Stained Glass Souls (Wattys 2014, Collector's Dream Award Winner)

Charliegh: The Monsters in My Mind

“You know what?” She stared hard at the weeds, brushing against the crumbling stone. They reminded her of him – stubborn. Unwanted, but still pushing his aimless way into her life. She had spent weeks dodging his phone calls, accepting his pitiful smiles. And now, the thought made her sick to her stomach.

Her fault. Her mistakes.

“I spent the night in the hospital. I think I deserved it.”

After the police had arrived, they had hustled Price out of the lake first. His face was white and he was surrounded by a floating pool of crimson. After he had been carried to the cruiser, they called an ambulance. Before the sirens came, they had finally noticed her, arms wrapped around her body.

She should have walked right out of that water and all the way home. The police were preoccupied. The only witness would have been a boy with a hole through his brain. But she couldn’t move. Her feet were glued to the sand. She was ankle-deep in regret, and what was even heavier was the knowledge that everyone in her life that had meant something were gone.

The heavier policeman, with narrow, disgruntling eyes, had started swearing. He trundled through the dirty water and slung his jacket over her shoulders. He carried her to the shore, like some kind of tragic princess in a terrifying fairy tale. 

Fifteen minutes, two nurses, one doctor, and a multitude of tests later, she was propped up in a hard bed in a white room. “I’m glad you succeeded.” Charliegh rubbed her heels across the chilly ground. “I couldn’t stand it – the emptiness.”

It reminded her of home. Of the weeks after Randall died, and Nolan raped her. Devoid of reality. She had been suspended by her beating heart, darkness overtaking her daydreams.

When she tipped her head back, the sky had broken open. The wind was cold against her throat. The colds had strung themselves along a cotton-candy sky. It looked like bruises – patches of deep blue and purple. Fading yellow, rimmed by greenish light.

Her knees popped in protest as she stood. Her fingers edged around Randall’s condolences one more time. Her hair tangled in the collar of her jacket as she turned, the breeze lifting the brittle strands.

The tombstone was behind her. As far as she could see, a thin path stretched through the cemetery. It was her exit. Her cue; she would be leaving her past behind, yet again. Before too long, memories would infiltrate her life again.

But if she placed one foot in front of another, she could escape her secrets and her grievances. It was a momentary action, but a permanent train of thought. She would not be coming back.

There was no need to. An eye for an eye, Charliegh realized. A life for a life. A tragedy for a tragedy. Both swam through her mind as she made her way out of the land of the dead. And when she re-entered the land of the living, she resolved to put the thought of them – secrets included – to rest as well.

***

The apartment was unusually silent.

Charliegh stepped through the door into a room bathed with purple light. There was no screaming. No metal music, or other noises. Nothing – not even Asher’s clunky tread – pierced the still air. The coffee table was tissue-free, and the empty makeup containers had been thrown away. A pile of dirty laundry was sitting neatly in a basket by the sofa. The television was turned off, both remotes placed upon the top.

She eased her messenger bag off her shoulder and dropped it on the floor. The dog-eared edges of her medical release forms poked over the top. She crammed them back inside, zipping the top of her bag. It was a terrible day to rehash a terrible story, and she intended to keep the hospital visit as demure as possible.