The Shopping Channel
Entry by: EmmaM
29th September 2016
Karen lay awake in the dark, staring at the thin strip of light on the ceiling which jutted in through the gap in the curtains. Simon had fallen asleep hours ago and he was still beside her, breathing softly. Despite the cold weather and the chill in the room as the central heating faded, Karen was covered in a thin layer of sweat. A nauseating panic was knitting its way into her chest.
Suddenly unable to stay still a moment longer, as though by leaving the room she would somehow escape her own thoughts, Karen slowly slid out of the bed and crept out of the bedroom. She grabbed her dressing gown from the hook on the bathroom door and wrapped it tightly around herself, then padded down the stairs and slipped into the living room. She had forgotten to draw the curtains earlier, and now she could make out murky shadows hovering in the garden. She hurriedly pulled the curtains closed, then sat in the gloomy darkness for a few moments before switching on the TV.
An attractive, middle aged lady appeared on the screen, dressed in a smart suit. She had a pearl necklace draped around her neck and was holding up matching pearl earrings, a plastic smile stretched across her face. The shopping channel. It had become an addiction for Karen over the last few years, beginning as an enjoyable pastime and then gradually engulfing her until it had become a lifeline. After Claire had died, friends and family had swarmed around them, keen to help, but with no idea how to do so. One by one, Karen had pushed them all away and, after a few half hearted protests, they had retreated in defeat. Now she spent every day with her new friends, the ladies on the shopping channel, who were glossy and glamorous, and didn't look at her pityingly or whisper about her behind her back.
Tonight, though, her smiling friends could not distract her. Nothing could force from her mind the image of the lifeless body sprawled across the road and how it had become smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror as she had sped away. Why hadn't she stopped? She asked herself the same question over and over. Why hadn't she got out to check if the girl was alive? Why hadn't she at least called an ambulance? However many times she asked the question, the same answer stabbed at her heart.
Simon hadn't noticed anything was wrong. He was drinking a lot these days and barely seemed to notice anything. What would he think of her if he knew? He would be disgusted with her. He was an honest person, who lived his life guided by his strong moral principles. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him. She had seen qualities in him that she knew she herself lacked. Would he leave her if he found out? She couldn't bear the thought of it, not after losing Claire. She told herself that she had done it for him, so that he wouldn't have to go through the trauma of police stations, court hearings, a prison sentence..... He had already suffered so much and she couldn't cause him any more pain. She tried to believe that she had done a bad thing, but it was for a good reason, it was out of love.
But she was lying to herself. She did love Simon and she didn't want to hurt him, but far stronger than that was the instinct of self preservation. In that brief moment when she was hovering between two choices, deciding whether to stay or go, she had felt the tug of her conscience. But, far more strongly, she had felt the pull of fear, the innate urge to run from danger. And so she had fled.
She was desperate to know if the girl was alive. She wondered what her name was, how old she was, where she lived. She tormented herself with images of her parents standing solemnly beside a hospital bed or sobbing beside a grave stone. Just like she and Simon had done. She was also terrified for herself and, although her self-interest disgusted her, fear of being caught permeated her strangling guilt. If there was CCTV footage, or an eye witness, the car could be traced back to her. She would be arrested, then hauled before a court to answer for her cowardice. She would be loathed by the whole community, the whole country.... Panic clenched her throat and she had to drag air into her lungs. She breathed deeply for a few moments, trying to calm herself.
She glanced back at the TV screen. The lady modelling jewellery had gone, replaced by another woman who was demonstrating how to operate a juice machine. Karen wished she lived in the two dimensional world of the shopping channel. A bright, shiny world, protected from a brutal reality by a shield of glass. In the shopping channel there were no jagged edges of fear, or loss or regret. Only the perfect, straight lines of smiling people living flawless lives.
In the shopping channel, nobody was sitting alone in the dark, a poisonous self-loathing charging through their veins.
In the shopping channel, nobody was testing the weight of their burden of guilt, wondering whether they could carry it for the rest of their lives.
Suddenly unable to stay still a moment longer, as though by leaving the room she would somehow escape her own thoughts, Karen slowly slid out of the bed and crept out of the bedroom. She grabbed her dressing gown from the hook on the bathroom door and wrapped it tightly around herself, then padded down the stairs and slipped into the living room. She had forgotten to draw the curtains earlier, and now she could make out murky shadows hovering in the garden. She hurriedly pulled the curtains closed, then sat in the gloomy darkness for a few moments before switching on the TV.
An attractive, middle aged lady appeared on the screen, dressed in a smart suit. She had a pearl necklace draped around her neck and was holding up matching pearl earrings, a plastic smile stretched across her face. The shopping channel. It had become an addiction for Karen over the last few years, beginning as an enjoyable pastime and then gradually engulfing her until it had become a lifeline. After Claire had died, friends and family had swarmed around them, keen to help, but with no idea how to do so. One by one, Karen had pushed them all away and, after a few half hearted protests, they had retreated in defeat. Now she spent every day with her new friends, the ladies on the shopping channel, who were glossy and glamorous, and didn't look at her pityingly or whisper about her behind her back.
Tonight, though, her smiling friends could not distract her. Nothing could force from her mind the image of the lifeless body sprawled across the road and how it had become smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror as she had sped away. Why hadn't she stopped? She asked herself the same question over and over. Why hadn't she got out to check if the girl was alive? Why hadn't she at least called an ambulance? However many times she asked the question, the same answer stabbed at her heart.
Simon hadn't noticed anything was wrong. He was drinking a lot these days and barely seemed to notice anything. What would he think of her if he knew? He would be disgusted with her. He was an honest person, who lived his life guided by his strong moral principles. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him. She had seen qualities in him that she knew she herself lacked. Would he leave her if he found out? She couldn't bear the thought of it, not after losing Claire. She told herself that she had done it for him, so that he wouldn't have to go through the trauma of police stations, court hearings, a prison sentence..... He had already suffered so much and she couldn't cause him any more pain. She tried to believe that she had done a bad thing, but it was for a good reason, it was out of love.
But she was lying to herself. She did love Simon and she didn't want to hurt him, but far stronger than that was the instinct of self preservation. In that brief moment when she was hovering between two choices, deciding whether to stay or go, she had felt the tug of her conscience. But, far more strongly, she had felt the pull of fear, the innate urge to run from danger. And so she had fled.
She was desperate to know if the girl was alive. She wondered what her name was, how old she was, where she lived. She tormented herself with images of her parents standing solemnly beside a hospital bed or sobbing beside a grave stone. Just like she and Simon had done. She was also terrified for herself and, although her self-interest disgusted her, fear of being caught permeated her strangling guilt. If there was CCTV footage, or an eye witness, the car could be traced back to her. She would be arrested, then hauled before a court to answer for her cowardice. She would be loathed by the whole community, the whole country.... Panic clenched her throat and she had to drag air into her lungs. She breathed deeply for a few moments, trying to calm herself.
She glanced back at the TV screen. The lady modelling jewellery had gone, replaced by another woman who was demonstrating how to operate a juice machine. Karen wished she lived in the two dimensional world of the shopping channel. A bright, shiny world, protected from a brutal reality by a shield of glass. In the shopping channel there were no jagged edges of fear, or loss or regret. Only the perfect, straight lines of smiling people living flawless lives.
In the shopping channel, nobody was sitting alone in the dark, a poisonous self-loathing charging through their veins.
In the shopping channel, nobody was testing the weight of their burden of guilt, wondering whether they could carry it for the rest of their lives.
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