Severed

by Corey Brown

  On the floor, an empty bottle of Jameson lays on its side, the victim of another marathon writing session. Suzanne’s heart sinks. David has started a new screenplay.

  “Oh no,” she says, crossing the room. “Not a new project. Not now.”

  Reaching, Suzanne is about to shake him, but she stops. She looks at him. There is no movement. She swallows, looks for signs of life, feels her chest tighten. Is he…could David be dead? Then she notices the long, thin welts running the length of his back. David has been scratched----or whipped----several times. One of the wounds is newer than the others, showing a strong streak of red.

  What on earth?

  Suzanne steels herself. She gently touches David’s bare shoulder. His skin is stone cold. Surprised, Suzanne jerks her hand away, her eyes growing wide. Her stomach turns sour. Suzanne looks harder, hoping to see some evidence that her brother is still alive.

  And there it is.

  Ever so gently David’s chest expands and shrinks. Her fears begin to melt, at least he is breathing, and Suzanne’s shoulders slump a bit as the momentary panic slides away. She grasps his shoulder again, only this time more firmly.

  “David? David, wake up.” She shakes him a little harder. “Are you all right? David?”

  David’s eyelids flutter, giving Suzanne only a shuttered glimpse but she has the distinct impression his eyes are gone. The sight gives Suzanne a sudden chill. Then his lids clamp shut again.

  Suzanne wonders if she should call 911, she half turns looking for the phone. Turning back, she shakes him again. “David, can you hear me?”

  David moans tries to open his eyes again, but this time his eyes seem to roll downward, back into place.

  He coughs a few times and moans again, tries to sit up. David instantly discovers his neck and shoulder are stiff from his awkward sleeping position.

  “Ah, damn it,” David says, as he pushes to his elbows. He tries to speak but his throat feels thick, swollen. He twists his neck and, without thinking, reaches for the glass at the edge of his desk. He takes a mouthful and swallows hard. The Jameson burns, makes him gag.

  “Son of a bitch,” he says, hacking and coughing. The shock of room temperature liquor jolts him fully awake.

  “Are you all right?” Suzanne says, anxiety giving way to relief.

  “Suzanne? What---?” Another cough. “What are you doing here?”

  “David, the awards are tonight.” She glances at her watch. “The limo will be here soon.”

  Despite the stabbing pain in his arm and shoulder, David straightens, presses a palm into his eye and rubs hard.

  “Oh, not tonight, it can’t be tonight. I feel like shit.”

  “Well, you look like it. How long have you been lying here?”

  David shrugs. “I don’t know. What day is it?”

  Suzanne’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding, right?”

  David shakes his head.

  “It’s Saturday. You know, the day?”

  “When did we talk last?” David asks. “Wednesday night?”

  “Yeah,” Suzanne says, nodding her head. “I called you around eight.”

  David thinks about it, tries to work out the duration. “Well, I guess I’ve been here since sometime after that.”

  “You’ve been sitting here since Wednesday night?” Suzanne says

  “Well, probably more like early Thursday morning. I did go to bed Wednesday night. I think.”

  A puzzled look clouds David’s face. He frowns and says, “Or maybe I started Thursday afternoon, I think it was light outside.” Then he shakes his head and says, “I don’t really remember.”

  “Three days?” Suzanne says. “You’ve been sitting here for three days?”

  David reaches for the mouse, nudges it. “Look,” he says as the screen saver shuts off and the hard drive spins back to life. “I got a couple of hundred pages done. And this one will be a book, not a screenplay.”

  “Oh, David, why now? Why did----?” Suzanne stops mid-sentence. “Did you say a couple of hundred?” Leaning closer to the computer, she squints, looks at the page count displayed in the lower left-hand corner of the monitor.

  “It’s more like four hundred.” Suzanne says, slowly. “You did four hundred and sixty-one pages in three days?” Then she frowns. “That’s too much for a screenplay, what are you working on?”

  David smiles weakly. “I told you, it’s a book.” His face brightens and he says, “This is going to be the best thing I’ve ever done. Suzanne, I had this dream, it was incredible.” He rubs his forehead in a circular motion and says, “You won’t believe what I saw.”

  Suzanne blinks then shakes her head. “David, that’s really great but you are going to be late for the most important event of your life.” She tugs at this arm. “The limo will be here any minute.”

  David turns back to his computer and his eyes lock on the screen. “You can’t believe what I’ve seen, Suzanne,” he says. “The visions were so real.” His voice falls to a whisper. “The story....the words, it all just flowed. Like a river.”

  Suzanne looks at David, and sighs, seeing him now as an anomaly. Months, even years, could pass without so much as one creative thought, and then out of nowhere, he bangs out an entire manuscript in three days. His creativity seemed to manifest itself at all the wrong times.

  She spins the chair, bringing David around so they face each other. Suzanne takes his face in her hands, pulling David close and kisses his forehead.

  “Okay, little brother,” Suzanne says, running her fingers through David’s hair. “I’m excited for you, I really am, but I’m more excited about tonight. Do you realize what this means? You are going to be on international television. Your face will finally be connected to your work. Everyone will know who you are.”

