“It was an accident. What did I do?” Cain asked, bewildered.
“Nothing, I said,” standing up, addressing the crowd, “Cain didn’t kill Abel, I did.”
I exited the house. As I left, I heard everyone’s confusion. I walked down the road in complete silence until I found myself at the park where Peyton and I had gone before. I stood there for a moment glancing up into the sky, trying to recapture that night in my mind. Hoping to feel the rain against my skin once more, and return to that moment. If I could have just gone back to that moment; I would have done everything differently. I collapsed on the grass in an open area, sitting crossed legged for a moment, trying to comprehend the images in my head. There was an emptiness of emotion in my heart. I felt hollow. I took out my phone.
“911 dispatch, do you need police, fire, or EMS?”
“Police,” I said.
“Please state the nature of your emergency,” the voice on the end of the line said.
“I killed someone, I will be─ ” I began.
“I’m sorry, please repeat your last statement. Did you say you killed someone? Can you tell me the name of the victim?”
“His name was Abel . . . I will be at the park, you will find me there . . .” I said.
“Wait ─” the voice on the other end began again as I hung up.
I sat there waiting. I put my hand on the grass and picked a blade. In the moonlight, I noticed the grass surrounding me had begun to die. A ring had formed around me and began to spread slowly as if the grass had caught fire. Death was exuding from my being, and engulfing any living thing I touched.
I began to hear sirens heading my way. I took a deep breath, knowing everything in my life was going to change . . . again. The dead grass continued to spread, five yards, ten yards.
Bzzzz bzzzz. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. Without looking I answered it.
“Hello,” I said.
“Danielle? Oh, my God, I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I’m here at the airport, about to get on my plane, and I . . . I thought I would try to call you one more time. Um, I had this whole thing to say and now I think I’m just in shock you’re actually there. It’s just so good to hear your voice. Where are you?”
“I’m at the park.”
She was quiet for a second.
“I remember our first time at the park together . . . do you remember?”
“Yeah,” I said. I felt a twinge in my heart. Sirens began to get closer, it became more difficult to hear Peyton through the noise.
“What’s that noise, Danielle?” she asked.
“I gotta go now,” I said.
“Wait, wait, wait . . . I have this sick feeling that I’m never going to be able to talk to you again, and if that’s the case, I can’t hang up without telling you that you mean the world to me, Danielle. You brought me back to life, and . . . and I will never love anyone the way that I loved you,” she said, her voice getting choked up, “Do you hear what I’m saying?”
The dying grass stopped expanding, and I closed my eyes.
“Put your hands up!”
“Get on the ground!”
I put my hands up phone still wrapped in my fingers.
“Gun!” a voice exclaimed.
“Wait!” another person yelled, but it was too late.
I heard the gunshot. Hot metal ripped through my right shoulder, knocking me to the ground. I still held the phone in my hand as I fell back to the grass. I kept my eyes on it as I felt consciousness trying to evade me. Feet rushed up around me. One person kicked my phone away. I felt at least four pairs of hands grab me.
“You fuckin’ idiot! It’s a cell phone! I said wait!” I heard one person bark to another, “Get a goddamn ambulance over here.”
“Sir, I’m so sorry, I could have sworn─” another voice began, but got cut off.
“I don’t want to hear it!”
“Sir, the grass . . .” another a voice said.
Murmurs spread among them.
“We’ll add an arson charge, get her up, and over to EMS.”
I was carried to the ambulance on a stretcher. When they pushed the stretcher all the way back, I noticed the two paramedics assigned to care for me. One of them had a look of horror on her face. I assumed it must be one of her first days on the job.
“Single gunshot wound to suspect in a murder investigation,” one paramedic began, “Lisa, are you here?”
“Yeah . . .” she said, averting her stare from me.
“We’re going to have to sedate you,” the male paramedic began.
“No, don’t!” I said quickly.
It was quiet in the ambulance for a second. The male paramedic looked at the other confused, waiting for an answer as to what to do.
“I’m fine,” I said, “Look for yourself.”
The female paramedic reached for my shoulder slowly. Wet blood had soaked into my shirt, and there was a visible hole in my shirt.
She unzipped my jacket and pulled it apart, then began to cut my t-shirt underneath to reveal my skin.
“There’s nothing,” she said, rubbing her thumb hard across my skin, making we wince, “How is that possible?”
“It’s not my blood,” I said.
“It’s probably from the victim. I’ll go get the police back, and let them know that a stop at the hospital will be unnecessary,” the male paramedic said, opening the back doors and jumping out of the ambulance.
The female paramedic stared at my shoulder for a long time, not saying anything.
“How is that possible?” she asked again, reaching toward my shoulder. I pulled back.
“I told you, it’s not mine,” I said.
“That’s not what I was talking about. A week ago I was dispatch to a suicide and possible additional death. I arrived on scene and your body was lifeless on the floor, lying in a pool of blood. I attempted to resuscitate you for twenty minutes. Your body was still warm, but there was no pulse to be found. I called your time of death, I watched them cover your body. How is it that you are alive?”
