Under Pressure

Under Pressure

"It's dark, real dark, and I'm cold - so cold. I don't know if I - if
I can make it out of here alive."
The snow was piled up high outside; high up against the walls of the
wooden cabin, which was placed even higher up a mountain. Outside the
two windows (one on opposite side walls) was a bright, bright
whiteness, but Carol couldn't see it, for the white was several metres
up - up on top of the snow that had fallen because of the avalanche. It
was still daytime outside, not that Carol could tell, especially as she
had lost all sense of time she her entrapment, for all she knew, it
could be hours or days later. Within the cabin it was dark, all except
for the small torch. However the battery was fading and the bulb would
often flicker. She drew her ski jacket closer around her. The only
sound was the chattering of her teeth, until she broke the suffocating
silence - she had to: anything but noise was unbearable, the sound of
voices was the only thing that would keep her going now.
"I'm in love with corsets," she stated, a scoff filled the cabin in
reply.
"Well, I don't know why. They just make you look fat and bloated -
like some kind of beached whale." The voice was hurtful, and it sneered
at Carol through the dim light.
"That doesn't mean I can't like them."
"That certainly sums you up in a sentence."
"Uh! What do you?"
"The touch is going out, I'm going to light a fire."
"With what?" Carol asked suspiciously, with a hint of astonishment in
her voice.
"You'll see."
Carol heard a ripping sound, which was combined with a muffled scream.
The footsteps made their way to the fire, where a small flame soon
appeared. Startled, Carol started shouting, telling her companion to
put the light out, or it might set light to the cabin, or melt the snow
above the chimney. This could result in the room being filled with cold
sleet that would not help the present situation.
"Stop it!" she screamed. "What do you think you're doing? You'll kill
us!"
"I told you," came the firm and indignant reply, "I'm lighting a
fire."
"Yes I know, but how?" Carols voice had softened a little, but was
still hostile and becoming impatient.
"I used some of my hair, combined with some broken floorboards and a
match I happened to have in my pocket." This time the voice sounded
like it should have been accompanied with a shrug. Maybe it was; it was
too dark for Carol to tell now.
"I really don't believe you sometimes." Carol let her muscles relax
from the rigid, angry posture she had previously, and slumped
down.
She continued to try and make conversation, but anything she said was
only returned by some snide comment.
"I tried to get on the bus the other day, but the driver refused me. I
don't know why, it was quiet bizarre."
"It doesn't surprise me; after all, dogs aren't allowed on the
bus."
Carol lost it this time. She started thrashing around in the darkness,
trying to find her smug face
"Stop it!"
"No!" Slap.
"Ow! That hurt! I'm going to get you now!"
Scratch after scratch, slap after slap, they fought on. Their
conversation was spiteful and cruel, quick witted and fast spoken, and
continuous stream of abuse. There was a thud and then silence for a
moment, before a sudden dripping noise started:
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"Arrgh!" cried the other, frustrated by the repetitiveness.
"Oh shut up!" commanded Carol. "I can't deal with your constant
whining, I'm trying to think."
"Fat chance." Carol ignored the comment. There had to be a way for her
to get rid of that brat, to shut her up permanently.
A form of madness took over, and Carol felt around I the darkness. Her
hand came to rest upon a shard of broken glass. It's end was formed
into a convenient sharp point, the perfect weapon. She considered her
next move carefully: perhaps a stab to the heart, or even a slit to the
throat?
She crept in the darkness, only to stumble on a floorboard.
"Idiot."
"Good," thought Carol, "at least I'm not suspected, or she would have
made a move then."
She picked herself up, and then began to feel her way across this
time. Suddenly there was a loud pop, which was made so loud as the
silence was so great, and then no more movement or sound.

Later that day Carol's body was recovered. Thankfully, that particular
hut was well known, at it was the first place checked when news of the
avalanche had reaches base camp. Her body was bashed and bruised, and
there was a deep cut within her throat, which had only just missed her
jugular. A huge chunk of hair was missing from Carols scalp, and her
nails were torn and split from where she had been clawing at the
floorboards. There were no others in the room.
Carol removed the oxygen mask from her face, and whispered to the
paramedic: "You wouldn't have thought I was born with brain damage
would you?"
The paramedic smiled at her.
Later on Carol had told the story to her friends, and revealed how she
had been arguing with herself.