Absorbing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Listen to him, Elizabeth,” Michael says from the front. Oh my god, is this really going to happen?

  “Michael, I cant…”

  “You can, and you will, my dear.” It’s the most abrupt tone I’ve ever heard from Pascal. “I do not wish to lose you. You must be in control of yourself. Think, Elizabeth.”

  My brain scrabbles around for sanity as I sit myself upright and peer out of the window again. Nothing’s happening, just a set of headlights shining at us. I swing my head around to the back window to see the same, and then watch in horror as a door opens.

  “Oh Christ! Michael, someone’s getting out. Do something,” I snap out under my breath as I see two figures walking towards the car.

  “Breathe, Elizabeth. Make them believe you knew this was coming. They will thrive on your fear if you let them,” Pascal says quietly, soothingly. Okay, okay, breathe. Breathe. In and out. In and out. I blow out a shaky breath and grab onto Michaels arm.

  “Tell me what to do, Michael. Oh god, I’ll do it. I’ll do it. What’s happening?”

  “Stay calm and do as they say,” he says as he turns and looks at me, covering my hand with his. “Do as they say, okay?” I nod my head rapidly in reply and watch his eyes crinkle softly with a smile. He pats my hand again, then lets go and turns back to the front. “You’ll be fine. Just stay calm.”

  A figure walks through the gloom in front of us, and Michael suddenly leaps out of the car and starts firing at people. My hands cover my ears, and the scream that leaves me sounds otherworldly. Real fucking bullets are flying around outside the car, and I can see him dodging and running. Where’s he going? He’s leaving me? I need to tell Pascal what’s going on. Fuck.

  “Pascal, fuck, there’s lots of men. Shit, I can’t see how many but Michael’s out there and they’re all firing guns at each other.” I see Michael skirt along the side of the car as two men drop to the floor in front. He bangs his hand on the window by my head. I have no idea what that means, but I duck back down onto the seat in case that’s what I’m supposed to do.

  “What now?” Pascal says to me.

  “I don’t know. I’m cowering like a fucking baby on the seat because that’s what Michael just told me to do.”

  “Good. Stay there.”

  “Pascal, I don’t want them to take me. I can’t… I don’t know what to do.” It’s all I’ve got as I listen to yet another gun firing outside. I hear shouting, rapidly followed by another round of shots, so I curl up into a ball and try to stave off my tears. In control. Stay in control. Calm. That’s what he said, wasn’t it? Calm.

  Chapter 28

  Elizabeth

  “E lizabeth?” I think that was Pascal but I can’t hear anything over my own breathing. I’m just trying to make the sound go away. If it goes away then it might not be really happening to me. “Elizabeth? Speak,” he snaps loudly. It’s so much like Alex that it drags me back from wherever I was, so I grab at the phone again.

  “Yes, I’m here. I need Alex, Pascal. Where is he? I need him. I can’t do this. Please...?”

  Another shot and a gut-wrenching shout from outside have me swinging my head up in terror to see whose voice it was. Michael? I stare out in shock as I see a body collapse to the floor in the distance. The fog hinders my view, but I know it’s him.

  “I love you.” What? I shake my head and keeping staring at the fog in hope of seeing movement.

  “I... I think Michael’s been shot, Pascal. I can see him. He’s on the floor. Oh god, he’s been shot. What am I going to do?” Tears begin pooling in my eyes as I watch the outline of three men gather around his body to kick at it like a piece of meat. He’s dead. Michael’s dead. No, he can’t be dead. It’s Michael, for God’s sake. Michael’s don’t die. He has to be pretending so that he can do something else. I keep looking, waiting for him to get up, but he just lies there. He doesn’t move. Even as I dig my fingers into the leather seats, he doesn’t move or do something to tell me he’s okay. He just lies there, looking dead.

  Dead.

  “Elizabeth?” That’s Pascal again. I can hear him talking at me quietly, trying to soothe me and make me feel okay, but I don’t feel anywhere near okay. Tears are beginning to stream down my face as I keep looking for signs of life, anything. Move, Michael. Just move. It’s going to be okay. You just have to move and then... “They’re going to come for you now, my love. Listen to me.”

