Samantha- The Haunting

by A A Bavar

  Jocelyn leaned over, grabbed a box of tissues from the side table, and held it to Patricia. “Sweetie, you need to calm down. I don’t understand anything you’re saying,” said Jocelyn gently, and patted Patricia’s hand. “Here, take these, clean up, and I’ll be right back with some camomile tea.” Jocelyn tilted her head, looked into Patricia’s eyes, and smiled reassuringly. “It’ll be okay, Tricia. Close your eyes and try to relax. I’ll be right back.”

  Patricia nodded, grabbed the box, and pulled out a couple of tissues. Jocelyn watched as she dried her tears, then turned and left the living room, heading left for the kitchen. Patricia could hear her walking quickly, a sense of urgency in her stride, and exhaled deeply. Slowly, she leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes, putting her hand over her mouth as she took several shuddering breaths.

  “Patricia… sweetie, wake up,” Jocelyn said in a soft voice, as she gently rubbed her arm. “I have some tea for you.”

  Patricia slowly opened her eyes, her chin resting on her collarbone, a blank look on her face. She blinked, orienting herself, and looked at Jocelyn. “Oh, Joss, I feel like I’m in a nightmare. I don’t know what to do,” she said, and bit her lip.

  Jocelyn squeezed Patricia’s arm and reached for the mug of tea on the coffee table in front of them. “Here, drink some tea and tell me what’s going on,” she said, handing her the mug.

  “I… I don’t even know where to start,” began Patricia, her voice trembling slightly. “Everything looked normal when we got to my place… and then, after he left, I started noticing things—”

  “Sweetie… sweetie! Slow down,” interrupted Jocelyn. “Who’s we? And when is this?”

  “Oh sorry… I just can’t think straight…” said Patricia, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. Then, slowly, she exhaled and continued, “So Paul drove me home this afternoon and we went in. Everything looked normal and I was feeling excited…” Patricia blushed, averting her eyes momentarily, and took a sip of her tea. “But later, when he left, I noticed two prescription bottles on the kitchen counter, and when I looked, they were both for me and it looked like I was taking them because I counted the pills,” exclaimed Patricia, her voice rising. “But I know I didn’t! You know I don’t take pills,” she blurted.

  “I do, sweetie, I do. It’s okay, we’ll figure this out,” said Jocelyn encouragingly. “What were the pills for? What did you do?”

  “They were sleeping pills and antidepressants, see? I’ve never taken anything like that in my life. And who gave them to me, anyway? I mean, I haven’t been to the doctor in forever, so where the hell did they come from?” said Patricia, and took another sip. “And then, when I was counting them, suddenly my face started to burn like it was on fire. I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and… and… it was horrible,” she faltered.

  “Is that where this bruise came from?” asked Jocelyn. “Did you fall?”

  For a split-second, Patricia looked confused. “No! No! That’s from before, when the Joker hit me. That’s why I was in the hospital. But it was like no one believed me when I told them that some lunatic in a Joker costume came to my office and assaulted me. The doctor even said that it was a hallucination… a side effect of the sleeping pills.”

  “Wait, so you were taking sleeping pills? I thought—”

  “No! What are you talking about? Why would you think that? Why doesn’t anybody believe me?” exclaimed Patricia, her eyes starting to brim with tears. “The doctor said that, but it wasn’t true!”

  “Sweetie, I’m sorry. I do believe you, but it’s so much information and very difficult to follow,” said Jocelyn, reaching over and holding Patricia’s hand. “So you were assaulted in your office by someone in a Joker costume, right? Like one of those goofy messenger-grams people send to embarrass their friends at work or something?”

  “Yes! Yes, exactly!” shouted Patricia. “She danced around and recited a very strange poem, then hit me with a cane and sprayed me with something that knocked me out and I woke up in the hospital.” Patricia looked at Jocelyn, her eyes hopeful. Jocelyn nodded for her to continue. “So then, Paul took me home and left. That’s when I saw the pills and ran to the bathroom because my face was burning… it was horrible. It looked like my face was melting. And then it stopped, just like that, and things looked normal again. But when I left the bathroom, all my framed photographs had changed to creepy images of death and… and… horrible things. I don’t understand what’s happening,” said Patricia, the last phrase almost a whisper to herself.

