PREFACE: David’s story keeps coming in reverse chronological order and I’m just going with it. All comments are appreciated; crits are cherished!
“Dawn’s Aftermath”
by Leah Saylor-Abney
Wake up! Breathe, dammit!
David sucked in a large gulp of air and almost gagged on its familiar scent: cinnamon bath water. He pried his eyelids apart but struggled to keep them open against the yellow-orange light that flooded his vision. The ceiling fan covered his exposed skin in goosebumps and something felt thick and sticky on his forearms.
His shaved head, bent back at a sharp angle, pulsed with a steady up and down motion against the wall; the angle stretched his throat so taut it was difficult to swallow and he couldn’t speak. Inch by inch he emerged from darkness and the room appeared above him. He lowered his throbbing head and straightened his stiff neck. A quick glance to either side revealed where he was: on the floor of Dawn’s bedroom, in a corner, squeezed between the open closet door and dresser.
How did I get here? he thought.
Reaching up to massage his neck, he caught sight of a reddish brown substance smeared from his hand to forearm. The contrast of the substance to his pale, mid-winter skin tone shoved him out of confusion into full-blown panic.
Is that…blood?
He looked from his hands to the dark, moist splotches on his black t-shirt and denim jeans, to the dark, gloppy footprints in the navy blue carpet that lead from his feet to Dawn’s bed in the middle of the room.
He swallowed hard, the sides of his throat rubbed together like two pieces of sandpaper, “Dawn?” His voice was raspy and just above a whisper. There was no answer.
He tried to adjust his position to get up, but every part of him screamed in protest. He tried again. And again his arms and legs shook under his weight then gave out; his muscles refused to cooperate. He collapsed in momentary defeat and listened to the thunder of blood as it rolled through his head.
In that moment, the undeniable odor in the room sensed David’s helplessness and attacked. Its smell filled his nose and seeped down his throat. The once familiar scent – Dawn – was now mixed with something else. Something spoiled. Or musty metal. He needed fresh air fast but he wasn’t sure how to convince his body.
Maybe if I crawl.
His stomach flip-flopped and drowned his mouth in a foul-tasting liquid. He maneuvered onto all fours and, fighting a wave of nausea and dizziness, began to crawl toward the window on the opposite side of the room.
He was halfway there, about to pass the bed, when he glimpsed Dawn’s foot dangled over the edge, motionless, toes curled tight. He stopped.
Probably still asleep.
Dawn could sleep through fireworks going off outside her room. There’s no way his damaged voice would be loud enough to wake her, especially if she was up as late as usual the night before. He ignored all the signs and clung to hope. Hands wrapped around the nearest bed post, he pulled himself to a standing position.
NO!
No, no, no!
His legs buckled; he fell back onto all fours and retched so hard he couldn’t breathe but nothing came up. Dawn. Naked. Covered in blood. The images flashed through his head and he heaved twice more as he finished the crawl to the window and pushed it up a few inches.
Nose and mouth pressed to the screen, eyes open – otherwise he saw her brutalized body and lifeless eyes when he closed his – he inhaled a huge dose of the crisp winter air then fell against the wall, hugged his knees to his chest, and stared at Dawn’s delicate foot. She hated feet; and a fight would ensue if he touched hers. He examined her toes, freshly painted in her favorite color: a deep red, almost black. Maybe she’s not–, he couldn’t even think the word.
Then hope jabbed at his heart, what if she’s just barely breathing?
He dragged himself back over to the bed and stood up. His legs threatened to fail but he leaned on the bed for support. Forcing his eyes up, he focused on Dawn again. Her left arm was stretched toward the nightstand; her fingers clasped the cordless telephone laying there. A flash of her tiny hand as it grazed his forearm. Her smile and happy eyes that told him he was home.
Pushing the memories away, he placed his fingers above the gaping wound in her neck and held his breath, willing even the tiniest vibration beneath his skin.
But nothing happened.
He did the only thing he could do and pulled the crumpled sheet over her body. His forefinger caressed her chin, traced over her bottom lip. Exhausted, legs unable to remain vertical any longer, he crumpled to his knees beside the bed. The only person who ever meant anything to him – the only person who saw him – was…he still couldn’t think it. Not yet. His vision blurred; and as he wiped the tears away, Dawn’s blood stained his face.
Sirens approached the house. He heard tires squeal and doors slam. Several heavy knocks accompanied by, “”Police! Is anybody home?” The front door, ripped from its hinges, banged into the foyer wall. “Miss Carson?”
Footsteps pounded the stairs, along the hall and stopped at the bedroom’s threshold. “Sir, put your hands where I can see them.”
David did as he was instructed; and listened to his rights and the click of handcuffs closed around his wrists and the EMT’s confirmation that this nightmare was reality.
“Would you like to tell me what happened here, sir?”
“She’s carved in my bones forever,” his voice almost inaudible.
He looked into the officer’s face and saw his confused expression slide into a neutral, blank stare.
“She’s dead, officer. Dawn is dead.”
Read more about Dawn’s aftermath in “Misery’s Constant Companion.”
Ah, vividly descriptive prequel to the story of Dawn and David.
Intriguing in that we know what happened in that room, but still not how or why.
Well done.
Okay, you’ve got me hooked. I have to know what happens next!! Don’t leave us dangling for long..
Good description and suspenseful pacing, but, I gotta know!
Such a haunting thing to say: “She’s carved in my bones forever.” What does it mean? It’s very intriguing.
This is a great building misery and you include a lot of fantastic details that let the scene play out. I’d suggest putting his thoughts (“Maybe if I crawl”) in italics so it doesn’t seem like you’re switching perspective. And perhaps narrow down some of the details right at the begging so the reader isn’t overwhelmed. It’s an enormous and important scene, obviously, so you want to make sure they’re right with you all the time.
In any case, I enjoyed it and thank you for sharing!
Thanks for the encouragement and feedback! I plan to post the ending, which is actually the beginning, by April 30th. There’s another short fiction piece I want to post this Friday so it’ll probably be April 16th for the above’s ending. And, really, thanks again for reading and leaving a comment. Your observations and suggestions help me out a bunch!
Pingback: Goals for 2010 – The First Three Months | Unleash the Flying Monkeys!