ALL IN THE HEAD 1

THE DARK SIDE OF QUIET

It's the kind of darkness you can sit back and sink right into, something so smooth and relaxing that you don't notice the moment you slip away. When you wake nothing is right, nothing is as once was, everything is dull, a light not at all so bright, a dark kind of quiet.

No one sees you; no one hears you, yet they are there right in front of you, discussing you like you aren't even there. Then you see it, a glass, the last thing you drank. On your feet you turn to see yourself dead where you last sat ... poisoned ... murdered.

'Is he dead?'

'Oh my God Maggie, I think you've killed him, you've killed your dad.'

'He's not my dad, alright Jackie? I didn't even know he existed six months ago.'

'Still, he is your biological father, and he doesn't look like he is breathing.'

'I only wanted to knock him out and take his car for a spin, ya know, so the three of us could get outta here for a while. There was no way he was ever gonna just give me his keys.'

'What did you do to me?' he asks quietly, moving slowly towards his daughter. Everything looks dull and grey when a moment of so prior, a golden spectrum of colour existed. He reaches out towards his recently found daughter and no matter how he tries; his right hand never really comes close to his daughters shoulder.

'What did you do Maggie?' asks Jackie.

'I ... eh ... I ...'

'You did what? ...'

'Em ...'

Still not being able to reach his daughter physically, Frank Murphy turns his attention towards a wooden, rectangular table close to his left. His daughter's friends Jackie and Ellison sit either end of this table with their backs against a wall. Maggie is standing next to, in front of the table and also close to halfway in between her friends. Frank is standing only a couple of feet away from Maggie who oddly acts as if she were not so close to him at all.

On the table are three small bottles, soft drinks, one for each of the girls, all probably with a little added extra content. There is a fourth drink, a glass containing ice and a dark amber liquid. The liquid is whiskey, Frank's whiskey. For a moment he didn't know it was there, once he seen it, he remembered.

He remembers something else he didn't remember at first, drinking from that glass, placing it down on the table and feeling tired. He remembers backing up and sitting down into a large, cushioned seat a few feet away from that table and he remembers things getting ever so dark, ever so quickly. He also remembers a want, a want for rest, a want to take a few minutes to close his eyes.

Standing was something that came all of a sudden. The dulling colour was something that also seemed sudden, the golden brightness prior to closing his eyes becoming dull as he found himself stood and a little lost. Frank turns to look back towards that seat he had slinked into and sees he is still within it. Eyes are closed, head is slumped.

'You spiked his drink, didn't you Maggie?'

'Guys I think we should call an ambulance' speaks Ellison, her first words since inquiring as to if Frank is dead.

'No, no ambulances ... no police ... he is fine. He'll wake up in a couple of hours.'

'He is not fine' says Jackie. 'Look at him, does he look fine?'

'You killed me ... I'm dead ... I don't believe this ...'

'Leave him. We'll take his keys, go for a spin in his car, leave it somewhere out of the way and burn it. He'll be found eventually, and people will think ... you know ... that he took himself out.'