Unaware of who, or what, is present, Matthew reluctantly plucks up his courage. Slowly he begins to focus his sight to the space at the side of his rocking body. The movement is big, and yet he can’t hear a single thing. The experience is supernatural and strange; it’s as though a scene is changing at a theatre production, except there is no one moving the stage props and pulling wires to change the backdrop. As he peers out of the corner of his eye, a pain shoots through his nerves. Natural daylight begins to beam towards him. Squinting his eyes in an attempt to adjust his sight to the bright vision, Matthew is stunned. He sees a window has formed. Straining to see the view out of the mysterious window, he’s at a huge disadvantage, but for some unknown reason, Matthew feels a weird sense of familiarity with the structure. He recognises it but it’s too far away to make out the specific details. Straining one final time, he’s convinced he’s seen it before. It virtually looks, and feels, as if he’s seeing the window in his dayroom. The very same window he stands in front of most mornings.
He looks deeper and deeper. Matthew’s eyes can’t take the straining any longer and he turns his sight away. The pain becomes too unbearable. Still paralysed, he can’t move his head, which makes him incapable of confirming if this is, in fact, his window. The window is only just in his peripheral vision and it almost feels like a cruel intentional trap. The light appearing in front of him becomes brighter as Matthew’s body continues to rock back and forth.
Looking dead ahead, he sees a mirror has appeared. It’s full-length and standing tall. Again, this object feels familiar... It’s extremely similar to the one standing proudly with its gold frame at the bottom of the staircase at home. Matthew begins to centre his focus on the reflection in the mirror. In the reflective glass, he sees himself. He’s sat in a dark wooden rocking chair, and is silently rocking back and forth, in a controlled motion.
Matthew feels an overwhelming surge of emotions: a deep internal sense of loss, depression, lifelessness and evil revenge. Caught off guard, he suffers an intense amount of uncontrollable agony. He feels his heart actually break!
Unable to shout out, Matthew begins to breathe rapidly. He feels each blood vessel of his heart crush. Tears begin to form in his eyes. Once again, he hears his voice. The words he speaks. “I will find her…”
No sooner has this circulated in his mind than Matthew hears and sees himself laughing insanely. In excruciating pain, and more confused than ever, Matthew questions what he’s hearing.
Chapter Eight
Premonition... Maybe?
Looking deep into the mirror, Matthew sees his body is top-heavy and slumped with his head hanging low. His jawline is resting on his chest. He looks like a patient who has been sedated. He turns his attention to the bottom of the mirror, engrossed by what he can see. Matthew is wearing a pair of black boots which are dirty and covered with grey dust. This look is not representative of his usual immaculate and smart appearance. His feet are placed perfectly parallel on the floor and are moving in synchronisation with the rocking motion. Seeing this, Matthew finally understands why he has been feeling the rocking forward and backward motion. It’s surreal, as the movement of his body remains totally out of his control. Looking either side of his feet, he sees the flat, dark, wooden rocker rails on the chair; the movement of these slats of wood mirrors the slow rocking.
His gaze gradually travels up his body. He’s wearing the faded ripped jeans Eve bought him as a joke one Christmas. On the tag she wrote, “Welcome to the twenty-first century, Dad.” He has only worn the jeans once, and yet here he sits, looking as though he’s been wearing them for the past few months. Dirty, faded black material. Matthew can see his flesh peering through the rips on his knees. He notices both his hands are crossed and resting on his lap. This instantly grabs his attention, as he never sits this way. Focusing all his energy on this spot, he becomes aware that he’s securely holding on to something, but he can’t quite make it out. Getting frustrated, Matthew wants nothing more than to understand why this is happening to him. With what little amount of internal strength he has to fight against this entrapment, he shouts, “Move, Matthew, please, just move.”
He hears his voice, but the harsh reality is it’s only in his head. Looking into the mirror, Matthew sees his mouth hasn’t moved, and neither has his body. Running out of options to release himself from this trap, Matthew’s only hope is to piece together the puzzle of his current unfortunate state. His eyes continue to rock back and forth and Matthew feels nauseous. Determined to succeed, he looks into his lap. Matthew sees he’s holding a picture frame. Once again, he feels a sense of familiarity with this item. He tries in vain to make out the image inside the frame. Being unable to move his head places him at a great disadvantage. He has no chance of seeing the image, it’s too far away. Trying to work out a piece of the puzzle gives him internal strength. He’s determined he’s not giving up and brings his attention to his other hand, which grips another item tightly. Straightaway, he works out what it is.
He stares in complete shock and disbelief, his breathing getting heavier. Resting on his lap and held tightly in his hand is a black 9mm pistol, and attached to this is a protruding black silencer. As soon as he sees this, his mind starts to race.
“Please, Lord, forgive me, what have I done?”
He’s now more scared than ever. Matthew’s thoughts have become a mist of combined madness. He suddenly hears insane female laughter. Extremely worn out, he questions his purpose; he has never held a gun in his life. Desiring answers, but not receiving them any time soon, he begins an attempt at piecing together what he sees in the mirror.
