Colourless Heart

 ‘Set your story in a world that has lost all colour.’

Colourless Heart

By Lucy Appadoo

Marie roused from sleep in the double bed inside the Paris Hilton Hotel. She sank into the comfort of the silky sheets and the fresh fabric smell, a smile splashed across her face, unable to open her eyes just yet. Freedom at last. Just her. No-one else. No jumping on eggshells. Not being caught off guard. No secrets. No lies. Just Marie. No other soul in this room. Away from him.

But it wasn’t only about liberation. It was about protection. Keeping her loved ones safe. She had to keep them alive, and this was the only way. Freedom for herself, but separation from her loved ones. But that one person foremost in her brain. Salvatore.

Marie had recently attended a gun range and learned how to fire a gun, just in case. She never knew when she might need to use it. It was about protection.

The alarm on her mobile phone jerked her fully awake. A yawn filtered through as she slowly opened her eyes and spotted her phone on the dull black bedside table that had been brown yesterday, the white cushions that had been hues of purple, the black curtains that had been taupe, the ash-black carpet beneath the bed that had been grey, and the black sky through a gap in the window curtain that had been blue. No more blue skies. No more shades other than black and white. The world had lost its colour.

           Marie’s breath quickened as her heart palpitated. She rose from bed and rubbed her eyes hard. It had to be her eyes. Had she suddenly become colour-blind? Where were all the bright, vibrant colours when it was what she needed? She shut then opened her eyes, but nothing changed. Her world was drab, colourless, soulless.

           Her shoulders slumped over; her head bowed. A slow chill ran up and down her spine, curiosity peaked. Her skin reddened and turned hot. She had no choice but to be here in this colourless world. What had happened overnight to turn her entire world into a shroud of darkness with only black and white in its midst?

***

Marie wandered outside the hotel, lost in a world where she knew no-one. She had left Melbourne to make a fresh start in Paris so nobody would find her. So he couldn’t find her.

She couldn’t believe having woken up in a fog, with shades of grey and black blocking her view of natural colour, light, and even shades of grey.

A bench with a view of the River Seine looked inviting as she made her way over, put her bag down and stared at the calm ripples, with a view of the majestic Eiffel Tower, sailing boats anchored in the water, bunched-up trees, and riders swinging their arms inside canoes. The wind scraped her face in the winter. Nothing but black and white.

Marie flashed back to her former life back home where she worked as an interior designer, married to a man she didn’t love, and friends who would most likely understand her escape. Yesterday, her world was dark but today after she awoke, it became darker, grittier, and scarier. Did this lack of colour mean something? Could she no longer design with colour to refresh old homes or design new ones if she wanted to start over in France.

She had not rung anyone except her best friend, Helena about her sudden escape, for their own protection.

With a call from a burner phone, she announced her safe arrival. “Do you have colour or has the world changed?”

Helena replied, “What are you talking about?”

“The things in the world; they’re in black and white, Helena. I woke up this morning and nothing was in colour. No blues, browns, pinks, purples, yellows, or any colour. All gone. Is Melbourne the same?”

“Don’t be silly, Marie. We still have colour. Have you become colour-blind? Had your eyes checked? You couldn’t have become colour-blind in an instant. Go get them tested. Oh, and please stay safe.”

“I don’t know when I’ll call you next. You know how he is. He could be tracking this conversation even if it’s on a burner phone.”

“I love you, Marie and I’m glad you’re safe now. One day we’ll be together again.”

Marie fought back tears after ending the call. She would miss her loved ones. But she still didn’t get what was going on. Was she the crazy one or did only Paris lose its colour?

With a sigh, Marie rose and made her way back to the hotel, knowing she’d have to find herself permanent residence.

As she crossed the wide road, a towering man brushed her shoulder. “Oh, sorry.” He locked eyes with her and walked ahead of her on the other side of the road.

His broad shoulders and black eyes made her shudder, stopping in his tracks. “I have a message to give you.”

She angled her head. “Who are you?”

“Here, take this,” he said.

She retrieved the note. He watched her. Who the hell was this guy and why was he making her nervous? “Who are you?”

“I’m just the messenger, lady. Read the note.”

“Who sent you?”

He inched his way closer. “Benny did. Now read the note.”

No. Not again. He found her. Would this bastard ever leave her alone?

With a shuddering breath, she unfolded the note, her hands shaking and the back of her neck sweating. Bits of her skin prickled. What was this? She had to be dreaming.

As she read the note, her vision blurred as if the words weren’t real. The threat wasn’t real. “Meet me in front of the Louvre tomorrow morning, 9.00am sharp or someone you love dies.”

The same old threats again. “How did he find me?”

The man bared his crooked teeth with a smile. He swaggered off into the distance.

It wasn’t over. It never would be.

***

The next morning, Marie paced her steps towards the Louvre, a queue that was a mile long. She wondered if anyone would ever reach the entrance to the museum.

