by Amy Cross
I shake my head. Although I bumped my elbow a little, I don't want to admit that it was painful. I stare at the jack-in-the-box and watch as its head bobbles about at the end of the spring. I guess I was right in one way: there was a head in there, it just wasn't the kind of head I wanted. I feel so completely stupid for allowing myself to think that I'd be receiving my mother's head as a gift. There's no way Martina or my father would ever understand my need to get on with some interesting work. They don't understand me at all.
"Do you like it?" Martina asks.
"She loves it," my father says. "Don't you?"
I nod, and then I turn to Martina. "I love it. Thank you. Now open yours."
"I'm so excited!" she says, coming over and picking up the shoebox. A maggot drops out from under the lid, but I'm the only one who sees it as it lands softly on the carpet. I make sure not to step on the little creature as I walk around the table. "What is it?" Martina asks, shaking the box. "Whatever it is, it's not very heavy. Is it something you made, Juliet?"
"Sort of," I say.
"I think it's something she found in the garden," my father says, sounding a little doubtful.
"Something you found?" Martina asks brightly. "Well, now I'm definitely intrigued. It's too heavy to be flowers."
"Maybe I should take a look first," my father says. I'm not certain, but I think he might be suspicious. He probably thinks it's something disgusting, which I suppose is correct. From his perspective, at least.
"No," Martina says, setting the box on the table. "It's my present, and I'm going to open it." She takes the lid away. "If I can -" She stops talking as she stares at the contents of the box. I swear, I can actually see the moment all the color drains from her face. "Oh," she says, looking ill. She steps back, and then without any warning she drops to the floor. I'd expected her to run away screaming, but instead she seems to have fainted.
"What the hell?" my father asks, staring into the box. "Juliet, what have you done?" He kneels next to Martina and checks to see if she's conscious. "Marty?" he asks. "Can you hear me?"
"It's her cat," I say, watching as more and more maggots come crawling out over the edge. "She wanted her cat back, so I got it for her."
"Go to your room!" my father shouts. I don't need telling twice, so I turn and hurry along the corridor. As soon as I get to my bedroom, I push the door shut and take a deep breath. I did it. I actually did it. I can't help laughing as I imagine my father gently trying to wake Martina up; when she's conscious again, they'll have to talk about what happened. It's pretty funny, really, to think about how easy it was to shock them. Looking down at my feet, I spot something white crawling over the top of my shoe, and I realize it's a maggot. I reach down and pick it up.
"Hello," I say. "I'm going to name you..." I think for a moment. "Harry!" I say eventually, feeling rather pleased with myself. "Good job, Harry. We really showed her!"
I wish it was possible to high-five a maggot.
Chapter Five
Today
"Stay here!" I say firmly as I drag Lizzie's heavy body past Kenneth's bed.
"Is she dead?" he asks, still holding his injured hand.
"No," I say, figuring it's best to keep the truth from him, at least for now. "Just wait here!"
Given Lizzie's heft and bulk, it takes me a couple of minutes to drag her through the doorway and into the corridor. I check my watch and see that it's not 5am yet, so I have a few hours before anyone's due to turn up. Stepping over Lizzie's body, I hurry back over to Kenneth.
"I'm sorry you got caught up in this," he mutters.
"Don't be crazy," I say, crouching next to him. "Let me see your hand."
Cautiously, he holds out his left hand, and I can immediately see that his little finger is broken. "Why did she do this to you?" I ask.
"She was angry," he replies. "She thought I told you what she did." He pauses for a moment. "Did you tell her?"
I shake my head. "Maybe she overheard." I take a deep breath. I feel like I'm going to break down into a panicking mess at any moment, but right now I'm running on pure adrenalin. "Kenneth," I say eventually, "you have to wait here. You need to get your finger looked at, but I can't sort that out right now. Okay?"
He nods.
"Can you wait here for me?" I ask, glancing down at the bed and seeing that there's a fresh wet patch on the sheets. "Did she do that?"
