The Turning Point

prologue in five parts to the short film “Blood Run”
by Chantelle Tibbs

PT. 1

Dinner was a bust. I’d lost count of how many failed meals I shared with Dan since the incident. Dan was married. I was not. All I could see as Dan mouthed words to fill the silence was the defendant.

My world had been dialed down to a dimness just a shade above dark. Keeping his attention had been the center of everything. Trying to stay sexy enough for him to stay, alluring enough for him to leave. Leave her.

That afternoon in court was another bust as I tried my best to prove how dangerous the defendant was. Diana Elizabeth Stanley. She was an empty shell who stood accused of violently beating my client, a twenty-seven year old man twice her build. In my career I’d never seen anything like it. We could barely get my client into the courtroom. The fear in this grown man’s eyes at even the mention of having to face her in court. 

“I can’t do it.”
“She doesn’t have the rage. She was tested twice and never showed any symptoms in custody.”
“She doesn’t need the rage. She is the rage.” 

He was physically pushed into the courtroom, his feet dragged forward. I needed the courtroom to see his cast, the blood, the scars, black eyes. The bandage over his head. In the end none of it mattered to the judge or the jury. A new blood disorder that made women with the second rarest blood type violent, in particular towards men, was the main focus of everyone now. There had even been talk about enforcing a curfew for all males before they could “get this thing sorted out.” 

Diana Stanley’s blood type didn’t match. She didn’t have it. So the case didn’t matter. She was a tall, wiry yet pixie-esque looking girl with strong but not necessarily intimidating features. Shaggy brown hair framed her face. Then there were the eyes. The eyes that stood my hair, deep pools of black. 

When the verdict read “Not Guilty,” she looked directly at me. I forced my eyes to meet hers. She needed to see my strength even in defeat. I could swear she smiled at me. What haunted me for weeks was that I could feel myself smile back. 

After my silent dinner with Dan, I found myself in the tiny bed of my chic city pad staring up at the ceiling. It was her face I saw staring back down at me. I had to find her. Before she struck again. I flew off my bed and out the front door. 

Join us for PT. II of The Turning Point on Wednesday, August 23rd
Fan Voting is open for the 2023 !Short Story Contest!

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