A CHILD MADE TO ORDER: gripping psychological suspense

by Piotr Ryczko

  “No. Pål was out of control. Lying,” she said in a final appeal.

  “Lying? It’s been two years, and I still don’t know how Markus died. Was it the mitochondrial disease? That’s what happened to him? For Christ’s sakes! Is that normal? Or just another lie?” The secrecy, the lack of openness, these were indeed the terms she had forced upon their relationship. She had hoped he had accepted them, but she realised she had been naive to think this wouldn’t have repercussions down the road. This was kept sequestered inside him, spreading like an out-of-control weed. The kind that were impossible to get rid of. And now was the time to deal with them.

  “Markus died in... an accident. It had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with this. Especially not Pål’s lies.” She barely forced the words out of her throat. Her path was paved with many lies, whitish, greyish, even some black ones. Some heavier for her conscience than others. But this one felt like one stone too much.

  Ronny’s gaze pierced right through her, saw the raging struggle inside her. Then he just stopped and shook his head. Pushed himself up, then trudged towards the door. His eyes revealed the truth behind his silence. There was nothing more to talk about.

  When Viola realised this, she was struck by utter panic. Maybe this man hadn’t come in here to finish off their relationship. Maybe he wasn’t seeking closure. Maybe he had approached her so he could reach out to her. To give her one last chance to come clean.

  Moments ago, she would have given anything to have him out of here. But now, as she understood his intention, she knew she had blown her chance.

  “Ronny, I am sorry. Please. Sit. We can talk...” The lump in her throat smothered away her words. Still, she fumbled at anything that would make him stop.

  Ronny’s body halted as he was stung by the intention behind her voice. But as he turned to face her, she realised his face was skewed in an expression she had never seen in this man. Anger ate away at him, and only now could she see how betrayed he felt.

  He had done so much for her, accepted so much, without a single accusation or complaint. But everyone has their limits. And she sensed Ronny was reaching his.

  “Remember me saying kids weren’t important? Well, they are. I didn’t want to put pressure on you. I lied. I thought... no, I hoped you would come around. I hoped for a family,” he hissed at her, his nerves ripping him apart.

  “Wanna talk about lies? Someone’s been through my mails. Bills. Daily. Is that normal?”

  There were many days when she pondered how to approach him with her suspicions. Given the right situation, done gently enough, maybe this wouldn’t feel like an all-out assault on him. A suspicion of his intrusion into her privacy. But right now, at this instant, this felt like nothing but a futile flounder. Something she had been certain she would never use.

  But here she was, and there were the words.

  “What the hell are you talking about? You can’t be serious? Is that an accusation?” He was taken aback by the course their confrontation had taken.

  If she had earned something with him, it was his respect. So, when he glanced at her now, she felt like he was looking at a complete stranger. He certainly never would have thought she was the type of person who would lash out at others, just because her inner child, which was like a leashed dog, got kicked in the ribs way too many times.

  Ronny’s head shook with pity. Then he turned and began to leave.

  “It’s not me. Or my fault. I... I lie. That works. Only way... to get by. Can’t even.... Fucking... Can’t tell the truth from the lie,” she said as she tried to stop the flood.

  She had always been terrified of this. Even the simplest private details felt like someone was hanging an anchor around her neck. But once she started, she pushed away the barrage of fear and pushed on.

  “They all leave. Everyone... leaves,” she whispered and felt the rusty anchor begin to melt off her neck.

  He eyed her, and despite her truth, she wasn’t reaching him. His anger clouded his eyes, a thick wall between them.

  “Mitochondrial disease. Markus. It’s all true.” She laid out the words carefully, in the hope she would punch a hole through to him. Her last attempt.

  But he only shook his head. Drilled his eyes into her.

  “You know the job offer in Damascus? That was like the worst fucking career opportunity. Setting me back for many years to come. I was still willing to do that. For you. For a family. But now this?” He glared at her one last time, then all but ran out of the bathroom.

  Chapter 25

  Wednesday, 17th February 2016

  Dawn

  As she began to wake up, her mind still refused to adjust to yesterday’s exchange with Ronny. Viola’s bloodshot eyes gradually gazed at the mess in her bedroom. Still in the same clothes, with the whisky bottle emptied on the floor, her head was battered. And then, it all came crashing down on her, in all its grimy vividness.

  She had waited all night for Ronny to come back. But he never did. So, she went for the only whisky bottle left in the house. She told herself she had stopped drinking. She would never touch the bottle, not after Markus. But it was a more than fitting occasion yesterday. It was certainly much easier to start than to stop. The rest was an indistinct blur.

  Now, as she fumbled out of her bed, she laid her eyes on Ronny, who sat on the bedside. Her heart sank as she glanced at his bruised face. She noticed there were two bags beside him. Both were packed. He must have let himself in and packed while she was sleeping. She tensed up again. Was he back for another round of yesterday?

  “Leaving?” she asked. How long had he been sitting there?

  “I’ve gone through your bills, your mails, your stuff. Several times. I want to stop. No. I know I need to stop. But the fact is... I can’t.”