  “No, I can’t. This isn’t real. He’s not dead, Pascal. He just… He can’t be. I don’t believe-”

  “Elizabeth, I love you.” I love you, too. My ears try to focus on his words as I watch the men start to make their way towards me, but I just keep staring at the lifeless body on the ground. I can’t see or compute anything but Michael until they start to get closer and I can make out their figures coming at me.

  “They’re coming. I can see them, three of them. They’re walking towards me, and Michael’s just lying there, Pascal. He’s just-”

  “What do they look like?” I flick my eyes over to them and try to see, but it’s misty and dark.

  “I don’t know. It’s foggy and I can’t see properly. One’s much taller, though, with dark hair. They’re all in suits.” I try to make out some differences, something to give him a clue, but it’s just too murky to see accurately. “The shorter one’s got a crew cut, I think, and a slight limp maybe. I don’t know. Michael’s dead. He can’t be-”

  “Keep talking, Elizabeth. Keep holding your phone, and speak to me until they take it from you, do you understand?” he says firmly, now sounding slightly out of breath for some reason.

  “Pascal, I’m scared. What if...? I don’t understand what they want with me. I haven’t done anything wrong. What if they hurt me? I can’t do this.”

  “You are an expensive commodity, my dear. No one damages that which is of value. Just do as they say until I can find you. If they do try to harm you in any way, think of the man you love, remember how much pain you can take from him.”

  Pain? Fuck. I’m not sure if that’s a comforting thought or not as they get closer. I can’t stop the fear coursing through me as I pant into the phone and try to pull myself together. Michael’s out there, and he’s dead. He’s been killed. I’m not ready for any of this. This wasn’t supposed to be real. He told me and I knew, but I never thought it would affect us. Who would want me? I turn round to face the front and keep trying to regulate my breathing, stay in control, look indifferent. My feisty Beth tries to help me but I can’t quite latch onto her. Michael’s dead. This is real. I can hear their sodding voices now, too, chuckling and laughing to each other, and all I can see is another man hauling other possible dead bodies across the ground towards the car in front of me.

  “They’re here, Pascal,” I whisper as I see the tall one’s body at the window. A car door slams from his end of the line so I picture his face as the phone goes quiet in my hand, and I tuck it into my lap. My other hand is grabbing for my bag and wrenching it to my side. The car door opens and the man crouches down until I can see his face.

  “Aiden?” I’m sure I couldn’t look anymore in shock if I tried. “What are you doing here? What is this? Why are you...?” I can’t even finish. I know he’s part of this world, but I thought he and Alex were friends, sort of.

  “Elizabeth Scott. You’re quite hard to get hold of on your own,” he says, chuckling and rubbing his thumbs around each other as he leans his elbows on his knees.

  “I don’t understand. Did you just... just shoot... I mean, kill Michael?” I stammer out as I try to hold eye contact.

  “No, I think that was Mark.” Laughter erupts outside as I nervously stare into the eyes of Aiden Phillips in utter confusion. The man touched my sister and manhandled me. He’s the very reason all of this happened with Alex in the first place, isn’t he? The reason he became a murderer. Arsehole. Some kind of anger begins in the pit of my stomach. It’s like a lightning bolt of rage, grasping at my guts and telling me do something, anything.
Hurt something maybe. Michaels dead, and this arsehole is bloody laughing about it? I swallow down the last choking sob that’s weakening with my oncoming fury and turn my body to face the man. “Now, I need you to come with me and be a good little girl. Alex has something we want, and you’re going to help me get it, one way or another.” There’s more laughter and jeering, as he holds a hand out to me, and chuckles to himself about something.

  “Fuck off, you revolting piece of shit,” I spit at him and scowl at his offered hand. I’m not sure that’s doing as he says, but fuck him. He just killed my friend.

  “Still wild, I see,” he says as he backs away and nods at the car. Two men are on me the instant he does, and I feel the phone slip from my grasp in the struggle. I’m kicking and screaming at every available opportunity, clinging onto my bag for dear life and swiping it at heads as I do. I will not go fucking easily. “Do as they tell you.” The words come drifting through my head. “Be in control.” Shit. My body goes rigid as one of the arseholes grabs both of my arms and shakes me about to get my attention.

