Skeletal

by Lee Hayton

  ‘Are there other possibilities?’

  She nods. ‘Due to the advanced state of decay, I’m unable to find a confirmed cause. There may well have been soft tissue injuries, for example, in the decedent which we have lost the chance to determine. There’s no evidence from the post-mortem of any significant trauma affecting the bone structure, there was no residue to indicate excessive blood loss at the scene. The form of her body as found also leads me to the conclusion that it’s unlikely the deceased suffered from extreme bodily injury at the time of death.’

  The coroner nods and pauses for a moment. He turns back to the room, his gaze lingering on my mother before passing over the remaining attendees.

  She’s still staring straight ahead, her eyes fixed on an invisible point. A dampening at the side of her right eye gathers enough moisture to form a tear that rolls down the side of her nose and then trembles on her upper lip. She licks it away, and swallows, her jaw clenched, the muscles forming tight little lumps on either side.

  ‘You mentioned that Daina was found with documents and a phial of some type. Would you be able to tell us some more about those?’

  Her eyes widen in surprise and she shakes her head. ‘I didn’t examine them at the scene as they weren’t relevant to the post mortem. I suppose they are held in police custody.’

  The coroner nods and announces a recess.

  My mother continues to sit still as the court empties. Once the last of the attendees had gone, and it is only her and one clerk, tidying up the room, she puts her face into her hands. She is silent, but her shoulders shake, and after a few moments she has to pull a tissue out of her bag.

  Watch her now. Watch closely. She’s crying over the death of her little girl.

  Would’ve been nice if she’d spared me a second thought while I was alive.

  Daina 2004

  I tried to roll over in bed. I had a thumping headache and it felt like my shoulder was three times larger than normal. Three times larger, and three times hotter. For some reason, my bed was hard and cold. Hard, and cold.

  I’ve fallen out of bed. I felt around me for the trailing edge of a blanket to pull down. I felt too sore to try to get back up. I must be getting a fever I felt so cold. Coming down with the flu, I hope Mummy looks after me, I don’t feel well at all.

  There wasn’t any blanket within reach. I’d have to move, but I dreaded it. My head was pounding so much it seemed like my skull must have shrunk, and my brain would soon be spilling out my ears. Maybe that was why my left one was blocked. Blocked and dribbling something onto the ground. Onto the ground?

  My head jerked up. But the clanging that erupted inside it, as a result, left me breathless, and I rested it back down on the ground.

  I was naked. I could feel the cold night air sweeping across my body; across the swatches of bare skin that should always be covered in public.

  My eyes wouldn’t open first time. They were gummed shut and felt as though they extended a full foot in front of my face. That would stop me running into anything now, wouldn’t it?

  I touched my right forefinger against the side of my right eye and swiped it with care across the lashes. I presumed the gloop I could feel was blood and I tried to open my eye again. It worked, a little. I used my forefinger to pry my eye open, and then stroked across the left and did the same. My vision still pulsed with colour. I closed my eyes. The colours remained but went dancing around the screen inside my head. I opened them again and the colours continued, then faded away.

  There was the sound of traffic on a road somewhere. With only one ear working, I couldn’t place the direction. I could pick out another sound as well. Like a slap, then a grunt. Then nothing. Then a moan.

  Was there someone else there? Someone else hurt? I tried to move again. I kept my head low and rolled onto my stomach. My shoulder and head swelled with pain again, but this time I stayed still, in place, and waited for it to subside. I heard the snick of a buckle behind me; the small rasp of a shirt being tucked into jeans. The pain receded and I moved again, hitching my body up to my knees, paused again, and then to my feet.

  Pinpoints of light spotted my vision, but I could make out where I was with the light from the growing moon above. The play area was in front of me, empty. I turned, careful to make the motion as slow and smooth as I could.

  There was motion in the corner of my eye and I jerked around, triggering a light flash and further pain. When the light show subsided, I saw a man standing next to a park bench.

  Fear crept down my body; raising hairs on my head, my arms, my stomach, my legs.

