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Comfort of Darkness

Story Based on a 'Streetcar Named Desire' by Tennessee Williams and the Poem 'Psychopath' by Carol Ann Duffy

By Nadia ZielinskaPublished 6 years ago 16 min read
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Darkness. It’s comfortable. I’ve hidden in it since I can remember, like delving into a cool black lake and submerging my head beneath the water, disappearing from reality. It stings my skin and makes me feel alive. Refreshed. To everyone around me, I am still invisible. I am safe, now. No more of that, no sir. I’ll probably have to go to the diner soon, to meet her, but I don’t want to. Little sister doesn’t understand me because she’s had a perfect life. After all these years, she loves to make damn sure I know it. She left me by myself that night, after we promised to always be there for each other. All that talk about sex — she loves it.

“What’s it like, Blanche?” Stella whispers softly from across the dark room. It makes me think about how vague my sister's questions have always been.

“What?” I ask her.

“Sex.”

"Oh." I sit, dumbfounded. Stella is only thirteen, I didn’t even know she knew the word, let alone the meaning. She continues;

“I think it’s sort of like flying, because of all the hormones that make you dizzy, so it’s pretty much like flying isn’t it?”

I don’t know myself, because I’ve never experienced it either, but I imagine it’s nice. With the right person, it must be.

“I think it’s something you need to wait and experience for yourself to know exactly what it’s like, but I imagine it’s wonderful, Stella. With the right boy, who is gentle and kind.”

Stella sits up in her bed and stares at me with a bewildered expression on her face. “But... but… I thought you’d know? You’re always talking to your friends about how you’ve done it!”

“Shh. Stella. Do you want mother in here asking questions? I say I’ve done it because it’s easier that way, that way no one makes fun of me. In high school, you have to blend in otherwise you become an outcast and people won’t like you. So just do what everyone else is doing and you’ll be fine.”

“No, Blanche, you should be yourself.”

“Sometimes it’s not so easy. You wouldn’t understand, little sister.”

We lie in silence and as I stare at the ceiling, creating patterns in the cracks, I remember that the fair’s in town, but before I can tell Stella, I hear her soft breathing and I fall asleep to the sound.

“Blanche? Look, Blanche, please don’t stare off into space like that. It really scares people! ” I notice Stella looking at me from across the dimly lit area I made sure we were seated in. She’s always worried about me, but not at the right times, our Stella. She has no idea what it’s like to be standing where I’m standing. “Blanche, please don’t..."

“Don’t you go running off to that fair, young madam! Girls from our family don’t go running around with scoundrels who drink and only want one thing!” mother shouts from across the table. I wish I knew what that one thing was so I could give it to him and we would fall in love, then run away from home. There’s a boy that works at the fair; the girls have already told me about him. This guy has the most beautiful hair, slicked back into a DA which makes him look so dreamy. I sigh deeply and vaguely see mother suspiciously eying me from behind her coffee mug. The trees sway quite violently, being shaken and knocked around by the wind. Leaves whirl around in perfect circles into the air, pirouetting gracefully before the harsh wind discards them.

I sit in front of my mirror and brush out this blonde mess of curls, all the while humming to myself out of pure excitement and partly to irritate Stella while she reads. It’s always taken me a long time to get ready, but I like the process. I dab some red lipstick lightly onto my lips, not so much that mother may notice, but just enough to make that boy fall in love.

“I’m ready to go, are you?” I say to Stella, as she stares at me in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious about going! Mother said no!” she yells, much too loudly.

“Suit yourself.” I smile as I leave through the window.

He is here, and he is just as lovely as the girls all said. The fairground whirls around me, and I feel like I am in a different world — a world in which anything can happen. The rides all spin around me and wind pushes my hair out of my face. The air sings "Johnny remember me" and there’s a feeling of possibility, of electricity. There are monkeys in little waist coats and a clown juggling fire. A cowboy selling candy-floss bows and hands me one for free; I blush to match the candy. As I stare out at the bright colours and flashing lights, a sea of teddy bears and pretty dresses, the boy sees me. I kept my eye on him to see if he would look. His eyes scan down my body and then back up to my face, and he smiles. That smile. There’s something almost sinister about his smile. He begins to strut over, all the while keeping his gaze locked on me. I stare back, unafraid.

