The rain pelted down seemingly heavy enough to bruise but that was probably a misconception. Surprise that she could imagine a four syllable word, let alone make sense of it brushed across her mind. How the hell could she think like that and not know who or where or what… what the hell was happening?

She stumbled again and flipped the straps of her... slingbacks, that's what they were... huh... off and continued on down the road constantly brushing her sodden hair out her of her eyes and mouth. Laboured breathing and various pains and aches slowed her.

A reflection stopped her cold as she passed a shopfront window and the man… she knew him she was sure... but... his eyes bugged out and fear showed plainly and he seemed to want to scream and yet there was no sound beyond the wind and hammering rain.

Spinning she looked in a wide circle and back, but nothing, well... no one. There were a few parked cars and lights in Unit blocks on the other side of the road. But, there was no one and certainly not some near naked man with terrified eyes. Shuddering she continued on, limping suddenly at the pains and sting of grit and god knows what as her bare feet were assaulted.

But she couldn't stop. Where was she going anyway and what... why was she carrying a stumpy little revolver and was it still hot even dripping wet? Where was she? Oh yeah… Old South Head Rd and there was the pathway. The path and down a bit was The Gap. The famous? Was famous right? Seemed wrong maybe... what was it, yeah infamous that's better, infamous suicide spot. Those wonderful sandstone cliffs with the little fence easy to climb and the hundred foot or so drop to rocks or the ocean if the tide was up. A good place to throw a gun. Who's gun and why was she carrying it? Had she shot someone?

A shiver ran through her and her brief silk slip dress swished as it glued itself to her and shifted and slid as she moved. She blew rain drops off her lips and shook her head adding to the spray which was lost in the steady pelting downpour.

Stumbled onto the path, baked clay, though a sort of murky muddy creek at the moment and she fell as a hidden rut almost twisted her ankle and a shot of pain brought a memory.

A man... that same man. Did she know him? She must if she was in that room, apparently right next to him but off line of the mirror he looked into. The shock and sudden reflex duck as a glass shattered on the wall just above his left shoulder. Turning both in fear and anger to see an elegant women in a light twin set, her face distorted with rage and hurt.

"You bastard. You miserable fucking bastard! You lied to me. I trusted you… took you at your word that you wouldn't. And what do I find when I get home? This.. You... You, prick! Well that's it, no more. You and me... We are done. Done!" The woman wailed and tears were flowing and she stormed out of the room, slumped a little and slammed the door closed behind her.

She spun about there in the rain and yet seeing that room and he was gone and she groaned aloud. Did you groan if the wind and rain drowned it and no one heard? Where did he go and what was going on? Who's house was this... um, that? Who was he and who was the woman? His wife? Was this a ménage a whosis? Had she been the bit on the side? God why couldn't she put anything together and why did her stomach hurt so bad?

She remembered yelling, a fight, the woman, wife? Throwing things and screeching as the man blubbered and mumbled semi coherently and she apparently just watched. She made no sound and was ignored by the other two. They stormed through the house and the wife pushed and threw vases and stands, a decanter shattered on the stairs. He alternately cried and blubbered and roared defiance and clenched his fists in impotent rage. Backed the wife to the bedroom door as it seemed he might hit her. She cowered momentarily and he backed down as she twisted the knob and almost fell backward tripping on the Persian rug within. Glorious rich colour rendered almost black and white by the mood of all.

His face twisted and tears fell as he stood over the wife as she lay on the floor looking up with an expression of almost insolent contempt. He wrenched at his clothing, tearing and ripping and tugging until he was practically naked and then began to tear up the room. The wife suddenly lurched upright and spat on the floor sneering at his silk boxer shorts and mocking mismatched styles, as he ignoring her proceeded to pull books from shelves and rip clothes from walk in robes.

Reaching the phone the wife dialled a short number spoke rapidly and held it out so whoever could hear his yells and cries and the banging as he slammed and swore. Smirking and with a triumphant look the wife threw the phone, hitting him on the shoulder. He bellowed, lunged forward to her and with a backhand knocked the wife backwards across the room. He let out an almost painful cry as he reached and seemed to regret and then he turned and ransacked a shelf lifting up a small box.

She swapped the gun from hand to hand and slowly clenched her right fist and felt some pain and noted the cut knuckles. No blood as the rain washed everything, just a couple of puffy ridged knuckles and stiffness.

The man stood there staring into the small box oblivious of the wife's muttered curses. Silence then as the stubby pistol was lifted out and held aloft. A hint of fear in the wife's eyes as he stood still and indifferent to his surroundings.

She saw all this and felt the rain and her feet hurt and her hand was sore and her stomach… her stomach ached and burned and was cold at the same time. Who were these people and why did they not acknowledge her at all? She stood there seeing everything and it was as though to them she did not exist.

Blue and red flashing lights blinked through the bushes from the road and she heard voices and torches flashed. Terror stabbed through her system and she ran and slid and almost fell. Pushed on and did slip to one knee, felt the skin tear and a vague pink swirl as she crawled to her feet and with a cry as of a small animal in pain stumbled on toward the cliffs. She had to throw the gun out to sea so they could not find it. But why? What had happened?

He laughed, a loud and off key laugh that made her shiver and his wife cower in fear the rage forgotten as she trembled.

She stood watching as the wife wrapped herself in a self hug and followed him with her eyes as he paced and muttered.