He nods again.
"How long has this been happening?" I ask.
"A couple of years," he says. "She's always had a temper, but something changed a while back. She started doing things to embarrass us on purpose. Not just me. Everyone. It was little things at first, but it's got worse and worse. We're all scared of her, but no-one ever paid any attention. She's always careful to make sure it's little things; things that no-one's going to ask questions about. Most of the other residents are senile anyway, so they're ignored. I realized it'd be better to just shut up and take it, but tonight she seemed to have really lost control."
"It's over now," I say. "She won't do this to you again."
"Are you going to call the police?" he asks.
"I -" I pause for a moment. Sure, I killed Lizzie in self-defense, but would anyone believe me? After all, I've got a certain history when it comes to things like this. They'd have the handcuffs on me before I could even explain, and then I'd have no chance. "I'll sort it out," I continue eventually, my mind racing as I try to come up with some kind of plan. "Just sit tight and I'll be back to make sure you're okay. Just... don't panic. Everything's fine."
He nods, and I hurry out of the room, pulling the door shut as I go. Alone in the corridor with Lizzie's body, I take a deep breath and try to work out what the hell I'm going to do. I'm still fueled by adrenalin, but I'm worried I might crash at any moment, so I decide to start moving the body. Reaching down and grabbing her ankles, I drag her slowly along the corridor until I reach a junction, at which point I realize where I'm going to take her. While I work out what to do in the long-term, the best short-term option is to go and dump her in the abandoned ward. At least I'll have time to come up with some kind of solution, or an explanation, or some way out of this mess.
"Come on," I mutter, hauling her past the rec room. The last thing I need right now is for any of the residents to come out of their rooms, but fortunately it seems like they've slept through the disturbance. As I continue to drag Lizzie's body along the corridor, I try to figure out what I'm going to do. In normal circumstances, I could just explain what happened, and the self-defense angle would be fine; my history, though, means that my story would be met with skepticism. It's not as if Kenneth Jenkins is a very reliable witness; even if he gave a full account of what happened, there'd be doubts about his susceptibility to coercion. I guess I just have to find a way to deal with this on my own.
"Fuck!" I say, gasping as I trip on a loose piece of carpet. I land hard on the floor, hurting my elbow, and as I get to my feet I suddenly realize how hopeless this situation has become. How the hell am I ever going to get out of this mess? I turn and look at Lizzie's body, and I realize there's no way I can hide her. I've spent most of my life trying to prove to people that I'm not weird, and now they're going to think I killed Lizzie on purpose. I grab hold of her ankles once again, but I can't summon up the strength to drag her any further. Maybe I should just sit here and wait for someone to find us in the morning; maybe it's not worth fighting anymore.
"Problem?" asks a familiar voice nearby.
I take a deep breath. I should have known she'd turn up.
"Sorry," she continues, "I guess it's pretty obvious that something's wrong. You want to talk about it?"
Turning, I find Jennifer Mathis standing behind me, with a big grin on her face. "Didn't you see it all?" I ask. "I thought you were everywhere."
She shakes her head. "I've been leaving you alone. I thought you liked it that way. Judging by this mess, though, I'm starting to think I should have kept more of an eye on you." She walks over an
d looks down at Lizzie's face. "This woman was a monster. She deserved to die."
"I didn't mean to kill her," I say.
"Of course you did," she replies. "Everyone knows what you're like, Juliet. You're weird. You're dark and fucked up. You've done this kind of thing before. Do you seriously think that anyone's going to believe you?"
"They have to," I reply, even though I know I don't have much of a chance.
"So what's your plan?" she asks. "I can't help but notice you're dragging her my way. Do you seriously think you can stuff her body in the abandoned ward and forget about it?"
"I just need some time," I say. "I need to come up with a better plan."
"You think a woman's gonna go missing and no-one's gonna think to look for her?" she continues. "You think -"
"I don't know!" I say, raising my voice. "I don't know, okay? But I can't just leave her here, can I?"
