The Motif

Chapter 16

But that was not the end for Chrissie Martin. She returned to a state of consciousness in a world of darkness, surrounded by an infinite array of humming zeros and ones, all of which were mocking her, for they were humming the very melody that had brought her to her doom.

She tried to scream, but she had no throat, and therefore no voice, with which to scream. She was trapped in this world, tormented by the melody of her lover. But, worst of all, he was not with her as she had hoped he would be. She was alone. This was an existence worse than hell.

Jennifer snapped awake. She quickly realized she was freezing cold and standing outdoors. Once these incredible realizations took hold, she took in her surroundings and found that, somehow, she was standing outside of Tim's apartment building, a kitchen knife in her hand. It was very early in the morning; the sky was still dark and the sun nowhere to be seen. Her eyes were sore, both from the cold chill of the night and from hours of crying. The blisters on her hands from where she had picked up the burning pan of chicken parmesan stung with a blinding pain, now that the adrenaline of her anger and heartbreak had worn off. She was still wearing the clothes she hadn't had the energy or will to change out of before collapsing onto her bed after Tim's departure.

The music box song – Chrissie's song – was now playing stronger than it ever had before. She knew there was only one way to make it stop, forever.

As she walked, slowly but steadily, toward Tim's apartment, what little rationalizing part of her mind that remained thought back on her visions of Chrissie and Kyrie, and realized she should have known before now that those visions were a lie, for Chrissie had always appeared as brutally, savagely slaughtered, and yet Kyrie's journal said he had strangled her to death, and could not bring himself to mutilate her. Chrissie's own frozen corpse supported that story far more than Jennifer's visions, though she suspected that had she looked closer, she might have noticed the lack of bruise marks upon Chrissie's neck.

As she walked up the steps to Tim's apartment, she thought she heard Chrissie's voice in her head, although in her current state of mind she couldn't be sure that she wasn't imagining it.

"I'm sorry for lying to you," Chrissie whispered, "but I knew you wouldn't understand until after you had felt my pain. I am trapped here, in this eternity of notes. But I can make people understand...I can make them feel my pain if they listen to my song. And I won't stop. I'll never stop. I'll never stop. I will continue to spread my pain, until everyone has felt it, and understands. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand, Chrissie," Jennifer replied, almost in a trance.

"Good. Help me spread my pain. Will you help me spread my pain?

"Yes," Jennifer said, as she stepped up to the front door of the apartment building. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her key ring – she and Tim had given each other a spare key to each other's apartment, in case of emergency – realizing that her sleepwalking self had had the place of mind to grab the keys before leaving her apartment.

Half-conscious, Jennifer walked down the hall to Tim's first floor apartment and quietly, oh, so quietly, opened the door and stepped into the apartment.

She found him in his bedroom, sleeping peacefully. Daring to sleep peacefully after the pain he had caused her. She raised the kitchen knife over her head, and whispered,

The notes keep playing, playing in my head

They keep repeating 'til all I see is red

The world is swaying, swaying, but soon I'll be dead

The rhythm won't stop beating, an endless night's ahead

As she finished the poem, Tim began to stir from his slumber, and she brought the knife down into his moist flesh. As he screamed, she continued to stab, and stab, and stab, until he screamed no more, and then she climbed on top of the blood-soaked bed, and kissed him passionately, before stabbing herself in the heart.

Finis.