by Amy Cross
“Stop!” Susan screamed.
“Obey me or die,” Winifred replied. “It's really not complicated. You just have to make the right decision.”
Turning, Susan slumped against the wall. She could barely even think as the pain filled her body, she could hardly move a muscle, but finally she realized that she only had one choice. Her own mind was being pushed to the sides as her soul reverberated to the pounding pulse of the pain, and she had to really focus hard in an attempt to string her thoughts together.
“Fine!” she gasped.
Immediately, the pain began to fade, although she felt its echo still rumbling in her chest as she tightened her grip on the knife. She knew what she had to do, even if the thought filled her with a sense of growing horror; she knew that there'd be so much blood, probably screams too, but that at least she'd finally be free of the voice's influence. Still, she took a moment to try to muster the courage from somewhere.
“I'm glad you've seen sense,” Winifred told her.
“It's pretty simple, isn't it?” Susan said breathlessly, trying to find that last little scrap of bravery that she knew was so very necessary. “Either I let you use me to kill those people, or I have to die.”
“Don't see it as killing them,” Winifred replied. “See it is meting out the justice that they've avoided for so long. They should have hung long ago for what they did to me.”
Slowly, Susan managed to haul herself up, as more voices called out in the distance. She could hear other voices, too, laughing in one of the club's other rooms.
“There's no time to waste,” Winifred added.
“I know,” Susan replied, “you're right. And the thing is...”
Her voice trailed off for a moment.
“The thing is,” she continued finally, “I won't let you tell me what to do. And I refuse to murder anyone.”
“Then -”
Before Winifred could say another word, Susan plunged the knife into her own belly and screamed, before turning and slamming her body against the door. Dropping the knife, she plunged out into the cold night air and screamed again.
***
As distant thunder rumbled in the night sky, and waves crashed against the nearby shore, a figure wearing bright pink shorts and bright pink cat ears stepped out across the golf course, clutching her bleeding belly.
No matter how she tried to adjust her trembling hands, she was unable to stop the flow of blood. The knife had left a thick cut running straight down from just below her ribs, cutting straight through her navel. Since staggering out of the clubhouse a few minutes earlier, she'd tried to find some place where she could hole up and hide while she waited for the inevitable end. Now, however, she was starting to feel increasingly weak and finally she dropped to her knees.
Letting out a faint gasp, she shivered slightly as a cold breeze blew in from across the dunes. She looked down at her hands; in the moonlight, she could just about see dark blood glistening on her fingers. Her eyes began to slip shut, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep them open. Somewhere over her shoulder, a roar of laughter rang out from the clubhouse, and the voices of so many happy, drunk men seemed to echo all around in the darkness, bouncing off the golf course's tees and greens and dunes.
“Please,” she whispered, as – if anything – the flow of blood became stronger. “I didn't... please... I never meant to...”
Perched on top of her head, the pink cat ears were starting to get blown back by the wind that howled in from the sea. A cloud briefly moved across the moon, cutting off the blue glow just as she slumped to her side and fell against the damp ground. She let out a couple of faint, pained groans as her hands slipped away from the wound, and as her blood began to soak into the carefully-manicured grass of Crowford Golf Club's second hole. A few seconds later, the cloud moved on and moonlight once again bathed the course.
This time her eyes were frozen in place, staring up at the sky as a slow, dying breath left her lips.
“No!” Winifred screamed, jolting her from death – at the very last second – with a burst of pain. “I won't let you get away that easily!”
Rolling onto her front, Susan cried out for the pain to end. She could feel Winifred still trying to torture her, and the pain in her belly was already so much stronger. She'd felt herself slipping away a moment earlier, she'd been absolutely certain that she was falling into the soft embrace of death, but it had been the sheer pain – her own, and also Winifred's – that had dragged her back to life.
“Let me die!” she sobbed.
“It's not too late to make the right decision,” Winifred told her. “I can help you. Even now, I'm holding your wound together so that you don't bleed to death right here. Can't you feel that I'm doing that, Susan? Can you feel that I'm the one who's keeping you alive?”
“I just want this to end,” Susan cried. “I won't do what you want, I won't ever do it, so you might as well accept that and let me go!”
“There's no time for me to find someone else!” Winifred shouted angrily. “Don't you get it yet, you stupid girl? This isn't just about revenge, it's also about what they're planning to do next! I'm trying to stop the next great Crowford tragedy!”
“Just let me go,” Susan replied, as she started shivering in the cold night air. “Let me bleed.”
Suddenly something slammed against her, and she was startled by the sensation of hands on her body. She looked up, half expecting to see Winifred Thorpe staring down at her, but instead she spotted a familiar figure – still wearing cat ears – silhouetted against the stars.
“What happened to you?” Angie gasped. “Susan, you're bleeding! I found that knife just now, it was covered in blood! Who did this to you?”
“She won't let me go!” Susan sobbed.
“Who won't?” Angie asked, as the siren of an ambulance began to ring out in the distance, racing toward the clubhouse. “What's going on with you tonight? Who did this to you, Susan? Did you do it to yourself?”