“Blanche!? Stop staring like that! This is my husband.” Slapped back into reality, I gather my thoughts and quickly compose myself, looking up to see Stella’s husband for the first time. We shake hands and sit down politely. I mumble “Hi, I’m Blanche,” and he grunts, “Yes, I know." My sister slaps his arm playfully and coos, “Stanley, be nice!” all the while giggling haughtily. I hug my arms and sit hunched and silent.

“So, Blanche, where’ve you come from?” he asks me dully, and suddenly I am lost for words. He doesn’t even know?

“Umm, Belle Réve, you know, where Stella is from too? Where we both grew up.” I manage to say in a feeble manner, forcing a smile.

“Ah, yeah, I was there once.”

I find this peculiar because not many people from around here seem to even know of Belle Réve, and they certainly haven’t been there. Bele Réve is a pretty place in which dark memories are buried, hidden, never to be spoken of.

“Stella, I won’t have you speaking of it anymore. It’s all her fault anyway! Stupid, stupid girl going off on her own like that! I have no compassion for those who don’t follow rules and then get themselves into danger.”

“But Mother, how could Blanche have known he would do that to her?!”

“I told you, girls! Boys only want one thing!”

“But you never told us what that one thing was!”

“I have no sympathy for that girl. Don’t you dare tell anyone what she got herself into. Especially not your father,” says my mother coldly, while I cling to the banisters, trying to keep my crying silent. The words sting. My chest has been ripped open and my mother is sticking pins straight through my heart.

Stella’s words resonate through my mind as I lock myself in the bathroom. “She could have died in that river,” she said, her voice frail and hushed. The sound of running water soothes me and drowns out the awful shouting reverberating through the house. When I finally submerge myself beneath the water, I never want to leave. It’s my sanctuary. I bathe all night, adding hot water when I realise my body is trembling from the cold.

“Are you cold, Blanche? You’re shaking, poor thing!” Stella laughs.

“No, fine, thank you.” Conversation begins to move onto other matters, such as how wonderful this food is, and how much Stella and Stanley love it here. Good for you little sister, I’m so thrilled for you.

“Why are we all in the dark anyhow? I can barely see what I’m eating,” bellows Stanley from across the table.

“Oh, Blanche’s orders, ay Blanche?” Stella winks, and then continues, “I don’t know why but ever since she was sixteen, she’s hidden away in the shadows. Poor thing.” I smile politely and Stella smiles back, while Stanley look uninterested in the conversation, focused only on his plate of food. The way he eats the steak is almost… primitive. He tears it apart with his teeth like a lion devouring its prey. Stella leans over to softly whisper something to Stanley, which makes me anxious. I tense up; I can feel all the muscles in my body tightening and my feet start to feel numb. What are they talking about? Are they talking about me? A fist tightens its grip around my throat.

“Blanche, do you like music?” utters Stanley with a smile.

“I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz...

Now I know just how much I have lost.”

As the lights glimmer, all the while dispersing into the night, ever-changing colours illuminating the fairground, I hear the music loud in my ears. Thumping. The wind starts up again and blows my petticoat up, taking my dress with it, just enough for my legs to be on display for him to see. He notices straight away, and begins to stare.

I realise that Stella and Stanley are staring at me, their eyes wide. I need to stop letting these memories drag me away from reality. “Blanche, what? What were you mumbling just then?” Stella asks me with a slight venom to her tone.

“Y-yes, music is nice, lovely,” I stutter. Stanley looks amused at my feeble attempt at speaking, but it doesn’t seem to stunt his enthusiasm.