  ‘You okay?’ the figure asked.

  I recognised the voice, and in the relief I felt like crying.

  ‘Paul? Is that you?’

  ‘Yeah. They all left. I left too, but then I thought I’d better see that you were okay. You were out cold.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said and realised again that I was naked. I tried to hide my breasts with one hand, my bush with the other.

  ‘You can borrow my jacket if you like. To walk back home.’

  ‘That’d be great,’ I said and moved towards him. He didn’t take his jacket off, just continued to stand there, looking at me. Some of my fear returned. ‘Thanks, Paul, can I take it now?’

  Paul swept one foot in front of him, leaving a line of concrete exposed under the bark. ‘It’s really expensive,’ he said. ‘It’s real leather. I’ll never be able to afford another one.’

  The relief tried to come back, but I wouldn’t let it. ‘I’ll give it straight back to you after, Paul. You know I will. Or, you could walk me home and I’ll give it to you when we get there.’

  He nodded, his face hidden under a lock of his long, scruffy brown hair. ‘Yeah, I could do that.’ Instead of moving to take the jacket off he swept his toe through the bark to expose another line of concrete. ‘The thing is...’

  His voice shrilled upwards on the last word and he shut his mouth, tight. Vila and I’d mocked his breaking voice a few weeks back. It seemed innocent enough fun.

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  If I hadn’t been exposed I would leave, now. My fear levels were climbing again, and I looked down at my feet and swallowed hard to keep control. There were scraps of my mother’s blouse still encircling my wrists. The small pearl buttons that held the cuffs together were still fastened in place. The fabric above them gone. Cut. Torn.

  I was still wearing my socks and shoes.

  ‘The thing is, I think you owe me something, you know. For the jacket. I came back to check on you…’ he gestured vaguely around the park so I could see the monstrosities his kindness had saved me from. The trees. The empty park. The darkness.

  My fear climbed a notch into horror.

  ‘They kicked you in the head when you were unconscious, you know. I wanted to make sure you were safe. I was the only one who cared.’

  ‘I can pay you if you want. If you take me home you can have all the money I…’ I broke off as he reached out and tugged at my arm. The arm crossed in front of my breasts.

  ‘You don’t need to pay me. But, you know, you’ve been lying out here all night naked. I think you know what that does.’

  Horror into cold terror.

  ‘Don’t worry about it Paul. I’ll just wait here for a while then make my own way home. Thanks for looking out for me, but I’ll be right now.’

  ‘No, no. Don’t be like that. You don’t have to do that,’ He tugged at my arm again.

  There was a hot buzz in my head. My left ear cleared all at once, and I could hear the sounds of the night in full stereo.

  And like a light the terror flicked into resignation. I could barely stand. I was naked except for scraps and the victim’s war-paint of my own blood. I was injured, maybe badly, and I was in no fit state to fight or negotiate my way out of here. If I didn’t submit, he would hurt me. Or worse.

  I lay back down. My head protested with a low pulse, and my shoulder squealed two octaves higher in harmony.
/>
  With me eyes closed I felt his weight on me and stared at the colours that danced on the inside of my eyelids. Where the swelling was bad, the colours were more vibrant. They flowed into each other and glowed into merging shades. Doughnuts of light pink swallowed up with bubbles of deep violet then glaring into white.

  With so much pain in my body already I didn’t think it would compete, but when he thrust his way in there was a knife to my insides, and then raw irritation like a wet finger being rubbed on a scraped knee.

  And then he got to his feet. I thought for a minute that he would go and I would be left all alone again in a worse state.

  Instead, he pulled his trousers further down and stepped out of them. ‘Here,’ he said and gave them to me. His boxers were almost knee length and either deep blue or black. They looked like shorts.

  I stood up and stepped into his trousers. The legs were short by a few inches but I could get the waistband closed. He handed me his jacket and started to walk away.

  He was at the edge of the park when he turned back. ‘I’ll get that back from you Monday,’ he said. And then he jogged along the footpath in overlapping ovals of street-lamp light until I couldn’t see him any longer.

