Wrestling the Kraken

Bridgett

1963

Bridgett

Case No. : 00000310749

Date : March 23, 1963

Location: City of Fall River

Status : Cold Case / Missing Persons

My leg hung off the edge of the pink tub. I slid down, submerging my head underwater. Coming up for a breath, I left my ears below the surface, listening to the cascading waterfall from the faucet. It reminded me of hooves, galloping. A carriage on a cobbled street maybe.

Listening, I prayed the horses would take me with them, far away to never see this place again. I prayed they would take me somewhere my heart could beat steady, without worrying about what lay beyond each corner. It wasn't a mystery. I knew exactly what lay behind each corner here, but still my heart remained naïve. Thinking that one day it could change was dangerous business - hope was dangerous - but you couldn't convince my heart of that. Stubborn thing.

Letting the water settle over my face, I closed my eyes, held my breath, and focused on the pounding in my chest. Still the memories followed me in and replayed in my mind. Flashes one after another. The pounding intensified and I could feel it behind my eyelids.

I came up for air and drew in a deep breath. Pushing my wet hair back, I listened to her without meaning to.

She was downstairs in the kitchen, slamming cupboards and dishes. This was normal. Though when she was upset, the slamming took on a specific tone. The whole house, absorbing and relaying her frustration. Nowhere was safe. Not even here.

With the tub now filled, I brought my leg in and forced myself to turn the faucet off. The sound helped to buffer everything out. Now there was nothing, except her. I could hear footsteps quickening toward the door. Damn! I forgot to lock it!

The door swung open and there she stood in the doorway. That look. Though I tried my best to hide it, that look alone pierced every wall, every guard I could muster in her presence. It turned my stomach into a pool of acid, devouring me from within.

The stare lasted only a few moments, but it drew me into a separate space where it could have me for an eternity. She gave a sigh.

"Out now!" she demanded, grabbing a towel and tossing it at me, then walked away, slamming the door behind her. The walls vibrated, rattling the picture frame that hung on the wall. A man wrestling an octopus. It was a clipping from an article my dad read. Some guy in some remote place of the world, ridding the world of a "treacherous evil," as he had called it. Then, as you might expect, it became a sport. It was so popular now that in a few months, a tournament championship to wrestle octopuses will be held on the west coast. My father was there now- practicing.

I put my head down on my knees, letting out a breath. Though not relaxed, I could at least gather myself up better when she wasn't around. The sound of her voice alone could impale me. She knew how to wield her tone to break me apart into pieces. If she sounded sweet, that was the most cruel of all. I could never prepare, even though I knew what to expect. Trouble. Like the man from the article, who had used music as a way to lure the octopus out into the open; a false hope my soul seemed to never refuse. The spear always followed.

I stood up and water gushed down. I pictured a creature emerging, breaking the surface with such force. Stepping out and drying myself off, I suppressed the urge to cry. Looking into the mirror, I wondered who was staring back at me. The wrestler- battling evil, or the creature- dangerous and evil? The tears welled up again, telling me something deep inside already knew. Crying was simply too risky. With no time to dry my hair, I pinned it up and took a breath. It was time to step out.