Sudden Death (10 December 2008)


Sudden Death - Bronwyn Desjardins

by Bronwyn Desjardins (Notes) on Wednesday, 10 December 2008 at 11:40
A naked room. My head is swimming. Spinning. The cutting, cold steel of the cuffs coax me back to sobriety. Little square room.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 1:30 a.m.
The sound of the clock on the wall. Hypnotizing. Above, a rusty, rotating fan does little to cool the stale, interrogating air.
I glance to the left – reflecting back, a blurred, unfocused, pale, stained face.
“I know you can hear me out there”, I yell. No reply.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
What time is it, I wonder. I try to focus on the moving hands.
Tick. Tock.
My arms ache, despite the anaesthetizing safety of the triple Jacks. I could do with another.
“I’ve got to use the bathroom!”
My words an empty echo.
I’m going to be sick – sobriety looms.
“I’m entitled to a phone call!”
Nausea.
BARF!
The contents of my stomach spill. A palette of debauchery, painting the concrete-floored canvas. Hues of pink and yellow. A modern masterpiece if you can get past the smell.
BARF!
Again. I can barely breathe.
“You can’t keep me here. I have rights!” I scream into the vacuum.
Trying to stand, my legs buckle. Betraying me.
Think. Remember.
Tick. Tock.
A flashback – a car, my car. A crash. A face – a man. A scream.
Blood coated steel.
Looking down I see the crimson guilt. Coagulated stains – metallic and dry – cover my knees.
Tick. Tock. Dam that clock.
Slumping to the table, warm gastric waste slaps my face.
The door opens. Voices ring out from the sterile corridor beyond.
“Charge her”, a faceless official voice commands. “The hospital called. The man is dead.”
Tick. Tock.
Clock, please, stop! 1:35 a.m.

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