The Void Page 11

  “Oh.” A little sound puffed out of me. It sounded like the air that escaped a balloon that you were trying to tie.

  It took me by surprise. I turned to face the wall now, where the camera couldn’t see my face. I didn’t mind being vulnerable in here, but these tears were not meant for anyone but her. I felt around for my sock and tied it around my eyes again, pretending to be fast asleep. Sometime in the night I must’ve pushed off the eye mask. I pursed my lips tightly, scared that if I made enough sound it would turn to sobbing. This was the first time I was admitting to that relief. She’d been my little secret for so long. I didn’t even care she was half of Andy. She was mine, and that was all that mattered. That was, of course, until the day he found out. Then I did care. I cared a lot.

  “A little Melanie. A tiny little Melanie,” he said as he put his hand on my stomach.

  For a brief moment I thought this would make him change. Babies did that to people, didn’t they? Not to monsters, though. Monsters never changed. By then I knew that I was living with one. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of flinching at his touch. He sneered.

  “I hope she’s just as feisty as you are,” he said. “When were you planning on telling me?”

  “I didn’t know,” I had whimpered. I was upset with myself then. Just before he found out, I had told myself that I had to start sticking up for myself more. Something about Andy reduced me to a person I was ashamed to be. I’d stood up for myself many times before. I’d tried to leave before. You never knew how hard it was until you were in the situation yourself. I had judged many women who were stuck in relationships they said they couldn’t get out of. I would never judge anyone ever again.

  “You didn’t know? You think I’m a fool, do ya? Bloody stuck-up bitch.” He hit me then, so hard I thought my nose was broken. I didn’t care. He could knock me around like Tyson, as long as he stuck to my face, and not my belly. Just leave her alone.

  I lay there for a while, my eyes shut tight by the sock around my head. The darkness was pleasing at first, but soon became unbearable. I pulled it off, then sat up, and strolled as casually as I could to the bathroom. Once there, I allowed the emotions to come. Just leave her alone. He didn’t leave her alone. He didn’t only hit my face. I always knew it was coming. I switched the shower on, then slid to the floor. The water mingled with my tears, and I cried properly for the first time since I lost her. I’d been angry, but I’d never allowed myself to be sad. In a way, we had both escaped him. Still, even though I never got to meet her, I missed her. For the short time that she’d been inside me, I had never felt more whole.

  I wasn’t sure how long I sat on the shower floor. For the first time since being in the pod, I wasn’t in tune to the time passing on the outside. The other contestants came to mind. Were they lost in this strange place, suspended in time and uncertainty? I didn’t like the loss of control I felt, but knowing how quick my mind could slip in here, made me snap out of it. I scrubbed my face, then got out, ready to start over. I felt lighter from the release of emotions, and more prepared for their inevitably return. As I changed, I thought again about the others. Was Jon without the h still as cocky as he was when he first went in? He reminded me a little of Andy. Not that I thought he was a monster—I didn’t—but he was one of those guys who took up a lot of space in this world. He moved with a surety and sense of entitlement that made it obvious he was not sure of himself at all. He was so typically blokey too. All about his muscles. All about him. Maybe this was why I hadn’t liked him from the start. I didn’t like people who had to hide. Then again, wasn’t that what I was doing all the time? Wasn’t that what we all did? We all just did it in our own ways. Who was I to judge his method? Keri must’ve seen something she liked in him, so he couldn’t be all that bad. Unless Keri wasn’t the nice girl she seemed to be. I doubted it. They all seemed like decent people. Just all a little messed up in their own ways. But maybe you had to be a little messed up to agree to a show like this. Or would money make people do anything? What about Ryan? How was he doing? I had liked him from the moment I met him, despite him being in cahoots with Jon. Unlike Jon and Keri, I felt I could relate to him. He was younger than me, and I had a feeling he hadn’t been through all that much in his life. At least, not as much as I had. Yet, despite this, he seemed so unsure of himself. I hoped he had some coping mechanisms for this place, because a guy like him might not be able to handle the silence. Although, maybe I was wrong. Maybe Jon would be the one to fall first. Cocky people usually didn’t have much inner strength to rely on. I hoped Ryan did well. I knew he had the strength in him, but I just wasn’t sure how easy it would be for him to find it. And that buzzer was so tempting. Even to me, and I enjoyed being in the pod. I was certain Elton had long gone. What would he do inside once the jokes ran dry? Or was I too quick to judge? Hopefully he’d prove me wrong. From the short meeting I’d had with all of them, it was hard not to judge from first impressions. What had they thought of me? Probably not much. I didn’t mind. I liked not being noticed. There was a party I’d attended soon after I’d finally left Andy, some work function I couldn’t weasel out of. The following day three people came up to me and asked me why I hadn’t been at the party, even though I had been there almost to the end. My light grey shirt had matched the shade of the wall that evening. Maybe I’d simply become one with it. I didn’t feel sorry for myself then, and I definitely didn’t feel sorry for myself now.

