Crash

It’s the sense of touch

Any really city, you walk, you know ?

You brush past people. People bump into you.

In L.A nobody touches you.

We’re always behind this metal and glass.

I think we miss that touch so much that we crash into each other just so we can feel something.

You’re don’t think that’s true ?

 

First words in the Paul Haggis  movie.

I'm just a kill machine and I don't work for nobody but...everybody!!

My first contract was the more easy and stupid one. Maine introduce me to my victim, I shook his hand and bam…nobody’s home !!

The power in my hand hit me but never hurt me anymore.

Say hello to the girl that I am !!

 

 

I remember most of my crimes like a game I played.

One day, I came into a little town in the middle of the Utah american state. Alone. I knew that my target was a pedophile never catch by police, not enough evidences, and I counted in my sixteen years old appearance, even if I was eigtheen, to entice him. A flowerfull dress, my hair in a blond wig (hey ! I was a secret murder agent so I could acting like Jane Bond !) and a lolly pop in my mouth…It was eleven o’clock. I walked to him with tears on my eyes (I already teached you how to do it), Maine was in the car, waiting. I took time to get wet under the rain first, I really wanted to be good actress, to have pleasure in cold hand murder.

« Lost ». I told him with my worst accent. I saw shiny sparkles in his pervers eyes. Getcha !

He by-passed his counter and approched me, paternaly. « You’re frozen little thing ! he said. Follow me I have some towels in the defer room ! » and he put gently his arm around my shoulders, touching it delicatly. One second, two second…he fell down, straight…dead !!

I looked at him, smiling : « Sucker !! ». Then I went to the counter, opened it, took two paquet of cigarettes and ran outside. Get into the car, the lights was still on, burnt a stick of death and told Maine calmly : « Done. Start the car !

-         Did you kill him ?

-         Yep.

-         Don’t you know what cigarette will kill you ?! ». I didn’t answer, kept looking the passenger window. « Plume, do you here me ? M’entends tu ? Eteins cette cigarette !

-         No, Maine, no. Je tue, je fume, je bois. I kill, I smoke…

-         I get it…but I don’t want you to smoke ! Tu es toujours mineur ici !

-         T’as de la chance que je sois pas bourrée !!

-         Bourrée ?

-         Drunk ! You’re lucky I’m not drunk !! Give me a break, I just killed a man !!

-         A bad man !

-         Still a man…j’ai tué un homme…

-         Tu t’y feras ! You’ll get use to it !

-         I know, je sais…c’est bien le problème…

-         What ?

-         I already don’t care about killing !

-         I’m sorry for you !

-         Come on ! C’est des conneries !

-         Conneries ?

-         Maine ! Do you really understand french ? Do you ?!

-         We don’t learn familiar language ! Only, the best…jeune demoiselle !

-         Bullshits ! Conneries !!

-         Why ? Pourquoi ?

-         PAR-CE-QUE…because, the agency wants me to kill, sans remords ! Now, I know why they wanted to help me…Ils voulaient pas m’aider les salops…and don’t ask me the meaning of salop !

-         I know this one, thanks…They really try to find a antidote !!

-         I know…but still…still I’m just a experience…juste une putain d’experience…

-         Come on, sweetie…

-         How could you be so kind and work for them ? Je comprends pas !

-         How could you be so pretty and so dangerous ? Life is like it is ! C’est comme ça !

-         Can we stop speak about it…please…

-         Why don’t you sleep a little bit ?!

-         Yep, a murder, a cigarette, and a nap…my life suck !

-         Think about something else…like poney !

-         Maine, j’ai pas dix ans merde ! I’m not a kid !

-         Until you’re twenty one, you’re my kid !! Je vais prendre soin de toi, ok ?

-         Got no choice ! Anyway…good night…

-         Don’t let the bugs…

-         Oh, shut up mommy ! ». I opened my window and throw up the cigarette…in fact, I never like it but it was nervous. After a bad thing, I needed another, less worst, just to feel the smoke in my body…just feeling bruning inside and outside…just to get close to hell…step by step…

I’m coming Satan, keep me a sit on you left side !!

Get a job!

Between accident and murder there are only one step. I wasn’t so far to take it.

The bald boss in black asked me to come in his office. I really thought at first that he wanted me to leave the united states because of the John story and the fact that in so many months, they never find a antidote. But it was the oposite. He wanted me to stay in the country and more, he wanted me to work for them.