“It's the only way to escape her!”
“The only way to escape who?”
“Winifred Thorpe!” Susan gasped, as she felt more blood running from the wound in her belly. “The dead woman from the cinema... I can't get her out of my head!
“Just... just stay calm, okay?” Angie replied, looking over her shoulder and spotting flashing blue lights stopping next to the clubhouse, just as thunder rumbled again overhead. “Over here!” she shouted, waving frantically for help. “I've found her! She's over here!”
“It's no use,” Susan replied, as she felt herself slipping away again. “There's nothing anyone can do. She's part of me now.”
“Help!” Angie screamed, still waving, as she saw two figures climbing out of the ambulance. “She's been stabbed! She needs help!”
“It's too late,” Susan whispered as her eyes slipped shut, and as she heard voices yelling in the distance. “She won't ever let me go.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“No!” Susan gasped, starting to sit up only to find that various wires were holding her down against the bed.
Startled, not understanding what was happening, she reached out and grabbed the handles on the bed's sides, and then she saw a figure rushing over to check on her.
“It's okay,” the nurse said, putting a hand on her chest, “Susan, everything's fine. The doctor will be through to see you shortly.”
“What happened?” she asked, still frantically looking around. “Where am I?”
“You're on the Lawrence Ward at Crowford Hospital,” the nurse explained, before tapping her badge. “My name is Nurse Blain, you can call me Doreen if you like.” She paused. “Susan, do you remember much about how you ended up here? Do you remember being at the golf club?”
“I...”
“You were stabbed,” Nurse Blain continued. “Doctor Miles says it's a miracle that you survived, he's still not quite sure what held you together until the ambulance arrived, but... Well, the important thing is
the you're here now, and you're going to be fine. We didn't expect you to wake up until at least the morning. You've got quite a few stitches, though.”
Looking down, Susan realized that her belly felt very sore. She tried to pull her hospital gown aside, but Nurse Blain gently moved her hands away.
“You need to rest, Susan,” she said calmly. “The police want to come and talk to you in the morning and ask you some questions about how this happened, but Doctor Miles is probably going to tell them that they have to come back another day. Your friend who came in with you told us that you might not want us to call your parents, but I thought I should check with you.”
“No,” Susan stammered, before looking over at the door. A clock on the wall gave the time as a little after 2am. “Where's Angie?”
“Your friend has popped home to fetch a few things, but she'll be back soon. She was so worried about you, Susan. She was crying her eyes out while she was waiting to hear that you'd be okay.”
“I need to talk to her,” Susan replied.
“She'll be back soon.”
“Now!” Susan snapped, before leaning back against the bed as she realized that she was in no position to make demands. As tears filled her eyes, she thought back to her final moments on the golf course. “I really thought I was...”
Her voice trailed off.
Dying.
She'd really thought she was dying.
“Why don't you get some rest now?” Nurse Blain asked, checking Susan's forehead with the back of her hand before stepping away from the bed. “You've had quite a lot of excitement, and I really think it's time for you to take it easy. Now, I'm going to go and tell Doctor Miles that you're awake, and he'll be along just as soon as he can, okay?” She paused, waiting for an answer. “Okay,” she added, before heading to the door.
Once she was alone in the room, Susan took a deep breath and tried to get her thoughts together. She remembered snatches of the night's events, a few fragments here and there, but she was having trouble piecing it all together into one coherent whole. She remembered almost killing Roger Bell, and she remembered that she'd accidentally cut Mrs. Chalfont's arm, and she remembered plunging the knife into her own belly in one final attempt to end the nightmare. Now, looking across the room and spotting a mirror above a sink at the far end, she thought back to the voice of Winifred Thorpe.
“Are you still here?” she whispered.
Silence.
“Are you still here?” she asked again, this time with more anger in her voice.
She waited, and then – determined to discover the truth – she began to free herself from the wires. Once that was done, she clambered off the bed and began to limp over toward the sink. She winced as she felt a sharp pain in her belly; she knew that she was most likely making a mistake, but the silence hadn't been enough of an answer to her question. Reaching the sink, she looked into the mirror and saw her own pale, terrified face reflected back.
She swallowed hard.
“Are you still here?” she asked for a third time.
Still receiving no answer, she tilted her head slightly.
“If you're here,” she continued, “you have to tell me. It's not fair to... I have a right to know. If you're here, if you're still in me somehow, I want to know.”
She waited, but the room remained silent and she began to feel the faintest flicker of hope in her chest.
“Please be gone,” she said. “Please, I'm begging you...”
She stared at herself for a moment longer, before turning to go back over to the bed.
And then, in an instant, she realized that she could feel something in her mind. She reached up and touched the side of her head, but the sensation persisted, as if a great fat black snake was slowly uncoiling itself in her thoughts. There was no sound, just the feeling of something churning in the darkness of her mind. Finally, as she looked back at the mirror, she felt certain that another pair of eyes had begun to look out through her own.
