The Choices of Evelyn Ch. 10-12

"My whore, my own fucking whore," she heard a distant voice say, but it was drowned in birdsong and the rustle of leaves; the humming of insects and the whinnying of a horse, far, far away.

***

Evelyn knew where she was – this dark and dense forest. And she knew it was where she belonged. Reaching out, she tried to avoid the low black branches with their dark and rotting leaves. But wherever she turned, the black walls of the labyrinth's slimy hedges blocked her way. The circles she walked became a narrowing spiral. They sent her back to where she'd started, a stagnant pool of blackest ink. There was no attraction in its spreading surface, not even her reflection.

Evelyn knew where she was. The place was called Loss. She sank to her knees and woke up. Gathering her sore limbs, she rose from her bed. The next thing she saw was a wall of white tiles. A hot, fierce rain drummed on her head and shoulders, running down her naked body.

She was in a shower and it felt wonderful. Her head still seemed filled with the sticky cobwebs of her nightmare, but the hot water flushed them out. A new light seeped in, a golden splash of sunlight behind her closed eyelids. With it came the sounds of chirping insects. High winds sang in lofty pine trees. A child like babbling of wavelets came from a faraway shore. Her mouth curled into a smile, her nostrils flared to take in imagined fragrances. She smelled flowers, and the exhilarating scent of newly cut grass. Her ears pointed at the sound of galloping horses, her lips murmured a name.

Evelyn got out of the shower and dried her aching limbs. From a heap of unwashed clothes, she picked sweat pants and a gray hoody. Slipping into sneakers, she grabbed her raincoat and left the flat. Her mouth hummed a song that her mind didn't even know.

After she returned, she undressed and sat in front of her bathroom mirror. The face she saw was pale and drawn. The once generous mouth looked thin, its lips clenched into a tight line. The eyes shone a dark green, they had a feverish intensity.

She looked down at the object she held in her hand. It was slim and black, and it had cost her most of the few dollars she'd taken with her from the German woman. She pushed a button. The beautifully designed machine filled the room with its soft buzzing sound.

Watching the result of her meticulous labor, Evelyn looked into the lens of her smartphone. She smiled as she pressed its button.

***

White pebbles crunched as the shining Mercedes rolled to a standstill. The heat of high summer hung like solid drapes from a hazy-white sky. Even the eternal choir of crickets had been silenced. Age-old stone-oaks could not find a breeze to voice their whisper. The air trembled over the hood of the car.

The driver opened his door, making a whiff of conditioned coolness hiss from the interior. The chauffeur was tall and impeccably clad. He walked around the nose of the car to open the passenger's side. Reaching in, he retracted a pale feminine hand. It was followed by a slim, bare arm. The woman stepping out was nude. The sun emphasized the paleness of her skin, enhanced by the absolute absence of hair – on her body and on her head. It made her skull shine with dazzling whiteness. Pale breasts reflected the light, hips and thighs formed a luminous halo around her bare vagina.

Of course, the woman was Evelyn. But then again, she wasn't, was she? The shining marble of her skin turned her into a statue, standing absolutely still on the glaring driveway, bare feet buried in hot pebbles as she kept her gaze fixed on the open door.

***