The Red Slayer

Chapter Four – WTF!

Ariel is the perfect napping companion. I lie down on the camp bed in my Little Mermaid pyjamas and slip on a sleeping mask. She rests her head on my shoulder and sends me off in seconds. I dream of nothing, though I’m faintly aware of movement in the corridors now and then. The warmth of Ariel, who moves her head to my chest keeps me on that thin line between sleep and consciousness.

An hour later, the alarm I set on my phone goes off. I lift my mask, feeling much better, ready for anything the evening throws at me.

I lie there for a few seconds until an overhead voice blares in and ruins the silence.

‘Miss Davis report to the stage door, please. Miss Davis to the stage door.’

I heave myself up and slip on a pair of slippers, bringing Ariel upstairs with me. Dad is waiting for me when I get there, holding a paper bag and coffee cup from a hipster cafe. He’ll always choose the independent over the chain.

‘Hi, darling,’ he says, observing my pjs and mask. ‘I figured you’d need these.’ He hands me the cup and paper bag in exchange for Ariel’s leash.

‘Thanks,’ I say, taking a sip. ‘Darn fine coffee.’

‘It’s the kind you like, right? Caramel latte with almond milk? I went to an all vegan place to be safe.’

I nod. ‘It’s perfect.’ I peek in the paper bag and find a muffin and some biscotti. What a relief. I’m not vegan, but their food doesn’t leave you bloated.

‘How was your first performance?’ asks Dad, scratching Ariel’s ears.

‘Great,’ I reply. ‘How was the meeting with the solicitor?’

Dad hesitates before answering. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath. ‘We have nothing to worry about, so long as Michael stays away from us.’

‘And how do we know he will?’

‘Because, as per his probation, he isn’t allowed near you. If he’s arrested for anything, even something trivial like public urination, he could be tossed back into prison to complete his sentence.’

Hearing that makes my shoulders so much lighter. I can stand up straight without worrying he’s around the next corner. I look down and sigh, ‘I almost feel embarrassed for throwing up and sneaking out last night.’

Dad clutches my shoulder. ‘Don’t be. Those bastards did a number on you. I’ll call Dr Clarke while I’m walking Ariel if you like?’

I nod. ‘When are you meeting Elisa?’

’She should be dropping off Luke soon, then we’ll go for a dinner. I’ll bring the car ‘round after the show and we’ll go home together.’

I give Ariel one more snuggle before he takes her with him. Left alone with coffee and snacks, I go back to my dressing room and curl up in a blanket burrito. My phone is blowing up with notifications. Teenagers I don’t know are trying to add me on Facebook and I’ve gained twenty new Twitter followers. The same thing happened after When Marnie aired. I start writing a thread about the show, thanking the audience for coming. The likes instantly start piling up.

***

I’m still wearing my pyjamas when Luke and Olga arrive. Luke’s mum, Elisa, and my dad are BFFs. When I first started living with Dad again, we pretty much became friends on the spot and went to Kensal Green High, together until I got into Olivier’s. He still attends the senior school along with Olga, the second friend I ever made.

Both are wearing their K.G. High uniforms as their school is seeing the show tonight, alongside Dante’s school, Battersea Comprehensive. Every time I see their concrete-grey and fern-green colour scheme, I get a little smug about Oliver’s design. Luke always pushes the limits of the school dress code, loosening his tie, untucking his shirt the second teachers turn their back, and growing out his coffee-brown hair so it falls over his baby-blue eyes. When school demands he chop it back, he does the bare minimum to satisfy them. Olga is infinitely neater, though more from choice than force. Her semi-strict Hindu family greatly values outward appearances. I can’t picture her without her long black braid. In school, it’s plain. Outside school, it’s adorned with clips and ribbons. She even collects scrunchies.

Though we see each other all the time, I pull them both into a hug.

‘How’s our future Oscar winner?’ says Olga.

‘Stage actors win Oliviers and Tonys,’ I reply.

‘You never know,’ says Luke, ‘You could do film one day.’

I lead the way to the green room. I do love a Chinese, but I don’t it stinking out my dressing room for the rest of the run. Also, Luke and Olga can’t go in there wearing green, it’s just plain bad luck.