"No need to get angry at me," she says. "I'm not the one who smashed her head in with a fire extinguisher."
"How do you know it was a fire extinguisher?" I ask. "I thought you said you weren't watching me when it happened?"
"Oh, yeah," she replies. "Sorry. That was a lie. I was watching. To be honest, Juliet, I thought you showed commendable resolve. I would've killed her much sooner."
"I didn't kill her!" I say, tears starting to run down my face. Damn it, I almost never cry, but there seems to be something about Jennifer Mathis that brings out my emotions. "I didn't do it on purpose," I continue, my voice cracking as I sniff back the tears. "She was hurting him. You saw that, right? She was hurting him."
"People hurt other people all the time," she replies. "Doesn't mean you can go around killing them."
"I know," I whimper, my bottom lip wobbling as I try not to break down. "I didn't do it on purpose," I say. "I swear to God. You must know that. I didn't do it on purpose!"
"Not this time," she replies coldly.
I look up at her.
"I'm just saying," she continues, shrugging. "You didn't do it on purpose... this time. But what about -"
"Shut up," I say. The last thing I need right now is to listen to her bullshit, even if she's telling the truth. "You don't know anything about me."
"I've been in your head, remember?" she replies. "I know your deepest fears, Juliet, and I know how to fix them. The way I see it, you have two choices. You can muddle through on your own, end up getting accused of killing Lizzie, and they'll probably lock you away for a long, long time. Especially with your history. Or you can accept my help, do what I say, and have a much better time." She pauses for a moment. "It's your choice, but you should probably hurry and make a decision. There's not much time."
Staring at Lizzie's body, I realize she's right. The last thing I want to do is accept any help from Jennifer, but that's exactly what I have to do if I'm going to have any chance of getting out of this thing. I can come up with all sorts of crazy plans to get myself out of this situation, but they'd all fall apart in the end. I need help, and Jennifer's the only one I trust right now. "What do I do?" I ask eventually. "What the fuck do I do?"
"Bring her this way," Jennifer says calmly.
"Where?" I ask.
"Don't ask stupid questions."
"Where?" I ask again, but when I turn to her, I find that she's gone. Taking a deep breath, I realize that I know exactly where I'm supposed to go. I grab Lizzie's body and start hauling her along the corridor. It takes a few minutes, but I eventually reach the door to the abandoned ward. Fumbling with my key-chain, I eventually find the right key and I unlock the padlock. Trying not to panic, I pull the door open and start dragging Lizzie across the threshold. Once she's inside, I'm about to drag her along to the other end of the ward when I hear Jennifer's voice in my ear.
"Shut the door," she whispers.
Without hesitation, I step over Lizzie's body and push the door shut. And that's when everything changes.
Chapter Six
Eleven years ago
"I still don't understand," my father says, staring at me with a very serious look on his face. "Go back to the beginning, Juliet. Where did the cat come from?"
We're sitting in the dining room. My father and Martina have very serious expressions on their faces, and she looks as if she's been crying. The atmosphere is very still and quiet, and I can tell I'm in a lot of trouble.
"Did you find him?" Martina asks, her voice sounding uncharacteristically calm. "Was he in the road?"
I shake my head.
"Where was he?" she asks.
I stare at her. "He was in your office."
She glances over at my father for a moment. "Was he alive when you found him?" she asks. I can hear the tension in her voice; it's as if she's scared of what I might say.
"He was purring," I reply.
"Oh God," she replies, looking down.
"Did you kill him, Juliet?" my father asks.
I nod. "With scissors."
"Why?" Martina asks. She's started crying again, with tears streaming down her face. I don't know why, but the sight of her red, watery eyes makes me smile.
"What's so funny?" my father shouts.
"Nothing," I reply, looking down at the floor so he can't see that I'm still smiling. It's not my fault; I can't help it. I don't even think it's particularly funny, but the muscles around my mouth are forcing themselves into a smiley shape.
"Answer the question," my father continues. "Why did you do this, Juliet?"