  #

  I walked to the safety of people. The lights of Northlands Mall with its surrounding pubs, clubs and restaurants provided me with a feeling of safety. There was a double bench not far from the main entrance, the seats back to back, which was in the shadows enough to feel hidden, but exposed enough to feel safe. I sat on the side that faced the small garden rather than the street.

  In Paul’s jacket pocket was a small plastic envelope of service station napkins. I tore the packet open, pulled one out, and used it to wipe some of the blood from the side of my head. It was soaked through in seconds and I pulled another one free.

  If I could clean my face, then it didn’t matter about the rest of my injuries. People couldn’t see them. I could get inside, into the safety of a mall bathroom and take proper stock of myself. But not if my face was dripping with blood.

  I licked the tough tissue and rubbed it over my entire face this time. There was more blood, unexpected, from my eye. The eyebrow had split. An image popped into my head of Michelle drawing back her dainty foot and smashing it into my unconscious face and I felt a wave of pure hatred.

  I’d only been trying to help.

  I touched the side of my head. Even a light prodding caused enough pain that it made me want to vomit. I tried to arrange my hair so that it would cover some of my injuries, but it was tangled and matt with blood and dirt. I wanted to cry. But I couldn’t. That would hurt too much.

  A man sat behind me on the bench, and I flinched away to the very corner of mine. What the hell? Did he not notice me here in the shadows, or was that the reason why he’d chosen this seat?

  ‘It’s Daina, isn’t it?’ he said, and I turned to examine him with caution.

  He hadn’t turned in my direction. He’d spoken while staring out at the road. He was grey. Everything about him. His sports jacket, his trousers, his tie, his complexion. Grey. ‘You’ve been hurt. You need to get help.’

  I gaped at him for a moment, then turned and faced back into the garden. Two could play at this game. ‘I’m okay, I just need to get cleaned up.’

  ‘You’re not okay.’

  I stared at the scrappy lavender and stubby tussocks that made up the garden. They were based in bark, just like the park playground. My mind shied away from the comparison. ‘I can look after myself. I just need to get cleaned up.’

  My fear had dissipated. I didn’t know why. I was stranded alone in a strange place after being attacked talking to a strange man who could be there to do me more harm and seemed to know far more about me than I knew about him which put me at a disadvantage. But I felt safe.

  ‘We both know that you need to do more than get cleaned up.’ He paused, and then spoke again, his voice deeper and rougher as though the words were hard to get out. ‘You need to contact a rape clinic. You need to get real help.’

  I thought of protesting again, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to meet any more people tonight. I definitely didn’t want anyone to poke or prod me in areas that had already had far more contact than I’d ever wanted. But I did need help. ‘Can you take me?’

  ‘No Daina. I’m sorry, but I can’t be seen in public with you. And you can’t tell anyone about me. You can go to a phone booth from here. There’s one just down the street, you passed it while you were walking here. They have a phone book and you’ll be able to call the clinic from there. They’ll pick you up or tell you what to do.’

  I crossed my arms over my chest and leant forward even though it hurt my head. The need to become smaller was greater than the pain.

  ‘Why are you helping me? What do you want?’

  There was a long silence. He shifted his weight on the bench and for a moment I thought he was going to go, to leave, to walk away. But he didn’t. ‘I need you to do something for us.’

  I curled my legs up on the bench so that I was almost in a ball. It felt safer. I wanted to ask who “us” was, but I didn’t want to know the answer. So instead I asked, ‘What do you need me to do?’

  ‘You need to get some information from Vila’s dad. I’ll give you details later when you’re in a better state.’

  I tried to put this into some sort of context but my brain wasn’t functioning to its full standard, or it didn’t make sense at all.

  ‘Oh,’ he said and turned to look at me for the first time. ‘Don’t eat anything they give you, okay? They’ve been lacing your food with salvia, that’s why you’ve been hallucinating. They’re friends of Michelle, not yours.’

