adelaide is weird. there is no one to talk to. the sun is low along the horizon & i have lost my way. i have asked for directions but was ignored & even the bus stop is unnaturally quiet for a monday. i have always been extrovert. but dare i breathe here. the city stifles conversation. the locals don't say anything. they murmur in daylight & at night they are inside watching television.
adelaide is weird. there is a huge green park surrounding the entire city. it is called a greenbelt. because it fits like a belt. at night the stone city cools & contracts & the trees are closer. no one goes into the greenbelt after dark. there are legends about those who have tried.
adelaide has the highest percentage of macabre murders in australia. some dress in military uniform. some prefer sharp garden utensils. others wear clothes with no underclothes. some wait until winter. there are the maniacs. the drunks. how much can a person scream before they are gutted by a shard of glass? but no one hears anything. because it is night. the doors are closed. the streets empty.
the greenbelt used to be a meeting place for adolescents. but few prefer to make love there after dark now. how much can a person scream? now only a few strays wait at the bus stop. no one talks & soon the buses arrive & they are on their way home & i am still waiting. not quite sure about the emptiness of the streets.
whilst i wait i keep looking back. to make sure everything is as it was the last time i looked. i've always been a rational person. yet if the moon became larger. if perhaps a streetlight that had been there a second ago shifted. if there is anytime in a life where one appreciates the voice of another person it's after dark in adelaide.
don't move, comes the cool voice from directly in front of me. i stop breathing. he must have crept up. bastard. shit. i have no hope of defending myself. the face is in shadow. the breathing huge & strained. i glance down. he has a hand under his jumper. i can tell him to fuck off & get the police. but i hadn't noticed a police station in the city.
what do you want? i ask quietly looking into the shadow of his face. i am alone. i am female & now i am aware that i am female. bastard. i'm not going to give in to him. drunks are harmless. he moves closer. he is almost on top of me. i am pinned to the side of the building.
look what's up? piss off will you? but it is a question. the words are weaker than they could have been. i curse myself. i feel helpless & sick because of it. i have always been able to look after myself.
i'm going to kill you. god. i glance quickly at his jumper. run. run. i see the shape of his hand tighten on something. a bottle. it looks like a gun. what's wrong? what's wrong with him? has he come from the greenbelt? he is only a drunk. how much can a person?
why what's up? i try to push forward. but i bump his chest. he is more than angry. he snarls into a space above my head & pushes me into the wall. suddenly he is furious.
i hate you, he hisses & he spits on my forehead. i hate you. but why? but it isn't the time for reasoning. i know that he really hates me. don't think. i look past him. he could have hated the couple that were further down the street. but it is me. he hates me.
do you believe me? he asks. i sure did & i nod. i hate myself. but i will believe anything he tells me & as fast as he wants me to believe him. if he clicks his fingers i will dance.
good, he says. his face tightens. it's a gun. he's not just playing games. he wants to shoot me. he really does. because he hates me so much. he almost grins.
it's loaded. i'm going to shoot. it is a gun. i know it. i know. don't think.
i believe you, i said. i can be cool. i can tell him to fuck off & i can run. i can scream. but i do nothing. i stand pinned against the building. he stinks like sewerage. he is in shadow two inches from my face. this is absurd. i watch his hand beneath his jumper. a bottle. i have always been able to look after.
what do you want? i ask & feel female for asking it. i have never thought about myself as female before. i hate him.
it's too late for you. (he isn't joking. he is really going to do it.) i want to live, i whimper.
open your mouth. (christ. christ.)
i want to live, i whimper. suddenly he is relaxed. he moves back & i almost become stronger than him. the bastard. why? he asks. why do you want to live?
because. (oh shit. fuck.) because. what can i say? what can you say about life to someone who is about to kill you? i'd never thought about it before. i have always been independent. i stammer & am female & awkward.
i want to live because. i don't know why. (this is crazy.) i don't know why i want to live.
are you frightened of me? he is smiling. the bastard. it has been a joke. the fucking bastard. he is smiling. hate. hate. hate. but the gun.
yes, i say. but the voice is flat & unemotional. yes. i am frightened of you.
then he turns & shuffles off down the street. his hand still beneath his jumper. he is heading towards the greenbelt. i no longer have the energy to breathe without trembling. the bastard. he has hurt me. i am dead inside. i have been standing. minding my own business. the bus has been & gone. people slip into the last taxi. i try to shout. but they don't hear me. i turn to run. but there is nowhere. he has taken my life with him. there is nothing left. i sit down.
