Killing Tink

Ch. 13

Tink watched the sunrise from the window. The blind had been left open, and she realized while she was locked up she had forgotten about the colors that spread across the sky announcing daylight and dusk. She could only make out the edges of the deep purple and pinks, but it was enough to remember how amazing the outside world could be. Someday she would sit in a porch, on a swing holding the baby and explaining to her the beauty of colors.

John came in a few hours later, she closed her eyes, pretending she had slept.  She was done with sleeping now. Closing her eyes just took her to places she didn't want to return to, Stash. Nights of sour smells from him mixed with the tangy smell and taste of copper from his swift hand.

Last night she tried to fall back asleep. To think of fields and flowers but as soon as she relaxed her mind filled the field with land mines. Each step brought up jack in box images of Stash's naked, skin taut and shining waiting for her to get on her knees, or worse.

She Managed to wake herself and spent the rest of the night picking out names she could put on a list for her baby. She rocked, slowly and quietly, wondering about where she could run to get away from the nightmares so they never touched her daughter. How did you run from something inside you?  It was more of an mystery than she could solve.

Somewhere between the black and the first hint of purple before the sun rose she made a decision. She'd have to find Stash. The only way to end the nightmares would to be stop them forever. And that could only be accomplished if he were dead. If he were dead he couldn't make land mines and creep into her dreams.

She felt it, a resolve slowly settling like wet cement on a summer day. Solid, that's what it would be like. Solid and forever.

"Good morning Hope. I thought maybe today we could talk outside. It's warm and the sun is up, and the fresh air will be good for you."

She kept her eyes closed but wondered what the trap would be. Outside, beyond the window. She couldn't imagine the warmth of the sun on her skin or the feeling of a breeze in her hair.

It hurt, but she sat herself up and looked him square in the face.

"What do I have to do to get that favor?"

Johns eyebrows rose and his lips pursed together into a firmly pressed line.

"It isn't a reward Hope, or a condition.  It's a basic human right. We will talk, just like we would here, it's just a change in the scenery."

She let her mind swim with scenarios but none led her to understand the intense feeling of anxiety that was pressing on her chest. Sooner or later she'd have to go out. Out where he was, put where Stash breathed the same air.

The nurses came, a swirl of blue with smells of hairspray and lotions which caused her stomach and head to spin. They lifted her doll like into the wheelchair despite her insisting she could do it on her own. Still a voice unheard, a request ignored. They wanted quick and tidy and easy; that much she understood.

They left in the same fashion, a blurry of sights and the sounds of footsteps - clicking down the hall and away. John spoke, his voice trying to be an anchor discussions the normalcy of being anxious about being outdoors, exposed. As if he knew anything about it.

"I know you're probably feeling anxious, I can see it, but it will pass once your body remembers the sun. And it's a court, not the street. Closed in on all sides by buildings so no exposure to anything really, except windows and outdoors. Now is the time to be there, the sun is warm and rising. It's good for you Hope. Another step."

His voice did soothe her, but today she could feel a field of lava beneath her skin bubbling. She clenched her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. She felt them staring as whispers danced across the spaces,
..that's her. The one from upstairs.
Look quick, the girl from the woods. I wonder what he did to her.

Tink's instinct was to go back, to hum and hold her ears and rock but she sat there, statue tall staring at her hands willing them to unclench. She was that girl, the one from the woods. Maybe she always would be. She tried to focus on John's voice as he picked the less crowded places to roll through.

He paused before the door; Tink could see it, grass, trees, a table with a small chair. A sign on the door saying it closed today. Her eyes scanned what she would have seen, but John pushed a button and the door swung open. Warm air greeted her familiar. She remembered humidity and sun.

"It says closed because it's yours for a while Hope. Just you. No onlookers, no one else to worry about, just you."

A pool of tears swam to the surface, Tink didn't know if it was fear or emotion or the blinding light of the sun but she refused to close them as she swatted the mutant tears before they could fall.

"Thank you." She'd said it quickly, remembering. Be thankful Tink. Aren't I good to you, don't I treat you good? You better tell me thank you, and show me you mean it. I could treat you like the whore you are.

Sounds of a million things attacked her ears, birds chirping, branches clicking together in the wind. From far away the sound of cars speeding to places far away from here. The sun heated her gowns, one forward, and one backwards like a robe swallowing up her small frame.

He parked her in a sunny spot, and knelt in front of her. Too close, like a dare.

"I can go sit away from you a bit, or be close. It's your call. We can talk in a few minutes, but I want you to have this Hope. Should I stay close, or move to the table across and give you time alone?"

Tink scanned the grounds. The buildings, which she was told would make her feel safer closed in, her stomach rolled at the thought of all the people behind the windows watching and waiting. Stash could be behind any of them, one wrong move and he would be angry. She thought about why she'd want time alone, time with thoughts and fears pouring their way through her brain.

His hand rested on the arm of the wheelchair giving him balance as he squatted in front of her waiting for an answer. She lifted her arm forward and placed her pointer finger on it.

John's face in front of her spread into a pumpkin smile, large white teeth gleaming in the sun. He watched it, her finger on his hand, and didn't move until Tink pulled it back, something about his happiness making her skin crawl.

"I'll stay beside you. Thank you Hope. I'm going to get that chair and I'll sit beside you. We can talk together. Just you and me."

She felt her finger buzzing, she had touched him, a single finger and it moved him. It looked as it always had, bony and white, but somehow it was different.

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John and Hope seem to be developing something of a mutual relationship. And Hope is actually outdoors, a gift by anyone's standards. Well, except agoraphobics maybe.