Death Becomes Her

"Did I take my pill?" He wonders, his thoughts slowly penetrating the chemically induced fog. "Mistress gets angry with me if I don't take it and she doesn't want to be angry with me. I know because she told me."

He gives a disimpassioned smile with the association of his mistress and her reluctance to punish him.

He checks the time and sees it is 33 minutes past one o'clock. The thought that he may displease his mistress is sufficient reason to open the pill case and count the pills, "one, two, three..." he counts aloud and checks the time again, three, there should only be two, my six o'clock one and my bed time one, I am late taking my twelve o'clock one."

He takes his twelve o'clock pill and return to his duties, dusting and polishing, knowing mistress doesn't like it when things are dusty, she likes them to shine and sparkle. She tells him that he must do it and do it well, because it is very therapeutic. He doesn't really understand what she means by therapeutic, he does know that he enjoys buffing the wood and polishing the paint, the silver and glass, making sure the ornaments are precisely placed where she likes them and he gets satisfaction from seeing everything gleam in the sunlight and pleasing her.

He is just finishing in her bedroom when an alarm sounds, uncertain as to whether he should answer its call, or finish the last of the polishing. Unusually for him, he wonders whether his pills make it difficult to make decisions, He knows he should go to the alarm, but can see that he only has to polish the mirror on her dressing table and arrange her personal grooming items to complete his task. Perhaps it is because he was late taking the pill, perhaps he is developing a tolerance, but from somewhere deep within, something of himself tries to surface, something buried deep within pushes and gives him the strength to enough to summon a little rebelliousness and he finishes in the bedroom before attending to the alarm.

After he attends to the alarm, he puts the polishing and burnishing equipment in the cupboard, the cloths he puts in the wash.

Following his instructions, he reads the menu mistress wants tonight

"Red stew, red stew now let me see, red stew?" He asks himself, confusion fills his mind for a few seconds until the fog clears enough to know he needs to check his recipe books. Pig's tails and kidney beans are the base ingredients. Next on the list, is rice and peas and then fried spiced plantain as side dishes, "ah yes," he realises, "it's Jamaican food," He knows that that means it is her friend Courtney that will be attending her tonight. He stops as another thought forces its way through the murk of his mind, did she say that Elbert would be joining him, "I'm not sure."

He cleans and drops the pigs tails into boiling water and boils them for ten minute then pours the water into the slow cooker adding the now hot tails and all the spices including the obligatory scotch bonnet, the rice and plantains can be cooked when her men arrive.

Once the food is cooking, he collects the dry washing from the line outside, irons and folds it before taking everything up and putting some things in drawers or hanging others in wardrobes. Next, he checks another list and lays out the clothes she has asked him to get ready for her and then he goes around the house making sure everything is ready for when she gets home and for her guests. Feeling dissent, he reluctantly lays out saucers he knows will be used as ashtrays, and for some reason unknown to him, having to put out the silver tray his grandmother had given him.

After fulfilling her wishes, he rewards himself with a glass of water; the simple payment pushes any residual qualms he has of the usage of his personal effects from his mind.

It does not however remove the sense of trepidation he feels reading the next item on the list of chores. Only the chemically induced compliance moves him to complete the final tasks and he goes to the bathroom to wash and change.

He is running a bath for her when she walks in the bathroom; he asks for her permission to help her undress, she ignores the question and orders him to fetch her some wine.

He returns to find her soaking in the bath, her head and arms are the only things protruding from the suds of her bubble bath, intentionally hiding her body from his needful gaze. Kneeling before her in supplication, he holds the wine out for her to take. She ignores his offering, only when his arm begins to shake with the strain and she can chastise him for his weakness, does she take it from him. With a dismissive wave, she sends him away. Remaining on his knees, he collects her soiled clothes and leaves the room. He takes the clothes and puts them in the laundry basket before returning upstairs to wait, kneeling by the bathroom door in anticipation of her to call.

The call does not come. She exits the bathroom clad in a light dressing gown and goes to her bedroom, he moves and assumes his position by her door.

