by Laura Burton
“No, I’m okay,” she assured him.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked anyway, and she shoved his hand away.
“I’m fine, really.” She touched the back of her head. It wasn’t throbbing as much anymore, but she would definitely be fighting a headache later on. “Hey! It worked!” She pointed to the light near the door. It was faint, but it was on, nonetheless. Now, she could finish her episode and continue with her story.
She turned to Charles with a pleased smile, and he let out a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re a strange girl,” he said, shaking his head. “Come on, I’ll walk back with you.”
He helped her to her feet, and she held onto his arm, which was surprisingly firm. He didn’t strike her as the type who worked out often, but those biceps didn’t appear by chance.
“Thanks,” she said, pulling back and smoothing her shirt. “You don’t have to go out of your way for me. I’m fine.”
“That’s all right.” He reached for the door and held it open for her. “I was on my way back, anyway.”
They went down the stairs then walked in silence until they finally reached her door. “Well, this is me,” she said, pointing to the number nine just above her peephole. “Thanks for walking me back... even though you’re right next door.”
“Thank you for saving me from a cold shower.” Victorine cocked her head as if he had said something inappropriate, and he chuckled. “I’m referring to the power coming back on.”
“Oh, right!” Her cheeks flushed and she turned away to open the door. “Good night, Charles.”
He offered a polite nod as he turned to walk away. “Good night, Victorine.”
After taking a shower and popping an ibuprofen, Victorine was able to finish the episode but couldn’t bring herself to write anything new. So she turned off the TV and got tucked into bed. Closing her eyes, she began to visualize the last scene she’d written. Emily had been taken from the hospital by a nurse who... was the killer? No... related to the killer?
“What if there is no killer?”
Victorine chuckled as if the thought itself was absurd. “How could a thriller not have a killer? Nonsense.”
“Then kill someone else.”
Victorine opened her eyes, realizing the voice wasn’t inside her head. She turned to look and saw a young man with dark, messy hair lying on the bed next to her.
Victorine screamed as she rolled off the mattress and onto the carpet. “Stay back!” she yelled, looking for something to defend herself with. All she could find was a hardcover book on her nightstand. She grabbed it and aimed it at the young man, who was now on his feet looking quite amused.
“What… you’re going to papercut me to death?” he teased, but Victorine didn’t think it was funny. Not one bit.
“Who are you?” she asked, keeping the book in front of her as if it were a real weapon. “And how did you get into my apartment?”
“You don’t recognize me?” the young man asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the dresser. “That hurts. I thought I meant more to you.”
She lowered the book and took a few seconds to really look at him. He wore a leather jacket and jeans, and though she was never opposed to the bad boy vibe, she had never dated someone younger than her. “Look, clearly you’re mistaking me for someone else—”
“There is no mistaking Victorine Leesky.” He flashed her a smile so sexy it would definitely melt a crowd of high school girls. But not her.
“What do you want from me?” She raised the book again. “Is it money? I might have a few hundred dollars in my purse, but that’s about it.”
“I don’t want your money,” he said, turning serious. “I want to know how to get Emily back.”
Victorine gave him a puzzled look. “Excuse me?”
“Emily…” he repeated. “She was taken, and I need to get her back before you kill her.”
Victorine’s mouth dropped, as did her hands. “Is this a joke?”
“Does it look like a joke? Actually…” He raised a hand. “Don’t answer that. The point is… I’m here to stop you from killing Emily.”
Victorine rushed to the living room. Her manuscript was exactly where she had left it—next to her typewriter by the window. That was the only copy of her book that existed. How in the world did he know about Emily?
She turned around and found him leaning against the doorway. “Who are you?” she asked again, moving away from him. “And how in the world do you know about Emily?”
“You know who I am.”
She shook her head as she reached for the loose manuscript on the desk. She shoved it into a large envelope then pressed it to her chest. “How dare you come into my house and look through my unfinished manuscript.”
“I didn’t look through your book.”
“Then how do you know what’s in it?”
“You know who I am.”
“Stop that.”
“Just say it.”
“Get out of my house.”
“Tell me where Emily is.”
“I’m calling the police.” She reached for the phone, all the while watching him plop down on the sofa in front of her.
“What are you gonna tell them, huh? A character from your book is harassing you? I hardly doubt that will work in your favor.”
The police operator came on the other line and Victorine opened her mouth, but she couldn’t respond. Could this really be happening? “No… absolutely not. You are not Daniel!”
“What’s your emergency?” the woman on the other line asked for the second time, and Daniel grabbed the phone.
“Please send someone over! This woman is threatening to kill my girlfriend!”
“Stop it!” Victorine snatched the phone from his hand. “That is not true! Don’t listen to him!”
There was silence on the other end but only for a moment. “I’m sorry, what’s your emergency, ma’am?”
