A man is troubled by his extreme love for a woman.
“All right?” I whisper. “Are you all right?” Nothing penetrates the silence.
There’s no power in the natatorium, and cloudcover blocks the starlight, the moonlight, creating a blackness that blankets my body, embracing me, comforting me. A bible verse from my childhood leaps into my mind, something like “men love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil.”
I make my way through the darkness, toward the door, toward the house. It’s all very familiar, but this time seems different, feels different.
“Are you all right?” I whisper once more into the darkness. Still nothing. I am alone. I abhor aloneness.
“Let it go, Michael,” I tell myself. “Stay calm. Focus.” A weight lifts from me.
A splash! My heart jumps, and I throw myself to the tiled floor, my eyes darting around, searching for movement. None penetrates the blackness. Rippling water slap-slaps the sides of the pool. I stay on the floor, my face against the cool tile, resting for a minute, two minutes, five minutes.
Scratch, scratch, scratching startles me back to alertness. A mouse scurrying? Then silence again.
But the splash. What made it? Can it see me? Can she see me? Silence.
She’s there. She made the splash. No, that’s not right. Not “she”. She has a name: Elle. And Elle’s in the house. Sleeping.
She could really hurt me, if she wanted to, but she’s not that kind, that’s not her way. There is a sweetness about her and that sweetness, that innocence, is what makes me love her.
I love her! I want so badly to tell her, oh, how very much I love her, but whenever I get the chance, I’m paralyzed!
I love her! I love her! I scream it now, and it bounces around the cavernous natatorium, repeating back to me, finally fading.
Silence!
She has no idea. Elle has no idea how I feel, how much I love her, how much I need her, how much more I want to tell her. If only I could be with her now. Now I could tell her. I know it. I feel it.
Then somehow I am with her. I see her. I watch her. I hear her beautiful, measured breaths, the rhythm indicating a very deep sleep. A very deep–
Gurgling and bubbling disturb my reverie. No!
The pool is alive! Splashing!
“Michael,” I hear.
“Michael,” she says.
I lie on my back and Elle hovers above me, slowly unwrapping a Cadbury egg. She places the egg in my mouth and moves her lips toward mine.
To kiss me!
I close my eyes, and I feel only coldness, emptiness. Has she gone? Has she left me alone again?
A metallic odor assaults my nostrils. I roll over. I’m not alone. She’s there, Elle’s there, staring at me. Blankly. Lifelessly. Blood everywhere.
I drop the knife, and I weep.
END