Sarah shuddered at the sound of the voice, low and gravelled uttering it's condemnation. The disembodied sound hung in her ears as she listened to the silence on the tape recorder. Her thumb depressed the plastic button and the machine clicked to a stop. The sound of unctuous silence which had hung between them had been recorded in all of it's humiliating glory.
"Is this what you wanted?" She asked no one in particular. Walter was nestled in a content circle next to her, white fur and gentle purrs. Sarah distractedly rested her hand on the warm body pressed against her feet as she sat on her sofa. The flat-screen television had been a recent addition to her tiny apartment and it was currently displaying a mixture of flashing lights and flaming debris.
"Don't tell you I never get you anything." Donovan had beamed as he had a presented the oversized cardboard box with a flourish. Sarah felt at pains not to advise Donovan he regularly bought her things she did not want nor need. Her apartment was filled with expensive wines and whiskeys and there was subscription to a magazine advertising chrome car parts which was delivered on a monthly basis. She rarely invited him but he was a regular visitor and he had made himself very much at home.
Sarah hadn't the heart to tell him to leave when the intercom buzzed in the early hours of the morning and she could see the small grey blurry face smiling up at the camera with down-turned eyes and slumped shoulders. She would leave in the morning and he would be gone on her return. The cat would take a keen interest in the ashtray Donovan had filled, that Sarah had never bought, and would smell like smoke.
"What did he say?" Sarah recalled Her asking bluntly. She was dressed in a baggy black t-shirt with holes speckled across it. Her hair was a light grey and scraped against her skull in a loose ponytail. Sarah thought She looked more tired than usual. Her cheeks were stretched against her bones and her eyes enshrouded with purple.
It had been a few nights prior and they had been sitting on the white leather sofa whilst Donovan busied himself with wires and plugs, clear plastic bags and Styrofoam littering the rug next to them. The cat had hidden in the box and was not coming out.
"Not much." Sarah had tried to elaborate, "He was very blunt."
"Sounds about right." Donovan had muttered under his breath, he was holding an instruction manual close to his nose as he sat on the floor cross legged in pale shorts and flip-flops.
"You're not here." She had snapped. Donovan said they called her the Wraith. No one believed she existed. Sarah sometimes had brief flashes of concern that they had dreamt her into existence.
"And you don't have the tape?" She asked Sarah, her eyebrows were furrowed and hands clasped on her lap. She was sitting facing Sarah with her legs crossed on the sofa. Sarah was sitting with her feet on the floor watching Donovan distractedly trying not to catch Her gaze.
"It was an accident." Sarah had muttered. The tape was an object of shame, a failure. Sarah had grown to master the art of conversation or at least she believed she had. A client would approach her and she would take charge of the meeting and their deepest desires and thoughts would be revealed in a matter of alcoholic units. It had taken some time to master the art of judging how best to approach each person but Sarah found that all it took was open-ended questions and an earnest smile.
"And you do whatever I ask?" He had asked and Sarah had felt her skin prickle at the matter-of-fact approach. The implications of the question made Sarah feel that he had undressed her with his gaze, her discomfort was on full display. She had lost the upper hand immediately and she felt aware that they both knew this. His drink remained untouched and she declined the offer to buy one for herself.
Sarah had told Her when asked that the tape had been wiped. As soon as they had walked through the door and Donovan had finished displaying his overly large cardboard box. He had dumped this in the living area and retired to the kitchenette as Sarah had led Her to the sofa.
"The dog ate my homework." Donovan had snorted unhelpfully as he stood over the sink filling a glass with water and leaning against the counter-top. His hair was swept upwards like the bristles of a broom, the golden tips dusted the ceiling. Sarah shot him admonishing glare and he had shrugged casually in response.
"I believe you're aware of the service we offer, sir." Sarah had felt sickened with herself as she had reverted to a role of subservience.
"It doesn't matter." Sarah had said quickly, "It wasn't a long meeting and he wasn't big on details."
"We have the tapes for a reason." She had said firmly. "You know this."
"Don't you trust me?" Sarah heard the words before she had meant to say them. She looked at Sarah unblinking and calm. Sarah could never read her expression. Sarah wondered if it was possible to hurt Her, with words or otherwise. She was wearing a lace chartreuse scarf around her neck. The colour would clash with the deep pink scar tissue underneath if it was possible to see both.
"I trust you." She had said to Sarah resting her fingers over Sarah's hand which had been resting on her knee. Sarah turned and looked at Her. Her expression was unfathomable.
The news reporter announced that the death toll was currently 8 confirmed and 50 injured. The Watchtowers between the Financial and Commercial had 'lowered the drawbridge' to allow emergency services from the other districts travel to the Quadrangle unimpeded. The military task force responsible for the security of the Quadrangle were on high alert and tracking all movement in each district. Martial law had descended in all but name.
Parliament would be called in the morning for an emergency meeting. How did this happen? People were enraged that the Watchtower system should have increased the security of the city. There were contingency plans for missiles, nuclear warheads, and the like but nothing to prevent a domestic helicopter from crashing into a historical building. The city was bleeding.
"I want them dead."
What if Sarah had described the tape differently to Her. Would that have prevented a helicopter being dropped on the Ballroom? What if She had heard the tape. Would that have changed anything? How was this different from any other 'accident'? Sarah tried to formulate a different outcome. She could have taken control of the man in the bar with the malevolent eyes, she could have been firm with him. Sarah could have denied him what he wanted. What if Sarah had said that the man had not turned up? She would have believed Sarah, She wouldn't have asked questions.
Sarah's phone on the kitchen counter had continued to buzz intermittently through the evening as she stared at the television screen blaring high definition carnage. People wanted to know how this had happened. Sarah felt sick with guilt but she couldn't answer their questions.
No comments:
Post a Comment