Victorine’s eyes widened, and Daniel flashed a smug smile. “You didn’t hear any of that?” Victorine asked, her voice barely audible.
“Hear what, ma’am?”
“Nothing, sorry…” Victorine hung up the phone and stared at Daniel, who was now lying on the sofa with a smug look on his face.
“Told ya.”
“I must be asleep.” She threw the manuscript next to the typewriter then headed to the kitchen. After turning on the faucet, she splashed a handful of water on her face. “And this is just a bad dream.” She splashed water on her face a few more times, then dried it with a paper towel.
When she opened her eyes, Daniel was standing so close, she jumped back with a shriek. “Get away from me!”
“Can we talk like adults?”
“No… you are not real.” Victorine threw her coat over her pajamas then grabbed her purse and rushed out the door, leaving him in the apartment. She ran down the hall and hurried into the opened elevator, pressing the button over and over again for the door to close before he came after her.
When the door finally shut and the elevator started its descent, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. What was happening to her?
“Why do you keep fighting this?” Victorine shot her eyes open only to find Daniel standing across from her, leaning back with his arms crossed. “The sooner we talk about why I’m here, the sooner I’ll leave you alone.”
She turned toward the closed door and watched as the floor numbers counted down.
“Ignoring me won’t work,” he said, but she ignored him anyway. When the elevator pinged, she darted across the lobby and toward the exit. The icy chill hit her face as soon as she stepped outside. “Where could you possibly be going at this ungodly hour?”
“To get rid of you!” She turned to face him with a glare so intense, a couple walking by moved away from her. She smiled at them sheepishly. Once they continued on their way, she turned to Daniel again. “And I know just the place.”
Chapter 3
The next morning, V
ictorine woke up at the ER. The sound of a curtain being pushed aside hit her ears at full volume, and she turned to see a doctor approaching her gurney.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking up from her chart.
“That depends…” she said, groggy from sleep. “Did my results come back?”
“They did, and everything looks good. No concussion,” he said, flipping through the pages he was holding. “It might’ve just been exhaustion. That’s why we gave you some sleeping pills last night.”
She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep ever since she hit a mental block in her writing, but what did that have to do with what was happening to her?
“That can’t be right.” Victorine snatched the folder from his hands. “What about the CT scan?” She skimmed through the pages, but her eyes could barely focus. “There’s gotta be something wrong, I mean… I got electrocuted and hit my head pretty hard on the concrete.”
“And miraculously, you seem perfectly fine. Like I said… it could’ve just been exhaustion. The brain needs its rest.”
“What about the MRI?” she pressed. “Are you sure I don’t have a concussion?”
“I checked everything, Ms. Leesky,” he assured her. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
She scanned her small room, and to her relief, Daniel was gone. Could sleep have been all she needed to get rid of him?
“I will print out a list of therapists for you,” the doctor said, and Victorine looked at him in confusion. “You know… in case you want to talk to someone.”
“About what?” Had he heard her talking to Daniel last night? Much of the night before was hazy in her mind, but it didn’t matter. Daniel was finally gone and that was all she cared about. “Never mind.”
“I’ll include the list with your discharge papers.”
“Fine.” Victorine handed him back her chart. She was too tired to argue. “Where is the restroom?”
“Down the hall to the left.”
“Thank you.”
Once he walked away, she grabbed her purse and started down the hall. The restroom wasn’t as close as she thought it would be. Either that or she had gotten lost. That hospital was like a maze. She finally found a family room somewhere in a deserted wing and went inside. She hurried to the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, feeling relieved that Daniel was finally gone. After drying her face with a paper towel, she walked out of the restroom, only to realize she had already forgotten how to get back to her bed. Her brain was still in a fog, and it didn’t help that there were no signs to guide her back.
She did find a sign that caught her eye, though, and she had to do a double take. The morgue. She had never seen one before. Did they have freezers like in the movies? It would be good research for a scene.
Her plan was simply to have a peek through the window, but when she spotted a nurse walking out, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Before her brain could warn her against it, she hurried into the room, letting the door close behind her. The room was a lot colder than the rest of the hospital, and the lights were dim as she walked toward a metal table in the back.
“This is creepy.” A voice came from behind her, and she spun around.
“You again!”
“Can we argue somewhere else?” Daniel replied, glancing over his shoulder at the three white sheets in the center of the room. “This place is giving me the creeps.”
She let out an exasperated breath. “So much for everything being perfectly fine.”
“If you touch a dead body, I swear I will barf.”
“Of course I won’t,” she snapped, reaching for a folder on the table and flipping through the pages. “I’m just curious to know how they died.”
“Well, hurry up.” Daniel moved closer to her as if the bodies under the sheets could attack him at any moment.
“I shouldn’t have written you to be such a wimp.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” he muttered, peeking at the files she was reading. “What are you looking for, anyway?” When Victorine didn’t respond, Daniel grunted. “Why are you so insistent on killing her?”
