Singapore Noir

She stands in the dining room with her hands around her mug. Partly concealed by blinds, she watches as the Ferrari screeches to a halt. Out comes the man in wobbly steps, while Zach emerges from the other door, straining against the strong gusts of wind. Seconds later, only one other car passes through the gates and pulls up close behind. Merla has not seen it before. The driver is tall and lean, with a narrow face. The three of them make their way toward the house, the stranger looking sober by comparison to his host. Zach catches Merla’s gaze, and turns almost instantly. She frowns, unable to read the expression she just saw. Suddenly she is aware that the man is pointing her out to the stranger, who nods in response and stares directly at her. Merla backs away to the kitchen and stays there, not moving, her ears pricked. She hears the front doors open and shut, voices mumbling, footsteps heading toward the stairs. The long period of quiet which follows is not what it seems. Out of thin air, the stranger appears in the kitchen before her, holding the mug she left on the dining room table. He asks for more ice, a request which she tends to immediately. Then he tells her she must have forgotten her tea, and places it on the counter within the outline of his shadow. She hesitates. The weight of his stare shifts from her to the mug. He picks it up and moves a step closer toward her. Merla takes her tea and darts off, ignorant of the fact that he lies in wait, not knowing that his eyes never leave her, and too quickly disregarding an obscure instinct that this man is unlike the others.

Darkness which hurts. Light-headedness. An escalating awareness of being roughly shaken. Through hooded eyes, Merla sees the stranger thrashing against her body, feels the searing pain below. Terror pierces right through her. She cannot breathe. She tries to scream but her mouth is gagged. She struggles but her body is weak. He pounds the side of her head with his bare knuckles, flips her over, and pushes her legs apart. Another jab of agonizing pain. Tears start to stream down her face. She passes out.

Nausea surging over her, she rolls and tumbles onto the floor of the cabin. Vomit spews from her dry mouth. The stranger is nowhere about. Hands trembling, she pulls up her underwear; she cannot see her skirt. On her hands and knees, she moves slowly toward the way out, feeling the yacht sway beneath her. She crawls halfway along the berth before finding her feet, the heavy wind swirling around her. In the lounge, she collapses onto a sofa on which she has never sat. Blood seeps into the fabric. She does not know when the spasms cease, is oblivious to the passing of time. She feels nothing. She rises unsteadily to her feet and staggers past the console table, her flailing arms sending the Swarovski crystal crashing onto the floor. In the dark of the kitchen, she picks up a knife. Then she heads up the stairs.

On the landing, she sees that the door to the den is ajar and hears a strangled cry. She approaches, her mind and body disconnected. Through the gap, a partial sight. A grotesque heap of obese nakedness on the floor, slurring and slobbering. She pushes the door open. Zach is strapped to the wall with his hands pulled high. His bare frame is limp and his cries have turned into feeble sobs. Merla’s vision adjusts to the dim light. Covering Zach’s torso and limbs is a gruesome mass of lashes and deep cigarette burns. Merla starts to convulse with anguish. Finally unleashed, she lurches into the room, knife raised high, and plunges the metal deep into the man’s shoulder blade. He yelps and reels away on the rubber floor in shock, staring up at Merla, at the knife in her hand. Uncharted waters. Shaking violently and barely breathing, she drops the knife and unstraps the boy, never taking her eyes off the man. Zach collapses onto his knees. In a split second, a tidal wave of rage thrusts him back onto his feet. With a primal scream, he lunges. Grunting through clenched teeth, he punches and kicks with all his might at the man’s face and crotch.