Night Beach (53 page)

feel
something,
anything.
I
only
stop
when
I’m
exhausted.

I
don’t
want
to
be
alone.
More
than
anything
else,
I
don’t
want
to
be
alone.
I
can
hear
my

own
breath
sawing
in
and
out.
I
sound
like
an
animal.
And
my
right
hand
is
cramping

because
I’m
gripping
the
candle
holder
as
tightly
as
I
can.

I
wish
that
I
could
light
it.
See
light
again.
But
I’ve
got
nothing
to
light
it
with.

What
follows
is
the
worst
time:
the
time
during
which
I
just
stand
there,
completely
still.

And
I
realise
that
it
doesn’t
matter
whether
I
make
noise
or
not.
I
will
never
be

conspicuous.
I
am
nothing.
The
darkness
is
big
and
I
am
small.
My
eyes
are
hurt
by
it.

The
silence
makes
my
ears
long
for
sound.
It’s
unbearable.
And
I’m
going
to
die
alone
in

that
blackness
and
no
one
will
know.
I’m
not
sure
if
time
is
even
passing;
if
it’s
moving

or
standing
still.
I
think
there
mightn’t
be
any
time
at
all
in
this
place,
and
that
alone
is

enough
to
drive
me
mad.
How
do
you
know
you’re
alive
if
there’s
no
time?
Maybe
I
am

dead.

I
clamp
the
heel
of
my
palm
to
my
chest.
And
I
feel
it.
The
beating
of
my
own
heart.
And

it’s
one
thing.
One
small
thing.

Enough
to
hold
on
to.

Close
your
eyes!
Quick,
close
your
eyes!
I
obey
whatever
instinct
it
is
that
tells
me
to
do

this
and
the
relief
is
immediate.

Things
become
less
dark
–
peculiar
red
static
and
morphing
shapes,
the
things
that
are

always
unfurling
behind
your
eyelids
if
you
allow
yourself
to
look
at
them.

But
then
I
open
my
eyes
and
I
see
something
similar:
a
wafting
red
haze
unfurling
in
the

darkness
around
me.
Something
like
smoke.
Growing
stronger.
And
now
it’s
not
just
red,

but
orange
and
yellow
as
well.
The
changing
colour
of
flames,
blowing
around
me
like
a

wind.
I
know
what
it
will
do
to
me,
but
I
breathe
it
in
anyway.

I
want
light
that
badly.

The
pain
is
excruciating,
though.
It
burns.
It
burns
me
inside,
and
beyond
that
even.
It’s

lighting
me
up
and
I
know
I’m
being
burnt
alive.
But
it’s
not
my
body
that’s
burning.
It’s

something
else.

And
when
I
look
down,
I
can
see
the
light
that’s
shining
in
me.
It
glows
through
my
ribs,

and
through
the
lace
of
my
bra.

And
though
I
was
expecting
it,
I’m
surprised.
I
wish
I
knew
what
it
was.
Because
it’s

more
than
light.
It’s
something
much
more
luminous
than
that.
It’s
so
beautiful.

I’m
standing
on
sand.
But
it’s
not
white
sand.
Perhaps
it’s
black.
No.
It’s
more
like
a

shadow,
and
it
swallows
up
the
light
that
reaches
it.

Then
I
hear
a
scuttling,
rustling
noise,
and
I
freeze,
making
the
smallest
little
whimper.

Oh
God,
it’s
here.
I
close
my
eyes,
squeezing
them
shut.

My
whole
body
shaking.

The
rustling
starts
again.
Getting
closer.

‘Get
away
from
me!’
I
shout
the
words
out
in
a
hoarse
voice,
and
then
I
open
my
eyes

and
run,
staggering
forward
on
legs
that
seem
to
be
dissolving
beneath
me.
I
run
from

the
rustling
noise
as
fast
as
I’m
able
to.
And
at
first
there
is
only
blackness,
but
then
I’m

running
towards
something.
There’s
a
break
in
the
darkness
ahead,
something
that

faintly
reflects
the
glow
from
my
light.

But
when
I
get
closer,
I
see
what
it
is,
and
I
stop.

He’s
lying
on
his
back.
Shirtless
like
me.
And
one
of
his
arms
is
across
his
chest,
the

other
reaching
in
my
direction,
his
head
tilted
that
way,
too.

‘Kane?’
I
go
to
him.
Touch
his
shoulder.
But
he
doesn’t
move.
Doesn’t
look
at
me.
His

eyes
are
wide,
but
he
can’t
see.
They’re
clouded
over
already.
And
there’s
no
warmth
in

his
skin.

Because
he’s
dead.

I
scream,
the
noise
sounding
like
something
ripped
from
my
throat.
And
when
that
dies

away,
there
is
nothing.

I
can’t
feel
anymore.

At
some
point,
the
rustling
starts
again.
The
thing
has
waited
long
enough.
And
as
it

draws
closer,
I’m
shocked
to
find
out
that
I’m
wrong.
I
can
still
feel
something.
Fear.
I’m

filled
with
it.

Looking
at
Kane
is
the
only
thing
that
stops
me
from
running
away
again.
I
don’t
want
to

leave
him.
And
each
breath
I
take
is
the
sweetest
thing
I
have
ever
tasted.
Because
I

think
I’m
going
to
die
now.

And
I’m
so
afraid.
I
am
so
alone.