“I’ve got a picture in one hand – and a lethal weapon in the other.”
His eyes are starting to feel pained from all the straining. Blocking out the screaming and unbearable insanity circulating within his mind, Matthew recalls something he said. Something he now considers an important piece of the puzzle.
“I said I’d find her. Find who… who is she?”
Remaining helplessly trapped and no closer to freeing himself, Matthew’s almost ready to submit and surrender to the demands of whoever or whatever is taunting his innocent soul. Looking deep into the reflection he can’t help but grieve for the man he once was. The same strong Matthew Honey who now seems like a distant memory. Thinking of Eve, instantly he feels a sense of happiness, if only for a brief second; it doesn’t matter. In this snapshot moment, Matthew isn’t filled with discomfort and pain. He sees his best friend and an intense sense of power generates inside him, making him stronger. He must break free; he must fight for his daughter.
A voice begins echoing within the realms of the room. The words are unclear, but nonetheless, the voice is present. Ready for the next challenge, Matthew is alert. Is it Eve? With his ears finely tuned, he hears and feels himself breathing deeply, every inhale and exhale. He frantically looks around through the reflection in the mirror.
He notices a grey mist that has begun to seep around him. It begins to surround his feet, along with the rocker rails on the chair. This unnerving mist has not entered alone. Travelling with this substance is an evil and deceitful energy. He looks deeper into the mirror, but there’s not a soul present. But the mysterious dark mist is getting thicker. Surrounded by a suppressive, devious energy, which appears to be binding the mist together, Matthew feels as if this is it: this is his final command of fate.
The dark energy begins to reveal its true self, becoming strong and dominant. It has full advantage over the situation as it rises in the room. It is ice-cold and, as the mist thickens, it circulates inside his boots. The sub-zero temperature gives him a sense of feeling in each of his toes; it’s a tingling pin-like sensation. Thousands of tiny nerves can be felt wriggling around, sending signals to his brain, registering their survival. The pain is strong and unbearable. Becoming thicker, the mist slowly moves around Matthew’s body and with it travels the ice-cold, stinging sensatio
n. The pain is so intense. It feels as though someone is spraying liquid nitrogen everywhere this vicious energy lands.
In a desperate attempt to distract himself from the agonising pain, Matthew decides to refocus his attention on his reflection. Suddenly he notices a change in his features. His mouth begins to move ever so slightly. Again, this is completely out of his control. Matthew unexpectedly hears a voice once again. The voice is his.
“I won’t lose you… Eve.”
Instantly his breathing becomes heavier; his chest feels as though someone is sat on it, suppressing his lungs. Now he’s in sheer panic mode.
“What have I done – where’s Eve?”
Unable to answer his own questions, Matthew stares into the mirror; he’s focusing all his attention on the 9mm pistol he holds so calmly in his hands. The rocking motion speeds up. He stares at his face as he rocks back and forth, his expression lifeless, until once again a movement slowly begins at his mouth. Matthew is again powerless to stop it. This time a smile appears on his face. This smile is in no way a reflection of the emotions running through his body and circulating within his mind.
As he begins to question his sanity, he sees a female silhouette appear within the mirror. Frozen with fear, Matthew stares as she gracefully moves her way around the reflection. Unable to blink, he’s captivated by her image. Her features slowly begin to make an appearance. He sees her smile. She’s enchanting, provocative and begins luring him into a false sense of security, distracting him from the reality of the pain he’s in. Matthew’s almost breathing this woman in.
“Lauren… You came back…”
Trapped in the moment, he feels an intense state of euphoria and is embracing each second of this mesmerising possession. Staring intently, he’s now convinced it’s Lauren. He surrenders himself to the female entity, failing to notice the progression of the mist. It’s surrounding the mirror, becoming thick. Eventually it covers the mirror. Matthew becomes flustered.
“Lauren… Lauren…”
As the mist begins to ease away, the woman in the reflection suddenly leaps out of the mirror towards Matthew! She is nothing like Lauren. Jet-black long hair hangs heavy on either side of her face, dripping a black substance. Her skin is the deepest shade of grey, with deep rips scattered across it. These sinister gaping holes ooze the same black substance. As she attempts to absorb Matthew’s soul with her demonic eyes, they become the deepest shade of red as her power grows stronger with every second that passes. Her lips are grey and the black substance gushes from her mouth, rolling down her chin. Matthew’s heart feels as though it’s about to burst at the sight of her grey, stained teeth stretching out aggressively. Forcing herself towards him, she reaches out to pull him into the mirror with her.
With a sudden gasp of air, Matthew leaps forward. He’s soaking wet from head to toe, undressed and wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and is, once again, unexplainably back in his bed. He touches his face, his mouth, and pats his hands all over his body. Relief begins to set in as he realises it was, as Eve suggested, just a bad dream.
Collapsing back onto his pillow and breathing heavily, Matthew stares at the bright white painted walls and beings to inhale the pure air circulating around him. The bedroom window is open slightly and the fresh sea breeze is gradually blowing into the room. Embracing the safety of his home, he reaches to the bedside table and grabs the small white alarm clock. The time is flashing green. It’s five thirty a.m. He falls back on the pillow to rest. No sooner has his sight adjusted to the fact that he’s home than he sees something that makes his eyes protrude from their sockets.