  She couldn’t believe what she heard. She never focused on the what-ifs. Especially not this one, which she had trouble believing in the first place. Could her nearly perfect partner actually be a jealousy-stricken liar and intruder?

  No. This wasn’t possible.

  As he admitted this, she didn’t feel any emotions. There was no outrage or resentment left in her. Maybe she had used up her share on herself.

  On the contrary, she felt grateful that he had shared this with her. She realised she felt closer to him. Their mutual flaws had levelled the playing field.

  Instead of mulling further over this, she drew closer to him. Then just lay her head on his knees. As she saw into his eyes, there was more than a fair share of tears. Something he tried to wipe away in embarrassment. But she touched his hand. Then stroked them away with a gentleness that rarely felt that good.

  Morning

  He caressed her along her spine as they lay naked on the bed. When she began to doze off quietly, she wasn’t assaulted by grief or the constant guilt. Present was only satisfaction. Something she hadn’t felt for quite some time. An afterglow from the sex, a simple pleasure which caused her to disconnect from her mind, from these emotions. The only thing that was left was the sheer delight of simple presence, without her thoughts. The best vacation she could have from herself. If only for a moment.

  But Ronny’s soft, yet inquisitive words pierced through her dreamy veil.

  “So what, now?” he asked. She tried to push it away with a smile, but noticed the insistent nature of his eyes. She elbowed herself up, and faced him.

  “After this mess. Well... the only thing I can do is crawl back to my mother. Beg for anything resembling a job.”

  He smirked at her assessment, which at this moment felt genuine.

  The deadline Anne had given to Viola as an ultimatum had passed two days ago. Viola knew she had blown it, and after behaviour like this, she had no idea how Anne would react.

  But she felt it would be different this time. This time, she would indeed come crawling back on her knees. If she was sure of anything, it was that she wanted to regain her life.

  As she mulled this over, she noticed a renewed glow in Ronny’s face. M
aybe she read way too much into it, or maybe there was some renewed respect towards her in his eyes.

  “And the clinic? Did you find Marianne? Or any answers?” he asked.

  “Only more questions,” she whispered. Ronny nodded as he understood not to push it any further.

  Yes. She felt it would be different this time.

  Chapter 26

  Late morning

  As her eyes woke up from the slumber, her body yawned from pleasure. She glanced around herself and noticed he was in the shower. She felt good about herself, a state quite rare in her everyday life. But it wasn’t every day that she conquered her demons. Managed to open up to such an extent. To anyone. And Ronny was still here. Prepared to give her another try. She felt a warm glow spread through her body as she felt a sense of simple gratitude that she had him. A partner with a heart big enough to overcome his emotions and forgive her.

  She stretched out and proceeded to repeat her new mantra to herself. She felt fine. She was great. She was done with that crazy blip on the radar. Most of all, she was done with Marianne. This was the day she would get her life back on track. Just as she had so many years ago, she would now stop chasing after mirages, and regain her much-needed footing. Only this way would her inner harmony be restored. And these were just a few kinks in her life, new learning experiences, nothing she couldn’t take care of.

  As she turned on the bed, beaming with newfound contentment, she caught a faint glimmer on the floor. She stretched out her hand to inspect what it could be. And there it was.

  The metal vial from the clinic.

  It lay beside her bag, which it must have fallen out of. It was just as she remembered it, with the InviNordica’s DNA helix stamped on the side.

  As she reached for it, her heart stung in her chest, and her mind gave off a blaring warning. Wasn’t this day supposed to be a new beginning for her? Her hand froze.

  Was the boy telling her the truth? Or had he been forced to give her the vial by someone at the clinic? Why was a sick teenager at a fertility clinic? After all, he seemed like he was a patient.

  And what about Ingrid? The whole thing just didn’t make sense. The recording she had seen at Stine’s might have been dark and fuzzy, but certainly not blurry enough for her to doubt the woman’s identity. She was sure of herself. She had seen Marianne. She had studied every crease in her face for the last three years.

  And Ingrid was not Marianne.

  So, that left only one possibility. The clinic had attempted to push lies onto her. And maybe Marianne was still inside there, completely unaware that Viola had been so close to her. Even if her suspicions turned out be true, what about the women there? Her initial suspicions of a medical institution taking advantage of women’s rare diseases simply didn’t fit into the whole picture. At least not what she had seen. Their happiness, their intimate contact with the children, all of this was genuine, something that would be impossible to stage. This much she was certain of. So how did these pieces fit together?

  Her mind spun in all directions, but was suddenly torn away by a cough behind her. She fumbled the vial under the bedcover and faced Ronny with a grin.

  Had he seen the DNA vial, or was she just being her neurotic self?

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She bared her teeth in a self-assured smile.

  “I am great, hon. Just great.”

  After all, this was the day she would get her life back on track.

  Noon

  Her hands gripped tightly onto the steel wires. No. They didn’t grip the fence. The wires had barbed themselves into her skin, and her hands wouldn’t let go. On the other side, a school playground filled with kids roaring with laughter. She stood there transfixed, eyeing their slightest movements. Their subtle, quirky emotions, their tiny, sweet dramas which meant the world for them.