Eventually she calls him to attend to her; he brushes her hair and helps her on with her lingerie, dress and shoes. She dismisses him, again with no more than a wave. He goes down and checks on the slow cooker before peeling and slicing the plantain and putting the slices into a bag of mixed spices to dust and absorb the flavours.

He hears thumping sound outside, it stops and is replaced by the sound of mistress descending the stairs, just as she is reaching the bottom the doorbell rings.

He listens as she opens the door and hears he start to greet her expected visitors. "Court... who are you?"

"'Ello Jo, you old slapper, what's for tea?"

It is a woman's voice; recognition tries to push its way through the narcotised veils. He tries hard to remember who it is.

Mistress screams and her pet rushes to protect her. "You're dead." Mistress shouts at the woman standing in the doorway.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm alive and kicking, thought I was dead eh, that'll explain why my bruv ain't been to see me while I been in hospital. Well stop gabbin' an' let me in I need to open the beaver's dam."

The leather clad woman presses her crash helmet into the others hands and pushes past her, giving Kelvin a wave as she rushes up to the toilet.

Mistress Jo stands by the door, impatiently awaiting her return. Contrary to her hurried ascension, her descent is more of a leisurely amble.

"Fuck me Jo ain't you got the kettle on yet? I need some cha, what are you playin' at? Now who's the Doris?" gesturing to Kelvin as she turns toward him. The grin falls from her face as she recognises her brother under the wig, the poorly applied make up and the attire of a common dock whore. "What the fuck are you wearing?" she demands.

Kelvin looks to his mistress, unsure of how he should react. This woman, he knows she looks familiar, he knows that she is someone he knows, he cannot remember who; did he hear her correctly? Is she is claiming to be his sister, no, that can't be right, he knows his sister is dead. Kelvin's befuddled mind tries to comprehend the developing melodrama playing out in front of him.

Seeing little reaction from her brother, Colette moves to him and grasping his chin firmly in one hand she stares into her brother's eyes. Noticing, the dull pallor, the lack of expression and the slow response, she reaches with a practiced hand to her rear jeans pocket and whips out a petrol lighter, flipping it open and igniting it she moves it across her brothers gaze, left and right, in and out and up and down. Recognising symptoms, she knows he is drugged, and suspects a hypnotic, something like valium or benzodiazipam. She pushes him away, simultaneously closing her lighter and demanding, "What's he on bitch? And he had better have a damn good medical reason to be in this state."

"ummm, errrr..."

A large black man appears in the open doorway and says, "Ello mimampie, yo'man, ere, come cockitup some mmm hmm"[good evening my dear, I have come to make love to you doggy style],

" an' den de batty boy can slurpie slupie, an my boy Elbert can can cockitup some more an' den moore slurpie slurpie and some moore cockitup. [after I have finished, I would like to degrade your husband by forcing him to do disgusting acts of a sexual, no doubt considered by some as homosexual in nature, before passing you along to my good friend Elbert . He would also like to make love to you in the same manner and possibly also engage your husband with similar degradation. With or without your agreement, we shall continue this throughout the night until morning.]

"an' we got it dem kokain an dem ganja" We shall further soil your home and your lives by encouraging you to partake quantities of illegal substances, namely cocaine and marijuana.

"An den you got de new guyl she fine, she like boom boom gud?" [You appear to have a friend, she is very beautiful and I find her sexually attractive, would it be within the bounds of possibility that she could join our intended liason?]

"Hey, you and you," Collette's voice pieces the air, and with a reasonable imitation of the Jamaican patois says, get dem bombaklaat arses guwaan. [Excuse me gentlemen, but I would recommend that you take your thrombic menstrual backsides elsewhere.] and then resumes her normal regimented military speech, "Now, off you fuck."

"Oooh no sistah, you got two grindsman, when we dun wid you, you be big hole girl." [Pardon me for disagreeing, but we are lovers of exceptional quality and I am sure once you have tasted our wares you will change your mind and be all the better for it].