I sat there quietly for a second, knowing what she was implying.
“You may not show any wound, but I can feel it. There’s a big bullet lodged in your arm that didn’t make it out the other side. I assume you will soon lose all function in your arm if it stays in there,” she said.
I was unsure of the emotion she was attempting to portray, it was so mixed. I couldn’t establish a connection with her. Her eyes said one thing, but her mouth said something else. It was most unusual.
“I could remove it,” she said, staring at me waiting for a response.
I considered for a moment, it was unusual to have my secret kept for so long from so many others, and revealed in seconds to a complete stranger.
“Ok, do it,” I said.
She reached over quickly and closed the doors to the back of the ambulance.
“I’m going to sanitize the wound, but . . . I won’t be able to give you anything for the pain, and believe me, it’s going to hurt.” She said, leaning me forward.
“It’s fine.”
“Well, you say that now . . . Just try not to move too much,” she said seriously.
“I won’t.”
“All right . . . here we go,” she said, reaching for a knife of some sort, “Hold on.”
As the knife entered my skin, I took a deep breath. It was the most unusual feeling. My body began to shake uncontrollably from the pain. It hurt so bad, I couldn’t exhale.
“Oh fuck,” I said, louder than I intended.
“Yup that’s the usual response,” she said.
I clenched my fist tightly.
“Breathe, sweetie, you’re going to have to breathe to keep that blood flowing. If you pass out, we’re going to have a big mess on our hands,” she said, calmly, as if she had done this a million times.
I exhaled hard. I tried to steady my hands to quell my convulsions so that she could work quicker. I wasn’t paying attention and gripped the paramedic’s
leg tightly. I could feel the blades moving beneath my skin as she searched for the hiding piece of metal. I felt her pull the equipment out of the massive hole she had made in my back.
Then I heard a clink.
“That’s incredible,” she said, looking at my shoulder. The wound had begun to close up right before her eyes, though blood now stained a large portion of the stretcher, “How?”
There was a loud bang on the back of the ambulance, and the doors opened. It was the male paramedic again.
“They said they will transport her in the patrol car—what happened in here?” he asked obviously noticing the increased amount of blood everywhere, including all over the woman’s gloves.
“Bring the officers,” she said.
He departed again, leaving the doors open.
“Why did you help me? Do you know what I did tonight?” I asked.
“Cause that’s my job,” she said.
“You didn’t have to, but you did anyway,” I said confused.
“This is what God called me to do. He called me to help people, no matter the person. He didn’t call me to be the judge of one’s soul. He’s the only one that can do that. Now, although I have a major dislike for you, I cannot help but think that you’ve gone through more than one should. Not to mention considering what I just saw, I think God might have different plans for you.”
* * *
“I confessed to the murder, and there was an investigation. I was found incompetent to stand trial, but with the videos that surfaced from the party, they found it impossible to believe that I was responsible for Abel’s death. Cain was arrested, but he was never indicted, and charges against him were never pursued. Then, I was placed here, and here I’ve been ever since.”
“I see,” Dr. Joy stated, quietly. She studied the remnants of the story in silence, as she normally did, “Did you ever talk to Peyton after that day?”
“No.”
“So you don’t know where she is or what she’s doing?” she asked.
“No, I assume she’s living somewhere with her mom, and with a two-year-old now. She’s probably working or something.”
“You think?” she asked.
I had never really given it much thought up until that point.
“As extraordinary as you claimed she was, you think she’s somewhere being a house mom and working or something?”
“I’d rather not think about it.”
There was a knock at the door and some administrative looking employee poked their head in.
“Joyce, sorry to interrupt,” said a girl’s voice. Dr. Joy immediately shot her a warning look, “but you have a call, they said it’s important.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there,” she said, waving her off quickly. She closed the door quietly as she left.
I kind of laughed to myself, Dr. Joy seemed uneasy.
“That’s funny,” I said as the thought swam in my head, “Your name is Joyce Joy? What were your parents thinking?”
Dr. Joy sat quietly.
“Danielle . . .” she tapped her finger on the desk, “that is not my name.”
“Really? You think patients are going to get out of here and try to find you so you give fake names or what?”
“No . . . Danielle, my real name is Joyce Deason,” she said, avoiding my expression.
My stomach immediately became knotted, and my heart began to race.
“What?” I said, squinting one eye and cocking my head slightly to make sure I heard her right, “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” she said, shaking her head slightly.
“No, no, no, no. No fucking way!” I said, feeling more betrayed than ever, “You’re─ “
“Peyton’s mother.”
“You lied to me! You deceived me!” I said, trying to put the words together to express how I felt.
“I needed the truth. If you knew who I was, I knew that the version I heard would be tainted,” she said authoritatively.
“I’ve told you things no other living soul knows. How could you do this to me?” I said, becoming extremely upset as I tried to run through in my mind all that I had told her. I felt disgusted.
“Danielle, calm down, we don’t have a lot of time left,” she said, her hand raised to try to quieten me.