“Alrighty then!” he jumps up and gets a dime out of his pocket, holds it up and winks. Stella laughs and noisily claps with glee. "Johnny Remember Me" begins to bellow out through the old speakers and I notice Stanley’s smile from across the room. It stirs a funny feeling. The beat is fast and lively, yet the "ooooh’s" of the backing singers add an eerie quality to the song. Stanley comes back to our table and extends his hand out to Stella, who quickly takes it and jumps up to follow his lead. I sit and watch them head over to the small dance floor near the speakers, Stella laughing and looking longingly at her husband, while he smiles back at her. He clutches her small frame and begins to dance around with her in his arms, a lot like a crazed maniac dancing with a rag doll. This image disturbs me — the way he completely overpowers her.

The noise of the fairground is much too overpowering, and the crowd is suffocating. He takes my hand and we descend down a flight of steps leading to the riverside. The fairground noise is distant now, fading away slowly behind us as we creep closer to the side of the river. This is romantic. What a gentleman. I think this is the one, the one I’m going to marry. “You look so beautiful tonight,” he purrs softly in my ear. I smile at him, unable to speak, and that’s when he kisses me. He’s gentle, and then all at once becomes more urgent and forceful. I start to feel unsafe when he grabs my wrist and pins it to the ground so I am unable to move. This restriction begins to make me nervous. I try to speak up but he only kisses me harder and presses his pelvis against mine. “N-no,” I manage to mutter.

“No?” He looks at me, his gaze cold and hard now.

The scene unravelling before me drags my thoughts away from the torturous memories and back to reality.

“No! You absolutely useless woman!” Stanley bellows, before swiftly slapping Stella across the face. The harsh contact makes a sound so loud it is audible above the music; a few people gasp and turn to look at Stella’s tear-stained, sore cheek. They quickly divert their eyes and nobody says a word about it. Stanley pushes Stella towards our table, discarding her; she is panicked, embarrassed, almost running back over to me.

“Ja pierdole!”

I’ve heard those words before. I remember the sound of them so clearly in my mind. I have always wondered what they mean. No one has ever been able to tell me. Ten years ago, I tried to repeat them to a friend from college the best way I could, and she told me it sounded like Polish.

“Well, Stella is a horrible dancer. So how about you, Blanche? You up for it? I feel like dancin’, I really do.”

“Oh, no no, I’m not very good, either. Honestly.” I feel genuinely scared, I cannot dance with this man. I just can’t. Avoiding physical contact is something I have done for so long now. I cannot even imagine having to be touched by this brute.

“No?” Stanley questions me menacingly.

Stella looks at me from across the table, her eyes pleading. “Please just do what he says” she whispers to me. I stand awkwardly, while Stanley digs around in his pockets for change, a look of triumph upon his smug face. As I pass Stella, I quickly lean down and ask: “Where’s Stanley from originally, Stell?”

“Poland, Szczecin. Why?”

Stanley takes my hand crudely and drags me over to the dance floor and I obediently follow his lead.

I stand and wait as he picks a song for us to dance to. The jukebox is old and a little rusty, so the song takes a while to play.

“Ja pierdole!” There it is again. Stanley looks exasperated. My heart begins to beat so violently in my chest, it almost hurts. Stella notices my discomfort and for the first time in years, she gives me a look filled with sympathy and regret. My lips twitch up into a faint, forced smile, like a dying moth’s wings, a dull flutter of grey dust. Inside my head, alarm bells are going off.

“I’m honestly not very good either. Stella and I never got to have… d-dancing lessons as kids.” I laugh.

My attempt at lightheartedly getting Stanley away from me does not prevail.

“No?” He looks at me, his gaze cold and hard now, his hands against my skin, rough and ragged. I squirm and struggle under the pressure.

Stanley’s hands are on my body. The feeling is familiar. As his hand brushes against my back, I wish I could scream, push his hand away, do anything other than stand here and let this happen to me.

Ripped material, discarded into the water — he keeps tearing bits away, until he gets to what he wants.

As the song speeds up, he moves faster and faster still, spinning me around as my mind whirls with familiar, vivid images.

