by Amy Cross
“Now you're being the voice of reason,” she mutters. “Do you realize how irritating that is?”
“You need a key to open them,” I continue. “What do you think, the officer's just going to drop the key into your lap?”
“I've always found a way out,” she says, still working on the handcuffs. “Every situation I've ever been in, I've always found a way out.” She grimaces as she pulls harder, and then she starts wriggling her hands again. “It's just a matter of being smart about it, and right now I've got two minds to work on the damn thing.”
“I'm just an extension of your mind,” I point out.
“The principle's the same.”
“I don't think the -”
“Damn it!” she mutters breathlessly, before slumping back against the bed.
I turn and look over at the doorway, but the guard is still focused on his phone. When I turn back to Paula, I see that she's staring up at the ceiling and seems lost in thought. I guess part of her mind is still imagining me, but she's also trying – in vain, I'm certain – to figure out a way to escape from the hospital. I feel bad for her, truly I do, but she's a complete mess and I honestly think that she's going to have to finally admit defeat.
“Why did you kill them?” I ask.
She looks at me.
“Why did you murder two people?” I continue.
“Forget it.”
“I can't. If I'm part of you, then I'm part of a murderer. That doesn't feel very... good.”
“You're starting to bore me,” she says, “with that judgmental tone.”
“I still want to know.”
“Well, I don't want to talk about it.”
“I -”
“And I get to decide,” she adds firmly. “I'll bring you back when I need you again. For now, you're getting on my tits so thanks, but no thanks.”
“I only -”
“Hey, welcome back,” she says, beaming at me.
“What? Are you -”
Before I can finish, I realize that whereas a moment ago there was bright light outside the window, now there's only darkness. I look around, but I can't deny the truth: in the blink of an eye, it's now several hours later.
“Sorry about that,” Paula says, “but I needed to focus and you were distraction.” She glances at the doorway, and then she turns back to me. “The good news,” she continues, lowering her voice as her smile grows, “is that I've come up with a plan.”
“Where did I go?” I ask, getting off the bed and stepping back.
“I just needed to get rid of you,” she explains. “Just for a -”
“You just made me go away?”
“For a few hours.”
“You can do that?”
“This is not the time to have a hissy fit!”
I open my mouth to ask if she's serious, but then I realize that she actually can make me vanish whenever she wants. And if anything ever happens to her, or if she ever tires of me, she can make me go away permanently.
“You can kill me,” I say finally. “You can just stop my life at any moment.”
“And why would I do that?” she asks, seemingly unable to understand why I'm upset. “Right now, you need to focus on the most important thing. Which is that I've come up with one hell of a plan.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“There's no plan that's going to get you out of here,” I point out, stepping back over to the bed. “Paula, you've got to face facts. They caught you. It's over.”
“I can't unlock the handcuffs without a key,” she replies, “so I need to get the emergency key from that locker over there.”
“There's no emergency key in the locker.”
“The hell there isn't,” she continues, craning her neck to look past me. “I overheard two of them talking earlier. The guard out in the corridor is supposed to have the only key, but he regularly has to take five-minute smoke breaks and the hospital flat-out refused to have me here in a position that meant they can't work on me if something goes wrong while he's out there. So there's an emergency release in that locker.”
“You can't reach that locker,” I reply.
“He's due a smoke break soon.”
“So?”
“No-one looks at the cameras. They're for review. So I've got a few minutes. I know it sounds nuts, but I'm right.”
“But -”
“And don't worry,” she adds. “I'm not really saying this out loud. I'm only thinking it.”
I open my mouth to ask what she means, but then I see the self-satisfied expression on her face.
“I have a plan,” she continues. “It's a long-shot, but it's my only chance to get out of here and go to Caroline's house. I know I've done wrong, and I know I deserve to rot for the rest of my life, but I have to see her face-to-face one time. I have to tell her who I am, and why I came to find her, and I have to give her a chance to tell me how she feels.”
“That's insane,” I reply.
“I know, but -”
Suddenly she turns and looks toward the doorway.
Following her gaze, I see that the officer has left his chair.
“Smoke break,” Paula says with a hint of anticipation in her voice. “Right on cue. Now comes the hard part.”
Pulling against the handcuffs, she starts pushing her elbows through the gaps in the back of the bed, pressing against the wall.
“What are you doing?” I ask, feeling increasingly exasperated by her ridiculous efforts. “There's no way this is going to work. He'll be back any moment, and then they'll see exactly what you're doing!” I glance up at the black-domed security camera, but then I hear a bumping sound and I turn just as Paula uses her elbows to push the entire bed away from the wall.
The emergency cord falls harmlessly to the floor as the bed squeaks out across the room and then rolls to a stop near the locker on the far side.
“You were saying?” Paula says with a smile, and now she's already moving herself as far as possible to the bottom of the bed. She can't move far, thanks to the handcuffs, but eventually she's able to reach out with her right leg, moving her bare foot until she's able to touch the locker door.