Maine, my black men in black came into the room. The bald boss told me : « He’ll be you tutor ! ». I started to laugh, nervous breakdown no dobt. Can you imagine that ? A little very white skin girl pretending that her father is this black fridge ?! The only frige in the agency who speak more or less french (less than more but anyway, still no choice). And I seamed to have a good feeling with him…I had a too good feeling with John, and his dead !! Are they nuts !! If they asked me my opinion, it’s better than the person who have to stay with me for, at least, two or three years, his somebody that I really never want to touch, to hug…a repulsive person ! Not the sweet Maine, the one who take my hand in the plane…with chirurgical gloves, but still…

So, Maine came into the room, to be sure I understand eveything that the other idiot will tell me. « I want you to kill for me ! ». Not need to translate that, even if I answered : « I beg you pardon ?! ». He explain to me that if I still want them to find a antitode to my disease, I’ll had to work for them, because for now, they didn’t need my DNA anymore, so It was kind of sensless to keep my in the observatory clinic. Maybe I could help them a little and they’ll help me a little. If I wanted to live, he kept saying, I have to kill. I jumped on the desk, slid on it and grasped the shirt of my bald man. Taking my lips close to him, to effrayed him. « You want me to kill for you ?! Pauvre con ! I’m not a puppet ! But maybe you want me to start with you ! ». Maine called the security, all the men arrived with guns in the office.

« Come on, Marie… » said a little less calmly my boss…Marie ?! Yes, it’s stupid to admit that he was the kind of ignorante who think that every french girls name was Marie, like the holly virgin. Too much vision of  the last killer tomatoes…It really pissed me off…more ! « My name is not Marie, you’re dead moron !! ». I came closer…behind me, the men didn’t move, waiting for a sign, a occasion to open the fire. « Come on…I apologize if I mistjudged you…but I really thought that you want to see you family again !

-         Is it blackmail ? If you touch on single hair of…

-         I don’t care about your family ! But you ? If you want to see them again, don’t you think you need to be sane and cure first ?!

-         You and me, we know exaclty that I’ll never see them again…

-         But what if ? What if finally you can have a normal life ? Touch another John Smith without kill him ? Another brother… ?

-         J’y crois pas ! Connard ! You’re a piece of shit !

-         Yeah, but I’ll pay the check !!

-         Sursis ! Enculé ! ». I turned back, after pushed the dirty pig in his chair, and I look at all this agent with they toys. They needed me, and they knew I was more dangerous than every little guns in this country. And hopelessly for them, I knew it too ! « Yeah ! I yelled, smiling, the arms opened. Shoot the gold eggs making chick ! Go ahead ! I’ll wait for you ! ». They all put they guns down and I jumped out of the desk, look at Maine to followed me.

I started to be a bitch. Litteraly, a bitch. They detroyed the last plot of land of humanity inside of me the second they asked me to pretend to be God.

I was ready to kill ! Anybody…everybody !

Just by slamming fingers ! Dorothy wasn’t up to get back home right now !! The road was too long…but I took the first step on it.

Two fingers

John Smith…one of the first pilgrim…the most famous name in the united states...everywhere in the cover of the indecisive murder. The time we spend together was like a dream…Mr Smith and his student. No matter how bad I could be, no matter how suspicious I could be…he was nice, kind, perfect with me.

He touch my heart too fast, I loose control I think…

Months, for months he teached me the shakespeare language, but with an american subtitle. Always with a smile, everytime coming closer to me. Nervertheless, he was to know ! The agency told him that I had a incurable and contagious disease. It wasn’t pity…it was…Compréhension…understanding !! He made me believe that it wasn’t my fault. He smiled to me again and again, like a father who look at his turbulent kid and just say : « I love you for that ! ». I surprised myself smiling, laughing, forgetting…because on his face a angel drew the love of everything, the love that he give me slowly but forever. I still feel his humanity when I listen to a british english…smooth, gentle, strong, unforgetable…

One day, he was teaching me I-don’t-remember-what with this passion which used to animate him like a muppet under the pen of Jim Henson, a kermit smart and not green…and I felt loved like Miss Piggy, the porc, the dirty selfish and bad temper pig, the money box, never empty until the antidote will be find…not tomorrow the day before…I know he never tought of me like that, but I also know that I was his food on his table…if only he ate me…if only he hated me…

« Plume are you ok ? he asked me. ». I stayed silente, looking at him for some answers. I just didn’t feel well because the english was still a strange language to me. All of his words was just a big messy puzzle but not even one piece connected to another. I knew the meaning of what he said to me, every single thing, but I finised to fell numb, like if my life…spending hours and days in observation in a very hide and seek clinic…was only a movie, very scary but not so good…without haemoglobin, just ketchup. And John’s attention was the worst thing ever…He was wasting his time with me…He was to close from the disaster…to close to me…his smile didn’t belong to me, he belongs to someone pure, someone nice, not an evil demon apocaliptic like me. I tried to warn him… « I’m a lost cause, John ! Lost cause… »I repeated to him in buckle so that he can hears but he was to confident and me. « You are a beautiful young girl, Plume, you never killed anybody…of that, I’m sure. Accidents, its only accidents which put me on your road. You’re not bad, I can tell you. When I look at you, I don’t see any wrong behavior, just bad luck. You’re not a lost cause, fenchie, you’re just lost ! ». His voice ran into my ears as fast as a TGV and I could not stop admiring him. My lips followed the rhythm of his mind but the meaning was too far from me. I could not catch it !