"You think that two fobbit Yardies are going to manage what three dozen Taliban couldn't, well fuck you and the banana boat you rode in on," Speaking as she moves toward the door at speed, Collette ducks under the big man's arm and before he can turn, she kicks the back of his knee causing his leg to buckle. Her same foot hardly touches the floor before it is launched at high speed and kicks him in the side of the head. A concussive snap from her elbow drives him to the floor. The other man stands almost motionless; his face frozen in shock, the only movement he shows is from his head as he looks at his unconscious friend, to the diminutive girl and back again.

Recovering from his shock, he holds his arms up in front of him and says "Whoa sistah, I an' I is guwaan." [Thank you for your hospitality, however I have just remembered a previous engagement that I must attend].

Collette walks back inside the house and says, "Jo, you'd better get that fucking kettle on, NOW."

Jo transfixed by the momentary burst of activity, jumps at the word now and hurries to make tea. Collette turns and closes the door as Courtney struggles to his feet.

Kelvin still has not moved from the spot where Collette had pushed him to, Collette walks to follow Jo, pausing as she passes her brother and tapping him affectionately on the cheek a couple of times, she then gently tells him to go and put some "proper clothes on."

He looks to his mistress for permission, an endorsement of the woman's order, he sees mistress pouring hot water into the teapot, obeying the instruction he knows she has been given, if he were able, he would see the terror on her face. Indecision confounds him, he turns to go and change and then feels the need to return to mistress, for her to tell him what he should do. Several times he turns to her and then turns back until he sees his reflection in a framed picture and remembers his reluctance and shame and goes up to his room to change whilst trying to make sense of the evenings developing events.

In his room, he finds himself staring at a photograph, a young woman in a khaki uniform, a green beret, rolled and strapped by an epaulette to her shoulder. A long black rifle leisurely cradled in her arms. He knows the picture is his sister, taken when she first arrived in Afghanistan, before she was lost. The photograph is the one thing mistress has allowed him to keep, the one thing he has to remind him of her, and of the life before he became ill, before he needed to take his pills. The picture is his only true luxury, the one thing he has stood up to his mistress and her men to protect. Through his clouded cognisance, he slowly accepts the woman in the kitchen, the woman that bested Courtney in seconds, is his sister.

The knowledge gives him a glimmer of hope for release, with it, surge of energy and a modicum of self-respect. He returns to the bathroom and washes off the makeup. He starts to descend the stairway and with each step comes an unsought hesitancy, a growing conviction to the possibility that she is just another hallucination.

Hearing voices, women's voices, one of them heated. Breathing a sigh of relief as he reaches the bottom a change comes over him as long repressed emotions threaten to break out from their immuration. His whole body visibly shaking from the internal conflict, he regresses to a dream like state, quivering with each step until he collapses in the kitchen doorway.

He awakens in a hospital bed, the leather clad woman sitting by his side. "Mistress?" he croaks.

"No, it's me, Col, and don't worry, you'll never hear from that bitch again."

"What time is it? I need to take my pill."

"No you don't bruv, You'll never have to take those pills again. You might have to take some others to help you get over what she has done to you, but those things are out of your life."

"I don't understand, where is Mistress Josephine?"

"Banged up, just not the way she wanted."

"I'm confused, I need my pill."

"No you don't. Your missis, otherwise known as the bitch whore from hell, is in the slammer, in gaol, in the nick, safely under lock and key, 'er safety not yours and she is soon to be joined by that fuckwit doctor or whoever she's been shagging, the twat who made the pills, as well as, if they can find them, my sparring partner from last night and his mate. I don't suppose you know where they live?"

Giving her a bewildered look, he again asks for his mistress and his pills.

A man walks into the room saying, "Ah, you're awake, hello I am Mr Edwards, I am the consultant that will be overseeing your withdrawal, an interesting combination of drugs I must say. All packaged into one capsule I understand, and if the rumours are true, by a third year pharmacology student."

Collette glares at him, the implied admiration in his voice of the student tests her ability to remain calm. Through gritted teeth she asks, "How long will he be here?"

"It's best we do not discuss that for a while, that is if you are a relative and he wishes you to be informed... then and onl..."

Standing she turns to face him, "Cut the crap mate, I have an LPA for him."

