Kaitlin
By Sorraya
- 1071 reads
The moment she walked into the shop for a wedding dress fitting, I was
completely smitten. I was looking after the place for a couple of
hours while my mum went to the bank. She's a dressmaker by trade,
specialising in a certain type of wedding dress. Her customers are
very specific, the type of dress they require can't be bought on the
high street, the bigger the dress the better. My mother tells me
that the size of the dress indicates a families wealth. I soon
discover her name is Kaitlin, and is due to get married in six weeks.
She certainly didn't look old enough to get married, but then again
I suppose in her community they marry very young. When she looked at
me across the shop counter, I could see my reflection through her
piercing green eyes. Her enigmatic smile radiated across the room,
she was so beautiful. This sort of thing doesn't happen to people
like me. I'm just an ordinary boy from Bolton who lives with his
mum above a dress shop, it's just the two of us. I'm a travel and
tourism student by day and a part-time supermarket cashier at the
weekend. I've had a few girlfriends in the past, but nothing
serious. When I first saw Kaitlin I felt as though I'd known her for
years. I've never had that feeling with anyone before, I was
totally enchanted. My mum did warn me, but I ignored her advice,
something which I deeply regret. Kaitlin's world and mine are poles
apart, and never the twain shall meet. I was a fool to believe I
would be the exception to the rule. Twenty years old and full of
infatuation for a sixteen year old gypsy girl. I wish I'd listened
to my mother.
I can hear mumbling all around me as I lay here. I can't hear exactly
what they’re saying, but I know they’re all fussing over me. I
drift off again and remember the time I first spoke to her. I
recall the furore in the local press about the area where they had
camped. Personally I didn't think the car park of a large retail
store was the best place to live, but then again that's what they do
I suppose. I remember the front page headline, “No room at the
Inn...Tinkers go home,” the city of Bolton was in uproar.
People were sceptical, only because they never took the time to get
to know them. They believed the bad things written about them in the
newspapers, when in fact they were very hard working loyal people.
We had an opportunity to speak for the first time when she came back
to the shop for another fitting. I managed to hijack my mum's
appointment diary, so she was conveniently out of the way. By now
she was probably turning up a day early for a non existent dentist
appointment. Kaitlin was unlike the others, when she walked into the
shop with her entourage of friends and family, she somehow seemed so
distant from them. They were loud and certainly made their presence
known, sitting there gossiping and cackling among themselves. She
was a lot quieter and very bright and inquisitive. When she thought
her friends were distracted in their own conversations, she would
stand near the counter talking to me about her dreams and ambitions.
She loved animals and wanted to work with them in some capacity. I
was struck by her intelligence, she had a thirst for knowledge. I
got the impression she was reluctant to settle down and become a
housewife, she seemed trapped. I was aware that gypsy women didn't
work, they were expected to get married and to raise children. I
could have talked with her all day, however we were abruptly
interrupted by her friend Naiomh. I'd noticed her furtively glancing
over at us while we were talking, her eyes full of mistrust. I'll
never forget her face, it was full of freckles and she had beady eyes
like a rat. I should have realised then that I'd gained an enemy.
It must have been pretty obvious to those who saw us that there was
some chemistry between me and Kaitlin. When my mother eventually
returned to the shop she wasn't pleased that she'd had a wasted
journey to the dentist, she was in such a foul mood. She ushered me
out of the way, and gave me some errands to run. As I left the shop
I gave Kaitlin a longing look and smiled at her. She smiled back, I
felt so alive. Unbeknown to me, my hawked eyed mother also noticed
the look we gave one another. I remember seeing the fear and
anxiety in her eyes, she knew how protective they were of their own.
That evening she reiterated to me their customs and their ways, and
the importance of keeping my distance. Why didn't I heed my mum's
warning?
My mum's been making wedding dresses for the gypsy community for over
fifteen years, so she knows them very well. It's been a while since
I last saw Kaitlin, my mother had conveniently arranged her dress
fittings the same time I was working in the supermarket. She was
trying her utmost to keep us from bumping into each other. I knew my
mother had my best interests at heart, but all I really wanted was to
see Kaitlin. Then one day completely out of the blue I received an
friend request from her via Facebook. I was delighted but also a
little apprehensive, I could hear my mother's words of warning
ringing in my ears. A combination of adrenaline and excitement got
the better of me, so I replied straight away. Over the course of
the next two weeks we kept in touch quite a lot, and I felt we were
becoming really close. I was very open and candid about my
feelings towards her, and on more than one occasion tried to dissuade
her into getting married, telling her she was too young. I suppose
in my own naivety I thought I had the power to influence her
otherwise. She never really gave me much information about herself
in her emails, she just bombarded me with lots of questions which I
didn't object to. Then rather abruptly the emails stopped. I must
have sent her over a hundred emails wondering what had happened, all
sorts of terrible thoughts were running through my mind. Had I said
the wrong thing? Had I offended her in some way? I waited two weeks
before she eventually replied, she asked if we could meet. Of course I jumped at the chance, but unbeknown to me social networking was to become the result of my demise.
We arranged to meet the following week in the local woods, it was quiet
and very private there. When the day arrived I lied to my mother about my whereabouts, she'd hit the roof if she ever found out where I was going. We decided to meet in the local woods at four o'clock. I was in such a fluster to arrive on time that I forgot my mobile phone. When I arrived the place was totally desolate, just as I'd anticipated. I waited and waited, but still there was no sign of her. Obviously she'd had a change of heart, and had backed out. Feeling foolish and bereft, I decided to head home as it was beginning to get dark. As I started walking I heard footsteps behind me, I quickly turned around and was astonished to see Naiomh standing there, looking at me with a cold hard stare. Suddenly it dawned on me that I'd been set up. I felt an utter fool. I'd poured my heart out in my emails only for them to be read by this bitch. I was livid, but before I had a chance to confront her I felt a heavy hand on my left shoulder. The huge fist coming towards my face was the last thing I remember before being knocked unconscious.
Everyone around seems to be in a state of panic, their voices are distorted,
what's happening? A loud beeping noise is coming from somewhere,
it's utter bedlam. The smell in the room is strong, it reminds me of
disinfectant. The beeping sound is getting louder and louder. I
can see their faces, but they're blurred, why do they all look the
same? The smell of disinfectant is getting stronger, I want to vomit.
My head hurts, it really hurts. I try to move but am unable, where
am I? My vision is blurred, all I can see is a bright light. I
have the urge to go towards the light. I hear the someone saying
“we're losing him,” “heart rate is dropping.” The bright
light appears again, I start walking towards it. Suddenly everything
seems so calm and peaceful, the beeping noise has stopped. My head
no longer hurts, and my vision has been restored. I'm looking at
the people dressed in white, they're all looking very solemn.
They're switching off a machine and clearing up the blood. I then
notice my mum being escorted into the room, she's crying
inconsolably. I shout over to her, but she doesn't seem able to see
or hear me. In fact no one seems to notice me. I wish I'd listened to my mum.
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Comments
Sorraya, a disturbing tale of
Sorraya, a disturbing tale of murder. Like the direct storytelling style, I think it could end more powerfully on 'No one seems to notice me.' That last paragraph dilutes it some, it could be cut and end with more mystery. Hope you don't mind my suggestion.
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