  I’d had three weeks to prepare for life in here. It wasn’t much time, but I made the most of it. I researched, and watched a lot of videos, and I knew how easy it would be for your mind to slowly unravel in a place like this. Most of the videos I had watched were based on solitary confinement in prison, which was a whole different story to what we were going to go through in here. We had a shower, a bathroom, a bed, a supply of food and drinks. We even had our one allowed item to keep us entertained. In that sense, we were luckier. There was, however, one thing that made our life harder than prison. We had cameras on us. Every minute was being recorded, and everything we did was going to go out for the rest of the world to see, and that no amount of prison or solitary videos could prepare me for it. Would the constant feeling of being watched help us, or would this be the thing that made us fall apart? Still, the research had helped. I’d stuck to my schedule every day, and had done my exercises and meditation even when I didn’t feel like it. Today’s dream and cry in the shower was something I hadn’t expected, but I would not let it deter me from continuing what I had started.

  The days had gone by relatively quickly for me, and even though I always thought I would do well, I was surprised at the ease at which I’d gotten through them. The meditations had been easier than they were back home, the silence a fantastic backdrop to the Zen-like state. Maybe one day I’d even go on a meditation retreat, or visit a Buddhist temple. It would be interesting to see how I did with others around me. I chuckled every time I finished with a meditation routine. I imagined the editors of the show cutting to another contestant each time. There was probably a lot of eye rolling and plenty of “why did we choose this girl?” every time they saw me sitting still for an hour. I couldn’t imagine my yoga routine or even my exercise session was anymore riveting. There were only so many times you could watch someone doing the same thing over and over again. Because of this, I got the feeling I was going to get little air time. This suited me greatly. The odd nightmare, and the cat drawings, were probably the only things that made me interesting. Even the alphabet game was dull, and because I did it in my head instead of saying it out loud, I probably just looked like I was meditating again. “God, there she goes again,” they’d say. “Quickly, switch to Jon without the h.”

  I made myself a cup of tea, then sat on the floor with my back against the bed. I looked at the date at the top of the book and smiled. If my calculations were correct, I only had two more days in here. Three at the most. I was going to walk out of this place a better person, and richer too. I had come in here f
or the money, but I’d gained a whole lot more. I flipped through the book and smiled at all my drawings. I had improved since I started. With so little time left in here, I might even skip one or two of my exercises and spend some more time with my drawings. The first thing I drew was Todd in the Pod. He wasn’t doing much. Just lazing about on the floor. Without thinking I found myself drawing a little kitten, a little fluff of a thing so small and so furry you could barely make out its features. I drew it again, and this time I drew Todd in the Pod lying next to it. Paw to paw. And just like that, Todd was a father.

  Chapter 21

  Elton

  Nobody came. Nobody came. Nobody came.

  I did something stupid the night before. It might have been in the middle of the damn day, but in the real world all my bad decisions were done at night, only now I couldn’t blame the booze. Or even the drugs. Maybe that’s why I was going so crazy in here. Without stimulants the world seemed flat. I’d tried to go up on stage without a hit of coke, or a swig or ten of vodka, but it always made everything more difficult, as if my words had to move through a heavy smog before reaching the audience. My mind, and my delivery was always a lot more concise with a little helping hand. What I could’ve done for something in here. It would’ve made this whole experience so much better. Why was it so bad? If it made me more confident, and funnier, then what was so wrong about it? Who was I hurting? I’d done quite well without it at the start of this experience, but maybe I’d used up all my energy reserves too quickly. With no drugs, and no more jokes, I was falling apart. The whole thing didn’t feel worth it to me anymore, and last night had only amplified it. That’s when I knew I had to get out of here, because out of all the hilarious moments I’d had in here, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the one moment they would play over and over again was my stupid meltdown.

  It had all started quite innocently. I sat on the floor, flipping through the joke book for inspiration. I had my back against the wall to avoid looking at the scratched-off paint. After scraping it until my finger bled, I had an odd desire to keep at it. Without wanting to be obvious, I’d taken a ‘stroll’ around the pod every so often, making as if I was walking through a park. I’d stop to ‘rest’ at my imaginary water station, and I’d use this time to casually scratch off a bit more with my back to the camera. I’d do it quickly, so that even if I was caught it would be too fast for the viewers to see it. I’d splash the imaginary water on my face, and then stroll off again, only to come back later and do it all again. I must’ve done it more times than I thought because there was now a massive section of the wall without paint. This was why I found myself with my back against it the night before, sitting with my knees up and my joke book in front of me. The more aware I was of the wall the more I wanted to continue peeling the paint. I had been looking through the joke book, wondering why I had ever found it so funny, when I noticed how raw my nails were, especially my forefinger, which I’d used almost exclusively in the peeling. I kept glancing at my finger and then back at the book, over and over again until I could no longer remember why I was looking at the book in the first place. And then, just like that, I imploded. One minute the book was in my hand, the next it was shredded to pieces on the floor.

