by Amy Cross
"Not this one," he says, closing his fist to keep the pill from me. "As I said, your father has the prescription and you'll start taking one every morning from tomorrow". He puts his hand on top of my head and ruffles my hair. "You won't regret this, Juliet. One day you'll thank me. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually you'll realize that this was the day everything started to get better". Standing up, he walks back over to his desk. "You'll still have to come and see me sometimes, Juliet, but perhaps we can cut it down to once a month. Does that sound like a good deal?"
I nod, feeling relief that at least I'll be free of these meetings.
"Okay, Juliet, I think we're done for today. Is your father picking you up?"
I nod again.
"That's great. You can wait outside until he comes. I hope you'll start to feel the benefit of the medication soon. It might take three of four days to kick in, but you'll slowly feel yourself becoming more settled. The pills won't make everything better, but they should help enormously". He smiles. "Off you go".
Getting up, I hurry over to the door and leave the office. I don't look back as I pull the door shut.
"Hi," says the receptionist, smiling. "Your Dad's not here yet, but you can wait in here if you like. We've got magazines you can take a look at".
I stare at her.
"They're kind of boring," she continues, "but you don't want to be waiting outside. It's raining".
Without saying anything, I wander over to a chair at the far end of the room and sit down. I can't help thinking about my father going to a pharmacy and picking up the pills; he'll probably think he's won the battle as he carries the big jar home. I guess I'll have to take one a day, and he'll smile as he watches each one slip down my throat. Then we'll have to wait for the effects to kick in, and I suppose I'll feel my old personality slip away. Still, it's easier this way. If I keep fighting, I'll end up dying of exhaustion. I tried, and I failed. My father's going to get his way, and who knows where I'll end up? It's possible that the pills will be a total success and I'll become just like everyone else. Maybe Dr. Larson is right; maybe in a few years' time, I'll be a happy and sociable girl, and I'll be totally grateful for these pills. It seems unlikely that such a complete transformation could take place, but it might be worth a try. The alternative would be to just stay as I am, and right now that seems like a fight I can't win.
Suddenly I realize that there's a single tear forming in the corner of my left eye; a moment later, it starts rolling down my cheek. Rather than brush it away, I let it dribble across the skin. It's such a weird sensation.
"Here," says a voice nearby.
Startled, I look up and see that the receptionist has come over with a box of tissues. It's weird, but normally I'm completely alert to the people around me, so I don't quite understand how she managed to sneak up on me like that. Cautiously, I reach out and take a tissue, before dabbing my cheek.
"Anything you want to talk about?" she asks, sitting next to me.
I shake my head.
"Do you know what I tell myself whenever things seem bad?"
I look over at her.
"I tell myself that no-one can see the future, and that whatever I think is going to happen, probably won't. Sure, things might be even worse, but they might also be better". After a moment, she reaches out and puts an arm around me, pulling me closer and giving me a hug. "Don't be too sad. You're stronger than you think. You can get through anything".
I want to pull away from her, but there's something about her perfume that makes me stay. It's been so long since I felt a woman's arms around me; the last time was in the hospital when my mother hugged me for the last time and then ended up bleeding all over me. This time, with the receptionist, I feel safer somehow. I know most people would probably prefer to be hugged by someone they know, but in some ways the fact that the receptionist is a stranger makes her seem safer. She doesn't know the real me, and she doesn't need to know anything about my life; it's just nice to smell her perfume and feel her arms around me. Besides, she's just about the only person I've met recently who hasn't felt compelled to ruffle my hair. For that alone, I'm extremely grateful.
"You hungry?" she asks, releasing me from the hug and pulling a chocolate bar from her pocket. She removes the wrapper, breaks the bar in half, and hands me the slightly larger part. "Go on, take it," she says. "I'm trying to cut back".
I take the piece of chocolate and start eating. We sit together in silence for a couple of minutes, until finally the chocolate's all gone.
"You did me a favor there," she says. "It's really bad, but I keep bringing chocolate to work. I need to eat a proper lunch, but I just..." She pauses for a moment. "Sorry, I shouldn't ramble on like this. Are you feeling a little better?"
I nod.
"Okay," she says with a smile, just as the door opens and I see my father walk into the office. "Hey," she says, standing up and walking over to her desk, leaving a faint hint of her perfume still hanging in the air. "Juliet's been very good," she says as she hands my father some forms. "I gave her some chocolate. I hope that's okay".
"It's fine," my father says, signing the forms and then running his card through a machine to pay for the session. "I already spoke to Dr. Larson on the phone, so I guess I don't need to see him. I think we've got an appointment booked for the first day of next month?"
The receptionist checks her calendar. "Yep," she says. "11am on the first". She turns to me and smiles. "See you then, Juliet".
"Come on," my father says, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a large bottle of pills and shaking them as he grins at me. "Let's get home. We've got some medication to get started".