  “Stop struggling, bitch,” he snarls at me. I haul in a long breath and stamp on his foot with my heel. He howls in pain and pushes me away from him, so I stumble across the dirt and turn back to him with another snarl.

  “Don’t fucking touch me again,” I snap out at the bald little shit. Feisty Beth is back, it seems. Thank God. “Just piss off.”

  “Knock her out if she’s gonna be like this,” the other twat says. I whirl round on him with my best ‘fuck off’ face and clutch tighter to my bag. If he takes one damn try at that, I’ll stick this knife in his chest so quick he won’t know what’s hit him.

  “He wouldn’t be very happy about that,” Aiden replies. Who wouldn’t? Alex? You’re fucking right he wouldn’t. “Get the drugs.” Drugs? What?

  “No, Aiden,” I near scream in response with my hands up at him. “I’ll come quietly. No drugs.”

  “I bet you don’t,” he says with another chuckle. They all laugh again, and start leering at me. Nothing is fucking funny here, and as I watch one of them coming at me with a syringe, I realise that nothing is very funny at all. Not at all. I open my mouth to protest again, but Aiden’s hand is covering it in seconds and I’m pulled across to the waiting needle. My feet try to halt the movement, but I haven’t got a chance against him as he keeps dragging me towards it. He’s too strong, and his grasp is just as firm as Alex’s, in just the same places. Precise, practised.

  Oh god, what am I going to do?

  “No, Aiden, please...” I feel it pierce my neck and just stare into the eyes of the other man as he smiles at me while chewing on his gum. Eventually, Aiden’s hold loosens a little, so I try to move, but I can’t. Nothing works. Not even my speech seems to work anymore. Everything’s so heavy. Every limb seems to be fighting against me as I start feeling lightheaded. Tired, I’m so tired. I can feel my mind trying to force my vision clear, but it’s blurry. Everything’s suddenly unfocused and fuzzy. Tired… Maybe sleep will be good. Maybe it’ll all be over when I wake up. Michael won’t be dead, will he? He’ll be okay. And Alex will come for me, won’t he? He won’t ever leave me. He told me he wouldn’t, that he’d protect from this sort of thing, that he’d always...

  ~

  I open my eyelids slowly to see a dark room. Shit, my head hurts. Why does my head hurt? And what is that smell? It smells like earth, or chalk or something. I stretch my face around with a shake to try and get my brain functioning again, but everything just seems hazy or dulled. My senses feel like they’re not functioning properly at all, and why does my back hurt so much? I put my hand down to the bed but feel a cold bumpy surface instead. It feels like rock or granite against my palm, which instantly makes me turn towards it. Rock? Why am I on rock? Where the hell am I?

  Trying to focus on my surroundings, I slowly, and quite painfully, pull myself upright to get my bearings. The whole earth seems to tilt a bit, but thankfully, as my night vision kicks in, I start to see the outline of the room, or maybe area would be a better description. There’s a door at the far end, but above me seems more like a cave than a room. It’s all grey, or very dark anyway, and I can hear dripping water or liquid of some sort, and Christ, its cold. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stand and instantly fall back down to my arse as my legs wobble beneath me. I try again and again until eventually, they begin to support my weight without concern. There’s nothing here to notice as I edge my way around the blackness. There’s no furniture that I can see, or light switch I can find as I travel my hands over the wall near the doorway. There is a lock on the door. I can feel it, but there’s no key in it to help. I press my ear to the door in the hope of hearing something, but it’s utterly silent. All I can hear is that dripping noise, and maybe the occasional tumble of stones or something, but certainly no voices. It’s just me, in a large, very dark and cold space. So I go back to my piece of rock and sit back down again to try and think of a way out. Just do as they say, my love. Do as they say? They’re not saying anything because no one is here. It’s just little old Beth Scott in a fucking cave.

  I can feel the tears coming, but I try to suck them back up because that’s not going to help anyone, is it? And if I’m going to sodding die, I refuse to look like crap when I do. I suddenly remember my bag and search around for it, for my knife more importantly, but it doesn’t seem to be here. There’s nothing here. Only me, and a fucking cave. I tuck my legs up and sit cross legged so that I can wrap the material of my dress over me to cover as much as possible. If I can keep warm and hold myself together, someone will come. Eventually, someone has to come. It would be nice if it was Alex or Pascal, but even if it’s Aiden, at least something will be happening.