  Jocelyn frowned for a second and pursed her lips. “Okay, I have an idea. You said you don’t know where the pills came from, right? But that’s easy to find out. All we have to do is go to the pharmacy and ask who prescribed them. Then we can call the doctor and see what they have to say.”

  Patricia smiled meekly. “That would be great, but why would someone do that? And what about my photos? Crap! I forgot to tell you! I saw a person run out of my condo right after I noticed—”

  “What? There was someone in your house?” blurted Jocelyn, and leaned forward, her eyes wide with alarm. “Did you see who it was?”

  “Actually, I didn’t really see the person… just a shadow. But before I could get a better look he was gone. I was so freaked out that I ran out and came straight here.” Patricia suddenly looked alarmed. “Oh my God, I completely forgot about Mark and the kids. Were you eating dinner? I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

  Jocelyn waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about that. We were long done.” Jocelyn got up from the couch and held her hand out for Patricia. “Come on, let’s go check your place out. Mark’s going to watch a movie with the kids and try to finish the brownies I was making. I don’t want to be here for that mess.”

  Patricia took Jocelyn’s hand and stood up. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “Oh, don’t thank me yet, because I’m also going to tell you what I really think is going on, and I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like it.”

  Patricia took out her house keys from her purse and stared at the front door streaked with yellow shafts of light from the door light. Nervously, she inserted the key into the lock and unlocked the door, but didn’t open it. She stood there with her hand on the handle and stared at the bronze knocker, her eyes focused somewhere beyond. Jocelyn waited a few seconds, then put her hand on Patricia’s shoulder and squeezed. “Are you okay?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine… just a bit anxious,” said Patricia.

  “It’s okay, sweetie, you’re not alone,” said Jocelyn, and smiled. “Come on, let’s go in and see what’s going on.”

  Patricia nodded and pushed open the door. Slowly, her muscles tight, she walked into the hallway and switched on the lights. Jocelyn followed her and shut the door as Patricia turned to look at her. “Can you go in and see? I don’t think I can handle seeing those horrible photos again. Actually, please take them down… I don’t want those things in my house.”

  Jocelyn walked past Patricia to the end of the hall, stopped, and turned on the light to the common area between the kitchen and living room. She looked around, her expression calm, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary continued to the hall leading to the bedrooms.

  Patricia followed haltingly, her steps cautious. She stopped just short of the hallway and watched, holding her breath, as Jocelyn walked to the pictures and turned. A cynical part of her wanted Jocelyn to scream in shock, to feel the terror that had ripped through her when she saw them, a definite confirmation that she was not making things up and seeing things that weren’t there. But to her surprise, Jocelyn did not look bothered or perturbed in the least. Instead, it looked like she was smiling, enjoying the scenery as she always had, her attention going from picture to picture in thoughtful appreciation.

  “So?” blurted Patricia. “Is that crazy or what? What kind of sicko would do that?”

  Jocelyn turned and shrugged slightly. “Um, actually, they’re the same as alw
ays,” she said, her tone almost apologetic. “Maybe I’m missing something?”

  “What?” exclaimed Patricia, rushing to Jocelyn’s side. “What are you talking about? They’re hideous—” Patricia froze, her eyes wide as they centred on the colorful picture of the pond with the family of ducks. “I… this… where’d they go? Who’s doing this?” Patricia’s throat tightened, her mouth dry, and she felt her head spin. She swallowed forcefully, her eyes snapping back and forth between the photos on the wall. She shut her eyes tightly and opened them again, for an infinitesimal moment hoping to see the ugly, distorted images that had assaulted her before. “You have to believe me, Jocelyn, they were right here! The dead ducks… everything decaying and… and…” Patricia stopped and looked at Jocelyn, her eyes pleading.

  “I do, sweetie. I do,” replied Jocelyn absentmindedly, and frowned. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all this. Now, show me the pills.”