  I couldn’t remember when I had fallen asleep or how I had moved from the floor, but when I woke, I was in bed. The first thing I saw was pieces of the joke book scattered over the floor, and the end of the joke book seemed to signal the end of my time in here. I no longer wanted to be funny. I no longer saw the joke. Only my ego had kept me in so long, but I needed to get out before I made an even bigger fool of myself. Maybe I could even turn this around for me. I could finally tell the world who I was, and say that Bob Store had emerged in the pod. Boring ol’ Bob Store. Elton Rigby was too big a personality to be in such small confines. Maybe they’d appreciate my honesty. I stared at the buzzer now, which seemed to have grown overnight. Nobody came. Nobody came. Then I stood up, and walked dramatically over to it, using my last shred of comedy to end it for me, and pressed it.

  At first, nothing happened. Even though the room was already silent, it seemed to get even more silent, if such a thing was possible. I stared at the door, and waited. This was the time to make a joke. To look into the camera and say something amusing, something that would make everyone watching laugh, and my whole stay worthwhile. Like the devastating joke book melt down, this was definitely going to be shown on the telly. This was the part all the producers wanted to happen. Yet, despite this, I couldn’t bring myself to even crack a smile. The silence had been replaced by the loud beating of my own heart, a forceful reminder of being alive and having failed. I no longer cared. I just wanted to get out of this hell hole. As I reached over to press it again, the door opened, and I jumped to my feet.

  “Sorry, sorry,” said a harried sounding Larry as he pushed open the door like a man battling a boulder on an uphill. He looked exhausted and pale, as if he’d been doing the same pod challenge as I had. He turned to me. “You okay?” he asked.

  I frowned. “Uh, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, sorry, I’m a little unwell, that’s all.” Then a big smile formed on his face that was obviously fake. I knew it because it was the same smile I had used a million times before. “Come on out. You did well, Elton. Very well. I was sorry to see you press the buzzer. Come on, take a seat.”

  I followed him out, and a million emotions cascaded through me, from happiness, weariness, and disappointment. Most of all though, I felt tired. I was sure I looked the same as Larry did. Man the guy looked bad. Whatever he had, I didn’t want to catch it. Maybe I had gone into the pod with his germs on me. That would make a lot of sense. That could explain why I hadn’t been myself. Larry had gone, fetching me water, which really was the last thing I wanted at the moment. I wanted vodka. A lot of it.

  “So,” he said as we sat down to chat. “Let’s talk about how you’re feeling.”

  His voice was flat, and the whole thing seemed staged. This wasn’t the exit scene I had been anticipating, and while I didn’t want to go back inside, I felt a desperate urge to get away from all of this. Me? I wanted to say, how about we talk about how you’re feeling?

  “We’ll conduct a proper interview at a later stage, but I do have a few questions for you if you don’t mind. I’m sure you’re desperate to get home.”

  “Sure, go for it,” I said.

  “Let’s start with the obvious one. Why did you quit?”

  I sighed. “Dude, it was hard,” I said as I ran a hand through my greasy hair. “It was…”I struggled to find the right word. “Boring,” I decided. I laughed bitterly. “And I’m not a man who likes to be bored. I guess the place was a little too small for me.”

  “Did you feel a loss of control?” He was sipping water in between his questions and a bit of colour had returned to his face.

  “I guess you could say so. I just didn’t feel like myself in there.” I felt like Bob Store, that’s who I felt like, but I didn’t say it out loud.

  “You did very well,” Larry said.

  “I did? I was trying to go for the comedy angle, but it was hard. It…” I gulped. Emotion gripped hold of me, and for a brief and terrifying moment I thought I was going to burst into tears. Was I on camera right now? I looked around.

  “You okay?” Larry asked.

  “I…I’m just drained,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll set you up in a hotel tonight and…”

  “No, I think I’ll just go home,” I said.

  “I understand, but flights…”

  “It’s fine,” I interrupted. “I’ll go straight to the airport. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Are you sure? You might feel better if…”

  “I’m sure,” I said a little too harshly. I didn’t want to be here right now.

  “So, now comes the fun part,” Larry said with forced enthusiasm.

  “Fun?”

  “How long do you think you were inside fo
r?” The question perked Larry up. That saying ‘death warmed up’ seemed appropriate for this moment. Maybe he’d just been bored to death before, and having me out had given him something to do.

  “Where are the other guys?” I said, ignoring the question. “Not the contestants, the…” What was the word… “crew.”

  “They’re working on the footage as we speak. So, time…this is the part I find the most fascinating. How long do you think you were inside?”

  “You never opened up for me, so I clearly failed,” I started.

  “Failure is not a word I like to use. You did well, Elton. Go on, give me your best guess.”

  While in the pod I had been certain I only had a few days left, but now that I was out, I wasn’t sure. My sense of time had shifted, and as I struggled to come up with an answer I wondered if I was about to make a fool of myself all over again.

  “You know, I have no idea,” I said. “I’m going to say I was in there for ten days, maybe eleven.”

  Larry beamed at me. “Impressive. Eleven and…” he looked at his watch then. “Almost twelve actually.”

  “Shit! So damn close.”

  “Can I ask though, if you thought you only had a few days left, why did you leave?”

  This one I knew the answer to immediately. “I no longer wanted to be in there.”