  The pain from that betrayal hit me harder than anything I’d experience so far. I hadn’t even had time to wonder why my friends hadn’t stayed behind to help me. Hadn’t wondered why they left me naked in a public park where anything could happen. Where anything did happen. They’re friends of Michelle. So I had no one.

  ‘You need to keep up the pretence for the time being. Otherwise, we won’t have an in with Vila. I know it’ll be hard, but I think you’re strong enough to do it.’

  Strong. No, I wasn’t strong. I was weak and tired and battered. ‘Why are you talking to me? Why did you choose me? Why me?’ The last a plaintive cry. I didn’t want any more. I was filled up to overflowing.

  ‘Oh Daina,’ he stood up from the bench and turned back to the street. ‘You know why.’

  He walked away.

  Daina 1994

  The picnic spot was empty. Her mother had told her it would be nice and sunny and a good place for their lunch and a bit of a play and she was right. There was dense forest surrounding them; the lush bush that grew when showered well with heavy West Coast rain, but today it was warm and sunny.

  There was a lake which swished against a pebble beach. The stones were warm, but they hurt Daina’s feet. Still, she suffered the pain just like the Little Mermaid to get to what she wanted.

  Her mother had told her not to go in the water. She was never allowed to go in the water if she was alone. Even the tub was out of bounds unless her mum ran it for her and then listened out from the next room. There’d been a brother once. The water had killed him. Daina didn’t remember him but she had pictures of him holding her when she was a little baby so sometimes she imagined him and had him act out scenes in her head and pretended they were memories.

  Daina sidled up to the edge of the water. She almost overbalanced as she also turned her head to check that her mum wasn’t about to swoop down on her with loudness and guilt, but she must still be in the car. She’d been drinking; not the raspberry cordial that was Daina’s favourite treat but which her mum didn’t let her have too often because it was “loaded with sugar” but a clear drink which made her smell, and made her sleepy.

  The water was clear right near the edge, but further out the wind picked up little wavelets so that it was a shiny blue-grey instead. But here, here at
the water’s edge, she could see the smooth pebbles right through the water. They looked bigger and smoother than the ones she stood on. Softer than the ones she stood on.

  She stuck a bare toe into the water, just the tip. That wasn’t really going in the water now, was it? It wasn’t really disobeying.

  The water was cold. The opposite of the sun which was hot and dry. The water was cold and wet.

  Daina held her arms out to each side to keep her balance. She almost never fell over these days, she wasn’t a baby, but sometimes gravity pulled on her in unexpected ways and she would fall and feel stupid and clumsy. If she did that in the water, her mum would think she’d disobeyed her and she hadn’t. She really hadn’t.

  She put her whole foot in to see if the stones in the water were smoother to stand on than the stones on the beach. At first, they were. The cold of the water ran around her foot and calmed the sole so it felt bigger and lighter. But after a minute she could feel the round unforgiving hardness of the pebbles start to dent their way into the sole of her foot again.

  Maybe if she put both feet in? After all, she was leaning on her foot in the water; that could make it seem like it was still sore. If she put her other foot down next to it, maybe it would be better.

  Daina pulled her dry foot level and dipped it down slowly, slowly into the water. The cold on her foot was as delicious as the heat on her head. She put her hands on her head to feel where the warmth of the sun had turned it hot, hot.

  Delicious.

  The thump was loud. Loud. Daina pulled back from the water, guilt flooding her little frame, and overbalanced. She fell, her bottom hitting hard on the stones of the beach.

  She scrambled to her knees. Her whole body was adrenalin. She’d done something wrong, something forbidden, and she was about to pay the price.

  But her mother wasn’t in sight.

  Daina stood upright. Her bottom was in the shock stage of pain. She knew it was coming, but it hadn’t quite organised its troops to deliver the full attack yet.

  The thump would swim through her dreams, her nightmares, for a decade to come. It would echo in the back of her mind every time that something went wrong, and every time she would feel the flush of guilt, of being caught out.