“This isn't going to work,” I tell her. “No-one would seriously put an emergency key in a place where you'd be able to reach it. You're deluded.”
“I'll show you,” she whispers, using her toes to try turning the handle. “It's not locked, either. Bureaucracy at its finest and -”
She lets out a gasp as her toes slip, but she immediately tries again, then again and again until finally she gets the handle to turn and the small metal door swings open. Inside the locker, several sets of keys are dangling from hooks.
“That's the one,” she mutters, stretching her leg as far as it'll go but coming up an inch or two short. “Damn, they put it right at the top.”
“You can't do this,” I point out. “Paula, you're going to tip the bed before you have a chance to get that key.”
“Then you get it for me.”
“I can't, you -”
“Exactly, so hush for a moment.” She strains again, trying desperately to reach the key, but it's clear that her leg isn't quite long enough. No matter how hard she tries to maneuver herself, there's no way she's ever going to get that key, although she clearly isn't ready to give up just yet.
“He's going to be back at any moment,” I point out. “Someone'll look at the camera feed and see you.”
“Just a little further!” she gasps.
“This isn't a movie, Paula,” I continue. “There's not a way out of every situation. You're just going to have to accept what's happening.”
I wait for her to reply, and then I make my way around to the other side of the bed. As I walk past the locker, however, I momentarily feel dizzy. I grab the edge of the bed and steady myself, and then I turn to Paula as I hear a series of frantic clicking sounds.
She's unlocking the handcuffs.
She has a small key.
“Where did you get that from?” I a
sk, before looking at the locker and seeing that one of the hooks is empty. I turn back to Paula just as she starts clambering out of the bed. “Paula, how did you do that?”
“You have no faith,” she mutters, adjusting her hospital gown before hurrying to the door and looking out into the corridor. “Okay,” she says hurriedly, “he'll be back any moment. We have to get out of here.”
“We?”
Instead of replying, she rushes out into the corridor and heads left, quickly disappearing from view.
“Paula!” I yell, but it's clear she's not going to come back so I run after her. “Hey, Paula! Stop!”
By the time I catch up to her, she's already through the double doors at the far end, and I find her starting to make her way down the fire escape steps.
“This is insane!” I shout, before hurrying after her. “Where do you think you're going to go?”
“I've got a plan!”
“You said that before, and look what happened!”
“I've got a better plan!”
Rushing after her as we head deeper down through the hospital, I can't help feeling a rush of panic. Paula's out of her mind, but at the same time I know that I'm part of her mind, which means maybe she's keeping me around for a reason. I can't even begin to figure out how this works, but if she really wanted me to go away she could get rid of me in the blink of an eye. Which means maybe she wants me to point out that she's insane, and my job is to talk her out of this madness and persuade her to go back up to the hospital bed.
“Paula, wait!” I shout as we get to the bottom of the stairs.
She rushes to the fire escape door and pushes it open. Cold wind immediately starts blowing in from the night outside, and she turns to me.
“Fifty pence,” she says, before leaning down and picking a silver coin off the floor. “Maybe that's a lucky sign. Catch.”
She tosses the coin at me. I instinctively catch it, but I slip it into my pocket as I step toward her.
“What are you going to do?” I ask. “Murder more people?”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand that you're a murderer,” I continue. “First that girl in the alley, and then that kid – a little girl – who you'd promised to look after.”
“You really don't get it,” she says firmly.
“Did it feel good?” I ask. “When you cut that girl's throat, I mean. Did Rose cry as you slaughtered her?”
This time, Paula simply stares at me, and I can see tears in her eyes. Behind her, stars fill the night sky.
“If you leave here,” I continue, taking another step toward her, “you're putting more people at risk. I know you think you can control yourself, but you can't. Someone else will die. Maybe a little girl. Maybe a boy. Maybe someone older. But are you really willing to put innocent people at risk, just so that you can run off on some crazy impulse that's never going to work out?”
“For a guilty conscience,” she replies, “you sure suck.”
“Apparently I'm just telling you something you already know,” I point out. “If you don't like it, make me go away.”
I wait for her to reply, but now she's simply staring at me.
“If you're going to kill more people,” I tell her, “then I don't want to see it. If you die, then I die too, don't I? So just do me a favor and stop using me as a way to distance yourself from your own actions. Live in your own self, Paula.”
“I can do both,” she says, although she sounds a little less certain than usual.
“If you leave this hospital,” I continue, “then you're nothing more than a selfish, dangerous bitch.”
I wait for her to say something.
“I know,” she replies finally. “Now come on. This hospital gown isn't exactly warm.”
With that, she turns and runs, letting the door swing shut. I know I'm going to have to go with her, I know I don't even have a choice, but for a moment I stand in the bare stairwell and take a deep breath. It's as if Paula's mind has split in two, and she's using me as a container for whatever's left of her sense and sanity. Any moment now, I'm going to blink and find myself out there with her, and I don't think there's anything I can do or say to make her stop whatever's she's doing right now. She's out of control – we're out of control – and it's not much use being the sensible one.