The glass panels of the building distracted her from the enemy she was about to meet. Each step drew her closer to the devil. When would it end?

           Her breath hitched as she stepped on uneven ground, razor sharp pain cutting into her lower back as she fought the gust of frozen wind. She had to free herself, but how? He would always find her, threaten her, obsess over her, and abuse her. She’d been abused for three torturous years.

           Storm clouds brewed when Marie drew closer to the swarms of people. It was almost nine o’clock and passersby stared at her as if she as an alien. Was it obvious she was heading towards her death chamber, to her dreaded foe?

           A cold caress at the back of her neck made her freeze in her spot. She turned. It was him. Benny. In all his wealthy glamour, the bastard wore a black tie, black buttoned up suit jacket over a black cashmere jumper with black pleated pants over Italian leather shoes. He smelled rich.

           “Follow me,” he said as he prodded her towards an unknown destination. They walked in silence as his intermittent glares unnerved her. The squeeze of his arm draped through hers, leaving bruises, but she said nothing. His pinch at the back of her neck made her flinch, but she said nothing. The push and pull of her hair strands made her want to cry out, but she didn’t. Hidden pain to display her fake strength.

           When finally, she sat down outside the café with its outdoor setting, he ordered hot drinks and croissants. “No-one does what you did and gets away with it.”

           She swallowed, her lip trembling as she stared past him. “Please don’t hurt him.”

           He chuckled and threw his head back, his stained white teeth prominent. Flicking a cigarette over an ashtray, he tilted his head. “You’re lucky I love you, Marie. If I didn’t love you, you’d be dead by now. But you ever try something like this again… and I won’t hesitate to slash your throat. Feed your decrepit body to the fish in the Seine River. Got that?” She nodded, a black spot clouding her vision. Puffs of smoke floated towards her and made her cough. Not that he cared. He was a narcissist.

           He retrieved his phone. “Watch this. Know I mean business, Marie. I don’t blow damn smoke up my arse.”

           She gripped the phone and saw him. Tied up to a chair. Gagged. Beaten. Tortured. Two black eyes. Bruising across his cheek. Haggard. Frail. Head hanging down low as if giving up. No, don’t give up, my love. Never give up.

A gasp of air grounded her. Rattling teeth must have made her look scared in front of him. “Is he all right?”

           He scoffed. “That depends on you. You put one foot wrong. Leave me again, and he dies. Only when we’re safely back home, he’ll be released.”

           The waiter returned with the croissants and hot coffees. “Sorry about the croissants. They’re a little overcooked, but these are more their natural yellow.”

           Marie winced. “But those croissants are black. Not yellow.”

           He waved a hand. “Don’t mind her. She’s the constant joker. But no worries. We’ll have them as they are.”

           The waiter nodded. “Black, you say?”

           Benny glared. “Leave us.” The waiter walked off with a curious gaze.

He turned to her. “What is wrong with you? Can’t you see the colour of the food?”

           How could he not see what she was seeing? What was wrong with her? “No, everything is black and white. I don’t see colour anymore.”

           He laughed. “Are you telling me you don’t you see the brown coffees, the blue ashtray, the beige tablecloth, my red tie, my dashing blue eyes?”

Her heart missed a beat as she gritted her teeth. “No, I lost sight of colour this morning. I woke up like this. Everything is black and white.”

“Interesting,” he said.

Marie looked past him and spotted the man she’d seen earlier. The one who had given

her the note. He was standing by a lamp post, skolling a bottle of beer. Why was he around? He must’ve been Benny’s bodyguard in case she made a run for it.

***

           Marie and Benny stepped inside her hotel room. He pushed her towards the wardrobe. “Start packing. Our flight leaves in a few hours.”

           “Okay then.” She pushed aside her floating tears and steeled herself by pulling out her suitcase from underneath the bed, unzipping it. As if in a surreal world, she pulled clothing off hangers and threw them into the suitcase. She was going back to her prison, away from the love of her life.

           If only she had been stronger a few years ago when he had framed her exboyfriend, Salvatore, for murder. Just so he could be free from prison, she was forced to marry him. Marriage to Benny in exchange for Salvatore’s freedom. She had never explained why she’d broken up with him. Had to convince Salvatore, she no longer loved him. It had cut her insides, but she had to keep him safe.

Salvatore had not given up on her and found ways for them to meet secretly, but Benny always found out about their secret rendezvous. He had put plans in place. Made the worst things happen.

Benny involved in Salvatore crashing his car, ruining his reputation in business, injuring his friend with a beating by his henchmen, and almost killing him at least twice. Now Salvatore was threatened with death. What more could the creep do?

           “I’m having a shower,” he said.

           She sat on the bed. How could she go back with him? But she had no choice when Salvatore would die if she didn’t.

