The sound of the faucet turning on is the only noise that drowns out the screams in Clarisse Dumont’s ears. 5 years ago, water reminded her of cold showers on hot days, now they remind her of relief.
Palms, to the back of hands, between the fingers, over the sides, under the nails, and then down to the wrists. Rinse and Repeat, a dozen times, a couple of dozen times or until her knuckles crack and bleed the colour of fresh strawberries. She would gaze down in contempt, tucking the secret satisfaction in the farthest corner of her narrow mind. She could still feel the blood, still, feel the grime building… slowly. It plagued her life, staying beneath her fingernails and left a smell in her hair much like the cigarette smoke that smudged her clothes. Another habit she grew in her backyard before knowing she planted the seeds and watered with care.
She stood there with her hands submerged but her eyes gazing at her tawny reflection, the more she stared the more haunted she became. It was like a new person inhabited her body with every day that passed. Her once blonde hair tucked in a ponytail with the same care as an abandoned nest looking dull and lifeless, her eyes ran bloodshot, stealing attention from the sharp edge of her sunken cheeks. The squeal of the sink announcing its presence brought Clarisse back to the present. Her eyes returned to locate the paper towel stack located between the sinks, she took a few and stuffed them in the pockets of her snug pebble grey pea coat. With one more wistful glance, she exited the bathroom, noticing how her ill-fitting kitten heels clicked against the intricate design of the bathroom tile.
Clarisse spared a sparse glance at the receptionist, whose name seemed to blur with hundreds of others. Today was the day she gathered up her courage to take a chance. Upon exiting the building her heels sunk into the damp ground below her, the sidewalk starting to dry, but the heavy clouds hung above her in a taunting tone. As she walked, drops of rain scattered over her, with no other way, she had to bear the rain as it sunk into her clothes and made her smell like the earth.
It had been years but this route will be ingrained in her mind for eternity. The thought of going back plagued her every day. The fact that the small foggy apartment complex that laid a dozen blocks from her monotonous desk job seemed to be the only reason she hadn’t packed up and moved on made her feel lost to the world. Clarisse stayed wondering for 5 agonizing years if she was the only one who hadn’t moved on.
Each step feels like overdue bills and forgotten postcards from summer camp friends. When the rain picked up, she slowed… stuck in a melancholy tone. Her shoulders sagged like her limp hair, and tears began to roll down her freckled cheeks. She restrained herself not to cry out like some tragedy had occurred right before her eyes but she could not stop the tears from pooling and deafeningly falling to join the puddles on the ground.
When she had arrived at the building, the stone steps remained the same. and so did the silver door handle she refused to touch, opting to use one of the bathroom paper towels to blanket her discomfort. Everything about the fancy curvature of the letters spelling “Townsend apartments” discomforted her. She wasted no time gazing at the lifeless paintings of fruit or cheap rugs lining the Townsend lobby, from the nauseating colours that raked each surface mingled with fluorescent colours and the cheap smell that lingered in every crevice. She wanted to be swallowed whole, so she would never have to face this again.
Clarisse crept up to the seemingly swamped receptionist desk. She cleared her throat as she bundled up all her courage, the small snick in the back of her throat caught the attention of the receptionist. He looked up, brown curls rushing to keep up with the movement of his head, caramel eyes staring with a blanket of wonder. She tried to borrow as much time as she could out of the air, she darted between his eyes and down to his name tag reading ” PALEMON ” in sturdy black letters. She released her breath, wondering when she started holding it.
“I would like to see apartment 357” She felt like an ugly stain in the universe, daring to ask for permission, and daring to hope she would get it.
“No one lives in that apartment” His jagged voice dragged through each moment as the world hung on each consonant and vowel.
“Could I see the apartment, please? ” Her resolve weakened as she felt her hands tremble, but focused to keep her voice steady.
He gave a slight nod with a twitch of an amused smile as he shuffled towards a storage unit labelled ‘TENENTS’ after a few seconds he looked up with furrowed eyebrows.
