better than the rest so that they had no option
to ignore her, or loose ambition and stay in the field, eating
shit, taking shit and having shit fired at her from every
angle.
The motel came within sight, its garish neon illumination
buzzing quietly, proudly, to the world, praising its very
existence. Insects battered off the windscreen in a kamikaze duel,
harbingers of another muggy night. For another twenty bucks a night
she could have rented a hotel room with air conditioning, instead
it was another night listening to the vibrating swirl of the fan
blades as they fought valiantly to redistribute the humid, heavy
air and the noisy lovemaking of the hookers in room 22. She pulled
the rented Lincoln to a halt outside number 24, turned the lights
off and sat alone in the dark for a few moments. Letting her mind
start to unwind a little, she closed her eyes and saw the hammer
swinging toward her. Her eyes snapped open. Relaxing tonight was
going to be a little more difficult than normal.
Narla needed the drink. She had slumped from the settee to the
floor. Physically and mentally she could not reach a lower point.
The images that bombarded her eyes were such a shock that she had
to stop the tape on three occasions because she could no longer see
the television through her tear streaming eyes. Her husband, the
man she had vowed to love until parted by death, was stripping
their daughter naked, even though she was crying and obviously
distressed. He kept forcing her. She could hear his voice on the
tape. ‘Mummy wants you to love Daddy, you do love me don’t
you.’
The confused child nods. ‘You have to kiss Daddy to show him
how much you love him...Kiss me.’
Harley sobbing leans forward and gently kisses her father
cheek, the innocent way a child would kiss her father. ‘NO!..I TOLD
YOU...’ Charles raises his voice. ‘On the lips.’
Narla stopped the tape, unable to watch further. The date on
the corner of the tape made it over four years old. She scrambled
through some of the other tapes retrieved from the summerhouse and
found the latest tape. Six days old. She put it in the VCR. The
image that appeared on the screen reviled Narla. Charles had
obviously progressed in his corruption of their daughter. Straddled
across her father, both of them naked smiling, laughing as though
they were partaking in an innocent game. Narla hung her head and
vomited on to the floor, she pushed away the tapes at the last
moment. Totally drained of every emotion, Narla slumped backwards
and lay there, listening to her daughter being raped by her
husband, listening to Harley’s soft whispers, listening to Charles
low moaning. The sound of his breathing becoming laboured. The
grunting noise she knew all too well, the noise that he always made
just before he comes. The noises mingled in her head, mixing, and
growing louder and louder, until they were a spinning cacophony, a
crashing symphony of defilement. Narla started to scream to make
the noise go away, above it all she could hear Charles breathing
and Harley saying ‘Yes, I love you Daddy.’ Narla needed to get away
from the television. She placed her hands over her ears and
continued to scream at the top of her voice until it echoed inside
her head. She couldn’t hear the doorbell ringing. Life outside her
head no longer made sense. All that made sense was the screaming
white noise inside her head. She staggered forward and fell against
the television set. Tumbling over it, pushing it backwards. Just
before passing out Narla thought she saw someone standing in the
room with her.
Leroy opened the door gently, trying not to wake Lia. He crept
in the front room and noticed that there was no sign of
her,
‘Must have gone to bed.’ he said to himself.
Not that he blamed her, waiting up night after night with no
promise of when he’d be home was not what he would call fun. Leroy
hit the remote control lying in the chair and flopped exhausted on
to the seat. He lowered
to ignore her, or loose ambition and stay in the field, eating
shit, taking shit and having shit fired at her from every
angle.
The motel came within sight, its garish neon illumination
buzzing quietly, proudly, to the world, praising its very
existence. Insects battered off the windscreen in a kamikaze duel,
harbingers of another muggy night. For another twenty bucks a night
she could have rented a hotel room with air conditioning, instead
it was another night listening to the vibrating swirl of the fan
blades as they fought valiantly to redistribute the humid, heavy
air and the noisy lovemaking of the hookers in room 22. She pulled
the rented Lincoln to a halt outside number 24, turned the lights
off and sat alone in the dark for a few moments. Letting her mind
start to unwind a little, she closed her eyes and saw the hammer
swinging toward her. Her eyes snapped open. Relaxing tonight was
going to be a little more difficult than normal.
Narla needed the drink. She had slumped from the settee to the
floor. Physically and mentally she could not reach a lower point.
The images that bombarded her eyes were such a shock that she had
to stop the tape on three occasions because she could no longer see
the television through her tear streaming eyes. Her husband, the
man she had vowed to love until parted by death, was stripping
their daughter naked, even though she was crying and obviously
distressed. He kept forcing her. She could hear his voice on the
tape. ‘Mummy wants you to love Daddy, you do love me don’t
you.’
The confused child nods. ‘You have to kiss Daddy to show him
how much you love him...Kiss me.’
Harley sobbing leans forward and gently kisses her father
cheek, the innocent way a child would kiss her father. ‘NO!..I TOLD
YOU...’ Charles raises his voice. ‘On the lips.’
Narla stopped the tape, unable to watch further. The date on
the corner of the tape made it over four years old. She scrambled
through some of the other tapes retrieved from the summerhouse and
found the latest tape. Six days old. She put it in the VCR. The
image that appeared on the screen reviled Narla. Charles had
obviously progressed in his corruption of their daughter. Straddled
across her father, both of them naked smiling, laughing as though
they were partaking in an innocent game. Narla hung her head and
vomited on to the floor, she pushed away the tapes at the last
moment. Totally drained of every emotion, Narla slumped backwards
and lay there, listening to her daughter being raped by her
husband, listening to Harley’s soft whispers, listening to Charles
low moaning. The sound of his breathing becoming laboured. The
grunting noise she knew all too well, the noise that he always made
just before he comes. The noises mingled in her head, mixing, and
growing louder and louder, until they were a spinning cacophony, a
crashing symphony of defilement. Narla started to scream to make
the noise go away, above it all she could hear Charles breathing
and Harley saying ‘Yes, I love you Daddy.’ Narla needed to get away
from the television. She placed her hands over her ears and
continued to scream at the top of her voice until it echoed inside
her head. She couldn’t hear the doorbell ringing. Life outside her
head no longer made sense. All that made sense was the screaming
white noise inside her head. She staggered forward and fell against
the television set. Tumbling over it, pushing it backwards. Just
before passing out Narla thought she saw someone standing in the
room with her.
Leroy opened the door gently, trying not to wake Lia. He crept
in the front room and noticed that there was no sign of
her,
‘Must have gone to bed.’ he said to himself.
Not that he blamed her, waiting up night after night with no
promise of when he’d be home was not what he would call fun. Leroy
hit the remote control lying in the chair and flopped exhausted on
to the seat. He lowered
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