Page 27 of The Spiral

I turn, still smiling, but now at how similar she sounds. Even the huskiness of her concerned tone is the same. I don’t know why she’s concerned, but I look at her fondly, appreciating the apprehension regardless.

“You need to put the gun down, Jack. Come on,” she says, her body hesitantly moving towards me. Gun? I search for it, wondering where it’s gone, only to find it in my hand pointing towards my chin. I fiddle with it, intending to move it but let the metal linger instead. “Please, give it to me, yeah?” I try to move my hand like she asks, but something stops me as I stare at her naked body. She’s so like Selma. “We can go for a walk if you like. Some fresh air?” I smile again. Warm, fresh air. She liked that, too. We walked a lot, especially in spring. She liked the bluebells.

“It’s Maddy, Jack. You still with me?” I narrow my eyes. I don’t know that either. Nothing makes any sense anymore. Maddy? Who’s Maddy? Selma. Where’s she gone? I don’t know if I’m with either one, or both. Is this Selma, or is Selma Maddy? Why has she come back?

Who is this in front of me?

The gun moves, its texture running along my chin then up to my mouth. It would all be so easy if I just pull the trigger, or if she had done it earlier. I’d be with them then. We’d be together and happy again, like I was ten minutes ago. There wouldn’t be this constant confusion, and I wouldn’t be alone anymore either. I’d be whole.

“Am I going mad?” I ask, not knowing what to think as my vision swims a little and she moves again. “You’re not you, are you?” She looks at me, her lips quivering and reminding me of our first time together.

“No, no, you’re not mad, Jack. You’re just tired,” she says, her feet getting closer as I watch her light skin glide in front of me. Madeline. But she smiles like Selma, and moves like her, talks like her. “I’m not surprised really. You gave up your bed for me, didn’t you? Slept on the sofa? Very chivalrous. Just give me that and we’ll get dressed. I need to see my car anyway, or you could show me around the woods?” The woods. Yes. I’d like a walk in the woods. I could see the treehouse, imagine Lenon in it. Hear his laugh again. “I saw some on the west side of the house.” Yes, they’re my favourites, too. Tall redwoods, forever reaching over the house and protecting it from harm.

Not that they ever fucking did.

I grip the gun tighter again, pressing it inwards and feeling the rim cut into my lips as I imagine the fucking dogs upstairs. “And I need another kiss, anyway. Don’t you? You can’t do that to me and then not kiss me again.” Kiss. I suck air in deeply, tasting her on my mouth over the taint of the metal and smelling the air still filled with love around us.

Her hand is on the gun before I know what’s happening, wrangling it from my hold as she spins her body round into me to point it away from us. She backs up, forcefully, shoving my body backwards into the fireplace, causing me to grunt at the impact. Pain ricochets its way along my spine, giving her the chance she needs to snatch the gun from my hand, but somewhere in the commotion the gun shoots loudly into the air. Everything stops as she falls back against me—sound, time, even the house becomes eerily noiseless. Everything’s silent, but for her small whimper and the sound of it hanging in the air.

I freeze, unable to see what’s happened or to whom as I close my eyes and plead with God not to do this again. She whimpers, her body fully collapsing into my arms without trying to stop herself falling. My heart hammers in my chest, rattling the sound around my mind as I haul myself back to the present.

“Madeline?” She doesn’t answer. There’s no sound at all as I grab her and lower her to the floor. “Madeline? Talk to me.” Still nothing. Panic swells as I slap the gun from her hand and kick it away, furious with its presence. “For fuck’s sake, talk to me.” She whimpers again, then starts sobbing quietly as I shove at her body. “You okay? Where did it get you?” She mumbles something and tries to roll herself away. I don’t let her. I keep searching her skin for any sign of blood, prodding it and poking her, lifting and turning. I’m nearly fucking hysterical trying to find the injury, desperate to ensure that whatever is here, or whoever is here, stays here, with me. “You can’t leave me. Talk to me.”

“I’m alright,” she mutters, curling herself into a ball and starting to push me away. I carry on checking her, hardly hearing her speak or believing what she’s said. I’m too consumed with the thought of her dying. “I’m fine, Jack. Get off me,” she says again, sniffing back tears and gently pushing me again. I half step away from her then carry on inspecting again, still convinced she’s injured. “Jack,I said I’m fine. Just leave me alone so I can get up, will you?”

“But you’re not. The gun fired. It hit you. You... I heard you...” I’m frantic to correct whatever I’ve done. Fraught. My hands still fuss at her, lifting her and moving her over to the chair as she tries to push me off her again.

“I said I’m fine. Stop. It shot over there somewhere. I just bashed against something.”

I look where she’s pointing, needing to see the bullet myself to ensure it hasn’t gone into her. Her finger leads towards the damn spiral.

“You sure you’re not hit?” I ask, turning to see her body curled up in the chair. She nods, her full lips still trembling a little as she stares back at me and wipes her eyes.

“It was just the noise, it shocked me.” I look her over again and then spin back to the spiral, needing to see the bullet. I don’t know why, but I need to. Fucking gun. Stupid.

“Why did you try to kill yourself?”

I snarl at the sound of her, annoyed at her directness in the middle of whatever the fuck this is. My fingers scrub my brow, unsure how the hell to answer.

“I didn’t,” is all I can say. I don’t think I did, anyway. Or maybe I did. I’m not fucking sure at the moment.

“You held a gun to your mouth.” Mmm. I finger the carpet on the bottom step, scouring for a bullet and glowering at the thought of the fuckers upstairs. “After we’d made love. Aren’t you slightly concerned by that?” I shake my head at the steps, stretching to reach the third, fourth and fifth ones. “I mean, why? Was it that bad?” I twist my face to her. Bad? She was exquisite, always has been. Maddy. Christ. I turn back again, choosing the task of finding the bullet rather than trying to explain it to her.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t… I wasn’t…”

My foot hits the bottom step as I let her talking ease me on, all the time trying to keep my head level and calm, but the blackness of the carpet hinders my sight, everything blending into it effortlessly just as a damn bullet hole will.

“Where the fuck is it?” I mutter, irritated.

“Why don’t you go up the stairs?” I freeze, hardly able to breathe at her question as I hold onto the curved bannister securely. “And don’t give me that shit about it being unsafe. We’re past that now. What’s up there?” I snarl into the air away from her, hiding my true feelings on the matter and glaring at the sweep of the steps in front of me.

“I told you, it’s unsafe. That’s all.”

There’s silence behind me as I grip the spindles and lower myself to look at the carpeted steps, running my fingers across them. Still nothing. I look around, searching the rich brown woodwork, then skimming my eyes across the panelling behind it. Why can’t I find the fucking thing? I have to find it, see it for myself. It’ll tell me everything’s okay, that I’ve not let another woman down.

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