12. Nerissa's short story

An unfamiliar sound wakes me from my sleep and I open my eyes to the darkness which surrounds me. I sharpen my senses with effort and listen intently to what sounds like running water outside my bedroom window. I search the confines of my mind for the source and recall the tap located beneath my back verandah. The thought of water being wasted freely in the midst of water restrictions runs through my mind and I jump up from the bed in search of my slippers. I stumble, in my sleep-induced state, towards the back door, running my fingers through my hair and tracing the wall of the corridor with my fingers for direction. I glance at the clock in the kitchen as I pass, noticing the time is 2am and curse that I have woken at such an ungodly hour.

My hand clumsily finds the key in lock and I turn it gently to the open position hearing it click. I pull the door ajar ever so slightly and look through the wire security door. Instinctively, I pause and look out into the dark night for signs of movement. My eyes scroll the yard from the tallest gum trees on my left to the small wooden playhouse on the right yet I find nothing amiss. The heat from the summer night envelopes me and the smell of freshly cut grass permeates the air. The water continues to run and whilst I cannot see the tap from this angle, I can see its trickle run slowly in my direction and then trail off under the house. I wonder momentarily how the tap has been turned on but my desire to turn it off at once is strong and I reach for the latch on the wire door. As I do, I feel a tap on the back of my thigh and jump with a start. I screech without thinking and turn around suddenly to discover little hands reaching towards me and eyes wide with fear.

My two year old throws her arms around my legs and wails, “I’m scared.” I put one arm around her, hugging her to me whilst the other falls reluctantly from the latch. I close the door with my foot to keep out the hot air and pick up my daughter. I bury my face in her hair and kiss her gently. The sound of the water running fades slowly as I carry my little girl up to her bed. I lay her softly on her bed and cover her with the sheet. She reaches for her pink pony and clutches it to her chest. My hand touches her forehead and I sooth her tired cries. The air conditioner above her bed hums quietly and after a moment my angel is once again in a quiet slumber. I carefully close her bedroom door and retrace my steps towards the back of the house.

The thought of calling my father to come and help me fleets through my mind but I dismiss it readily. He would not appreciate being woken in the middle of the night for something so trivial and besides, I must prove to him that I am a diligent parent, regardless of my youthful age. I have fought hard this last year to convince my parents that despite my age, I can raise my daughter successfully and alone. I shake my head to clear my uncertainty. I must do this. I can do this. It is simply a running tap which needs to be turned off. I flick the latch and step hesitantly down the steps.

I stare towards the tap as the vision before me takes hold. I jump with a start and my heart begins to beat wildly. My mind begins to panic as I see two long legs splayed either side of my tap. The water runs freely between them and down past bare toes dug into the mud that surround them. The man is lying face down, half buried beneath my bushes, his arms up beside his head. It suddenly occurs to me that he must be dead! I fight the urge to turn away and run back to the safety of inside. My eyes adjust quickly to the light and I try to determine signs of life. I stare at his back, watching for a small rise and fall like I had been taught in first aid training, but do not detect any. Bile begins to build in my throat and I feel myself losing rational thought.

For some unknown reason, I bend and pick up a nearby stick. I hold it out hesitantly and ever so softly poke the edge of his leg. When nothing happens, I edge closer to do it harder again. In an instant, his body convulses and I hear an awful, guttural cry. In my fright, I drop the stick and run towards my house. Thought of my sleeping daughter flicker through my mind and I realise I have failed her. I have put her in danger. I lunge through the doorway and attempt to close the door behind me. I hear him roar again – a wild, deathly sound that reverberates through me entire body and sends shivers down my spine. I place my back firmly against the door and wait for him to try and knock it down.