk, and watched as the driver put it into gear and sped away. Well, she'd made it in time, but would that make a difference to the boss? Somewhat nervous, she opened the door of the store and peeked inside.

Mrs. Icthyman was scowling at her from behind the counter.

"Oh, so you did decide to turn up, did you? I guess I won't have to scrub your name off the roster after all."

"I'm so sorry about yesterday," Carla said, her cheeks flushing hot. "I promise it won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't. Get out back and put on your apron. And if you even screw up once, I'll know about it." Mrs. Icthyman turned away from her slightly flushed employee and went about stacking fresh fish into the display cabinet. Carla took the hint, and hurried out the back.

It wasn't as bad as she thought it might've been. She guessed that Icthyman had cooled down a lot over the night. Carla wondered why the old woman was still even running a business; she must have been at least sixty five and well past retiring age. She was well past the 'good employee relations' part of her life anyway.

Marie and Lisa were already in the back room, fully dressed in uniform and aprons. The chopping boards were well dusted with bread crumbs, and fresh pieces of assorted seafood lay reading for rolling. Carla noticed that a station had been prepared for her.

"Carla!" squealed Marie when she saw her blonde co-worker enter. "Oh my god, are you alright?"

Carla happily accepted the affection her friends offered, feeling almost overwhelmed by the hugging.

"I'm fine," she said. "I just had a... rough day yesterday."

"I heard Icthyman on the phone to you," Lisa said. "I was shaking after it, and it wasn't even me she was talking to!"

"We weren't sure if you'd be back today. I know I would have had second thoughts if I got abused like that," Marie nodded. "Were you really hung over? I didn't think we drank that much."

"Yeah. I can't even remember seeing you after eleven. Where'd you go?"

The girls looked at her expectantly, their features concerned under the streaks of flour.

"I felt a little sick," Carla muttered. "I don't want to talk about it right now. Icthyman is going to be watching me like a hawk today."

"I suppose you're right," Marie sighed. "We got your spot ready so you could start right away."

"Thank you."

The girls returned to their benches and began to work. Carla went over and put on her apron. She didn't like lying to her friends, but these weren't the sort of problems she wanted to trust with people that had cocktail gossip hours on a regular basis. And if Icthyman got even the slightest whiff of what she'd really been up too, the old trout would ring Ben in an instant, just to spite her.

"Customer. Someone at the counter, now."

'Speak of the devil,' Carla thought. Icthyman would rather stand there and stare at a customer then serve them; probably part of the reason why she was so angry yesterday. Heaven forbid she do any real work around here.

Carla sighed and quickly washed her hands in the sink. Today was going to be a long day.

-

It went faster then she expected, but only because Icthyman kept her busy with every foul chore that was available. When the counter turned quiet, Carla was directed to the bathroom, where she was told to 'scrub them till the tiles gleamed'.

She felt like leaving a nice layer of soap on the floor, in hope that the old women might have herself a little 'accident', but that would be too dangerous for the other girls. So Carla diligently completed all the tasks she was given, and was more then relieved when five o'clock finally ticked over.

"Finish up, ladies," Mrs. Icthyman barked. "I'm not paying you over time. Clean up your messes and get out of here."

Carla hung up her apron and gathered her things, eager to get home to Ben. She wasn't sure why, but she felt that she should be near him in the coming days; something about the look in his eyes, the idea that he'd lost faith in their relationship and possibly, her sanity. She just wanted to hold him, sit with him, kiss him until she was sure he believed her words.

Marie and Lisa were waiting outside, looking just as thankful that the day was over as she was.

"Are you coming for a wind-down drink?" Marie asked.

Carla shook her head.

"I have to get home. Ben's been upset lately, and I want to be with him."

"Awwww," Marie moaned. "Ben again? You're always dumping us for him. When are going to meet this guy anyway? You've been working here for nearly five months now and you still haven't introduced us yet."