When
it’s
right
behind
me,
it
takes
hold
of
my
shoulders,
and
I
feel
the
kiss
of
its
claws.

They
begin
digging
in,
and
I
scream
again,
jerking
against
its
grip.
Every
part
of
my
body

is
tensed,
my
mind
frozen.

It’s
raking
its
claws
slowly
over
my
shoulders,
peeling
back
the
skin
and
flesh,
scraping

the
bone,
and
at
some
point,
the
pain
becomes
so
strong
that
I
let
go.
I
tell
myself
that

it’s
just
pain,
it’s
just
pain,
it’s
just
pain.
And
I
breathe
it
in.
I
try
to
surrender.
I
stop

fighting
and
I
open
up
to
what’s
happening,
let
it
wash
over
me.

The
miracle
is
that
the
pain
stops.
I
go
limp,
but
I
can’t
fall.

It
won’t
let
me
fall.

Because
it’s
time.

As
it
turns
me
around,
I
tuck
the
candle
holder
into
the
front
of
my
jeans,
and
I
lift
my

hands,
stroking
the
air
with
my
fingers.

So
I
can
see.

I
see.

I
see
a
head
that
isn’t
feathered
but
covered
in
something
else.
What
I
thought
were

feathers,
is
a
headdress,
made
out
of
human
hands
and
hair.
And
it
has
no
beak,
but
a

protruding
mouth,
and
when
it
hisses
at
me,
I
see
the
rows
of
its
teeth,
and
it
blasts
my

face
with
its
foul,
scorching
breath.
And
I
know
that
later,
it
will
use
those
teeth
to
tear

into
Kane’s
chest,
looking
for
his
light,
and
it
will
devour
him,
enraged,
when
it
can’t
find

it.

I
see
ugly
feet.
Deformed
toes,
some
of
them
broken,
showing
bone;
but
it
looks
more

like
coral
than
bone,
and
perhaps
that’s
what
it
is.
Toenails
that
are
long
and
thick
and

yellow.

I
see
the
body
of
a
man,
with
skin
that
is
hard
and
cracked.

But
what
makes
the
rustling
noise
is
a
garment
tied
around
its
waist,
made
from
strips

of
something
dried
and
stiff.
Before,
I
had
thought
it
was
a
grass
skirt,
but
this
material

is
a
thin
leather.
It’s
human
skin.
There
are
long
ribbons
of
my
own
skin
and
flesh,

dripping
blood,
caught
up
on
its
claws.

And
as
I
see,
I
witness
the
thing
growing
more
definite,
more
real.
Its
chest
changes
–

muscles
swelling,
ribs
taking
definition.

I
am
struck
by
the
incredible
redness
of
its
tongue.

Then
I
see
amber
eyes
fixed
on
me,
lit
by
a
light
that’s
familiar.
I
stop
drawing,
my
hands

falling
to
my
sides,
and
when
I
look
down
at
my
chest,
I
notice
how
much
my
own
light

has
dimmed.

It
doesn’t
need
me
anymore.
The
thing
is
pulling
itself
into
being,
finding
existence
in
its

own
rapture.
Its
skin
twitches
with
pleasure.
Its
eyelids
close.

And
I
realise
something.

It’s
not
real.
It’s
still
just
a
shadow.

Because
I
can
see
through
it.

And
through
it,
what
I
see
is
the
girl
in
the
mirror.
The
other
side
of
me.

The
thing’s
eyes
flick
open,
fixing
on
me.
It
howls,
and
the
noise
is
an
earthquake,

vibrating
through
my
blood.
Then
its
amber
eyes
roll
back
in
its
head,
showing
me
the

white
heat
of
coals,
and
I
stumble
backwards,
nearly
tripping
over
Kane’s
body.

Crouching
down
beside
him,
I
take
his
hand,
looking
up
at
the
shadow.

It’s
so
big
now.
Bigger
than
the
world.
And
it’s
changing,
dissolving
into
something
else.

Becoming
what
it
really
is,
something
hotter
and
brighter
than
fire.

It
inhales,
taking
one,
huge,
long
breath
that
sucks
at
my
skin,
pulling
at
my
limbs,

making
my
hair
rise
up.
I
fumble
for
the
wooden
candle
holder,
taking
it
out
of
my
jeans.

Then
my
hair
falls
down,
and
everything’s
still,
frozen
in
a
moment
of
tension
that

seems
to
last
forever.

Until
I
break
it
–
tweaking
the
wick
of
the
candle
in
my
teeth
and
then
thrusting
the

holder
forward.

The
shadow
exhales,
blasting
me
with
its
essence:
a
wind
made
of
fire.
And
I
scream

because
I’m
being
burned
alive,
and
Kane’s
screaming,
too,
because
he’s
being
burned

back
to
life.
And
I
close
my
eyes,
squeezing
them
tightly
shut.

And
then,
and
only
then,
do
I
see
the
brightest
light
of
all.

The
candle.

41

Choices

The
light
hurts
my
eyes.
I
squint,
trying
to
focus,
and
when
I
shift
my
head
there’s

instant
relief.
I
realise
I
was
staring
directly
into
the
glare
of
the
morning
sun
coming

through
the
glass
doors
that
lead
onto
the
balcony.

Home.
Is
that
where
I
am?
Yes.
Oh
my
God,
yes!
And
I
am
not
alone.
My
head’s
resting
on