Taking a deep breath, I stand up and walk over to him. He leads me to the door, and I glance back one final time at the receptionist. I can still smell her perfume in the air, and she smiles at me as the door swings shut. Finally, I follow my father across the car park and over to his car. As we walk, I can hear the bottle of pills rattling in his pocket. I want to grab them and throw them away, but I know I'm never going to do anything so drastic; I'm going to be a good girl and take the pills, because I don't have the energy to do anything else. Getting into the car, I glance back at the building and realize that by the next time I come here, I might be a completely different person; I might be a happier, healthier, more rounded individual. I guess Dr. Larson and my father will be happier about that. The car pulls away and I continue to stare out the window. Strangely, despite the fact that the car smells like a cross between cigarette smoke and garlic, I can still just about smell the receptionist's perfume; I can't explain it, but for some reason I find myself thinking about her all the way home.
Chapter Seven
Today
After stuffing Dr. Larson's body into the old medical supplies cupboard, I carefully push the door shut. Turning to look along the corridor, I half-expect to see Jennifer watching me, but there's nothing. It's as if she's completely vanished. I step back, pausing for a moment to make sure that the door doesn't spring open and allow the corpse to come tumbling out onto the floor; once I'm satisfied, I turn and head back through to the rec room.
"Jennifer!" I shout again, even though I know it's hopeless. If she was here, she'd have appeared as soon as I brought the body. The fact that there's no sign of her means she's clearly staying away on purpose. I guess this is her way of trying to prove something to me.
Hurrying back through to the main part of the building, I carefully re-lock the door before heading to the red ward so I can start checking on the residents. My mind is racing as I try to work out how I'm going to sort everything out without Jennifer's help. I've got Dr. Larson's body hidden away, so that's not a problem; however, at some point someone's going to wonder where he is, and that's the part I was hoping Jennifer would solve. She managed to make sure that no-one asked questions about Lizzie or Piotr Cymbalista, and I need her to do the same thing now with Dr. Larson. There's simply no other way I can keep his sudden disappearance
a secret.
As soon as I turn the corner to walk toward the first room on the red ward, I realize there's a problem. As I hurry to room 109, I hear someone groaning in pain; I hit the light switch and immediately see that Kenneth Jenkins has fallen over. He's clutching his left leg, and he's clearly in agony.
"What happened?" I ask, kneeling next to him.
"I slipped," he says. "Where have you been? I pressed the button to call you, but you didn't come".
"I was with someone else," I say, trying to work out what to do.
"For a whole hour?" he asks, before letting out a grunt of pain. "I think it's broken! Why didn't you come?"
"I was..." I take a deep breath, before reaching out to his leg. "Tell me if this hurts," I say, but he screams as soon as I touch him. "Okay," I continue, realizing that he needs medical attention. "I'm going to call an ambulance," I say, pulling my phone from my pocket but seeing that I don't have any signal. I don't know what it is about this place, but my phone signal seems to suspiciously vanish at very inconvenient moments, almost as if someone is doing it deliberately to cause me problems. "I'm going to go and use the phone in the office," I say, getting to my feet. "It's okay. They'll be here soon".
Heading out of his room, I run through to the main reception area and into the office. As soon as I get there, I'm shocked to see Mr. Taylor sitting at his desk.
"Hey, Juliet," he says. "Have you seen the purple accounts book?"
I stare open-mouthed at him. Of all the things that could happen right now, this is by far the worst.
"Juliet?" he continues, clearly stressed. "This is important. I need that book. There's something in there I need to check. I just found out that we're being audited tomorrow. Do you understand what this means? Everything has to be in order". He reaches out to grab his cup of coffee, but in his agitated state he accidentally knocks it to the floor. "Fuck!" he shouts as the cup breaks.
"I need to call an ambulance," I say.
"What?" He stares at me, with an obvious look of panic in his eyes. "Why? What happened?"
"Kenneth Jenkins," I stammer. Once again, my mind seems to have gone completely blank. "He... He..."
"What the fuck's going on?" he says, getting to his feet and rushing out of the office. "Don't call anyone!" he shouts back at me. "Just wait there!" He races off to the red ward, and it's clear that this is a major problem. If anyone finds out that I was the only person on duty tonight, there's going to be an investigation into Crestview, and then... A cold shiver runs through my body as I realize that people would start asking questions, not only about what happened to Dr. Larson but also about the other people who've disappeared recently. People might even start poking about in the abandoned ward, which would mean that they'd find the bodies. It's as if everything is going wrong all at once.
After a moment, I hear footsteps nearby and I turn to see Mr. Taylor coming back through.
"Well?" I ask.
"He's fine," he replies. "Why were you going to call an ambulance?"
"Because he's..." I pause for a moment. "Was he in bed?"
He nods. "He was fast asleep until I went running in". Heading back over to his desk, he starts going through the pile of files and folders. "Why did you say you needed to call an ambulance?"
I stare at him. "Was his leg okay?"
"His everything was okay," he replies. "Is this your idea of a joke, Juliet?" He sighs. "Listen, we've got more important things to worry about. I need to find all the relevant files before the audit starts. There are... things... I need to double-check".