"I'm sorry. It's just that he's really busy with his apprenticeship. He's not too good in social situations either... I can't get him into a club at the best of times." Carla pulled a piece of hair sheepishly. "Maybe next time. Thanks anyway."

"Suit yourself," Lisa pouted. "We'll fill you in tomorrow if you miss anything," she added with a wink.

The girls parted, waving goodbye, and Carla waited on the sidewalk for a cab. Though the subway would be far faster, and the punk long gone, she still couldn't bring herself to take the train. Not tonight. She couldn't deal with any more added stress; who knows when that delicate mental tether she seemed to be walking would snap again.

A car came into view, and Carla squinted to see if it was a cab. It had the telltale light on the roof, and a familiar body shape to it, but as it drew closer she saw its paint job was nothing like any taxi she'd seen before. It was jungle green colour, with yellow tiger stripes on it. Either someone had pulled a prank on this poor driver, or he'd spent a ridiculous amount of money to 'pimp it out' for today's modern culture.

Shrugging, Carla raised her hand and took a step towards the road. She was almost embarrassed to think she'd be riding in something like that, but at the moment getting home was a higher priority.

"Taxi!" she called, just to further her chances of him stopping. The cab began to slow down and put its blinker on, indicating that he had indeed seen her. When it had finally pulled up beside her, she bent down to look in the driver's window. And froze.

The grinning face of Captain Nature greeted her.

"Good evening, Ma'am? Do you require assistance?" he said in his powerful Super Hero voice.

Carla could only stare at the cartoon-made-flesh. His mighty chin. His rippling chest beneath that skin tight latex body suit. The cape, draped elegantly over the back of the drivers seat. She wanted to step back from the cab, but her brain refused to let her move.

"Ma'am?" he asked again. "Are you experiencing verbal incapacity?"

'Not again,' Carla thought. Why here? Why now? First the TV, then the radio. Now he was in real life? Why was he hounding her?

"Excuse, madam, but can I be offering you a service or not?" Capture Nature said, but this time his voice was different. It had taken on an accent, much like...

Carla blinked, and found she was staring at a small, very dark skinned man. An Indian gentleman, it seemed, who was staring back at her and smiling with his perfectly white teeth. He was obviously confused at her lack of reaction. Captain Nature had vanished altogether.

"Oh, I'm... sorry. I must have blanked out there," she said, rubbing her head.

"It is not being a problem, madam, but I must keep moving." His accent fitted almost every Indian stereotype she'd ever heard. It was possible he might have been putting it on for effect. "Are you needing a ride or are you just the day dreaming?"

"I need a ride," she nodded, opening the back door. She told him her address, and he nodded, waving his hand around flamboyantly.

"That will not be of problem, madam," he said cheerily, and hit the accelerator so hard she was thrown back against the black and white leather seats.

Needless to say, she didn't make it all the way home. Not only was the cabby far too interested in telling her about the new accessories he'd recently had installed, he'd frightened three pedestrians and nearly wiped out a cyclist in the ten minutes Carla was in the cab.

When she finally saw the familiar box houses looming along the left side of the vehicle, she tapped on the clear Perspex window between them.

"I'll get out here," she called.

"But we are still being many minutes from your street!" he called back.

"That's okay; I feel like walking the rest of the way."

"Aaaaight," he grinned into the revision mirror, and hit the brake. The cab stopped almost instantly, and Carla was thrown against the Perspex.

"That will be costing you twenty five dollars, madam," he said.

"What?" cried Carla. It was almost twice the price of what the Italian cabby had charged. "Why so expensive?"

"Luxury tax," he answered. "I'm sure it is not being every day you get to ride in a beautiful car like this."

"Fine," Carla grumbled, and shoved him a note. He opened a box full of money, and promptly handed her the required change.

"Thank you," he smiled. "Come again."