« I don’t understand you ! I answered, desperate.

-         You will ! ». He caught my chin between two fingers to make it stop shaking. I had no time to stop him. I tried to pull him away but it was too late. Two fingers…only two fingers in my bloody damned skin. I know he had no pain…He probably even didn’t feel anything. His smile stayed on his face like he didn’t care about dying…I recalled to scream so loud…I couldn’t breath…he fell down on his knees and that was it. Non…Non…No…I can take it…thinking of that…his eyes closed themself. I still felt his fingers on my skin like he burned it. My throat scratched me. For once more, I was guilty of not be careful…I was guilty to live…My hands was shaking like my mouth…my eyes started crying for the first time of all my darn story…I never wanted to have John has my second victim but I think I was too in love with him to stop him when I thought his was up to kiss me…I even couldn’t stop him to kill me…but I killed him first !

Two fingers in my chin. Two fingers…that all it need to die for ?!

He can’t tell me anymore that I’m not a monster…’cause I am a monster.

I already killed two people I loved, -to death, right, but not to they death !-, I never wanted to love somebody again…I didn’t want to touch somebody again and let somebody touch me…but after that…after that…the organisation told me that I have potentiel…

They told me that I have potentiel in the dead body of my english teacher, my second father, my incestuous love…my last love.

Because a dead person can not love, can she ?

Meeting John...

My eyes finally opened. The two agents who came in France to get me, asked me to leave the car. The taller, the nicer, looked at me with a smile and take my arms (my sweater) : « Come on…viens !! ». This day more than any other days on my life, I learned how to always looking up. All this men, all in black it freaked me out, walking without see you, without notice you…all similar, like too many blood coupling, too many twins problem…all mesuring one meter eighty, ninety and you…the little teenage dressed with old pierced jean and a green top, to large for me...I was the task in the perfect vision of hapiness. When some of them looked at me, my bodyguards answered in an incomprehensible american english with a accent hot potatoe and I just participated in moving my hand shyly.

The agency was in the middle of nowhere. Around us only trees, foxes, sand roads. At first, I thought about asking to my new friends if we was going to meet the Olson family. But I shut up and followed the men !

After twenty minutes of labyrinth running in the corridors (did you ever try to stay beside a man who have definitivly bigger legs than yours and ignore it ?!?), we arrived in a office and my two companions let me here, in front of a old bald boss. He started speaking to me but I never understood him. I stayed here, nodded, looking around for some help, staring at the spun by slaver in his mouth. Then I realized that I looked like a gold fish, surrender by shark…but anyway, I was the stranger so I had to adapt myself.

When he finished to talk, he look at me surprise. He had a question and I never answer…how rude !! I blink and apologize : « Can you repeat please ? ». He called my translator. Few simple things was mentione : First : my parents signed a paper (for my freedom) and so the organisation gave me a tutor to live with, not yet determined…second : They’ll try to find a way to cure my ‘disease’. For the second part, they’ll need all my attention and my consentement…knowing my feeling and I’ll have to touch many laboratory pets. What could I say ? « No thank you, see ya ! » ??

I spend the night in a hotel, under great surveillance and naturally the next morning, I went to the restaurant to get my breakfast…without feeling hungry.

I sit in front of a bagel and a hot tea less and less hot. He arrived, like that, innocently. Asked me if he could take the chair next to me. I didn’t know that it was not fate.

He looked at me…he had this pretty and sweet face. Two blue eyes deep like atlantic ocean and brown hair. Maybe he was thirty, thirty five, not more.

« I’m John Smith… »he told me before giving me his hand, to shake it. I refused it, and acted like i never see it. « John Smith ? I repeated. Like in Pocahontas ?!?

-         Yep, you can call me John ! And you are, little miss ?

-         Plume.

-         Plume ? That’s it ? Just Plume ? ». From this moment, I became just Plume. No other identity, no last name…Just a french feather…a ordinary disease with a dream first name.

« Where do you come from, Plume ?

-         France.

-         Well, frenchie, I’m here to be your english teacher, but aparently, you don’t really need me !!

-         Excuse me ?! » I wasn’t sure to understand him good, he had a very pronounced british accent, a Hugh Grant who’s not a actor !!

He smiled again and then stand up… « Nice to meet you Plume, and, by the way… » He bent to whisper : « You can eat the bacon with your fingers, it’s a tradition !! ». He gave me a wink and walked away.

Seconds after, a waiter came and put his hand, gently, on my shoulder. I strated screaming, scared to death…not my death. Hopefully, I had a tee shirt but I was so afraid that I stood up, and bumped in agent behind me. Hysterically, I yelled : « DON’T TOUCH ME !! DON’T TOUCH ME !! ». The agent just stopped me with his in-gloves arm and explained nicely but coldly to the waiter : « She’s very contagious, nobody should touch her. »

Nobody should touch me…Nobody…Nobody…NO BODY…