Read Online The Dark Part of Me by Belinda Burns - Free Book Online
Authors: Belinda Burns
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tungsten, hovering silent in the air like a UFO. But I’ve got a calm, lullaby feeling, like I’m comfy with death. I see a single fluffy cloud,
low-slung on the horizon, and a flash of rainbow lorikeet makes me grin. How strange, how beautiful the world is. But then, a pang that I hadn’t fucked Scott sooner. The bonnet peaks,
sniffing at the heavens. A beat, no more in which I beam some love vibes to Scott and a couple to poor old Mum and Hollie, too. And then I’m hurtling down to earth, the car pitching sideways
through the air. I’m screaming, my eyes scrunched tight, my finger bones locked around the steering wheel, queen of my firey spaceship.
The car slams against its side with a heavy boom and crunch of metal. We flip onto the roof and, for a blink, I’m hanging like a bat in a cave, limbs flailing. And then
we’re spinning over and over, right ways up then upside down again, the seat-belt rasping at my neck, and it’s like we’re rolling down a mountain and I think it’s never
going to end.
We stop.We’re upside down. Silence, complete as a vacuum. Am I dead? Ha. I could be dead. It strikes me as funny, being dead. Ha, again. I wriggle my toes, my fingers. I open my eyes.
Grass is growing from the sky. Sounds come to me. The pretty tinkling of glass. Static on the radio. The hiss of air escaping. A breeze blows through the shattered windscreen, carrying a dank smell
of soil, vegetation. Petrol. I get a vision of the car and me inside it, exploding into action movie flames.
Fuck. Get out. Quick. Gotta get out.
I unfasten my seat-belt and my body slumps forward. My legs crumple into my chest and my knees bash against the steering wheel. I twist around to fumble with the lock. My hands are shaking, my
fingers slippery with panicky sweat. The door swings open, flattening the knee-high grass.
Curled like a foetus, I tip sideways out of the seat and onto the ground. I flip onto all fours and crawl fast through the spiky weeds. At a safe enough distance, I slump against a gravel
incline and gaze over at the car lying, hidden from the road, in the middle of a vacant block. It’s on its back like a Christmas beetle, its wheels pawing at the air as if struggling to get
upright. Its sides are buckled, the windows shattered, but it hasn’t exploded yet. A lone kookaburra peals with laughter and I tilt my head to the sky. Greenish storm clouds have gathered
thick above, sun burnishing the edges.
I’M ALIVE.
The hum of freeway traffic. The rev of a lawnmower. Blue-skinned skinks chirping in the grass-roots.
Scott.
I turn and scamper up the bank, slipping and falling against the rocks. A strong gust sweeps across, blotting out the sun. A heavy raindrop splashes on my bare bikini-ed back and all the time
I’m thinking, Scott, Scott. As I climb out onto the pavement and start walking, the storm hits with tropic force, rain pinging off the tarmac. My skirt sucks around my thighs and my hair
hangs in wet clumps over my face. A car approaches, tyres hissing on the wet. Scott’s Gemini mounts the footpath, breaking onto a grassy verge. He leaps out and dashes over to me, his eyes
wild.
‘What happened?’ he shouts above the storm. Water droplets stream off my face as I stare at him blankly. He grabs me by the shoulders. ‘I’ve been looking for you
everywhere. Where the fuck’s your car?’ He shakes me and a pain rips up my left arm. I wince and fold it like a broken wing between my breasts.
‘Babe.’ His voice softens. He strokes my cheek and looks down. ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’
But my tongue is dry and useless. I nod back down the hill.
‘OK,’ he says. ‘Show me.’
We skid down the bank. The storm shower has ended but the incline is alive with hundreds of little waterfalls, tumbling over the rocks. The sun comes out, warming my
shoulders.
‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ Scott spots the car, lying heavy, sinking into the soil. Its metal underbelly glistens wet from the
low-slung on the horizon, and a flash of rainbow lorikeet makes me grin. How strange, how beautiful the world is. But then, a pang that I hadn’t fucked Scott sooner. The bonnet peaks,
sniffing at the heavens. A beat, no more in which I beam some love vibes to Scott and a couple to poor old Mum and Hollie, too. And then I’m hurtling down to earth, the car pitching sideways
through the air. I’m screaming, my eyes scrunched tight, my finger bones locked around the steering wheel, queen of my firey spaceship.
The car slams against its side with a heavy boom and crunch of metal. We flip onto the roof and, for a blink, I’m hanging like a bat in a cave, limbs flailing. And then
we’re spinning over and over, right ways up then upside down again, the seat-belt rasping at my neck, and it’s like we’re rolling down a mountain and I think it’s never
going to end.
We stop.We’re upside down. Silence, complete as a vacuum. Am I dead? Ha. I could be dead. It strikes me as funny, being dead. Ha, again. I wriggle my toes, my fingers. I open my eyes.
Grass is growing from the sky. Sounds come to me. The pretty tinkling of glass. Static on the radio. The hiss of air escaping. A breeze blows through the shattered windscreen, carrying a dank smell
of soil, vegetation. Petrol. I get a vision of the car and me inside it, exploding into action movie flames.
Fuck. Get out. Quick. Gotta get out.
I unfasten my seat-belt and my body slumps forward. My legs crumple into my chest and my knees bash against the steering wheel. I twist around to fumble with the lock. My hands are shaking, my
fingers slippery with panicky sweat. The door swings open, flattening the knee-high grass.
Curled like a foetus, I tip sideways out of the seat and onto the ground. I flip onto all fours and crawl fast through the spiky weeds. At a safe enough distance, I slump against a gravel
incline and gaze over at the car lying, hidden from the road, in the middle of a vacant block. It’s on its back like a Christmas beetle, its wheels pawing at the air as if struggling to get
upright. Its sides are buckled, the windows shattered, but it hasn’t exploded yet. A lone kookaburra peals with laughter and I tilt my head to the sky. Greenish storm clouds have gathered
thick above, sun burnishing the edges.
I’M ALIVE.
The hum of freeway traffic. The rev of a lawnmower. Blue-skinned skinks chirping in the grass-roots.
Scott.
I turn and scamper up the bank, slipping and falling against the rocks. A strong gust sweeps across, blotting out the sun. A heavy raindrop splashes on my bare bikini-ed back and all the time
I’m thinking, Scott, Scott. As I climb out onto the pavement and start walking, the storm hits with tropic force, rain pinging off the tarmac. My skirt sucks around my thighs and my hair
hangs in wet clumps over my face. A car approaches, tyres hissing on the wet. Scott’s Gemini mounts the footpath, breaking onto a grassy verge. He leaps out and dashes over to me, his eyes
wild.
‘What happened?’ he shouts above the storm. Water droplets stream off my face as I stare at him blankly. He grabs me by the shoulders. ‘I’ve been looking for you
everywhere. Where the fuck’s your car?’ He shakes me and a pain rips up my left arm. I wince and fold it like a broken wing between my breasts.
‘Babe.’ His voice softens. He strokes my cheek and looks down. ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’
But my tongue is dry and useless. I nod back down the hill.
‘OK,’ he says. ‘Show me.’
We skid down the bank. The storm shower has ended but the incline is alive with hundreds of little waterfalls, tumbling over the rocks. The sun comes out, warming my
shoulders.
‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ Scott spots the car, lying heavy, sinking into the soil. Its metal underbelly glistens wet from the
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