Carla got out of the cab, and the driver sped off, almost side swiping a parked car on the way. She grimaced; so he really was putting the accent on. There's no way a true man of that culture would enjoy acting up to a stereotype that much. She should have offered him a piece of her mind.

But in reality, her mind had been elsewhere. Captain Nature had appeared once again. Why did she keep seeing him? Hearing him? How could a figment of one's imagination feel so... real?

Above her, the sky was beginning to darken. Black clouds were starting to drift in off the ocean; a murky green colour churning in their depths. Carla shivered. It was going to be a big storm, and it was coming in soon.

Looking around her, she suddenly realised she was standing next to the bench from yesterday. Across the road, the book store, grocer, and electronics shop had already closed; the sign's on their doors clearly stating the fact. The television in the electronics shop window, however, was still on.

Suddenly, Carla got the overwhelming desire to see what had become of her discarded trinkets. The chances of them still being there was slim; there were a lot of homeless around this area, and all would be quick to find and sell anything valuable they came across. Still, she just wanted to look...

Carefully crossing the road (she didn't trust that any green and yellow striped cabs wouldn't come hurtling back down the street), Carla hurried past the convenience store, glancing inside as she did. It was dark. Empty.
The speakers above the door of the electronics store were working; she could hear soft Japanese words drifting from them. Sometimes they forgot to change the audio to English, and would just put subtitles on the screen instead. A quick glance revealed that the TV was playing the same cartoon as yesterday.

The dark mouth of the alleyway yawned at her. Carla stared down it, but no longer felt any urge to enter. It felt different now; sinister, like it was emanating a sense of malice. Even from the street, she could see that the bins had been knocked over and the contents scattered everywhere. There was no sign of her shopping bags. But there was something else.

Blood. A thin line, sprayed across the walls. Someone had found her possessions had fought over them it seemed. She saw no need to go any further.

Backing out onto the street, the sudden sound of static from the speakers startled her. The TV was playing a strange, cross-fading scene, where a man sat at a desk in a green lit room. Carla walked over and pressed her face against the glass.

It was creepy. The character was surrounded by electronic gear; microphones and communications equipment. As he spoke, his words were distorted, as if she was hearing them through an ancient radio. A chill ran down her spine; it sounded almost exactly like the voice of Gorilla man last night.

"Yatuka hitori deatte, hitori jyarai," the speakers said. It was far softer then yesterday, though the words had no less of an eerie effect. Carla couldn't understand Japanese, but she could read the subtitles quite clearly.

"He's one person, yet he's not," they read. "He can appear in front of any person who's lost their way... anytime, anywhere."

Carla's eyes widened. What was this foreign cartoon about? Was it just a strange coincidence that they related so closely too her own enigmatic hallucinations? She pressed her face harder against the glass, wanting to learn more.

But before she could, the TV gave a violent flicker, and suddenly Captain Nature was on the screen. He stood proudly atop his pile of rubbish, grinning. Carla didn't flinch; in fact, she was getting used to this now.

"Karla-san ie ni isoide. Umaku itte nai yo," the speakers said. It was Captain Nature's powerful Super Hero voice, but for some reason he was speaking Japanese. She looked at the bottom of the screen, waiting for the subtitles to appear.

"Hurry home, Carla," she read. "All is not well."

Then the screen switched off.

Carla pulled away from the window. Home? Why? What could be happening at...

"Oh god," she breathed. "Ben!"

She clutched her purse and began to run down the street as a strong gust of wind picked up around her. A loud growl of thunder sounded from somewhere over her head. Was Ben in trouble? Had Gorilla man's 'they' found her house and punished him because she wasn't there? A thousand possibilities ran through her head. All of them were bad.

"Please, Ben," she panted, "please: be okay."

-----

The first thing she saw was the bat. Placed with meticulous care against the frame of the living room doorway, she could only stand at the entrance and stare at it. The worn bandage wrapped around the handle. The disfiguring bend that gave it a dogs-leg appearance. And the bloodied chunks of flesh still sticking precariously to the end of it.