"Lasting power of attorney?"

"That's right."

"Nevertherless miss errr..."

" Captain," she announces, "Captain Collette FitzDougal, and if you ask if you can call me Collette I might just have to kill you. Now, without the bollocks and bull, when will my brother be sorted?"

"Well we would normally be able to wean him off any one of the drugs in a few weeks, contrary to popular misconceptions, the heroin and cocaine on their own, are generally not a problem although very uncomfortable to come off. However, coupled with the tranquilizers and the antidepressants he has also been given, if we are not careful seizures and heart attacks, even failure, are possible. Therefore, in reality, we are talking not weeks but months before full recovery... physically that is, if there is any underlying psychological dependency, then that will need to be continually assessed as he progresses through his treatment. Even then, once he is free and clear, there will be a need for vigilance, both by himself, and those around him."

"I'll fucking kill that bitch." She hisses.

"Pardon?"

"Uh, nothing."

Collette spends the majority of her time on leave with Kelvin and attending to the mundane maintenance of his life, mostly regular bills for car, utilities, home and life insurances, etc.

From the short conversation she had with Jo before Kelvin's collapse, another meeting they have at the prison and shards of information Kelvin could remember, Capt FitzDougal is able to piece together the circumstances that destroyed what had previously been a happy couple. Enlightenment does not bring understanding and when she finds out that the erroneous report of her death was although not the cause, was used as a principle for her seduction.

Convinced he had lost his sister and best friend, Kelvin had gotten depressed, he lost all the drive, all the zeal he had for life. The drugs prescribed also took his libido and then erectile function. These, with the knowledge that he was unable to satisfy Jo were, giving him more reasons to be depressed. Having lost all reason for living, and after attempting suicide twice, he was for a short time sectioned.

Jo visited him regularly and often found herself talking with James, a student studying for a Ph D in pharmacology visiting his mother. After Kelvin's release, James began visiting Jo at home, after a few of these visits he said he had been researching Kelvin's disorder and confidently suggested he could make his life better.

Jo's attraction to James had been growing and he had made no secret of his for her and she promised him a one time adventure if he could deliver. He did and they did, from Jo's description of the "event" Collette suspects that ecstasy was given to her, and the one time became a regular occurrence. Jo herself said she had wondered whether James altered the concoction he was mixing, because Kelvin had become, in her words, useless. He required constant reminders of what and how he should be doing things and oblivious to almost anything around him. She had found herself angry with him all the time and started to think of ways to punish him. One of those ways was making him watch her have sex with James and then with James's persuasion others.

In reality, when she had been reported shot and killed, she was in fact, given aid and shelter from an opium farmer and his wives. It had taken some time after her recovery to contact friendly forces and even more time to be rescued. The man that sheltered he did not want his location revealed to the Taliban or allied forces.

Epilogue

Collette takes a months compassionate leave after she is declared fit for duty before returning to her unit and Afghanistan. She is deployed a further nine months before retiring from military life. Consequently Kelvin has to go through the majority of his arduous withdrawal without his sister by his side.

Jo FitzDougal gives a full statement to the police, admitting the abuse and naming all of her conspirators. She is placed on remand until her trial; the date set three months from her arrest.

A sound of a wet slap immediately precedes the collapse of the woman escorted between two police officers between the van she arrived in and the rear of the courthouse, before her body hits the floor a loud bang echoes and rolls between the surrounding buildings. A single, large calibre round (0.50) is later retrieved from the court wall.

The police have only one suspect, however the suspect is thought to be somewhere in Afghanistan at the time of the shooting and unable to prove otherwise, the police eventually admit there are no other lines of enquiry and the investigation is shelved.

Kelvin has begun seeing a woman he met attending narcotics anonymous. Major Collette FitzDougal is engaged to Sgt Amanda Simons and are planning marrying after Amanda leaves the service.

Coincidentally, when they are on their honeymoon, a certain James Richards is shot with a similar calibre weapon as he walks to a car waiting to pick him up the day he leaves prison after serving his sentence and the only suspect is overseas at the time.