Back Track by Julie Hiner

Author:Julie Hiner [Julie Hiner]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 43

The Original Violet

The track ended. Click. Click. Click. The wheel spun against the resistance of the stuck tape. Chester stood up, walked over to the sound system, and clicked open the cassette deck. He pulled the cassette out, a shimmering trail of black tape following. Using his finger, he spun the small plastic wheel until the tape tightened. He put the tape back in the player, closed the door and pushed play. He picked up the cassette case and stared at the dark letters—Black Sabbath—slithering down the paper insert. The leaders of his favourite sub-genre of metal. The group that had tinged their heavy music with a Gothic flair well before it became a musical movement.

Walking back to his chair, a click caught his ear. He halted. The clicking stopped. The track started. He continued walking, then settled back into his plush, velour armchair.

A heavy, slow guitar riff hammered through the room. The distinct voice of a man born to be a metal god wailed along. Chester pictured a dark sky, rain splats echoing over the silence, lightning jolting the night alive. The heavy drama of the track fit his mood. A sense of doom had washed over him last night, lingering into this day, like a thick black cloud. It had convoluted his judgment. In his doom-doused haze, his evening routine had faded into the back recesses of his memory.

The tune playing from the cassette seethed through the air, weaving into his ears. He jolted. Then froze. The very song that rang through his ears the last time he’d touched Violet. His stomach plunged. His hands shook. The room swirled around him.

He leaned back into the soft velour of the chair and closed his eyes. His memory had full control over his mind and his body. He let it take him.

He was there. In her bedroom. In their childhood home. She was smiling, playing with her dolls. He peeked in through the slightly open door. She beckoned him to come. She always let him play, even though Mother didn’t allow him to touch dolls. Mother was out at the store. She’d never know.

He sat down on the plush carpet, close to her. Sweet lavender and vanilla drifted over him. Her hair always smelled delicious. He wanted to touch it. He reached out and slid his fingers over a long, dark lock. She looked at him, giggled, then pulled away. She gave him a doll and started the game of ‘doing up’ the doll in her own hands.

A ball of desire pulsed in the pit of his stomach. He wanted her. Every part of her. He wanted her all to himself. His fingers trembled as he tried not to touch her. They had a mind of their own.

His fingers crept up her arm.

Her dark eyes found his. “Saul.” Saul. She was the last one to call him that. ”You should brush your doll’s hair.”

“But I want to brush your hair.”

“We should play with the dolls. I know we’re kids, but, well, you shouldn’t brush my hair.

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