The Bottom of the Bag
He's outside watching me. He's been there for days, leaving things; sharpened sticks poking out of the forest floor, dead animals nailed to trees, the spark plug from my car, smashed, the pieces arranged neatly on the doorstep.
I collect everything and place it in my bag.
When I hired the cabin I knew he was here. I knew when he would come and what he would do. So I made sure to bring what I needed: food and water and other things; matches, a portable kettle, a needle and thread. All simple things. Things I need.
I was the oldest student they ever had at medical school. The called me The Medicine Woman. I laughed along with their good natured jokes as we learned about cutting flesh, keeping a human being alive and pain.
Last night he threw stones, one by one. Every time one hit the window I took something sharp from my bag and made a mark on my arm. That way I wont forget. I stayed awake. Another night without sleep makes no difference.
Tonight he'll start flashing a torch and tapping on the window. It's what he did before. They found it in her diary.
I've locked the door but I haven't bolted it. That way there'll be some resistance. And as it rattles and then splinters and finally breaks away from the frame I'll scream, but not too loudly.
I've set up the supper things on the table. When it gets dark I'll light candles. That way he won't see the gun in my lap.
And after I've stopped him I'll use the things I learned. In my bag I have antibiotics and dressings and adrenaline and rope. And when he's stable I have pins and a matches and boiling water and a long syringe and a hammer for fingers.
There will be no strangling this time. No 'asphyxiation by strangulation'. There will be no rape. And there will be no justice. My daughter is worth more than justice. Every last thing he has done will be paid for.
In my bag I have supplies for weeks. There will be suffering until my daughters memory is revenged and he is human no more.
And then at the very bottom of my bag there are my sleeping pills.
Written by @Nikflossus
Photography by @Oddhaunts
Yashicaflex medium format TLR (and car headlights)