“Because it’s a thriller, Daniel. I’m sorry.”
He grabbed the folder from her and threw it back on top of the table, forcing her to look at him. “Then kill someone else.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Sure it is.”
Victorine crossed her arms and leaned against the metal table. “Then please, enlighten me.”
“Kill the killer!”
Victorine didn’t even know who the killer was yet, but it didn’t matter because no one knew more about her books than her. “Why am I even having this conversation with you? You’re not real.” As she reached for the folder again, Daniel stepped in front of her. “Okay, fine. What’s it gonna take for you to leave me alone?”
“Tell me how to save Emily.”
“She can’t be saved.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” A million reasons ran through her mind, but only one was clear enough in that moment. “I want the Platinum Pen.”
“What the heck is a Platinum Pen?”
“Every thriller writer’s dream award. But I don’t expect you to understand.”
Daniel stared at her as if she’d slapped him. “You’re killing the love of my life so you can win an award?”
Voices came from the hallway, and Victorine hurried to look through the glass window. “Great, you wasted all my time.” When she turned around, Daniel was gone. She shook off the feeling of guilt that tugged at her heart and reminded herself that she wasn’t doing anything wrong. He wasn’t real, and neither was his life with Emily.
The door opened, and she straightened her posture like a little kid caught red-handed. “Oh, hi. I was looking for the restroom?”
The nurse gave Victorine a skeptical look then opened the door wider. “It’s across the hall.”
“Thank you.” Victorine hurried past the nurse and down the hall. By the time she finally returned to the ER, her discharge papers were ready.
“So, where do I sign?” she asked, and the nurse at the front desk pointed to the bottom of the page. Victorine scribbled her signature then handed the paper back with the pen.
“Oh, and here’s a list of therapists the doctor recommends.”
“I don’t need a shrink.” Victorine raised a hand. “I just need to finish my book.”
Victorine cringed in front of her typewriter with every chew of Daniel’s gum as he sat across from her with his feet popped up on her desk. He was purposely trying to distract her so she couldn’t focus on her writing, but he was not going to win.
She stood and walked toward her stereo and popped in a Hans Zimmer CD. She cranked it up at full volume before sitting back down. When she realized she could no longer hear him chewing, she flashed him a smug smile then resumed typing. Even though every sentence was going to be utter garbage, she needed to keep writing because something was always better than nothing. As Anne-Marie always said: you can’t edit a blank page.
If Victorine could just finish the book, then maybe Daniel would disappear from her mind once and for all.
After a few minutes typing fiercely on her typewriter, she was startled by a loud knock on her door. She huffed with annoyance when Daniel flashed a pleased smile. “Enjoy your smugness while it lasts,” she warned. “I’m finishing this book and getting rid of you.”
Another loud knock came from the door, and she hurried to lower the volume on the stereo before walking to the door and looking through the peephole.
Charles!
She yanked the door open. “Just the person I needed to see!” Before he even had a chance to speak, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside. She kicked the door closed then noticed Daniel was gone. Good. She turned to face Charles, who had his brows arched as he watched her. “I need to ask you a question.”
“Okay...”
“So, I’ve been having trouble figuring ou
t a way to kill one of my characters. But now there’s this really annoying voice in my head that is very distracting and doesn’t let me focus.”
“So, what’s your question?”
“How do I get rid of it?”
Charles shrugged. “What makes you think I would know?”
She looked at him with a perplexed look. “Don’t therapists like… analyze their patients and help them to understand their thoughts or whatnot?”
Charles smiled. “First of all…” He raised a finger. “It takes more than one session to get to that point. And second…” He raised another finger. “You’re not my patient.”
“Oh, I’m not asking you to be my therapist,” she clarified. “I’m just asking your opinion... you know, as a friend.”
Charles flashed her another humorous smile. “Good night, Victorine.”
“Charles, please…” She jumped in front of him, blocking the door. “I am begging you. If I don’t get this voice out of my head, I won’t be able to finish this book, and if it’s not published by next month, I won’t get the Platinum Pen.”
He watched her for a long moment, then let out a defeated breath. “What exactly is it that you need?”
“How do I get rid of him?”
“Him?”
Crap. “Well, I mean… every nagging voice I’ve ever heard has come from a man so… it’s more than fitting.”
Charles chuckled. “So, what does he want from you?”
“He wants me to change the story and give them a happy ending.”
“But you don’t want to do that?”
“I can’t,” Victorine explained. “I always kill the female characters in my books. It’s my thing. It’s been my thing since my very first release. If I make an exception for Emily, it will throw my readers for a loop, and I can’t afford to get bad reviews on this book because I’m being nominated for an award. Now, of course, I made the mistake of telling him about that,” she mumbled quickly. “Now, he’s being even more obnoxious than before.”
Charles gave her a curious look. “And this voice... is it from one of your characters?”