I pause for a moment. "I just..." I start to say. Damn it, I had everything worked out in my head earlier. While I was waiting for my father to come and fetch me from my room, I rehearsed this conversation over and over again; I imagined what I'd say, and how I'd explain myself, and it all made sense. Right now, though, as I face them over the table, it's as if my mind has gone blank and I know that anything I say will sound stupid.
"Did you do it because you wanted to upset Martina?" he continues.
"No," I say, although that's probably partly true.
"Did you do it because you wanted to hurt the cat?"
"No." I can't tell him the truth. If I tell him that I wanted to dig my mother up, he'll think I'm crazy. He's always thought I'm a bit strange, but the last thing I want to do right now is give him any confirmation. "I just did it," I say, remaining purposely vague. "I'm sorry."
"I don't think sorry is going to be enough," my father says. "Let me get this straight, Juliet, so that I understand. You took a pair of scissors and you used them to kill Martina's cat, and then you put the body in a box and gave it to her as a present. Is that, broadly speaking, what happened?"
I nod.
"When you killed the cat, did you intend to give it to Martina later?"
I shake my head.
"So what did you intend to do with it?"
"I wanted to watch it," I reply.
"To watch it?" he asks, sounding as if he doesn't understand.
"I wanted to watch what would happen to it," I say, being careful to avoid mentioning my mother.
"Is that why you kept it until today?" he asks.
I nod.
"So then why did you decide to give it to Martina today?"
I shrug.
"Don't shrug," he replies, his voice getting a little louder. "Answer the question, Juliet. Why did you do this?" After a moment, he stands up and walks around the table, before crouching down next to me and looking up into my face. His eyes are wide open, staring straight at me with barely-concealed anger. "Tell me right now, Juliet. I want to know exactly why you did such a horrible thing."
I stare back at him. "I wanted to see what would happen," I say quietly.
"What would happen to the cat?" he asks. "Or what would happen to Martina?"
"To the cat," I reply. "I wanted to watch it rot, so I could see what would happen."
"Like an experiment?" Martina asks, her voice sounding pale and fragile.
I nod.
My father stares at me for a moment. "No," he says fina
lly. "No, I don't believe you, Juliet. I think you're lying. I don't think you're telling us the truth at all. I don't know why you did this, but I'm damn sure it was nothing to do with an experiment."
"Brian," Martina says, "don't be too harsh on her."
"Oh, I'll be harsh," he continues. "I think harsh is the least she deserves. I have no idea what's got into her head, but I'm damn well going to make sure she never does anything like this again. Do you hear me, Juliet? I don't care how your mother raised you or what she taught you, but you're living with me now, and things are going to be different. Do you understand?"
I take a deep breath. I feel like I'm on the verge of crying, except the tears are bottled up and won't come out.
"Maybe we should take a time-out," Martina says. "It's getting late, and I have to get home." She takes a tissue from a small packet on the table, and dabs at her eyes. "I'm sure Juliet didn't really mean to do what she did. It was probably just an accident." She smiles a sad smile at me. "It's okay, Juliet. These things happen. I know you wouldn't have wanted to hurt Gizmo on purpose. You're a good girl, so whatever happened here, it probably just got out of hand." She turns to my father. "I just need to grab some things from the bedroom. Can you come with me for a moment?"
My father nods and follows her out of the room, leaving me sitting alone. I can hear them talking in the distance, but I can't quite make out what they're saying. Carefully getting off the chair and making sure to keep quiet, I sneak to the doorway.
"How can I come here when she's like this?" Martina is saying. "It's one thing to not connect with her, but her behavior has gone beyond aggression, Brian."
"I know," he replies. "Maybe give it a couple of weeks while I see what I can do. She's needed help for a while, but her mother always insisted we should just wait it out. At least this time I can take charge. I'll get her to see someone."
"You think a couple of weeks will be enough?" she asks. "Brian, I like Juliet, but she's clearly got problems. She's going to need more than a few sessions with a therapist."
