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Writer
Join Date: Nov 2003
Posts: 39
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Irationality - a short story
Irrationality
Emma could hear the music from Psycho in her head, the sharp, ear-piercing metallic Beep! Beep! As the girl was stabbed, followed by the descending eerie decrescendo of her sliding down the shower screen. Her mind then jumped to another movie with a similar theme where a woman was taken by surprise by a psychopathic murderer, only to be discovered later on the bed, half-naked and riddled with stab wounds. Then there was that movie where the girl was drowned in the bath by her psychotic husband, and the sound effects were constructed so well that you actually heard the water going over her ears, as she would hear it. That had terrified her for days afterwards, and, at times like this, it replayed over and over again in her head, increasing her fear even further. This was the reason she hated being home alone, absolutely detested it beyond reason, logic or rationality. Being blind did have its disadvantages, and an overactive imagination was one of them.
Emma stood at the sink, her arms covered with froth from the detergent, scrubbing relentlessly at the frying pan. The birds sang outside, a soothing melody against the harsh stillness of silence. A serene environment indeed, calming for the spirit, but the fear was there, as always, clouding her happiness, swooping down on her like an eagle. “Don’t be afraid, relax,” she told herself, beginning to scrub the knives. One by one she washed them, leaving the sharp steak one till last. Images of broken mutilated bodies flashed through her mind, leaving her numb, tense and edgy. Her life was good, though: she had a loving, respectful husband, two beautiful, adorable, intelligent children, and a close set of friends, but that fear would creep up on her whenever she was alone, paralysing her with it’s sudden intensity.
“Sssssss! Ssssss! Bang! Crash!” Emma backed away from the sink, her heart hammering like the bass drum in a punk rock band. She stood still, listening for the sound again. There was silence. “Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!” She chanted under her breath as she took a step forward, ready to resume her task. “Look,” she berated herself, “You’re not going to get anything done of you’re so afraid. Come on Emma, snap out of it! There are no psychopaths around here, just calm down.” Holding on to that thought, she continued as before. Her mind wandered aimlessly for a while, contemplating the next story she was going to write, and attempting to string together the fragmented ideas she’d had over the past few weeks, then on to her children, the joys and failures of their growing up, her husband and his music, how great it was to see him achieving. .
“Eeeeeek!” A bird’s shrill cry that set her on edge again.
“Crash!” The wind brushing against something outside, sudden, eerie. When would this fear let her be? Furtively, she stepped away from the sink, breathing in deeply to prevent the dreadful images and sounds of terrified screams from assailing her as she reached for her watch, checking the time. It was only 11.30, she had at least five hours before James returned home from busking, collecting the children from school on the way. She smiled at that thought, appreciative of the little things he did for her, at how good life really was. The happiness and contentment stayed with her until she heard the furtive step in the hallway.
“Who’s that?” She called. It could be one of her friends, after all. There was silence.
“Hey, quit the games,” she continued, putting a lighthearted teasing edge into her voice. “Just tell me who you are.”
Again there was silence. Perhaps it was someone walking passed outside. She waited, listening. Silence seemed to surround her and she let out a breath. Damn her imagination! It was great for writing, and telling the kids bedtime stories, but not much else!
“Crash!” What the hell? She stood paralysed with fear, clutching the steak knife in her hand as the dissonant chords from Psycho replayed in her head. Beep! Beep! Beep!
“Emma, can you help me?” A child’s frightened voice made her jump.
“Who’s there?” She asked softly.
“It’s me, Erin,” the girl sobbed, clearly distressed.
“What’s the matter?” Emma asked gently, her fear and the dishes forgotten at this sudden turn of events.
“There’s a man outside,” Erin whispered. “He came into my house!”
“Where’s your Mum?”
“She’s gone down the street. My brother Dan’s meant to be looking after me but he’s gone off with friends.”
“But why on Earth-“
“So there you are, you little shit,” a man’s deep voice made them both jump and turn to face him.
“You didn’t think you could get away from me, did you, little girl? No way in hell, not after your mother rejected me last night! No-one gets away with that without suffering the consequences!” He laughed demoncly, stepping so close that Emma could smell the beer on his breath, and there was another more distinct, strange musty smell of old sweat, cigarettes and amphetamines.
Erin didn’t reply, only inched closer to Emma, who cautiously took the steak knife out of the water and slid it down the side of her pants, out of site.
“And who are you, bitch?” The man demanded, as though he’d just realised she was there.
“I’m Emma,” she replied, unable to believe how calm she sounded.
“Well, Emma,” the man expostulated, his voice greasy with sleazy, malicious calmness, that menacing, yet somehow still friendly tone that made her want to vomit, “Do you want to have some fun? I definitely do. Mmm, you both look so enticing.” That said, he grabbed them, running his large, hard, sweaty hands roughly over their bodies.
“Fuck off, bastard!” She spat, reaching out to put a protective arm around Erin, while she clawed at their assailant. Surprisingly, she felt no fear at all, just a determination not to let anything happen to either of them.
“I will, once my job’s done,” he replied smoothly, tilting her face upwards with one hand, while he reached for Erin with the other, pulling her roughly on to the bench.
Pinning Emma against the bench with his leg, he added, “Just stay there, slut! I’ll deal with you later, but if you move, you’ll get to know this really well,” his last words were accompanied by the gentle scrape of a knife across her neck, not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough to instill fear. Only for a moment though. Once the man had returned his attention to Erin, Emma removed the knife from her hiding place, and announced, “And you’d better stay still, too before plunging it into the upper half of the man’s left arm, causing him to scream with pain, and loosen his grip on Erin who took that opportunity to dart passed him, and head home.
“You fucking bitch!” The man exploded, wrenching the knife out of his arm, spraying Emma’s face with a mixture of blood and spit as he did so. “You’ll pay for that! Come here mole!” The man yelled, wrenching her forward so that she lay on top of him. That only succeeded in making the knife cut into the flesh of his chest, as he had continued to clutch it unawares. “Oh shit! Fucking hell!”
Emma took that opportunity to run over to the phone and ring triple 0, quickly pressing the numbers to specify that she required the police and an ambulance.
When he heard the sirens, the man sprang up, lunging for her, but he was quickly restrained by the police and paramedics who had burst in. Erin was there too, crying hysterically. All three were quickly placed into the ambulance before it sped off, leaving the police to examine the scene.
A month later, Emma stood at the sink once more. A refreshing breeze blue outside and magpies sang in the trees. It was a beautiful day that matched her mood. Rather than fearful and terrified, she felt calm and relaxed, thinking only of her family, friends and her current writing projects. As strange as it seemed, saving Erin’s life had freed her from her fear, and made her realise that she wasn’t powerless, rather, she was capable of anything that life chose to throw at her.
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thank you all for your feedback, both positive and negative. Thanks for saying aIhandled the actions cenes well 