Carla put a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the urge to gag. Inside, even the guilt monster seemed to be poised in horror; fearing what could have happened.

"B-ben?" she croaked, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.

No answer came. She began to move towards the living room doorway, unable to take her eyes off that bloodied bat. Its ominous bend mesmerized her.

"Ben?" she called again. "Ben... please..."

She stood in the door frame, not wanting to look into the room. Not wanting to take her eyes off the bat. Not wanting to confirm what she already knew. But human beings cannot resist such temptations. They always look. She had to look.

And when she did...

Ben was on the floor, his top half resting against the sofa so it appeared that he was sitting up. A pool of dark red flowed around him. His left leg was twisted at an odd angle; a splinter of bone piercing his jeans. His right arm was similarly disjointed.

"Oh god... oh god, Ben," Carla whimpered behind her hand. She took a step into the room. Inside, she somehow held a sliver of hope that he could somehow be alive.

But that was unlikely. His face was turned towards her, and she could see the damage that had been done. The whole side of his skull had been caved in, exposing a mess of blood clots and pulpy brain matter. All of his front teeth had been smashed out; probably now resting in the back of his throat, or somewhere on the floor.

He was well and truly dead.

Carla couldn't move anymore. She couldn't deal with it. Something inside her head was about to snap: she could feel it tightening, straining like an overworked elastic band. She had to scream.

It was building up inside, strong, almost painful. But if she let it out, there'd be no return. Her sanity would break, and she'd be lost forever. Drifting in an endless sea of her own nightmares.

On the other side of the room, the blood spattered TV flickered into life. Carla already knew who was on the screen.

"Captain Nature says: when beating a person to death with a blunt object, always remember to vary your striking zones," the grinning, green-clad Super Hero said. "That way it'll look like the work of a common thug rather then a calculated killer."

Carla stared at the cartoon with a rage unlike any she'd ever felt. Captain Nature just continued to strike his mainly pose atop that rubbish pile, his proud figure began to blur through her tears.

"You!" she screamed. "You did this. You killed Ben. How? Why?"

"No, you killed him," his mighty voice replied. "You killed him with your lies and your betrayal. This would have never happened if you'd just remained faithful."

Captain Nature leaned towards the screen, his manly chin almost taking up the entire view.

"How does it feel?" he said. "How does it feel to know you're a murderer?"

Something in Carla's head snapped.

"NO! I didn't mean to. I didn't want this to happen! I'm sorry, Ben, I'm so sorry. I'm -"

-----

Carla's blinked. She was still standing in the hallway outside her flat. Her hand was millimetres away from the door handle.

"J-jesus Christ," she said, feeling a trickle of sweat creep down her forehead and into her eyes. "What the hell was that?"

Her hand was shaking uncontrollably. Her whole body was awash in hot and cold chills. It had been so real. She could still see everything in her head; as vivid and clear as if it had really happened.

The twisted, bloody baseball bat. Ben's shattered limbs and collapsed face. Captain Nature, leering at her. She'd actually felt her mind break at that final, overwhelming moment. Though... everything seemed intact now.

'Please, don't let it be true,' she prayed, reaching for the door knob. She had to use both hands in the end, just to keep herself steady.

Opening it just a crack, Carla nervously peered into her apartment. If the bat was there, she was ready to run. She didn't want to experience that twice in one night; she'd just go to the police and probably fall apart in her grief.

But the bat wasn't there. Her apartment hallway was bare.

"Thank god," she whispered. Carla opened the door fully and entered, closing it with a slam behind her.

"Ben?" she called. "Ben, are you home?"

There was no answer. Perhaps he was still out looking for a councillor. Or maybe he'd fallen asleep. She walked to the living room door frame and looked inside.

Ben was sitting on the couch, in almost the exact same position he'd been in yesterday. The TV was off, however, and he was staring intently at his hands.