Without saying anything, I turn and hurry back through to the red ward. Something seems very wrong about this whole situation, and I'm starting to get the feeling that Jennifer Mathis is playing with me. As soon as I reach room 109, I burst through the door and hit the light switch, only to see Kenneth Jenkins slowly rolling over in bed to look at me. He doesn't look happy.
"Hi," I say.
"What now?" he asks grumpily.
"Are you okay?"
"No!" he says. "People keep coming in and out of my room. First Taylor, now you. Is something wrong?"
I pause for a moment, and suddenly I realize there's someone standing behind me.
"Nothing's wrong," I say, stepping back and pulling the door shut.
"Did I miss anything?" Jennifer asks.
"Not much," I reply, turning to her. "Where were you?"
"Busy," she says, smiling as she starts walking away.
"Busy?" I ask, following her. "I needed you! I came to find you and you weren't there!"
"You might be surprised to learn that occasionally I have other things to be doing," she says. "My existence doesn't entirely revolve around you, Juliet. Well, maybe it does these days, but I have to have some time alone occasionally. Why? What have you been up to?"
"You know what I've done!" I insist as we reach the door to the abandoned ward. "He's in there right now!"
"Who?"
"Dr. Larson! He's in the cupboard. I did it". Looking down at my hands, I see that they're shaking again. "I need you to help me cover it up. People are going to ask questions, and -" I pause for a moment. "What did you do to Kenneth Jenkins? One moment he was hurt on the floor, the next he was asleep in bed".
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies. "You must have imagined it all". She stares at me. "Relax. I've already found Larson's body, and I'm going to take care of it. As for Mr. Jenkins, he seems fine, so anything that happened earlier must have been in your imagination. If I were you, I'd go and make sure Mr. Taylor's happy. He seemed awfully worried about finding those files".
I open my mouth to argue with her, but then I realize there's no point. It's pretty clear that she disappeared on purpose, to prove some kind of point.
"Don't take me for granted," she says suddenly. "I'm not your servant, Juliet. I don't just do whatever you need me to do. Remember that. Do you seriously think that I'm just going to float around here, doing what you want, forever? Do you think this is some kind of permanent solution to your problems?"
"I have to go and check on the other residents," I say quietly, turning to walk away.
"I have a question," she calls after me.
Stopping, I look back at her. "What?" I ask, failing to hide the annoyance in my voice.
"You killed Lizzie McGuigan because she attacked you. You killed Piotr Cymbalista because he was causing trouble. You killed Dr. Larson because of what happened all those years ago. For all I know, maybe you've killed other people over the years. But I'm confused, Juliet. What about Samantha? She attacked you in her bedroom, but you didn't kill her. Why not?"
"I deserved what she did to me," I reply. "I deserved worse than that".
She smiles. "Good answer".
Walking away, I find myself wondering if Jennifer was right. I could have killed Samantha, and to be honest I'm a little surprised that I let her live. I suppose I genuinely think that she had some kind of right to attack me, after the permanent scarring I left on her face all those years ago. Dr. Larson, on the other hand, deserved everything he got tonight, and more. Frankly, my only regret is that his death wasn't more painful, and more pathetic, and more extreme. Sure, he died a slow death, but I'm sure I'd have been able to come up with a worse way for him to die if I'd had time to plan ahead. Perhaps I should have waited a day or two to kill him, so that I could have come up with something better. As I get back to the reception area, I start thinking that I let him get off quite lightly. Then again, at least he understood in his final moments that I was the one who ended his life; at least he knew why he deserved to die.
Chapter Eight
Eight years ago
It takes me a while to get the woodshed back to normal. I initially had to pull away quite a lot of the old, rotten wood that had collected behind the main part of the structure, so I have to shove as much of that as possible back into the gap before finding somewhere to put the rest. It's a hard, dirty job, made all the more difficult by a pe
rsistent drizzle. I also have to keep checking over my shoulder, to make sure that no-one is watching me. The last thing I need right now is for someone to sneak up behind me and ask what I'm doing. I'm pretty good at lying, but I don't think I'd be able to explain any of this. I have to -
"Juliet?"
Almost jumping out of my skin, I spin around and see my father standing by the steps that lead down from the back of the house. He has a puzzled look on his face, but he doesn't look angry. In fact, there's something a little different about him; it's almost as if he seems to be at peace. I guess he's just relieved that, from his point of view, all the problems seem to be over.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Nothing," I say, getting to my feet. I glance back down and see, to my relief, that I just managed to get finished in time. There's nothing obviously suspicious about the scene; my father will probably just think I'm playing in the garden. Besides, I think he's maybe learned to not ask too many questions, since he knows he probably wouldn't like the answers.
"Are you okay?" he continues.
"I'm fine," I reply. "Why?"
"No reason," he says, "I just..." He pauses for a moment. It's strange, but he seems a little different somehow; it's almost as if the events of the past few days have taken a real toll on him, and he's lost the will to keep fighting with me. "Do you want to maybe head into town?" he asks eventually. "I was thinking maybe we could do something. Maybe I could buy you some ice cream or something?"
"No thanks," I say.