We settle at a table while some adults from paint shop gaze enviously at our feast while they have tea and biscuits. Luke sorts through the big takeout bag and hands each one out. ‘Egg-fried rice and crispy duck for you, Iorwen…sweet and sour pork with chips for me…and for Olga, veggie stir-fry and rice noodles.’

‘Don’t forget the curry sauce,’ says Olga. Luke hands her a polystyrene cup which she takes enthusiastically. The Elixir of Life must taste like Chinese curry sauce.

‘I grabbed some chopsticks,’ Luke adds, dispensing them.

‘I feel so rebellious,’ I say. ‘I’ve never eaten right out of the containers before.’

‘Ah, posh bird, roughin’ it like the rest of us,’ says Olga in a very bad Cockney accent.

‘I’m not that posh. You go to private school too.’

‘Dude, your dad’s a toff,’ says Luke.

‘Yeah, but you know he prefers his title to be “Doctor”.’

‘Hey, compared to half the toffs at K.G. you and Jason are practically communists.’

‘I’m sure Dad’ll be flattered to hear that,’ I say and continue eating.

Luke drops the subject and instead decides to vent about Art class. ‘They’ll give ten-out-of-ten to the drippy kid for painting the bowl of fruit verbatim…’

Olga backs him up, ‘…But do it in the style of another artist or your own damn style, and it’s a six-out-of-ten with a giant “see me” next to it.’

'I said “you didn’t tell us it had to be realistic.” And now I have detention.’

‘Me too. We’re comrades in arms.’

‘I love art,’ says Luke, ‘But I hate doing it in school.’

Olga nods furiously. ‘I have the same problem with Maths. Mr. Bush won’t bump me up to top set, even though I totally don’t belong in mid. Every time I tell him this, he just says I’d find the work “too hard”. Like I’m an idiot.’

‘Maybe he’s just sexist,’ I say.

‘It sucks,’ says Olga. ‘Every time I get top-marks, I never feel it’s earned, y’know?’

‘Yeah,’ says Luke. ‘Anyway, enough about us. How’ve you been?’

‘Been great. I’d tell you about the show, but I don’t want to spoil it for you. When are you meeting the rest of your class?’

‘We got half-an-hour,’ says Olga, checking her watch. Everyone who remembers you from junior school is bragging that they knew you before you were a big West End star.’

I look at her sceptically. ‘Are they though?’

‘Yeah, they miss coming over to use your pool,’ says Luke.

I laugh. ‘Well, I was thinking about throwing a pool party next week. I’ll invite you two. It’ll really cheer me up after all this Uncle Michael business.’

Luke stares across the table to me warily. ‘Mum told me. How’re you taking it?’

I take a large mouthful of rice; its deliciousness soothes me. ‘Let’s not talk about my uncle. I spend ninety-nine percent of this play talking about my uncle and ten percent wanting to kill myself because I’m subconsciously sick of talking about my uncle.’

‘If you insist,’ says Olga, pouring more curry sauce over her stir-fry.

The door opens and the stage door man looks at me. ‘‘Scuse me. Miss Davis, I’ve got a boy here who says he knows you.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Dante Araki, Asian chap.’

‘Oh yes, I know him, show him in.’

The man leaves while Luke and Olga stare at me. ‘Who’s Dante?’

‘You know Dante, he’s the guy I jump off buildings with.’

Much like Olga and her braid, seeing Dante in anything but gym clothes is utterly trippy; so much so that I pay more attention to the navy and gold getup than the bouquet of white carnations he’s carrying.

He smiles at me while my mouth drops. ‘What the f—?’

‘I wanted to see you before the show,’ he says, handing me the bouquet ‘Plus, I was hoping to get a picture that I can show my mates.’

‘All right,’ I say and pose for the selfie with him. ‘Why the flowers?’

He rubs his neck and blushes. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time. There was one of those old-timey flower carts outside the Tube station, and I had some spare cash since we didn’t have breakfast this morning.’

I hug him and take the bouquet from him. ‘Thanks. You’re actually the first person to send me flowers in my career.’

Dante chuckles. ‘I am honoured.’

I hear Olga go, ‘Aww,’ and turn to see her watching us with her hand over her heart while Luke looks totally confused.

‘Oh, Dante, these are my friends from my old school. Luke Knighton…’

Luke nods. ‘Hi there.’