  Her infectious enthusiasm makes him smile. David nods, he shrugs. “I haven’t won yet, probably won’t, but I’m excited about tonight, too.” He stretches, arching his back. “All right, let’s go. Do you need to shower or anything?”

  “Uh-uh,” Suzanne says, shaking her head. “I’m all ready. I just have to get into my dress and touch up my face.”

  Gathering up the bedcover wrapped around his waist, David stands. Taking a final opportunity to work out the kinks, he twists his spine, and says, “Oh, man, I’m stiff.”

  Stiff and sore, David limps across the room. Suzanne watches him for a moment then takes another look at his project.

  “Hey,” Suzanne says. “You didn’t save this.”

  David spins around. “What? Oh crap, I can’t believe it.”

  Suzanne slides into his desk chair and repositions the keyboard. “What do you want to call it?”

  He looks down at the floor, thinking. Then the title comes to David.

  “The Destroyer,” he says.

  “Ooh,” Suzanne says. “What a creepy title.”

  “If you think that’s creepy, don’t read the book.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “Yeah,” David says. “Like I said, it’s my best work yet.”

  David waits, expects a reaction, but any shade of fortune telling is lost on his sister. Suzanne is too busy thinking about the night ahead.

  “The Destroyer it is,” Suzanne says, clicking on the Save button. “Now, get cleaned up and I’ll change into that dazzling dress you bought me.”

  David offers a deferential nod and smiles, but in a small way he feels slighted. Suzanne doesn’t seem to understand how fantastic this project has become. David wants her to know about the incredible his voyages, but how could she? David barely understands them himself.

  “Okay, okay,” David says. “I’m going. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

  As he turns away, Suzanne sees David’s back. Those large welts rake his shoulders in violent, red patterns.

  “David, how did you get those scratches on your back?”

  “What? What scratches?”

  “Your shoulders, especially the right one, you’ve got some
nasty welts.”

  David twists trying to get a better look. “Hell if I know,” he says. “Maybe I had an itch.”

  “I doubt you could reach that far. Does it hurt?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, yeah it does, kind of.”

  Concern fills Suzanne’s eyes.

  “I’m okay,” David says, a playful smile tracing his lips.

  She looks at him, feeling unsettled, trying to work out how he had gotten those marks on his back.

  “Don’t worry,” David says. “I’m fine, really.” David holds her eyes a moment longer then winks and says, “Come on, this event won’t wait for us.”

  Once in his bedroom David drops the bedcover. As it hits the floor he catches sight of himself in the mirror. At thirty-two, his six foot three frame is still lean and solid. His dark eyes and sharp features are framed by long, brown hair. He stares at himself, wonders if the shoulder length hair is passé, wonders why he cares.

  He is painfully aware he still has an erection---he’d had it since the moment he had awoken to find himself pounding out his latest story over thirty-six hours ago.

  Apparently, as evidenced by the large milky spot, several orgasms had accompanied this incessant erection. Much to his consternation, he cannot distinctly recall any one of them. He stares a moment longer and then walks into the bathroom.

  In the guest room, Suzanne unbuttons her sundress, letting it fall to the floor. As she steps out of the dress, Suzanne is struck by the memory of the man she met earlier in the elevator. It is a curious sensation, made even more so by the fact that she thinks of him just when she began to undress.

  She recalls his unkempt appearance and mysterious charm. Hardly realizing it, Suzanne concludes that her thoughts of him were not sexual or erotic but rather that she understood something intimate and personal about him. Or maybe it was the other way around? Maybe he understood something intimate about her, not that Suzanne could even begin to know what it might be.

  Suzanne thinks about how his appearance did not seem to reflect the affluence of those living here, and at the same time there was a sense of sophistication, a refined feeling surrounding him. Somewhere inside she knows there is more to this man than can be culled from a chance encounter in an elevator. But was it really a chance meeting?

  That question gives way to feelings of apprehension and captivation. While these thoughts seem to be fleeting, they consume Suzanne’s mind so intensely that she has almost finished applying her makeup before re-entering her conscious world.

  Surprised, her mind still filled with thoughts of the stranger, Suzanne finds herself staring in the bathroom mirror, a lipstick inches from her mouth. She stares a moment longer, shakes her head, clears her thoughts. But the memories leave her feeling edgy and anxious and, somehow, peaceful.

  Suzanne traces her mouth with a seductive color of red and caps the lipstick. She makes a final check of her face, tilting her head slightly to the left and then to the right. Satisfied, she turns and goes into the bedroom to get dressed.

  Stepping into a pair of black high heels, hardly the minutia of her ensemble, Suzanne turns to examine the complete package. Twisting sideways to get a look at her profile in the floor length mirror, Suzanne runs her hands down over her stomach, adjusts her dress. The phone rings and Suzanne knows it will be the limousine driver.

  “Thank you,” she says, walking the cordless phone toward David’s bedroom. “We’ll be ready.” She disconnects then calls through the door. “David? Are you ready?”

  “Almost,” David’s reply is muffled. “I’ll be out in ten minutes or so.”

