I say I remember the details, but technically that would be a lie. Those brief moments of the attack remain a haze – a blessing or a curse I am still unsure of. The police found it to be maddening. “What did you see?” They would keep asking, again and again – each time the compassion in their voice weakening – insistent, continual, as if being pressed enough would cause the fog to dissipate and clarity to return, perhaps even in time for them to kiss the kids goodnight, or to catch Leno or the scores from the late game. Anything but sit here in front of yet another young girl, big eyes frozen wide in a pale face, huddled under a blanket and offering no information in a crime which frankly would most likely remain unsolved.
“The smallest detail could help – just think carefully.” Really, could the smallest details really help? Did they want to know his breath smelled of whiskey mixed with peppermints, or of his voice – soft and sweet with only a hint of mockery and superiority seeping through, whispering so close I felt his dry lips brush against my ear? Baby he called me. “Aw baby you feel so good – why don’t you show me where you keep all that sweetness?” He nuzzled my face. I raised my hand to my cheek as if in a trance – “he had stubble.”
“Great, just great – a man of average height, average weight; race and ethnicity unknown – but he had stubble…” The frustration of the male officer was clear as he shoved his chair back, fingers raking through his hair leaving it standing on end with even rows between.
“That’s good, honey. Real good,” she patted my hand, smiling as if to offer comfort, support but her eyes were dead. To care would be to get too close, it was better to stay detached so as to guard against emotions of pain or rage. I did not blame her – my eyes had died too.
“Can I go now?”
The first light of hope hit his eyes at my question, “I think we got all we need.”
She looked tired. “We have to release her to the custody of her parents. McNally hasn’t been able to get a hold of anyone yet.” What she didn’t say was that my mom had split, left for a new husband, new life and new family, while my dad was, well who knows where.
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Nice. There's a lot of subtext here -- the tension between the narrator and the officers is (to use an overused phrase) palpable -- one moment in particular stands out, when the female officer pats her hand in that attempt at sympathy. The officers have a role they must play here -- but their frustration is clear. Do be careful about jumping into the officer's heads -- you haven't quite done that -- but in the early paragraphs the narrator attributes thoughts to the officers that she can't know. Now, she can obviously assume that's what they're thinking -- just be sure it's clear that's what's going on.
ReplyDeleteHey Christine,
ReplyDeleteGreat descriptive details here! I like the inner voice of the victim. The description of how the officer shoved the chair back and "raked through his hair etc." Fantastic! I really got a good "Picture" of the scene. The dead eyes, the frustration etc.. This is really interesting to me.
I also think you did well with the use of summary and dialogue as well as the verbal dance between the officers at the end.
Suggestions: It was difficult to find something to offer a suggestion about but I tried.
Remove the "or to" in the section below.
perhaps even in time for them to kiss the kids goodnight, or to catch Leno or the scores from the late game.
Ok, that's it, I really had to look for that. Hope it helps. :)
PS. Please update my blog. I had to make a new one. It is
ReplyDeletemissmindys.blogspot.com
I'd like to keep in touch.