‘…and Olga Hakim.’

She waves. ‘So, you and Iorwen jump off of buildings together?’

Dante laughs. ‘It’s a little more complicated than that. We do extreme parkour.’

‘If we make a mistake, we die,’ I add.

‘Or we’re crippled for life.’

Olga grimaces. ‘You do you, I guess.’

Luke whispers in that way where you want to be overheard, ‘She’s scared of heights.’

She frowns at him. ‘You run like a bitch every time you see a wasp.’

‘That’s common sense. I haven’t been stung yet, have I?’

I laugh and shrug at Dante. ‘Do you want any Chinese food? The curry sauce is off limits though.’

‘No thanks. Mum made chicken katsu before I came out. My class should be meeting outside the theatre in ten.’

‘Do you know where you’re sitting?’

‘The higher up bit, I think.’

‘The circle?’

‘Yeah.’

'We’re in the stalls,’ says Luke. ‘Don’t think we’re on the front row though.’

I show Dante back to the stage door and see him off, thanking him for the flowers yet again. Luke and Olga are ogling them when I get back to the green room. ‘Before you say anything,’ I assert, ‘He isn’t my boyfriend.’

‘Sure he isn’t,’ says Luke, smirking.

I could tell him that I think I’m kind of gay, but he wouldn’t believe me. Plus, I should talk to her about it first.’

***

After Luke and Olga are gone, I leave the leftovers in the green room for anyone to claim. The only think I keep is the egg fried rice as an interval treat. I leave it on my dressing table with a spare pair of chopsticks and go looking for a vase for the flowers.

The rest of the cast comes back from their hiatus so quickly I don’t get a chance to speak to Tara. She declines my offer to do her eyeliner again, saying she has the hang of it now, though I notice it’s quite thick when we go upstairs at the beginner’s call.

While we take our places, Lewis slumps down in his seat. Because the costumes are designed to look like the Tudor court, he looks like Henry VIII on one of his bad days.

‘What’s up?’ I ask.

‘My dad’s been getting at me because I didn’t give him my comp tickets. He doesn’t get the hint that I don’t actually want him or Karen here.’

‘Oh dear. Did you have an argument?’

‘Yep. He expects me to pull two more tickets out my ass for tonight.’

‘Well they can shove it, can’t they?’ I say without thinking.

He laughs. ‘I love how brutally honest you are.’

‘I don’t have time for people who aren’t worth it.’

Lewis scoffs. 'Adults. Who needs ‘em?’

The crowd, noisier than the last lot, starts to pipe down when the house lights dim, though we hear the shriek of a girl who probably got poked in the ribs, followed by a gaggle of laughter.

I go through all the same steps as before, pretending to get drunk and rolling my eyes for laughs, then delivering my ‘To be or not to be’ to a silent audience.

The scene where we break for interval is an odd choice. Most depictions stop after the play within a play, where Hamlet plans to reveal Claudius’ guilt. Others might pause after Hamlet skewers Polonius through a curtain. It’s the end of all the contemplation and the beginning of the chaos. The audience returns to see Ophelia go mad and drown herself, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are tricked into being executed, Gertrude accidentally drinks poison and, in a swordfight meant to kill Hamlet, Laertes and Claudius both cark it before I do.

Our version does things a little differently. The final scene before the interval has Claudius praying after his guilt is exposed. Hamlet enters and sees his chance to kill him. So while Lewis is kneeling centre stage, I come up from behind with a dagger. Just as it looks like I’m going to kill him, the spotlight goes out and the red curtain falls.

Lewis and I break character immediately and I help him up. I spot Tara heading downstairs to change into her ‘mad Ophelia’ costume. I quickly follow her and catch up before she reaches the floor below.

‘What are you doing?’ she says. ‘You haven’t got any interval changes.’

‘I just want to know where we stand about earlier.’

‘Oh that…’ her voice trails off and she looks around in case someone’s behind us.

‘I liked kissing you, you know?’

Tara faces me with wide eyes and a half-open mouth; is that a good thing?

‘So did I,’ she says after an eternity. ‘But this isn’t the best time to discuss it. Can we save it for tomorrow, please?’

‘Keep business and pleasure separate you mean?’

