As The Ocean Bites At Our Rusted Shores

Chapter 3: When Acting As A Particle

There was a hole where Melanie had been. The wires which bound her to the tower hung uselessly like the arms of a corpse. Russell said, and did nothing. His legs felt like they were melted into place. Melanie, his only daughter, had just burned up in front of him, leaving nothing but a lick of dust hanging melancholy in the air, melting into the sky. His eyes searched to the left and right, taking in nothing - the only thing he was searching for wasn't there and he didn't care for anything else. When he blinked, his eyes rolled back into his head and he felt weak; he'd just been punched in the stomach and his throat jolted like he was about to be sick. All of a sudden he felt a presence to his right; a warm body up against his. His heart jolted and he looked sideways, half-expecting to see his daughter.

It was Lester. Russell hated himself, because in the moments in between where he blinked and his eyelids shuttered open, he lied to himself, and he pretended that nothing was happening, and he was back on the shore, with sand between his toes and a woman at his hip, and Juliets body curved into his, fitting so close they might have been built for each other, and she reached up and her lips, her beautiful, cracked, rotting, lips parted and she whispered,

"Its not just me, is it? This is perfect for you too, right? Its like I'm made to be here." and she caressed the hip that fitted so well against his.

Then his eyes opened, and he saw the filthy hole where his daughter had been and knew that it was Lester and not Juliet and he died a little at the lengths he was able to go to to evade responsibility.

Lester looked as shocked as Russell. His eyes searched around the accident, and his nostrils flared as he took in the acrid smell.

"She's disappeared." he said, simply. "She's gone."

Russell sank to his knees, his chest heaving and twisting like a cloth being squeezed dry.

"Don't say that," he murmured, his eyes on the ground. "Don't say that."

His chest felt empty, like his insides had dribbled out of his mouth with his words. The smell burnt his nostrils. He thought momentarily that he might move position, out of fear of getting uncomfortable, then realised what a prick he must be for thinking of his goddamned knees at a time like this, and smacked his fist into the cold metal platform to punish himself. It reverberated the air and his legs. He was very aware of himself all of a sudden, like he could feel the skin laying on top of his own arms and the muscles twisting and pulling as he retracted his fist, and felt nerve endings twitch up his arm like snakes tied at both ends.

"What happened?" he asked, numbly.

"I..." Lester looked almost nervous for a moment, a fear wriggling over his face greater than Russell had ever seen, but then he was back to normal, fear stuffed into the corner of Lesters head.

"I'm not sure how to explain how-"

Russell slammed his fist into the ground again.

"You killed my daughter. The least you can-"

"No," Lester interrupted. "You killed your own daughter."

Russell flinched around and laid another fist towards Lester, but this time Lester was ready. He grabbed Russell's fist and pushed it back, till the knuckles became useless wrists.

"I'm sorry," Lester spat, a vein popping in his neck as he pushed Russell down, "But your daughter was perfectly safe until you started ripping out wires at the bottom of the tower. You heard me yourself, I said it was goddamned dangerous business, and you messed around in that business that wasn't your own anyway - and it killed your daughter."

Russell brain felt doughy and useless. He couldn't process the possibility that he killed his own daughter. It was impossible. He was just as useless an hour ago on the sofa, ruining his daughters life one greasy night at a time.