  I wish I knew how long I’ve been sat here. I have no idea of what time, or even what day it is. I’ve heard that drugs can knock people out for days on end. Have I been sleeping that long? Oh god, I’m cold. And I need a drink. Why isn’t anyone coming for me? Pascal told me I was an expensive commodity; you’d think they’d treat me with a little more respect if I were. Some heat would be nice at the very least. Eventually, I can’t stand my shivering anymore so get up again to see if moving around might help warm me up a bit. I could do some jumping jacks, I suppose, get my heart rate up and ready me for ninja Beth to take over at some point. I sneer over at the door and command myself into action. I need to be ready to kick some Mafia arse when it eventually comes, find that rage thing again and use it to full effect as and when I need to. The sodding drip of water keeps falling. Drip, drip, drip. Who am I trying to fool? As if Beth Scott has got any chance against these types of people. Drip, drip, drip. I so wish that fucking dripping noise would stop. I can’t damn well think for that constant irritating sound. Drip, drip. Oh god, shut up. Drip, drip.

  “Stop dripping,” I tell it, quietly. I’ll find it in a minute and block it up, or drink it. Drip, drip. Fucking noise. Where is it? My senses come into effect to help me find it as I remember his safe room. Quiet, dark. Think, block out everything else and focus on the sound. Use your body, scout out the threat, attack and defend. Be still. I stand perfectly still and close my eyes to find that peace that gives me the ability to feel the damp air around me, hone every sense on just that one thing so I can find it, and kill it. My feet walk me slowly across the rough ground until I eventually hit a craggy wall with my fingers, and I can feel the water running down it. Following it down, I find a small pool of liquid. How do I stop the sound, though? My hands swipe at the wall to try and knock the water off course, but the same sound just keeps dripping, never ending, drip, drip, fucking drip. I need to stop the fucking sound. I need to conquer the challenge, be the victor, and win the game. I can’t stop the giggle that bursts through my throat as I think of Alex trying to solve his problems, or manipulate something to his advantage. He’d have a way of stopping the water. He’d have a way of stopping anything. Where is he?

  I give up my fight with the wall and go back to my rock. At least I
found the water. I solved the mystery, so to speak. Fucking water. Jesus, is anyone going to come and get me? What’s the point of taking someone and then just leaving them in a room? Drip, drip, drip.

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I scream at it, hurling a stone along with my voice. “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!” I’m suddenly across the room again and throwing any piece of gravel or dust or stone I can find at it. Then I’m down on my knees, scrabbling around in the dirt for anything to remove the pool so that it just stops dripping. The constant damn noise is irritating me. I can’t think with that racket going on. I want some peace to think. Kill it, stop it, noise, noise, fucking incessant dripping. It’s making me almost crazy. My fingers scratch and scrape until I’m filled with heat for my efforts. More and more gravel gets piled and tossed at the threat until I can hardly inhale anymore. “Shut up, shut up, shut, up,” I keep mumbling to myself. I have to stop the sound, have to make it stop, just stop so I can breathe again.

  A strange realisation hits me as I’m lobbing everything at it. Is this what Alex feels like? Is this what makes him do it, kill people? Is the noise too much? Is his childhood so constant that he can’t breathe for the constant pain and disturbance of it? I launch more gravel at it before I abruptly sit back on my haunches and listen for the noise. Gone. No dripping. No noise. Peace at last. Fuck you.

  I heave in a breath and stare into the darkness with a sneer firmly planted on my face. Round one to feisty Beth. Ninja Beth will be along shortly. Oh, god that is what he feels like, but with real human beings instead. My little wobble at the water might only be a snippet of what he feels, but it’s the same, isn’t it? Just an amplified sound nagging at him, telling him to find some peace, to stop the barrage of hurt coming at him all the time. That’s why he does it.

  A sudden clank behind me has me jumping to my feet and swinging round to face the door. The lock clicks, and then the room finally floods with some light. It’s still dull, but at least I can see now to some degree. A man hovers in the doorway with a flashlight, so I cover my eyes as he points it up at me and laughs. I wish people would stop fucking laughing at me.