Matthew is sure he made the transition from nightmare to reality, yet here he lies in shock. Once again unable to move, he’s stuck. His eyes tell no lies. Matthew sees the shadowy woman in the corner of his room, staring directly at him. Matthew sees this isn’t the Lauren he remembered at all. Placing her grey, lacerated forefinger firmly to her mouth, she mimes, “Shh…”
Matthew opens his mouth in a desperate attempt to scream, but no sound comes out. He blinks and suddenly she disappears. Still unable to speak, he lies there in a panic. Before he can come to terms with what has just transpired, she returns! Except this time, she’s closer than ever and sat on the side of his bed.
Seeing her true form, the reality of her horrific presence, Matthew remains in disbelief. With her head low, she’s facing towards the window and is dripping the same mysterious black substance all over his bed.
She sits still, as if she’s feeding from the fear radiating off his soul and gaining strength with every second that passes. Matthew lies paralysed with terror. Tears begin to fall down his motionless face.
She rises off the bed. Matthew doesn’t move. He’s holding his breath. For a brief moment, he believes the evil entity is about to disappear. Standing with her back turned to him, she has once again lured him into a false sense of security.
She turns and throws out her arms to grab Matthew.
“Help!” Matthew screams.
As the word leaves his mouth her demonic features flash close to his face.
Then, thankfully, she’s gone.
Chapter Nine
New Eyes
As the car pulls up in front of the huge steel school gates, Eve looks across to her dad.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been very quiet this morning, Dad.”
“Yes, darling, I’m fine. Please don’t start worrying about me.” Leaning over and tucking his daughter’s hair behind her ears, he continues, “I’m lucky I have you, Evelyn Jade Honey.”
Taking in the moment, Matthew lives each individual second as though he runs the risk of never having the privilege again. Smiling back, Eve seems satisfied with her dad’s response. She turns to get out of the car.
“Darling, where’s your mum’s necklace?”
“It’s here,” she immediately replies.
“Sorry, panicked for a second then. I couldn’t see it.”
“Dad, maybe you shouldn’t go into work today. I think you need time out.” Pausing she then says, “I mean after all, it is Friday, I could just stay with you and we could start the weekend early. What do you think?”
Smirking at her attempt to get a day off school, Matthew sternly responds, “I’m fine. Now go on, get into school before you’re late.”
Jumping out the car, Eve shouts, “Love ya.”
With her final words, she slams the car door shut. Matthew sits watching his daughter walking off in a world of her own. As Eve enters the school gates, he notices a group of girls closely following her. Their intentions seem impure and they appear to be laughing and mocking Eve behind her back.
Four young pretty girls, each with long blonde hair. They’re walking along in perfect synchronisation with one another. They hold matching handbags over their shoulders, matching grey socks are pulled up to their knees and they all wear make-up that has been perfectly painted on their faces. All four of them are pointing, laughing and pulling spiteful facial expressions. Rage builds up inside of Matthew. He’s now completely unable to control his emotions. He gets out of the car and shouts across to the girls, “Oi, you lot, leave it out.”
The girls turn around to see who has just shouted.
Not content with the warning words he has shouted, he makes his way around the front of the car. The girls jump as they realise who’s yelling. He recognises one of the young girls.
“Stacey, don’t think I won’t have a word with your dad!” he yells.
Eve turns back at the sound of her dad’s voice. She turns red with embarrassment, puts her head down and runs through the huge dark-oak double doors.
The girls all blush too. They’ve been caught out. They scurry off with their heads down, whispering to one another.
Matthew looks around and sees all the astonished faces of the young adults making their way to school.
“Show’s over,” he shouts.
He storms back to the car, gets in and places his head on the steering wheel. Adrenaline races throughout his mind and body. Matthew closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, desperately attempting to regain control of his emotions once more. Focusing on the purity of the air he breathes so deeply, he begins to embrace it, feeling alive. Matthew’s thoughts begin to drift.
Suddenly he sees a flashback of the demonic woman. He shakes the traumatic vision out of his mind. As he opens his eyes he shudders.
“It was just a bad dream.”
Looking up, he stares at the clear blue sky. The serenity of nature helps to calm his thoughts and soothe his mind. The world appears bright and the freedom of the birds gracefully flying free gives him a sense of empowerment.
Attempting to shift his mood back into his usual, happy vibration, Matthew smiles and turns up the stereo. His favourite chill-out collection is playing through the speakers. Feeling slightly more relaxed than before, he is confident that he can start the weekend with a positive mind-set. And so, with his new eyes and gratitude for life, Matthew shakes off his fears and begins driving to work.
As he pulls up to the entrance of the huge gravel car park at the Honey Productions offices, the morning sun is shining its brightest. The security staff lift the barrier.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcam’, Mr Honey, and gud mornin’ to you,” a slightly Jamaican voice says through the speaker.
The Broken Page 9