The boom of the shot was horribly loud and her ears hurt as the flash in the semi dark room made her blink. The smell was like some hint of damnation, did fire and brimstone smell like that? The wife jumped and squeaked in terror as the mirror on the wall shattered. He glared at the wife and the smile if you could call it that reminded her of Jack in that hotel caretaker thing. The phrase, 'honey I'm home ' rattled in her mind and she imagined thunder and lightning but there was just rain. Cold and heavy and wet and she ached all over.

With a shudder she ran on half slipping and sliding along the path almost falling several times. The torches were getting closer and she knew she didn't want them to catch her. She had to get rid of the gun. But she couldn't think why, could not connect this now cold piece of steel with the flash and boom and tinkle of broken glass. Except she saw….

He turned, his face twisted and she wanted to cry out to plead but she didn't. The wife cowered back and away and held her hand out and gestured to push him back though he was well beyond arms reach away. He raised and squeezed and a vase exploded and again into the light fitting as he laughed a manic laugh, gleeful of the destruction and strode across the room oblivious of the shards of glass stabbing his bare feet.

She winced as he left bloody footprints but still said nothing.

Then he stood face to face with his wife and mocked her narrow minded intolerance. He pressed the gun against her belly and laughed as she went white and seemed to shrink.

"Boom" he barked into the wifes face and laughed again a wild and ragged laugh as she jumped and began to cry as the fear loosed her bladder.

She cried out in sympathy though it was a silent cry and neither of them so much as blinked. Both too busy looking at the small puddle that formed on the glorious rug at the wife's feet, their expressions greatly different. His, a glowering triumphant glare and the wife with a downtrodden humiliated tear bleary stare.

She watched as silently they stared and glared at each other, neither moving nor blinking. Time had no meaning and she was powerless to intervene or even speak out. She just watched and that puzzled her as much as anything else.

A sudden wrench as she slid one foot wide and pulled a muscle near her hip with a cry like a small child being slapped.

Everything hurt, her feet ached, her hand that gripped the gun was stiff and she knew it was there but could no longer feel it. Her stomach felt hot and cold and empty at the same time and her lungs burned as she stumbled and moaned her way to the small wire fence that marked the edge of the lookout. The jump point for many a desperate soul. What drove them here she wondered. What pain or fear or loss caused the blackness to be seem warm in comparison?

She stood barely aware of the surroundings even the rain still pouring down did not intrude on her thoughts.

She blinked as he threw his head back and roared with laughter and waived the gun in the wife's face. Almost in reflex the wife slapped his arm and threw herself at him pinning the gun between them as a dull boom and a grunt and then all was still.

She watched her heart in her mouth, her face almost touching theirs she was so close and had to be kneeling on the floor yet she did not recall doing so.

Then a pounding at the door downstairs and… she screamed and pushed and groaned. He must have rolled to the side as her frantic glance missed him. She leapt to her feet and was aware of the wife staring soundlessly after her as she fled the room and down the stairs to the side door. Terror led her but just why she was so afraid she could not say.

She flung it open with a grunt of pain and became aware of the storm and the rain as it struck her face startling her momentarily. A cry like a gull diving to the surf burst from her throat as she ran, down the few steps and the driveway. Aware of shouts and the pulsing blue and red lights on the odd bulbous shaped van as the two blue and black figures yelled and pointed, one pushing the door and disappearing inside the other following her, one hand clutched to its face. Running after her though they, it, was metres behind.

She cut through the garden and across the lawn down a stepped landing and out a small wrought iron gate that led to the street. How did she know the way? The figure was nowhere to be seen and she gulped a breath as fear lifted a fraction. Another stab as adrenaline struck full force as a car pulled up and two more blue and black figures emerged the pulsing lights on the roof turning a surreal scene even more so. These two moved slowly and stiffly hands clutched together at arms length in front of their hips as they stalked... yes, stalked she thought... they're hunting.. they're hunting me, but why?

She ran.

She no longer felt the wire of the fence as it bit into her back and she looked into her lap as a hand reached down and slid the pistol from her grip. She heard, distantly though he had to be right on top of her so that made no sense, the radio crackle as he, this blue and black man spoke.

"Yep got him, Gap lookout gunshot wound to the abdomen, Pulse thready. He needs help soon as. ... Right, quick as ya can eh."

She heard it and what was said made no sense and she blinked as he pressed something against her stomach and another draped a fluro yellow green jacket across her shoulders.

Another voice, a woman this time.

"This him? The domestic up the hill in Vaucluse?"

"Yeah, seems there was a fight and he got gut shot, exactly how we’ll have to figure out."

What? Who got gut shot... I'm so tired...

The woman spoke again.

"Cute boxers, almost bought Jake a pair for his birthday, but thought the dick might get the wrong idea. I could just here him offering to let me rub Homers belly and see what happens."

"Yeah, and what would you say? Doh?"

"Nah something a bit cruder than that. This guy gonna make it?"

"Maybe, it'll be close."

This guy? What? They think... but that makes no sense... Oh...god, I.... The tears squeezed from under her lids and they did not stop though were barely noticeable in the rain and she sobbed quietly as another two fluro yellow people touched and lifted and strapped her to a rolling trolley thing and she stared into the sky and heard the piercing cry of a lonely gull from the dark. She slid into the back of a white truck and the doors banged cutting off the rain and the sound and the flashing lights were back and a raucous wavering yo yo sound in her ears.

Her eyes were clenched tight as she tried to blot out the sounds and light. All she could see was the face of the man, his terrified eyes reflected in the shop window. Pain and sadness as she cried and wondered... why.

~ Not really an end ~

I'm curious how many need to read this more than once. Confusion is a fluid POV, but then perhaps that's the point sometimes.