Benny’s phone lay on the bedside table. Curious, she picked it up and found his recording. Salvatore was still tied to the chair, still tortured and broken. But wait. Something was weird about this video. The actions were the same. His movements repeated in a cycle as if it was on a loop. This wasn’t her true love live. This was a fake video. It had to be.

Could Salvatore have arranged this? Outsmarted Benny again?

She smiled to herself. Now she had a chance to do something. Fight him. Hurt him. But no, she wasn’t a violent person and had morals, nothing like Benny.

           What could she do? Run away again? But Benny might pursue Salvatore and never stop. He would never stop finding her until his own death. She knew that, so what could she do? She could never reason with a crazy person.

           A knock on the door made her jolt in her spot.

It could be anyone. Her heart racing, she slowly opened the door and flinched when the man from earlier pushed past her. “Where’s Benny?”

           “What are you doing here?”

           The man whispered in her ear. “Listen. Salvatore will set you free. Get out of here.”

           She swallowed, her vision blurring. “What?” The back of her neck sweated as one ear listened in on Benny in the shower.

           “No time to talk. Leave. Now. We’ll take care of this.”

           She was right. It was a fake recording. He’d escaped.

“Where is he?”

           The man swung the gun in his hand, scanning past her. “He’s closer than you think. Go now.” Her heart soared and a spot of colour flashed in her vision, but only fleetingly. It turned black and white again.

           “What in hell is going on here?” Benny grasped something from his back pocket. “Why are you here?” The man shrugged until reaching his side pocket and shooting towards Benny, who shifted to the side, the bullet grazing his cheek. But Benny pulled out his own gun and took aim. The gun hit the man square in the chest. He fell back against the door with a thud. Marie quaked. It was over. No love. No freedom.

           “You will never leave me. Never, Marie. Get that. Nobody will ever take you away from me. Grab your things. Hurry up.” He shifted the strange man’s body to the bathroom, blood pouring out of him like a tap. When he returned, Benny shoved her aside and flung the remainder of her clothes into the suitcase. “Now zip it up and let’s leave pronto.” He sat on the sofa and scrolled through his phone. A call to one of his stupid thugs.

           Goosebumps swarmed like insects over her arms as a dull ache at the back of her neck made her queasy. This had to stop.

           Slowly zipping up the baggage, a shuffling sound underneath the bed made her think she was hearing things. But no, she spotted a shoe protruding from the corner as someone glided further to the edge near the bedside table.

           Salvatore appeared and placed a finger across his lips, hefting a gun. She moved towards Benny, pulled the suitcase off the bed, and retrieved her bag. “I’m ready.”

           Salvatore flung himself in the open and approached Benny with an aim of his gun. “Put your hands up. Now.”

Benny flinched. “You have a death wish, don’t you? You might have got away from my men, but you’ll never win this war.”

           “I will fight you to the death, Benny. I don’t care if I die so long as Marie goes free. Free from your dungeon. Free from your psychopathic world. You loser.” He faced Marie. “Go now. I’ll take care of this.” She shook her head. “We fight with our hands. Fight to the death.”

           Benny scoffed. “Fine with me.” He shoved his pistol inside his back pocket and took a fighting stance while Salvatore did the same.

           “No, please Salvatore. Just go. I can’t be with you. Benny’s my husband. I’m going back to Melbourne with him. Please leave.”

           “No, Marie. Enough is enough.”

Benny threw the first punch, then another and another until he went down. He gouged one of Salvatore’s eyes and flung his head hard against the carpet.

Marie moved. “No, Benny. Stop. I’ll come with you. Please stop.”

Benny softened, giving Salvatore the chance to pound into Benny with a blow to the kidney and then a swift kick in the leg. Lamps overturned, magazines tumbled in the air, and the coffee table shifted. Benny kicked him on the side of his abdomen, and he keeled over.

           She had to do something, but what?

           Benny reached for something in his pants pocket. A flick knife. No, no. He was going to break the rules. Not on her watch.

           Salvatore attempted to rise when Benny stepped forward, a smirk plastered over his face. He wandered over to him when the knife swung in the air. Marie reached for his back pocket, pulled out the gun and aimed. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

           He scoffed. “You don’t have the guts. Don’t even know guns.”

           Benny ignored her, about to stab Salvatore in the throat.

Marie pulled the trigger and shot him twice in the stomach. The knife fell, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Blood seeped onto the carpet, and she watched and waited for the life force to draw out of him.

           Three years of hell. Three years of watching over her shoulder. Three years of fearing the lives of her loved ones. Walking quietly on eggshells. Those days were over as the rotten apple drew his last breath.

           Salvatore shuffled towards her and hugged her. “I love you, Marie. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from him.”

           “You’ve always protected me.” She beamed. “I love you too, Salvatore.”

           She savoured the gentle caress of her lover’s strong arms around her waist.

           Her eyes shifted, her surroundings vibrating with colour. Nor more colourless world.