  “Well, you’ve only got five,” Suzanne says, as she makes her way back down the hall.

  In the living room, Suzanne looks around absently, still feeling edgy. She fingers the gold cross at her neck, her thoughts a jumble. All day her nerves have been buzzing—tonight will be huge and David’s little stunt, as unintentional as it may have been, has only served to make her more anxious. Without realizing it, Suzanne nods as if agreeing with herself.

  Two ice cubes, a tiny splash of Absolut with a healthy serving of cranberry juice and Suzanne takes a long draw. The vodka cranberry feels good going down and for a moment, Suzanne questions her decision to mix a drink. She should be turning to God for comfort, not alcohol, but Suzanne dismisses the concern. Her faith is strong and it runs deep. Still, having a drink might send the wrong message to David.

  Deciding not to finish, Suzanne places her glass on the rosewood bar top. It is polished to mirror-like finish. She stares at her reflection in the wood and a moment later Suzanne sees another face reflected next to her own. Startled, she spins, her eyes taking in the empty living room.

  “David?” she calls.

  From down the hall she hears his response. “What? Is he here?”

  Suzanne frowns and continues to sweep the room with her eyes.

  “Suzanne?” David calls again. “Is the limo here already?”

  “Um….no, never mind,” Suzanne answers slowly. “But hurry up, okay?”

  “Alright, alright.” David says, pulling open the bedroom door. “Here I come.”

  As David strolls into the living room he spreads his arms out and says, “So what do you think? How do I look?”

  Still edgy, Suzanne hesitates. Without answering she glances back at the bar top, then shakes her head and takes another swallow of her drink.

  Dropping his hands, David frowns then joins his sister at the bar. “Something wrong, kiddo?” He says.

  “Uh, I don’t think so. But I----oh, forget it, it’s nothing.”

  David pulls a beer out of the refrigerator, pops the top and says, “Saw the face, didn’t you?”

  Astonished, Suzanne looks at him. “Yeah, yeah I did. How did you know? Have you seen it, too?”

  David takes a long drink of beer and says, “All the time. Freaked me out at first, but now I don’t even notice it.”

  “How can you not notice? Doesn’t it creep you out?”

  David shrugs. “It used to but not now. Actually, it’s not really so mysterious.”

  “No?” Suzanne says. “Seems pretty weird to me.”

  “Well, if it really was someone else’s face then I’d have to agree. But it’s just the way the light plays off the rosewood. Sometimes it creates a double image of your own reflection.

  Suzanne looks at David then back at the bar top, squints, tries to see the face again. “I don’t know,” she says, slowly. “It didn’t look much like me. In fact it looked more like a man’s face.”

  “Good looking or scary?”

  She looks at David and shrugs. “Kind of good looking, I guess. Almost familiar.”

  “You’re lucky. Usually, I get the scary face.” He shakes in a mock shiver. “That one can make you scream.”

  “So, if you see different faces,” Suzanne says. “How can you say it’s the light? And why can’t we see them now?”

  David shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe the light changes, so the reflection changes. Anyway after I figured it out, I never gave it another thought.”

  Suzanne looks at him, looks at the bar top. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I saw---”

  The phone rings and David snatches it from the nearby coffee table.

  “Hello? Oh, hi there.” He covers the mouthpiece and says to Suzanne. “The limo’s here.”

  Then he speaks to the limo driver again. “Excellent. We’ll be right down.”

  Forgetting about the conversation of creepy faces, Suzanne is already walking toward the door, picking up her wrap on the way.

  “You know,” David says, following her to the door. “You never did answer my question—how do I look? You, I might add, look stunning in that blue dress.”

  Suzanne just keeps walking but she smiles and shakes her head.

  “What?” David says. “A dismissive look, that’s all I get?”

  As they step into the elevator Suzanne remembers the man she’d met earlier. “You
know,” she says, “I bumped into one of your neighbors this afternoon.”

  “Really? Who?”

  Suzanne shrugs, “I don’t know. I never got his name. Good looking guy, though. Dark, kind of sexy.”

  “Ooh. Got your attention, did he?”

  “Scared the hell out of me is what he did.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Well, I was worried about you not being here.” Suzanne reaches over and hits David on the arm. “Darn you. I was calling and you were asleep at your desk. I was afraid you weren’t home. Anyway, I was so preoccupied that I never even saw him when I got on the elevator. When he spoke to me, I about jumped out of my skin.”

  The elevator doors open to the lobby and they step out.

  “I don’t get it.” David says, “He was standing next to you in the parking garage and you didn’t see him? How could you miss that?”

  Suzanne shakes her head. “He wasn’t in the parking garage he was in the elevator, already going up. When he asked me which floor I wanted, that’s when I jumped.

  David pushes the revolving door into position for his sister and moves to one side. “He couldn’t have already been going up, Suzanne. The parking garage is the last stop. There is no down after that.”

  Suzanne stops, stares at him. “Then how could he have been going up?”

  David shakes his head slowly. “Come on, Suzanne, think about it. This guy hadn’t been going up. He’d been going down and probably decided to stay on when he saw you.”