Misconception

“Freakaholics and fruit flies, dung vampires and gruesome twosomes, scary Marys, jiggered Juliets and rampant Romeos, now’s the time to wallow in the disgusting swamp of gore that is the G-Spot Shockarama.

“Who will be our witch and warlock of darkness? Who will win the vampire’s kiss? Who will be our Hemlock Prince or Princess? Dance wild. Dance to the death. Let your pores pour pure evil.”

A heaving mass of orgiastic, wildly made-up and costumed, masked, and violently attired dancers gyrated like a hive of programmed insects as DJ Horrormeister Drax ramped up the adrenaline level close to intoxication point.

Jess writhed and jumped in the midst of Dracula lookalikes and countless horror and fantasy movie creatures, all screaming and posturing, as wide-eyed and spaced as a zombie jamboree in Haiti.

Jess downed three shots with one arm draped around Clara’s shoulders. She had no idea what they were. They had just appeared before her at the bar.

Clara lurched off in the company of a spotty, geeky guy. Jess hardly noticed. Somebody offered her a smoke. Through blurred vision, she grabbed it and inhaled deeply.

Someone took it back from her and placed a hand on her thigh. Jess stepped back, turned, and gyrated her way through the heaving crowd.

Her face was streaked with sweat and makeup, and her mind had melted into a hypnotic cybersphere.

She could feel her heart pounding. Then it began to race. All of a sudden she felt ill, her stomach fluttered with nausea, and the vibrations pounded up through the soles of her feet, through her body until her ears buzzed.

Jess pushed through the throng, breathing heavily. She had lost sight of Zoe and the others in the midst of the gyrating mob.

She staggered toward the chill-out zone and reached the bar, where she collapsed gratefully onto a barstool.

Adam Ant shouted to her from behind the bar where he was washing glasses. “Hi, you don’t look well, girl.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Jess in a husky whisper.

The barman shook his head and pointed to his ear. “Need something to settle you down, make you feel better?” he yelled.

Jess gazed at him hazily. She made no reply.

The barman poured her a shot of dark liquid and put it on the counter in front of her. He placed a small pink pill by the side of the glass.

“Trust me,” he hollered above the thundering noise. “This will sort you out, girl. Go on, no charge.”

Jess looked at the drink and pill. She needed something to stop the feeling of sickness and the thickening of her thoughts that were causing her mind to float in treacle.

God, how much have I had to drink?

She wasn’t a real smoker, but the weed had been good. Now it had all gone sour.

Jess put the pill on her tongue and swallowed the drink in one. She rested her head on her folded arms and allowed her mind to freefall.

For a while, all was still and peaceful between waves of nausea. Then her stomach settled down.

How long she spent crouched on the barstool leaning against a wall tucked away in shadow, she had no idea.

The illusions were more realistic than dreams. She was swept away on a tidal wave of sensuous images and wonderful adventures that had no meaning.

She looked up.

The club was on fire, but she couldn’t smell smoke or feel the heat from the blaze. Yet every person was glowing like incandescent sparklers on Bonfire Night.

Faces swirled in front of her, and voices spoke to her, but she paid them no attention. They were whispering meaningless gibberish.

She could feel her legs moving.

I need fresh air.

This was her only thought, despite the images and kaleidoscopic lights inside her mind.

Somehow, Jess found her way to the exit, experiencing moments of here-and-now clarity before being sucked into another hallucinogenic nightmare.

The cold air hit her like an ice pick. Her head expanded like a hot-air balloon.

She was walking along a street. She couldn’t see the night sky, but she could feel the weight of the universe bearing down on her.

The stars were alive, surrounding her with their auras. They were so beautiful. She reached out and touched them.

Angelic beings floated high up in the atmosphere. She could hear them whispering to each other in a magical tongue.

She stumbled, fell, and got up again.

She must be on a major thoroughfare—there were traffic noises and streetlights. Jess struggled to comprehend the sounds, to work out what they were.

She tried to walk in a straight line, but there was a disconnection between her brain and her legs.

The sounds around her rose and fell, and Jess found herself thinking that it was like the sound made by that Australian bloke playing, what was it, a wobble board or something?

She tripped.

Now there were voices calling to her, shouting and warning her, but their cries were drowned out by another monstrous noise.

It sounded like a jumbo jet screeching toward her.

The pain of the impact was extreme.

Something substantial hit her side-on, and then she was flying.

For a moment, she was lucid, as though the pain had driven the effects of the drug from her mind and nervous system. Then she stopped breathing. It was wonderful. She knew if she drew breath, the pain would be unbearable.