He tilts his head, smiles. My breath catches in my throat. “No!” My scream echoes so loudly that it makes him angry and he hits me.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he taunts me. “No, don’t!” He mimics my voice, making me cry now. “That’s what they always say!”

“Come on, Blanche. I’m really getting into this,” he says as we dance faster, in time with the music escaping from the old, worn out jukebox. I can feel my body tensing, yet I know that resistance will only cause more pain. The stench of whisky emanates from his crooked, smiling mouth.

He smiles down at me again, a wide ominous grin. There's piercing pain. As he forces himself inside of me, tremors course through my body as all my muscles tense with revulsion. Crying uncontrollably now, muffled screams escape as his hand clasps my mouth.

I allow for my body to be dragged around and spun whichever way he pleases, waiting, hoping, praying for this to just be over soon. Stanley is vigorous in his movements. He speeds up more. I am pushed and pulled around with such force and speed. My head hurts and my eyes begin to water.

He thrusts harder and faster now, grabbing handfuls of my hair and slamming my head against the solid ground, over and over.

In my body, I can feel this pain in the exact places he hurt me fifteen years ago. It’s a burning pain that runs deep within me. I’m weeping while he struts around and pushes me every which way. The music dances through the air, making my head thump. Agony. My face must be a blur to him, to everyone. No one comes to help me.

His eyes gleam with elation and a slow smile spreads across his wet face. Sweat drips onto my forehead.

His eyes — the realization hits me hard and I veer off away from him. He stumbles towards me.

I squeeze my eyes shut so tight, staying deadly still. There are tearing, repeated stabs inside of me. My screams, falling on deaf ears, subside as my throat runs hoarse. As my ears ring and tears blur my vision, I feel his hot, foul breath rain down on my wet, stinging face.

He comes up close to me, his face inches from mine, quizzically staring into my eyes. I know, and from the look in his eyes I know he does, too. Tears run down my cheeks and into my mouth. I swallow years of sorrow and pain.

“Come on, I think we’ve all had enough tonight. Might be time to call it a night.” Stella’s voice drags me away from the pain momentarily as she pulls Stanley off me. Stanley storms away from us and towards the bar.

Broken and disheveled, now a shell of the person I once was, any innocence I had has now been stripped from me and I lay bare and wounded. I lay deadly still, hoping, praying that he thinks I’m now dead. I hear his heavy breathing and the sound of a zipper being pulled up. Then his hands are on me one last time. He throws my battered, violated body into the river. No surprises. I held my breath. After all, where else would he hide what he’s just done? I wait as long as I can under the water yet I know he won’t stick around for long. As I come up, I gasp for air and breathe in as much as I can. Wiping my eyes and pushing my dripping hair back, I frantically scan the riverside for any sign of him.

The walk home is silent. Stella and I walk arm in arm, too afraid to say a word.

“Are you okay, Blanche?”

I nod. My heart feels empty. I have no voice. Defeated.

“I know Stanley gets a bit carried away sometimes, you know, when he drinks and all. There’s no harm in him, though.” Stella laughs nervously.

I turn to face my sister, and for the first time in my life, I pity her. I feel no judgment or pity emanating from her towards me for the first time, too.

“I’m going home now, Stella,” I manage to utter in a feeble manner. I shakily begin to walk away, and as I turn back I see her, standing beneath the streetlight. She looks pale and tragic, drowning in the jaundiced glow. Her body is illuminated and in full view, victim to any possible imminent danger. I just wait for Stanley to catch up now. I cannot stay. I hear his voice; “Alright, Stell?” It’s distant now and a wave of relief washes over me. I turn back one last time, and they're looking at me. Still unable to speak, I attempt to smile and wave. Stepping out from beneath the streetlamp’s glow, I walk into the safety of the darkness.

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About the Creator

Nadia Zielinska

Since I was old enough to speak, I said I would become an artist and a writer when I grew up. Now I'm nearly 20 and I have no idea what I'll be.

I love to write down whatever comes into my head in the shower, on the tube, at work etc etc

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