Wordlessly he stood up fully and swept the hair out of his eyes and back into a small messy ponytail. With no words spoken Clarisse was sure she had found defeat. It wasn’t until he had come around the back of the receptionist desk carrying a lanyard, she felt her heart begin to constrict. Palemon studies her face carefully under the fluorescent lobby lights, expressionless he turns around before speaking to the air, “My mother once told me that some chances are worth taking, I hope this is one of them ”
As they trudged down the lobby, each step bringing a dozen water droplets racing down Clarisse in hopes of meeting the brash carpet first. She looks up when the elevator makes the muted ring to announce its arrival. They both step in, the air a comfortable awkward as they both stare at the scratched metal of the door. As the light moves from number to number signalling each floor, Clarisse wonders if this was a decision worth making if she should have packed up and moved away like everyone else.
When the doors open she is broken from her thoughts, gazing at the yellowish tinge of a previously white wall. She can feel her eyelashes dripping with water, her heart heavy with grief, she steps forward. Walking wordlessly past each curly brazen number until she stumbled upon the one she was searching for. Clarrise waited, her hands began to shake and she did not dare touch the door. Palemon walked like he talked, at a delicate molasses pace as if the world was waiting for him to move before daring to spin. He places the key with the gentleness of a decade-old car, with the windows about to fall apart and then handle about to snap. He pushes the door open wide before standing straight and stepping back, expectant of what her next move will be.
Clarisse is punched by what her eyes uncover, the room left as she remembered. Her tears burning her eyes before dripping violently, she could hear the sounds… the drip.. the screams. Drenched in blood over the shadowy walls, the light reflecting the crimson, she stalked into the room searching but nobody had to be uncovered. She crept into the bathroom, holding out for signs of a tragic end but found nothing but the bathroom walls and sink drenched in the sangria-coloured misery. She could not keep her wallows at bay as the sibs crept up her throat burning as she desperately sobbed. All at once, she grabbed the paper towels stowed away in her peacoat and began mopping, with each swipe and cry the paper towel stayed crisp white while the wall stayed the same garish currant. It was no use but she scrubbed and scrubbed until the napkin ran raw and wrinkled.
Palemon stood in the doorway, not one for comfort he watched feeling the smirk curl his lips and furrowed his eyebrows “The sorrows we lay at the feet of our past loved ones, are reflections of the guilt that we did not harbour them with love ”, He spoke smooth and then waited, slumped against the doorway with his arms around his torso as if waiting for a friend to finish tying their shoelaces, “Those were the words left in the newspaper, about the young woman who died in this apartment… tragic they never caught the real killer.”
At this Clarrise sinks to the ground, seemingly paralyzed until all at once she dashes for the veranda doors, swinging them open. The curtains billow rushing cold air on her puffy face, slow tears falling wordlessly until she walked onto the small gap that allowed the outside world access to the room “They caught the killer”, you could hear the scratch of her voice like a rake through leaves.
“ Look at this place, cheap, dirty… it wouldn’t be surprising if the people who died here deserved it.” His easy gait stepped seamlessly through the rundown carpet and onto the pristine pearl-coloured tiles of the veranda, he drawled until the sentence stopped, a gaping silence until he finished his thought, “so much that the killer wasn’t worth looking for.”
Clarrise knew then what she had done, who she was with and how this would end.
She stood faceless and alone. She remembers her monotonous life, every chance she never jumped, every lie she never told. She plays back the last 3 hours of her life, her last day of work, her final cleanses, and her simple interaction with Palemon. How a secretary had asked no questions about letting a stranger view an empty apartment with no listing, how the secretary didn’t even ask her name before taking her up the elevator. She wondered if she were a little more cunning, a little more attentive she might have swerved her fate, she gave a sad smile despite herself… there was no stopping fate.
She felt the world turn one last time before she felt herself being dropped off the side of the Townsend apartments, the wind rushing, the rain still falling. Today would be like any other, with babies taking their first steps and elderly couples feeding birds at the park. She closed her eyes before the world swallowed her whole, this was the end.