“Oh, my god,” cried a woman.

“Is she dead?” called a man at the end of a tunnel.

“Someone call an ambulance.”

Indigo blackness pinned with stars. Here there was no pain, no thought, no feeling.

***

Jess lay half on and half off the pavement on Whiteladies Road. A small crowd had gathered around her twisted body.

There was very little blood.

A soft rain had begun to fall. Someone opened an umbrella and held it over Jess.

An ambulance arrived in a blaze of flashing lights.

“Resus, resus,” a voice barked and echoed from somewhere.

Darkness and sudden pain.

Then, nothing.

Then McFly was singing “Transylvania” above a swirl of murmured voices.

“Pelvic fracture,” a deep voice shouted.

“My god, Jess,” a woman cried. It sounded like her mother but distorted and distended as through an echo chamber.

A dark brown face with pale eyes stared at her. Teeth flashed white as the mouth opened and closed, but Jess could not make out the words.

A needle entered her arm and then jolted as a mask suddenly clamped itself over her mouth.

Her instinct was to struggle, but the voices came at her from all directions urging her to relax, be still, don’t fight.

“You’re going to be all right,” said the deep voice close to her ear. “Have sweet dreams, Jess.”

“We need to operate, now,” another voice sang, and the words repeated and reverberated into a deep well of numbing comfort and peace.

***

Jess sat staring out of her window.

She strummed her small guitar softly, allowing the song to free flow through her, not forcing it but letting it create itself within her.

She sang quietly, feeling the words on her tongue, savoring the emotion.

Now, today, deep within my life, there may

Be somewhere to hide away

And never, ever see the day,

Cos, nothing, is moving, the silence in my soul

What you’ve never had, you’ll never miss

The face you’ll never see, you’ll never kiss—

There was a knock on the door and then her mother’s voice. “Can I come in?”

Jess stopped playing. It took her a couple of seconds to stop shaking. She coughed back the lump that threatened to close her throat.

“Yes,” Jess called with a sigh, putting aside her guitar. She stood up as her mother came into the room.

“Not long now,” she said. “You’ll be off to Cardiff, your first choice. Well done, darling. You must be so happy.” Her mother put her arm around Jess’s shoulder.

“I am, I suppose,” said Jess.

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s great.” She hugged her. “Look, the scars will heal. You’ll hardly see them.”

“It’s not the scars, Mum.”

Her mother looked down and sniffed. “I know. I know, and when I say I understand, of course, I can’t know how it really feels to realize you may never—”

“Lots of people never have children,” said Jess. “I’m eighteen, Mum. I don’t want to think about having kids right now, if ever.”

“I know, darling, I know. I’m just saying you don’t know how you’ll feel in a few years. Okay, so IVF is probably out of the question, but there are new treatments coming on stream all the time. New advances.”

“With my internal injuries? Having kids is years away, well light years away now, I suppose.”

“The surgery has a lot to answer for,” said her mother. “But you’re lucky to be alive. Try to be positive. I know you weren’t sure about university, but I think you’ll love it. You can still sing and act if you want to.”

Jess rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know how I feel about anything right now.”

“You know your dad and I will always be here for you, don’t you?”

Jess nodded. “I know, Mum. And I know if I’d done what Dad said that night, none of it would have happened. He’s told me enough times. But what’s done is done.”

“We’ve always tried to teach you it’s best to face up to things no matter how bad they are. Besides, if it ever comes to it—”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Mum, sorry. I just can’t think about it. But thanks. You know I appreciate everything you and Dad have done for me.”

Her mother dabbed her eyes and stood up.

The door burst open, and Jess’s father rushed in. “I think you’d better sit down again, darling. I’ve just had a phone call.”

“What kind of phone call?” said Annie.

“It’s the news we’ve been waiting for. There’ll be a letter in the post to confirm it.”

“Confirm what? Oh, you mean…” Annie smiled broadly.

“Come on, Dad,” said Jess. “You look as though you’ve had a shock.”

Jess’s father took a deep breath and took a few paces. “Right,” he said. “The phone call was from Quentin Merridew, the solicitor. He represents the estate of your aunt Alice, Jess.”

“Okay,” said Jess. “So?”

“She left a will. It seems the daft old bird used to do the lottery.” He paused. “And just before she died, she won.”

Jess stared at him.

“Jess, we didn’t want to tell you until probate had been completed, but she left your mother and me five million pounds in her will.”