"Oh my god, Ben!!" she cried, feeling her whole body fill with relief. She rushed over and fell at his feet, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Thank goodness you're alright. I had this terrible feeling that something had happened to you."

He was still looking down, so she went under to give him a kiss. He turned his face away.

"Ben?" she said, confused. "What's the matter? Are you ok?"

He shook his head, still not looking at her.

"What? What is it?"

Slowly, he opened his hands, and displayed what he was holding. A pink mobile phone. Carla's mobile phone. Her blood ran cold in her veins.

Gorilla man.

The name went screaming through her mind in a red hot flash of painful reminiscence. She'd thrown the phone yesterday, and it had fallen behind the bed. She hadn't even remembered to pick it up this morning.

"Oh no... Ben," she gasped. "W-what... happened?" She already knew what he was going to say.

"You got a phone call," he said sadly. "I was about to go into the city, when I heard it ring."

"Who...?" Carla choked, but was unable to get the rest out.

"It took me awhile to find it. I didn't expect your phone to be under the bed. But it kept ringing the whole time. When I finally answered it, there was only silence."

Carla's hearted jumped. Could Gorilla man have heard a male voice and feared it was the police? She held her breath, daring not to hope.

"I was just about to hang up," he continued, "when a man spoke. He asked who I was. I told him my name. I returned the question, but he refused to answer."

"A-and?" Carla asked.

"And he told me everything."

Carla felt her face flush hot, and her nails bite piercingly into her palms.

"He told me you met him Friday night at a bar. That he'd bought you a drink and taken you back to his hotel. He said I should know that you... that you..."

His face contorted, as if he was unable to even think about what he'd heard.

"What?" whispered Carla.

"He said I should know that you fuck like a minx. And that you'd stolen money and a card from him in the morning." Ben finally looked at her, his eyes red with tears. "He wants it all back. Or he's going to find us."

Carla fell back onto the carpet, drawing her knees up under her chin. The numbness from this morning began to spread to all parts of her body. Everything had finally come out. She should have been devastated, but instead she felt... nothing. Ben knew now. Knew about Gorilla man. Knew that she'd betrayed him. Knew that she was no better then a petty thief.

"I'm sorry, Ben," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"How long?" he asked. "How long have you been doing this for?"

"About... a month," Carla sniffed.

"So that's why you've been acting so strange? Why you've been so... unstable lately? How many times? Were they all with that man?"

"No..." she answered, looking at the floor. "He was only once. I'm so sorry."

Ben was silent, staring at the mobile in his hand.

"We'll get help," he said at last. "There must be a reason for this. We can work it out. The councillor will give us a way to figure out what's wrong."

"What?" Carla asked, not really believing what she was hearing. "What do you mean??"

"We just need help. People in relationships go through things like this all the time. There'll be an answer; there always is. We can change things."

The numbness inside her began to change, began to give way to a more powerful emotion. Anger.

What was wrong with him? Ben had finally found out that the girl he loved was unfaithful too him... and he just wanted to work things out? Why wasn't he furious? Why wasn't he screaming at her? What did she have to do to get some reaction from him?

"I don't think a professional can help us," Carla said, her voice low and toneless.

"What are you talking about?" There was a note of desperation in his voice that irritated her. He was supposed to be the strong one. "This is all because of a lack of communication. We just need to talk with someone."

"NO!" she yelled. Carla stood up over him, her fists clenched. "I won't go."

"Carla..." he started.

"Why won't you do something?!" she screamed. "Why are you always trying to be so kind? It's not natural. Don't you ever get angry? I cheated on you! I've been with other men! And you just sit there and say we should talk to someone? What is wrong with you?"

Behind her, Carla heard a click and a hiss of static. The TV had turned on.

Ben remained sitting on the sofa, looking up at her. His face was unreadable.

"That's... what this is all about?" he asked.

