Fury: Part One Chapter One

The knots difficult. He needed to make sure they held. It was the only way to make her go away.

His fingers were boney and frantic. Like much the rest of him these days. Eyes blood shot constantly, hair falling out – he used to have such great hair. His chiseled features, that could spread legs from London to Bombay now were gaunt, exhausted. That was it. He was exhausted. His body was exhausted, his mind, mostly, exhausted. Exhausted by her.

She just sat there. Sat asking the same question over and over again.

Six months ago, Mr. Jerald Campbell was on top of his proverbial world. President of his own software company at age 45. Single put rarely without a female companion, if not several. Always younger … much younger. He lived in a condo overlooking the lake. In the south of France he had villa where he spent months each summer. And there was the apartment in Bangkok. Merely picking up the phone and giving the person on the other end his name and credit card number could fill any need. Often, his name would suffice.

Six months ago his niece, Valerie Campbell, committed suicide. She had been a troubled, depressed girl. But show me a teenager that wasn’t? Mr. Campbell’s sister claimed it was murder. She said there was no note. Mr. Campbell knew, though. He knew it deep down in his bones. And that’s when the black, inky clouds pilled themselves around him. He couldn’t see them. But they were there. In fact, they’d been there all along but now something was returning to roost, to settle deep in him …

Six months ago Valerie Campbell began appearing to Mr. Campbell. Just he laid his head down to sleep she would appear, sitting on the end of the bed. She looked as she had all those years ago. Ten years old. Her long, dark hair framing her round face and large, round eyes unpolluted by what they’d seen. She would speak only one word: Why?

Mr. Campbell would close his eyes, shake his head but she would still be there. Turning on the lights wouldn’t budge her. Throwing the alarm clock only resulted in having to buy a new clock.

As you can imagine, this took a toll on his sleep. He started taking sleeping pills. She would still appear, forcing open his ye lids with her soft little fingers. He would grab for her but she was never there. Just always out of reach. He began seeing a shrink. The arsenal of pills he prescribed did nothing but drain his libido. So he tried other drugs, not prescribed by most doctors. Drugs smoked and injected. Drugs not covered by most medical plans. They were expensive.

At work he began making the decision s of man loosing his grip on reality. Money was missing from key accounts. His staff noticed. So did the shareholders. Soon, he was given lovely fruit basket and a cheque and thanked for all his hard work. But it was my company, he would say. Passed the shoulders of the security guards he saw them shrug apologetically. The villa was sold, the apartment in Bangkok as well, along with the boat and the cars. He moved out of his condo. He couldn’t carry the maintenance fees on disability alone.
He begged her to leave him alone. Every night she appeared and asked again: Why?

He was hospitalized for a while. She would visit him there too. There was no were to hide. He stopped eating. He wasted away. He could see his ribs. He was tired. So very tired. She never abandoned him, though. Every night, whether in a park or crack house she would visit with him. And ask him why.

The knots were difficult. But he managed them. He concentrated very hard on them. His brain rarely cooperated with him these days. It had developed voices of it’s own. Some spoke their own language. Some laughed, most screamed and screamed. But he blocked them out and concentrated on the knots.

He stood on a stool in an empty room. The walls had wholes in them. The streetlight filtered through the grime on the window. He tied rags he has stolen from Goodwill together into a long rope which he now fashioning into a noose. He reached up and tested the support beam running across the ceiling. It had to hold, he thought. He just couldn’t go on.

At the far end of the room she stood. Staring at him. He looked at her.
‘Are you happy now? Now will you leave me in peace?”
He tied off one end of the rope on the beam, and placed the noose around his neck.
“Are you happy now you little bitch he screamed at her?”
A cell phone rang.
The little girl looked into her dress pocket and took out the cell phone. She looked hard at the number and a worried look crossed her face.
“One sec,” she said.
That was the first time she had said anything other than why to him in six months.
“I’ll be right with you,” Valerie said.
Mr. Campbell looked on. He couldn’t move. His brain couldn’t process what he was seeing. It was broken. He was so tired.
“Please, I just want to end this,” he pleaded.
At first Valerie didn’t respond. She closed the phone then looked at Mr. Campbell.
“I’m really sorry, but I have to go.”
‘You’re leaving, now?” Mr. Campbell stood shifted his feet on the chair. ‘Really, you’re leaving me.”
“Yes. Something has come up.”
“I can’t believe it,’ Mr. Campbell said. Like a cooling shower relief washed over him. He smiled. Then laughed.
“Ha ha!” He cried. “I beat you! I did it.”
He began to dance on his chair.
“You didn’t think I could do it, but I outlasted you.Hehe!”
“I’d be careful if I were you,” Valerie said as Mr. Campbell continued to dance. The chair rocked slightly from side to side.
“I beat you, I beat you” Mr. Campbell tried to spin on his feet. Valerie looked away. She heard the chair hit the floor and sound of the rope tightening suddenly and what sounded like a snap. She turned around. Mr. Campbell hung from the ceiling, swaying silently from side to side.
I did warn you.

The little girl made her way down the hallway, navigating through the listless bodies her feet made not a sound on the steps. As she made her way to the bottom a hand reached out and grabbed her ankle. She looked into the dead, bloodshot eyes of the man who had grabbed her. Worn out hoody, unshaven, gaunt face. Teeth black. The eyes open yet far away. The man looked back at her. First he felt it in his hand, Her ankle began to pulse. The thin, insubstantial bone seemed to grow. The ankle he held was now thicker and stronger. No longer was the ankle bare above small, black shoes but covered by black slacks hanging over a brown, leather shoe. The man in the hoody looked up to see a man standing where he thought he’d seen a girl. He had dark hair and was clean-shaven. He wore a dark suit. A breeze up the stairs pushed away his overcoat reveling a holster and badge on his belt. On his lapel he wore a flower. The man eyes pierced right through him and quickly let go of his leg.
“You didn’t see me,” the man said to him.
He watched the man disappear down the stairs. The breeze blew up the stairwell. It was cold and damp and made the man with the hood grasped himself with chill. He tried to remember what he had just seen but could not. He put his head back on the stairs and fell asleep.