  Patricia didn’t have to be asked twice. She quickly spun around and grimaced, but despite the pain in her ankle, ran to the kitchen. She stopped in front of the counter, disbelief, horror, and confusion crashing together. The counter was clean, empty, no trace of the pills or their bottles. Patricia turned and looked at Jocelyn. “I swear, they were right here. Someone must have taken them… and the pictures. It’s the only thing that makes sense!”

  Jocelyn grabbed Patricia’s hand and pulled her to the couch. They sat down, Jocelyn sitting sideways on the edge of the couch and facing Patricia. “Sweetie, you need to rest,” started Jocelyn. “You’ve been through a terrible experience… I mean, someone attacked you for God’s sake. And people have been telling you things and suggesting things, and your brain is just reacting to that… lashing out. See?”

  Patricia bit her lip. I’m not going to cry, she reprimanded herself. “So you think I’ve been seeing things, too. Just like everyone else… except Paul.” She half smiled at the mention of Paul’s name, and continued, “Look, Joss, I’m not stupid. I know what this looks like… it’s weird as hell, but I have no doubts. The Joker was real, the pictures were real, and the pills too… You know me! There’s no way in hell that those were hallucinations. I’ve never done drugs, and I don’t take anything, especially sleeping pills or antidepressants!” Patricia glared at Jocelyn, her eyes hard.

  “Tricia, I didn’t say you did. Come on, we’ve been friends forever, don’t be angry at me. All I’m saying is—”

  “That what I saw wasn’t real, right?” interrupted Patricia. “That I’m stressed out, borderline loony.”

  Jocelyn didn’t respond. Instead, she looked down at the floor. When she looked up, her eyes were calm, and as she leveled them on Patricia she said, “Look, Tricia, I know we’ll figure this thing out, but you have to be calm and especially patient. Give yourself a couple of days to relax, stay home. Maybe change the locks.”

  Patricia opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself, shaking her head in frustration instead. “It’s easy for you to tell me to be calm and relax. It’s not happening to you,” she said softly, and looked down at Jocelyn’s hand holding hers. Then, suddenly, she looked up again, an exciting realization becoming clear. “You’re right! If I stay home, there’s no way that anyone can come in and change things. That’ll prove I was right!” Patricia grabbed her purse, pulled out her cell phone, and started typing. Hi, Paul.

  “What are you doing?” asked Jocelyn.

  “What you suggested. Telling Paul I won’t be in for a couple of days,” said Patricia, and continued typing. If it’s okay, I’ll be out of the office for a couple of days. Maybe we can do dinner tomorrow night and I’ll explain? My treat! Yours, Tricia. “Okay, done! Anna can finish setting up my new office. She knows how I like things.” Patricia looked at Jocelyn expecting support, after all, she was doing exactly what Jocelyn had suggested. Instead, she saw a concerned frown spread across Jocelyn’s face. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Yours, Tricia? Are you serious?” Jocelyn shook her head in disbelief. “Look, I know you’re the head-in-the-clouds romantic type, but this is too much even for you. What is even going on between you two? I don’t know what to say… okay, remember I said I was going to tell you something you wouldn’t like? Well, this is it.” Jocelyn took a deep breath and grabbed Patricia’s hand in hers again. “It’s Paul. I know this is going to sound totally nuts. I mean, I’ve never even met the guy, but there’s something about this whole thing that makes me nervous,” said Jocelyn, and held up her hand to stop Patricia from responding. “Think about it. Strange things started to happen since you started seeing him. Right?”

  Patricia gave a short laugh. “Are you serious? Come on, Joss, you can’t truly think Paul has anything to do with this? Why would he? He’s been nothing but a gentleman, and I think… no, I know he’s serious about me. This isn’t just a fling.”

  “I don’t know, Tricia. It’s just a feeling, a gut wrenching feeling… and I didn’t mean him specifically. Think about it,” said Jocelyn. “He’s successful, wealthy, and from what you said, super secretive about his personal life. Have you even talked about his personal life or been to his place?”

  Patricia frowned. “No, but so what? He’s a very private person. Everyone knows that! And I’m sure he’ll invite me soon enough. I don’t want it to be forced… things will happen when they happen. You know, let’s have some tea and talk about something else,” said Patricia, anxious to end the conversation, then asked as an afterthought. “What did you mean not him specifically?”