A few seconds after that, she heard laughter in her head.
“You stupid little thing,” Winifred's voice said calmly, “did you think that I'd just leave you so easily?”
“Please,” Susan stammered, “I can't do this.”
“Oh, I know you can't,” Winifred replied. “Believe me, tonight was a very convincing demonstration of your complete ineptitude. I blame myself, really, for thinking that you were ever up to the task.”
“I just want -”
“How many times have I saved your life?” Winifred sneered. “You might not want to accept the truth, but I was the one who held you back from jumping off that bridge, and I was the one tonight who kept you from bleeding out on the golf course. There have been other times, too. I've done so much for you, Susan, and what have you given me in return?”
“I -”
“Nothing!” Winifred shouted, sending another flicker of pain through Susan's head. “Yet I persisted, because in my naivety I still clung to the belief that you'd come good in the end. I saw something in you when we first met. I saw the potential that needed to be coaxed out of you. Even if I failed in that endeavor, I don't believe that I was wrong. The potential was real. It has just been wasted.”
“You wanted me to murder all those people.”
“I wanted you to bring justice!” Winifred snapped.
Gasping as the pain surged in her head, Susan dropped to her knees. Still just about managing to cling to the side of the sink, she tried to haul herself up, but her legs were too weak. Even the lights in the room were now starting to flicker.
“You were to be my instrument of vengeance in this world,” Winifred continued. “That's not much to ask for, is it? Should a wronged woman not be able to strike back against those who killed her?”
“This has nothing to do with me,” Susan sobbed.
“Do you know how much it hurt when I died?” Winifred asked. “Do you know how scared I was?”
“I -”
“Feel it!”
Before Susan could say anything, she was filled with a sudden burst of agony that felt very different to anything she'd experienced before. She felt thick black smoke rushing into her nose and mouth, filling her lungs, burning her from the inside. At the same time, something crashed down in the darkness, and she felt as if the whole world was shaking all around her. She heard a cry, too, but not her own; it was Winifred's voice that screamed in the void, begging for help even as she felt her throat burning, and as blood bubbled up into the back of her nose.
“Why should I be denied justice?” Winifred's voice snarled in her ears. “Why should they be allowed to do this to me? You saw them tonight, laughing and plotting, enjoying the fruits of their crimes! Why should they get to bask in their glory while I died in agony?”
Susan tried to respond, but the pain was too powerful. She could no longer see. She could only try to push back as an ever-increasing sense of agony rippled throughout her body. Every breath brought fresh pain, yet she couldn't stop desperately trying to get clean air into her lungs, even though she was surrounded by thick, acrid smoke. Finally she screamed, but even this brought fresh agony: her throat was already burned to a crisp, and she felt dry flakes of charred skin in the back of her mouth as the pain finally consumed her mind.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ten years earlier...
“Okay,” her mother said as she turned to Susan and patted her on the shoulder, “you can go on your own, but don't take too long or I'll have to come and find you.”
“Hurry up, sweetie,” her father said. “The film starts soon.”
“I'll be back soon,” Susan replied, turning and making her way across the packed foyer of the Crowford Empire.
Everything from the chatter of the crowd to the big, bright posters on the wall, made movie nights special. Of course, Susan knew that her parents could only afford to take her to the cinema a few times a year, but even that was okay since it meant that the trips were always real treats. She didn't even mi
nd what film they saw, just so long as they got to sit in the auditorium and watch something happen up on the big screen. For Susan, all that mattered was that she could see a film and feel as if she was being transported to some far-off world
Once she'd found the bathroom, she went to the toilet and then washed her hands before making her way back out. In her hurry to get back to her parents, however, she inadvertently took a wrong turn and suddenly found herself in an empty corridor that she'd never seen before.
Stopping, she looked around for a moment, before turning to go back.
“Hello there,” a woman said, suddenly standing right behind her.
Startled, Susan looked up at the woman's pale face. Something about the woman's appearance immediately sent a shiver through Susan's bones, although she tried to be polite and not show her discomfort. She took a step to the left, hoping to slip past, but the woman blocked her way.
“Are you lost?” the woman continued.
“Mummy and Daddy are waiting for me,” she explained.
“Isn't that sweet?” the woman asked, before crouching down to get a better look at her. “And what's your name?”
“Susan,” she said cautiously.
“Susan,” the woman replied. “Well, Susan, I think you and I might have to get to know one another a little better.”
With that, she smiled as she reached out and put a hand on the side of Susan's face.
“I have to go now,” Susan told her, wincing at the woman's icy touch.
“No, wait,” the woman replied, tilting her head slightly as she watched Susan's features with great interest. “I see something in your eyes, Susan. Something that makes me think you're a very clever little girl. Am I right in that assessment?”
“I don't know,” Susan said, starting to feel even more uncomfortable.
“And modest, too,” the woman continued. “I've been waiting a very long time to meet a girl like you, Susan, and do you know why?”
Susan shook her head. She considered calling out to her parents, but she didn't want to be rude.