"YES!... no... I don't know!" Carla began to storm back and forth in the room. The hiss of the TV static grew louder, blurring her thoughts. "It's part of it... but there's so much more to it, Ben! It's bigger then just us."

"I don't understand..." he said. "You're unhappy in our relationship because... I'm too kind to you?!"

"Captain Nature says: when sabotaging a relationship, make the reasons as inexplicable as -"

"SHUT UP!" screamed Carla, pointing behind her without looking. "I don't need your help at the moment."

Ben looked at the TV, then back at her. Then back at the TV.

"Carla... who are you talking too? The television isn't on."

Carla turned away from him, cradling her head in her hands. She didn't answer. Ben watched her, perplexed, before getting up from the sofa. He walked over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Carla. You're not well. We need to get you help."

"I know," she sniffed. "I don't know what's wrong with me." She turned and wrapped her arms around his chest. "I'm so sorry. I really am. But this is just... the way I feel."

Ben rested his mouth on her hair. She could feel his light, warm breathes; his heart, pounding against his chest. He was shaking slightly as well.

"Do you... want me to move out?" he asked eventually.

"No!" she answered. "No; I can't lose you. I don't know what I'd do without you in my life. I just... I can't..."

Ben squeezed her shoulders, then released her. He walked to the living room doorway and stopped in the frame.

"I'm going out," he said without looking back. "It'll give us both time to think."

"Oh... okay..." Carla sniffed. "Be careful. And..." she paused, feeling her stomach churn uncertainly, "and please... come back, ok? Maybe we should talk it over. Just a little."

He didn't answer.

"Promise me?" she urged.

Ben walked into the hallway and disappeared from view. A second later, she heard the door slam. He had gone. Carla stood with her arms wrapped around her body, feeling cold and alone all of sudden. Had she gone too far? Could things be beyond salvation now?

"Captain Nature says -" the TV began.

"Fuck you," she replied, and left the room.

There was a flash of lightning outside, followed by a loud grumble of thunder. Carla heard the TV static crackle for a few more seconds, before clicking off and going silent.

-----

Carla lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The lamp sitting on the side table illuminated the room in a rusty orange colour, and she could see the dust and spider webs that had gathered in the corners.

'I really have to clean one day,' she thought.

Outside, lightning continued to flash on occasions, and thunder growled like a wounded animal. Carla turned her head to watch the rain sliding down the window panes. Usually she loved storms; the way the water droplets sounded against anything made of metal, the cool dampness that seemed to settle over the city. But tonight she couldn't bring herself to enjoy anything.

Her eyes flicked up to the wrist beside her face. '9:45' the watch read. Ben was late.

He never stayed out past nine as a rule, and even if he did he always called. Carla couldn't stop the painful questions from running through her mind. Had something happened to him? Could he really be that angry at her? Was she even sure that he'd come back... at all?

From the lounge room, she heard a distinctive 'click' and the loud hiss of static. It only lasted a second before there was another click and silence returned. Carla winced her eyes shut and curled her legs up to her chest. Captain Nature. He'd been doing that to the TV at regular intervals all night; trying to unnerve her, trying to make her feel that the last thread of sanity she clung to was slipping away even faster. Why wouldn't he just go away?

She looked at the wrist watch, now held only inches from her nose. '9:47'. Time felt as if it was crawling. Beyond her bedroom window, a strong gust of wind blew the rain harder into the glass, and a grumble of thunder signalled that the storm was far from over. Carla sniffed and rubbed her eyes, feeling the rough, red burning of tiredness beneath their lids. Despite her worries, the stress she'd been under all day had taken its toll. She was finding it hard to remain awake any longer.

The soft patter of raindrops, coupled with the warm air of her bedroom, began to work their charm, and slowly she felt the darkness of sleep creeping up on her. She would have welcomed it, had she not been so afraid of the dreamworld that lay beyond.

"Ben..." she sighed, curling up tighter. Then her body relaxed.