  “I meant like a crazy, jealous girlfriend… or wife.” Jocelyn shrugged. “I don’t know! But it made sense to me.”

  Patricia forced a laugh. “You do realize that if this was a Fatal Attraction thing, then I would be the one boiling the rabbit, right?” she said, and stood. “Let’s have some tea. This is getting so crazy.”

  Samantha stepped out of a painting of a quaint Paris café – happy couples drooling over each other and their overpriced drinks and pastries, dreamy-eyed and clueless, stupid rat-dogs licking food off their plates – and into Jane’s pitch-black living room. For a second, she stood there and looked around, her eyes glowing, red slits. “A party isn’t a party when you’re alone. Wakey, wakey, Janie. Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she called, walked out the door leading to the kitchen, and opened the cabinet beside the over-the-stove microwave.

  “How comfortingly predictable. I think I’ll make myself some hot tea,” Samantha said to herself, grabbed a teabag from a tin box inside the cabinet, and slammed the door shut. “Now, where would Janie keep her mugs?” Before Samantha could do anything else, she heard a scuffle behind her and the lights suddenly turned on. “That’s awfully bright,” she said, and turned around. “It kinda, sorta ruins the moment, don’t ya think?” Samantha – as herself – squinted venomously and smiled, baring her white, perfectly straight teeth.

  Jane gasped, a stifled scream escaping her mouth, as confusion and terror took over, her wide eyes two dark circles of primordial fear.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you… well, actually, I did, and it was priceless. It’s okay, you can breathe now,” said Samantha, and did a quick twirl, her red dress flowing around her like an open flower. “Don’t I simply look sumptuous out of that life sucking jacket?”

  “What… what are you doing here?” Jane managed to whisper. “How did you get out?”

  Samantha chuckled. “What does it look like? I’m making us some,” Samantha looked at the teabag, then continued, “black tea with cardamom. It sounds exotic, but I’m feeling particularly reckless tonight. Now, where do you keep your mugs?”

  “I don’t understand. When I left, you were sedated… I gave you the injection myself…” Jane stopped mid-sentence and took a step back, her eyes darting to the door.

  “Good catch. I don’t think bringing up those memories is a wise choice, considering the fact that I’m here in your kitchen uninvited and,” Samantha reached over, pulled out a knife from
the wooden knife block by the stove, and continued, “holding a big ass knife.” Suddenly, Samantha’s eyes flashed red. Jane flew through the air, crashed against the refrigerator door, but didn’t fall. Samantha lifted her eyebrows in admiration. "Wow, I always knew you were a feisty one. I’m going to really enjoy our little game tonight. All doctor Yurka did was beg, slobber, and grovel. What a boring, little bitch.”

  Jane groaned in pain and rubbed the back of her head.

  “I’m sorry, that must’ve been painful. How inconsiderate of me. Here, have a seat,” said Samantha, and twirled her finger at one of the kitchen table chairs. The chair slid across the floor and stopped in front of Jane.

  Jane shook her head, horror and confusion coming together in her eyes, and tried to retreat. But there was no place to go, nowhere to run. “What is this? How did you do that?” she said in disbelief, then reached and grabbed the chair, lifting it in front of her like a shield.

  Samantha’s mouth slid into a half smirk. “No, no, no, Janie, dear...” Samantha paused, a thought coming into focus in her mind. “See what I did there? Janie dear… Sammy dear? Remember all that? The tension and anger? I don’t know why I let it get to me so much.” Samantha tapped her chin in mock concentration, then hissed through clenched teeth, “Maybe it was because I was strapped to a fucking bed with you sticking needles in me all the time. Don’t you think?”

  Jane put the chair down and stood erect. She had slipped into her confident, professional self, a seasoned nurse in control. With her chin slightly up, she gazed at Samantha and said in a calm voice, “I was doing my job. You needed help and that’s what we were providing.”

  “Oh, I see. Just doing your job. Isn’t that what every asshole who’s done something wrong or has something to hide always says? I prefer people who aren’t afraid to say it like it is, down and dirty, and in your face. Nothing to be ashamed of, even if it’s personal, you know? Come on, you thought I was a psycho nut, didn’t you?”