“Dr. Joy,” the same girl popped her head in again.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dr. Joy Joyce Deason, threw up her hands, “Now you get it, right?”
“I want to go back to my room,” I said, and the girl glanced at me, cautiously. “I want to go back!”
“Should I get someone?” she asked.
“No,” said Peyton’s mom.
“Yes!” I said.
“Okay, okay,” Joyce tried to collect herself. “Wait a minute. We can meet again tomorrow.”
“You aren’t scheduled to meet again till Thursday,” she said.
“No, we’re meeting tomorrow,” Joyce asserted.
“Oh okay,” said the girl, “Oh, and you still have a phone call.”
“I want a new doctor,” I said to the girl.
“Shut up. Just stop talking,” Joyce said, slamming her hand down on her desk, “I will be right there. You can leave now.”
“Do I need to report what she just said?” the girl asked.
“No, Jesus Christ, get out!” Joyce replied.
As she was walking away, two people came in to escort me to my room.
“Arms up, arms down,” they said, I followed their instructions, and they led me away.
“Tomorrow, Danielle,” Joyce said, extending her hand toward me. I jerked my arm away from her.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I growled.
I felt a push from behind by my escorts. I noticed they looked back at Joyce perplexed.
Chapter Fifteen: The Things She Hid
I went back to my room, furious; I couldn’t stop shaking for hours. Every time I replayed Joyce telling me who she was, I became more enraged. I dug my nails into my skin to find some release from this anger which seemed unavoidable when left with only four walls and my thoughts. I couldn’t eat or sleep for the next twenty-three hours. When they finally entered my room to retrieve me, they literally had to drag me out and fully restrain me. They put clasps around my hands and feet, and a chain that ran between the two.
They sat me down in my usual chair in Joyce’s office. She had not yet arrived. They slammed a small paper cup filled with water on the desk with a pill next to it.
“Take it,” one said with a smirk.
“Fuck you,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“I don’t think she’s going to cooperate,” the other said with a laugh.
“No big deal,” the other replied. He went behind me and pulled my hair, dragging my head backward. He squeezed his other hand on the sides of my jaw, roughly forcing it open.
The other male flicked the pill into my mouth, obviously trying not to touch any part of me.
I felt it hit my tongue. I swallowed air but not the pill. It stuck to my tongue and refused to go back. Yes, at this point I wished I had just agreed to take the pill. I pulled my head forward to try to swallow it. Finally, it slid back, creeping its way down my throat as slowly as possible. I could taste the coating of the pill, and it made my stomach attempt to reject it.
“Whoa, whoa, keep it down. Hand me the water,” said the one who had been holding my hair. The other obliged. He poured it into my mouth. I was marginally grateful, though it did little to replace the taste in my mouth, it did make the pill go down a little faster.
“That should calm you down enough for Dr. Joy,” one said, laughing.
“What’s going on in here?” Joyce had entered the room.
“Just helping out a little, we got a recommendation for a sedative,” one said in a much more professional manner.
“I didn’t authorize that,” she said with obvious anger.
“It came from the top, we were just doing what we were told . . .” the other said dubiously.<
br />
“She is only supposed to take what I prescribe, anything goes through me first,” she said as if they were at fault.
“Okay . . .” they said, puzzled, and left the room.
Joyce closed the door behind them and locked it as she had done before. She returned to the desk and moved a trash can with her foot until it was in front of me. I looked at her perplexed.
“Fucking idiots,” she said with a stone cold expression, “Get rid of it now.”
I sat there for a second wondering if I should cooperate.
“Do it now, or I will stick my hand down your throat and fish it out myself,” she said giving the trash can another kick.
I bent forward and stuck a finger down my throat, it didn’t take much, and it came right back up. It was ten times as disgusting coming up as going down. The taste was so sickening, I threw up more than the pill. I threw up anything that remained in my stomach.
“Done yet?” Joyce asked. I shot her an ‘are you serious’ look. She put up her hands, “Let me know.”
When I had finished, I wiped the tears that had run from my eyes.
“It’s weird to see you appear to be crying,” Joyce said, scrutinizing my expression.
“Why are we still here?” I asked, “And please don’t lie to me anymore. It’s exhausting.”
She sat there with her hands folded in her lap, contemplating, while turning slightly in her chair, left to right.
“I need something from you . . .” she said, letting each word escape her mouth slowly as if it were carefully chosen.
“What? This is some kind of sick game you’ve been pulling on me,” I said.
“It was necessary.”
“Your definition of ‘necessary’ escapes my comprehension, Joyce,” I said.
“I didn’t tell you who I was because I needed you to be completely honest with me. I needed to know what really had been going on with Peyton the last year and a half I wasn’t . . . around.”
I laughed with disgust at this.
“You sure went a long way to eavesdrop on your child’s life, when you could have just . . . I don’t know . . . been around.”
“Listen, I get that I wasn’t there and there’s nothing I can do to get that time back, but I am here now, and I will do anything it takes,” she said.
Manifesting Shadow, #1 Page 20
