Each month we hold a writing contest for our members, by our members. Writers are given parameters, such as a word count and/or a prompt. Entries are judged and discussed blindly. For September, writers had to write a story incorporating the theme of "fall"--whether the season, a fall from grace, or a literal fall.
Your Every Word
by Marília Bonelli
“Jump out the window,” the man said.
Crap. I hadn’t seen him hiding behind the door in my rush to search the room. My feet unexpectedly took a step forward, calmly but surely taking me closer to the nearest window. So this was how he’d gotten away so many times. I could almost appreciate the irony of being faced with such a person, but the ever-shortening distance between me and a six story drop kinda took away the humor from the situation. I’d been careless.
Turning my head, I met his gaze, trying to look pitiful. Mischa’s expression after she’d accidentally broken her favorite mug came to mind as inspiration. “You don’t really want me to do that, do you? I don’t want to jump out the window. I wanna go outside and call my friends. That’ll make me happy. Don’t you wanna make me happy?”
His face contorted with shock. It seemed he hadn’t known who I was. His mouth convulsed, and a choked “Wait” came out on its own.
It was enough to allow me to stop.
“Who are you?” he asked in a whisper.
The more important question was who was he? “I’d love to know who you are,” I countered, not feeling any inclination to answer him.
“I’m Ferris,” he said, grimacing after the name left his lips. “Tell me who you are!”
That one I couldn’t ignore. “Sandra. But I don’t want to tell you anything more than that.”
The distance between us was enough that my hold wasn’t perfect. It was just enough that he looked conflicted. His mouth opened and closed several times, and I could see him itching to ask me more. A cell phone vibrated in his pocket, but he didn’t answer it.
He took a step closer to the now closed door, increasing the distance between us ever so slightly. I tried to move closer to him, but my feet wouldn’t obey.
“Come here,” I said, stretching out a hand to call him forth.
He edged forward before he caught himself. When he did, he went up against the door, putting as much distance between us as he could. “Sandra Morgan. Of course. I didn’t know you’d switched sides.”
Damn it.
Satisfied with his own discovery, he smiled. “It would be nice to control you, but you’re more trouble than you’re worth, aren’t you? Jump out the window.”
“I’d rather you throw yourself out the window instead.”
A shiver visibly ran through him at my words, and he pressed himself against the door. Would the compulsion to do as he said vanish if he left the room? That was to my advantage then.
As my fingers fumbled to open the latch on the window, I let the perpetual mask slip from my face. It’d been so long since I’d let my own emotions shine through, I wasn’t sure they would. The latch came open and my fingers gripped the bottom of the window.
A racing pulse fed into my fear. I wouldn’t have been able to keep a calm façade even if I tried. I kept my head turned to face him at an awkward angle. “Don’t make me do it.” I couldn’t recognize my own voice as it cracked. There was no point in sounding composed. The window wouldn’t budge, but I found myself applying all my strength to it.
“Wait.” His response came as if through clenched teeth, labored breathing the only sound that followed.
I slid my hand away from the window, but my feet refused to step away. Turning towards him was easy enough though. He hadn’t told me to face any specific direction.
He released a shaky breath, and his eyes closed.
“Please.” All I had was my voice now. “Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to do this.” Crying should be effective, but it had been so many years since I’d let myself cry, I couldn’t even do it now to save my own life. “I’d love to go home now. Won’t you please ask me to step away from the window?”
“Step aw—” he choked on the rest of the words, but that was enough for me to take a step in his direction. His eyes snapped open in a panic. “Stop!”
He seemed to try and take a step aside to reach for the doorknob, but his stumble brought him a few inches closer to me. A few inches only, but every inch counted. His expression changed from determination to doubt as he struggled with the urge to do what I would like.
“I don’t wanna die,” I said.
“Stop talking! Be quiet!”
But his gaze was still on me, and I looked scared. Or at least, I hoped I looked scared. It had truly been too long since I’d let myself show anything genuine. I heard him groan, body contorting as he held onto the doorknob.
A little more. A little more fear, a little more despair. Come save me, my eyes pleaded.
“Stop—” He jumped back, hitting the back of his head on the wall. “Stop looking at me!”
Immediately, my eyes averted, staring at the wall instead.
He seemed to breathe easier. “Close your eyes. Turn your back to me.”
I had no choice but to do it. My voice gone, my expression out of sight—all my weapons contained. Whether or not it had been real before, I could feel now: despair.
“You almost had me.” He laughed, but it still sounded strained. “Now, open the window and jump out.”
My feet moved in the general direction of where I knew the window was. My eyes still closed and unable to open, I outstretched my hands to feel for the glass. I came again to the window, unable to deviate from the course of action. I struggled to pull up the window. It creaked and complained as his tense laughter sounded behind me. Like a dam bursting open, it lifted suddenly, sliding easily the rest of the way.
I wonder if the others will find it amusing that this is how I was defeated. By a power so similar to my own.
I felt a wet trail down my cheek. Was I finally crying? I thought all my tears had dried years ago. Wait. The command to open the window had been fulfilled.
My right hand reached for the windowsill, gripping it so that my body could climb through. Clenching my teeth, I brought the window back down using my left hand. Pain shot up my arm and my mouth opened, but I was still unable to make a sound.
“What are you— Stop making things difficult for me.” His phone started vibrating again.
More tears came, from the pain or my inevitable fate, I’m not sure.
“Jump out the window. Do it!”
My arms twisted and squirmed, but the left hand alone could not lift the window. A small reprieve.
“I said jump! Jump out of that god dammed window!” I heard his quickly approaching footsteps behind me and suddenly the pressure of the window on my hand was gone. The momentum to go forward, to where the open window lay, came again, strong and unwavering. “Just—”
His hands grabbed my shoulders to push me forward… And that was his mistake.
The aborted motion of pushing me out the window turned into throwing me aside. My right knee hit the ground, and I rolled a few feet before again rising. There was a scrambling sound, and then, as the compulsion had me once again blindly moving towards where the window would be, there was a scream.
The compulsion was gone.
I opened my eyes, clutching my throbbing hand to my chest as I let my body collapse onto the floor with a scream.
I crawled towards the open window, carefully holding on as I looked down. There he was, splattered onto the pavement. I quickly closed the window and latched it. Just to be sure.
“I told you I’d rather you jump than me.”
Comments