  Earlier this morning things had been simpler. Her goal had been in sight. But for every step she had taken towards the Aftenposten’s offices, towards her new, better life, the doubts had begun to seep into her body, squirm like rotten worms under her skin. And before she had known it, she had found herself standing behind this fence.

  This playground was very much like the one she had gone to with Markus. Despite being only three, he would fearlessly shoot onto the biggest swings, then scream for her to push him higher, faster, quicker. His joy drove her nuts with happiness, pushing her mind into the absolute here and now. She had never experienced such utter simplicity and bliss. Yet this didn’t last. When he coughed one too many times, then made a few complaints about being tired, she decided he was too weak to go outside. The doctors told her he was ok but they never visited the playgrounds again. After all, why take unnecessary chances with his potential condition?

  She had no idea how much time had passed behind this fence. But she would have stood there for much longer, if not for a woman who jolted her back to reality. Her face was contorted and spewing anger, as she lashed her body into the fence on the other side.

  “Hey! Lady! Whatcha doing there? Dontcha think I don’t see you!” the woman spat out at her. If not for the fence, this woman might have pummelled her with her bare fists.

  And she knew better than to stay around here to find out if there was a gap in this barrier. She twisted herself, backed away, then dashed across the street. But the woman kept at her, thrashing her fists into the wires like a baboon out to wreak havoc.

  “I see you, Lady. Standing there an hour, what the fuck are you? Stalking my kids! You a pervert, Lady?” Viola was already on the other side of the street, but still heard the incessant shrieks from the woman.

  She hurtled forward for a couple of blocks until she felt safe enough to catch her breath. Yet, as much as she gasped for it, she couldn’t catch it again. Her eyes were drowning with tears. She was choking. She beat her chest, once, twice. One more time.

  It wasn’t the run, nor the woman’s fault. It was the black hole in her chest. It smothered her. Wrapped itself around her throat like some limbless reptile with saw tooth jaws. And despite that she finally managed to regain her breath, she knew there was no point in returning to work. Pretending she was fine. Maybe she would manage to deceive everybody around her, but her time was up, and she couldn’t dupe herself anymore. She realised this black crevice would never go away. Because only one person in the world knew how to melt it into bliss.

  Markus.

  * * *

  The snow plunged down on Viola’s windshield as she tried to make out the details of the building in the distance. Her eyes squinted as the granite sign on the building slowly coalesced into focus. It read simply “Aurora Biobank”. She recognised it as her goal, and whatever her plan had been earlier today, it had all changed now.

  Her eyes drew to her clenched fist. In it was the metal container she had received from the albino boy. She eyed the name on the vial. She knew it proved nothing. But even if it turned out to be Marianne’s, what proof would that be? At best, that Marianne had been a patient, but did that mean she was still there?

  She had no idea what it held, or if it would give her any substantial answers, but she made a couple of phone calls and quickly realised she could test its contents for the Mitochondrial disease. And do it off the records, which was key at this point. This was something she could work with, this was something she couldn’t pass on.

  So why did she feel so dizzy?

  Along the way to Aftenposten, she had passed the kindergarten, and her reality seemed to have warped into some parallel dimension. She had been pushed kicking and screaming down the rabbit hole. Only this hole didn’t lead to any adventures in a far-off fantasy land. It only led to pain.

  What was she hoping to gain? Did she want to find out if it was Marianne’s DNA? Or did she intend to save a woman, someone who might not even be alive? Maybe it was to save the women at the clinic? If they needed saving, that is. Or was it just to fill that empty hole in her chest?

  She could still return. Get back to the office. H
ave a chat with her mother. Maybe even get a job. It was still not too late.

  She stopped herself.

  Screw it.

  Late afternoon

  Viola glanced at the technician’s girlish fingers. They were quivering. And pretty soon, she noticed that he kept sending twitchy glances over his shoulder, constantly checking to make sure no one was coming.

  She had hoped to get into this place without calling any attention to herself, but when she looked into this man’s petrified eyes, she realised that if anyone asked, it might prove more difficult to get out of here.

  She had used the better part of the morning to bombard old-time acquaintances whom she presumed owed her a favour. Unfortunately, most of them didn’t see it quite the same way and simply told her to get lost.

  Finally, though, she had managed to pull in a heavy-handed favour from an old journalist pal. In no time, Viola had access to the Aurora Biobank’s lab. But through the backdoor.

  Normally they performed only DNA fatherhood scans, since this was only a privately-owned service facility. But she quickly learned that this rear door gave her access to the technician who was able to perform deeper genetic tests, including rare diseases. This was the perfect opportunity. An off-the-radar facility, with an off-the-records guy.

  Only nobody mentioned to Viola she would have to deal with this little man, with his nerves about to pop. And since the corridor was filled with people, mostly staff, Viola knew that any one of them could drop into the lab and start asking importunate questions.

  “Mitochondrial disease analysis in half an hour? This isn’t Seven Eleven, Lady,” he scoffed at her.

  “And how do I know you are not just one of those journalists wanting a scoop on our day-to-day operations?” His left eye twitched at the very thought as he unpacked the cotton swabs from the vial. A sigh passed through Viola, she wasn’t about to share the truth about her occupation.