She nods. ‘You can kiss me now if you want.’

I grin and go for it, though I’m still a little clumsy. I wrap my arms around her this time and she hugs back. The kiss lasts only a few seconds as the sounds of doors opening above breaks us apart. Afterwards, she continues downstairs. I follow at a distance in a state of bliss.

I drift into my dressing room for some egg-fried rice. I shovel a handful into my mouth rather than use the chopsticks. I really am losing my ladylike graces. Afterwards, I duck under the table to pull out a bottle of fizzy water. Because I’m not all there, I drop it on the floor before I can open it.

I’m about to do the technique of slowly twisting the lid to avoid disaster when I get a shiver down my spine. The door hinges behind me squeak as someone slips inside and turns the lock. I stand up slowly, glimpsing a leopard-print dress in the mirror.

How on earth did Karen get back here? What does she want with me?

I turn around just before she lunges and dodge to the left, letting her slam into the far wall. She quickly recovers herself and makes a grab for my throat. I block her with my forearm. She tries again with the other, but I block once more. It’s a simple Tai Chi more. She steps back, momentarily surprised. I grin smugly, shake the bottle of fizzy water and pull off the lid, spraying it in her face.

While she’s distracted, I make a break for the door

Karen digs her nails into my arm. ‘Not so fast!’ she hisses, pulling me back.

I swing around and send my fist into her eye. Karen recoils but doesn’t let go. She glares down at me. I don’t know if it’s the lighting, but her eyes are glowing bright red and her pupils are unnaturally dilated.

She bears her bleached teeth at me with a snarl. It sounds unnatural. Humans can’t make those noises. Her canines are massive, almost like a snake’s. I must be going mad, because they seem to be getting longer.

No, they’re definitely growing. They protrude down to her lower lip. Perfect to bite into soft flesh.

That’s when I realise. She’s a vampire!

And she’s trying to kill me!

I lift my foot and kick her hard in the crotch. If you aim properly, it works on women as well as men. Karen keels over just as I spot the chopsticks on the table. Thank goodness, they’re made of wood. All hail eco-friendly utensils!

I pull them apart just as Karen makes a grab for my throat, grinning through her extended teeth. She’s too busy enjoying this to stop me driving one of the chopsticks up through her hand. Yes, it comes out the other end.

She releases me, screaming in agony. I send a sharp kick into her stomach and she hits the opposite wall, sliding down to the floor as the wind is knocked out of her. The world around me has gone silent and slow. I see my target and I know what to do. It’s like being back on the rooftops, calculating jumps. Never, ever hesitate!

I thrust the other chopstick into her chest. She doesn’t scream. Instead, she chokes on the air and stares at me as I step back with the realisation of what I’ve just done. If she was a vampire, I’m a murderer.

She keeps staring at me. I stare back, wondering how I didn’t notice how wrinkled she was, or how white her hair is.

Her skin turns from orange to grey and starts hanging off her face. That’s when it dawns on me that this must be how vampires die. They age before your very eyes. Their flesh rots and their eyes turn to dust. Her very essence withers away until she becomes a crumbling skeleton. All that remains is her leopard print dress and shoes, along with a leather bomber jacket.

Sound returns. The intercom announces the five-minute call. I sink to my knees and blink hard.

What the Hell just happened? Was it real? Am I still a murderer?

Tara knocking at the door makes me jump. ‘Iorwen, are you okay I heard a scream.’

I hesitate. ‘Stubbed my little toe. Be up in a sec.’

I rush to shake the dust from my hair and costume. When I leave, I take the key with me and re-join a carefree cast. Lewis, none the wiser, takes his former position. My arms are shaking as I hold the dagger over him, knowing what I’ve just done.

Thankfully, this scene is only a fake out, because when Hamlet stops himself at the last second, I drop the dagger and stumble. My voice trembles in the following monologue as I pace from stage-left to stage-right, justifying why I cannot kill him yet.

I’m on-edge for the rest of the show. Thanks to quick changes, I don’t have to go back to my dressing room and face the mess I left behind. My only moment of calm is in the graveyard scene when I find Yorick’s skull. I see Karen staring back at me in this plastic prop. I understand Hamlet on a philosophical level when he remarks how death robs us of identity, how this is how we’ll all end up.