Oh crap.
Here we go.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“They're going to come after you!” I yell as I run to keep up with Paula as she hurries across the marshland. “Do you think they won't notice you're gone?”
“Of course they'll notice!” she shouts, before leaping across a small river that runs through the boggy ground. She looks utterly ridiculous in her flapping hospital gown, and when she lands she slips slightly and falls onto all fours.
Getting up, she's already caked in mud.
“They'll be looking for me already,” she says breathlessly, silhouetted against the lights of Croftby that wait just a couple of miles ahead, “but they won't know exactly where to find me.”
“They -”
“I'm going to Caroline,” she adds.
“That'll be the first place they look.”
“No, it won't,” she replies. “I never actually gave them her name, so they only know that I'll be going to someone. That's why I've got to hurry, before they have a chance to start really combing the streets.”
Turning, she starts running again, although she almost stumbles several times as her feet sink into the mud.
“I don't think going to see Caroline is a very good idea,” I tell her as I keep pace. “You've already let this obsession get way out of hand. Do you really think this Caroline woman even wants to see you?”
“As far as she's concerned,” she replies, “I'm just some homeless girl who she caught loitering in her company's cottages a few times.”
“You never told her you were her friend from the internet?”
“I was waiting for the right moment.”
“And this is the right moment?”
Without replying, she jumps over another small river. This time she lands a little short and falls down into the water. Gasping and spluttering, she hauls herself out and emerges in a patch of moonlight, covered in mud from the chest down.
“Seems as good a moment as any,” she gurgles, once again getting to her feet. “Put it this way. I don't think a better chance is going to present itself.”
“And what are you going to say to her when you find her?” I ask. “I mean, in the extremely unlikely event that you manage to reach her?”
“Oh, there's so much spinning through my thoughts,” she replies. “I've waited so long to talk to her, but I figure I'll just kinda blurt it all out. I'm sure she's going to be surprised.”
“You think?”
“I just want to know why she stopped talking to me,” she continues, before turning to me. “That's all. I should have asked her before, but I was too much of a pussy. Now I have no choice, I have to be straight. I'm not angry or resentful, not anymore. I just want to know whether I scared her off, or whether it was an accident, or whether it was something I haven't even thought of. Then I can...”
Her voice trails off for a moment.
“Then I can die happy,” she adds finally. “Or content, at least.”
“And when you die, we both die,” I point out. “That's right, isn't it?”
“I'm not scared.”
“I feel so real,” I tell her.
“I'm making you feel that.”
“And you're feeling it?” I ask.
She nods.
“So let me get this straight,” I continue. “You're standing there, feeling all your own thoughts.”
She nods again.
“Meanwhile, you're imagining me standing here watching you, and you're imagining this conversation we're having.”
She nods.
“I don't even get how that's possible?” I ask. “How can you separate your mind in two like that?”
“Practice, I guess,” she replies. “Dad always told me there was something wrong with me, like there was some part of me that I had to jettison.”
“So I'm that part?” I continue. “I'm the part you tried to get rid of?”
She pauses, before shaking her head.
“You're the part I was supposed to keep,” she explains. “Dad was right, I was beyond help. I used to think this made me smart, but now I realize it's just part of the problem. I can't ever change it, and I can't stop thinking through both of us at the same time. It's just how I'm gonna be until the end.” She smiles. “You know, in case it isn't clear yet, I'm pretty severely mentally ill. To a quite spectacular degree.”
“I'm starting to realize that,” I whisper.
“This is the last thing I have to do,” she continues. “The very last thing. After this, I don't care about anything. They can lock me away forever and throw away the key, or I can just curl up and die. Or maybe I'll toss myself into the sea. I've always kinda fancied that, you know. Actually, I really wanted to be on one of those boats out there in the darkness with the flashing lights.”
“I know,” I tell her.
“Oh yeah,” she says with a grin. “I was fantasizing about that while I thought I was dying in the ambulance. Even in my fantasies, I couldn't get there. I ended up imagining myself drowning.”
“I know,” I say again. “I was kinda there.”
“Huh. Yeah.”
She pauses again.
“I never really had a friend,” she says after a moment. “Sad, huh? But true. I never had a friend, apart from Mayfly90330 online, and even she abandoned me. So I had to invent a friend, and that was you, and I must say that you've been great. You've held me together during these difficult few weeks. I wish I could've managed without you, but I couldn't so...”
“Are you saying that without me,” I reply, “you wouldn't have done any of this?”
“Proud of yourself?”
“You murdered two girls,” I point out.
Her smile fades.
“So no,” I continue, “I'm not proud of myself, which means you're not proud of yourself either. Not really. Not deep down. You did a... We did a bad thing. Twice. You're a bad person, Paula. Despite all your attempts to justify your actions, you're a calculating, cold-blooded murderer and nobody is ever going to have any sympathy for you. You deserve to rot in jail. No, worse. You deserve to die.”