“You’re not taking the vitamins?” Her mother smiled. “But I saw you take your vitamin this morning.”
“I just pretended,” she said.
Her mother stared at her, her smile fading quickly as she understood what Justine was saying.
“You’re a very ungrateful girl,” she said. “I think you had better go up to your room until your father comes home,” she added.
“Mom, don’t you understand anything I’m telling you?”
“I understand that we’ve done all this for you, and you turn on us like this. Don’t you realize how embarrassing this could be for us if these ridiculous ideas got out…and just when we’ve made so many good friends?” She nodded, confirming a thought. “Dr. Lawrence was right—there are substantially bad influences polluting you.”
“Dr. Lawrence is…is a maniac,” she said. Her mother stepped forward to slap her across the face. “Go to your room this instant,” Elaine said through her teeth.
Her mother’s look of intense hate and anger frightened Justine. She burst into tears and rushed away, charging through the house and up the stairs to her room where she shut the door.
Now she lay on the bed, waiting, confused, frustrated, frightened.
Perhaps her father would listen. Her father was brilliant and cunning. How else could he have become so successful so quickly? He would see things her mother couldn’t see. And he wasn’t here all day under the influence of these people and the development.
When she heard him enter the house, she sat up quickly, waiting in anticipation. Her mother had greeted him at the door and was filling him in on their confrontation. Very soon she heard his footsteps on the stairway. He didn’t knock, but she didn’t care.
“What’s going on here, Justine?” he demanded, standing in the doorway. Her mother stood right behind him, her face knotted in a grimace of pain and sadness. “You haven’t been taking your vitamin, and you hate it here?”
“Oh, Daddy,” she said, starting to cry.
Kevin Freeman moved into the room and sat beside her on the bed. His face softened, and he put his hand on her shoulder. “Well, what is it, princess? Tell me.”
Looking into her father’s eyes, Justine thought she saw the old warmth and affection. He looked concerned, interested. She sat up, encouraged.
She went through her story concerning Lois, describing how things looked differently to her once she stopped taking the vitamin. She told him about Brad and about Lois’s mother. He listened attentively as she described peeking in on the Wilsons and seeing them watching the videotape at the same time he and her mother were watching. Then she told him about the paintings Christy Duke and her mother were doing.
“Something’s happening to everyone here, Daddy. Something terrible. I know it has something to do with the vitamins and with this ringing in our ears. Lois was about to show me more before Dr. Lawrence got to her.”
Her father listened, then nodded thoughtfully. Her mother moaned and sobbed in the hallway until he turned around and glared at her.
“Elaine,” he said. “Why don’t you just go downstairs now? I’ll handle this, okay?”
Her mother nodded and left quietly.
“She won’t listen to me,” Justine said. “All she’s worried about is being embarrassed.”
“Well, you’ve got to be more understanding about your mother,” he said. “This is a dramatic move for her, even more than it is for you. You see, I was brought up in a semi-rural environment. I’m used to small towns like Sandburg Creek, and small-town life where everyone knows everyone else’s business. Your mother lived in a penthouse in the most exciting, bustling city in the world, and suddenly, she’s here.
“Now you come to her with these stories, so it’s understandable she would be fragile and emotional, isn’t it?” her father asked softly.
Justine nodded and wiped her eyes.
“What are we going to do, Daddy?”
“Well, let me think about all this and look around a bit. The main thing is, you shouldn’t let any of these ideas out. Don’t talk to any of the other kids about it, not even Lois Wilson.”
“I can’t talk to her anymore, and it’s useless to talk to the other kids.”
“Right. Okay, why don’t you rest up a bit and I’ll see if Mommy can cook, or if we should all go out to eat, okay?”
She nodded and lay back as he got up.
“I knew you would listen. I knew you would understand,” she said.
He smiled. “I’m not going to let anything happen to my princess,” he said. “The idea was to bring us to a beautiful, safe environment where we would all be happy and secure. Anything that interrupts or damages that won’t be tolerated,” he added, his face tight with intensity. For a moment, he looked absolutely furious. “Be back in a little while,” he said and left the room.
She closed her eyes to do just what her father had suggested—relax for a little while. She felt she could now. She had put her problems into her father’s capable hands. She should have gone to him in the first place. He was always the strength in their family; he was always there whenever she needed him, no matter what the problem or the situation.
She felt her heartbeat slow down, and the pounding in her head receded. Feeling protected and safe, she drifted off for a short nap. Her father would take action. That was all that mattered now.
The ringing in her ears woke her. She opened her eyes abruptly and sat up quickly, listening. It was happening again, only it wasn’t doing anything to her because she was off the vitamins. Still, if she could hear it, her father could hear it. She had to tell him and make him aware. This was the sound she had described, the ringing her mother claimed she had never heard.
She slid out of bed and left her room, but hesitated when she reached the top of the stairway. She could hear voices in the living room below. There was a stranger in the house. Her heart began to flutter again and her stomach felt so empty and light it was as though someone had sliced her in half and her torso was floating away from the rest of her body.
It was Dr. Lawrence. Dr. Lawrence was downstairs with her parents, and he was talking to them as if they were little children.
“I don’t care how loose it is,” his second self began the moment he opened his eyes, “you’re not going to go down there and just lift it off that other body. Your father took great pains to place it securely where it is.”
He sat up and looked around. His door had been left open, but the nurse was not hovering about. He thought he heard tiny voices and listened hard. Soon he realized what it was—she was watching some soap opera in her room. It was safe to move about. She was half in and half out of the television set, walking beside her heroines and heroes, kissing the men she admired, being the woman of her fantasies.
“I know that,” he whispered, wiping his eyes. They felt like two blobs of jelly. He looked down at his arms. The skin on them was so translucent now, he could see the tiny wires and sockets. It occurred to him that his father probably put the girl together the same way he had put him together.
“So what are you going to do? Or has this all been just talk?”
He glared at the shadows.
“It’s not all talk. I know what to do. It’s a matter of cutting some wires and unplugging her head. That’s all.”
“How do you know that?”
“Look around you. It’s how everything’s been put together.”
“So? You’ll still need some tools, won’t you?”
“Yes.” He thought about it for a moment. Then he slipped off his bed ever so softly, moving inches at a time. The tiny television voices continued in the other room. He went to the doorway, sliding his feet over the sheet of ice that covered his floor. He was barefoot and it was cold, but he had to tolerate it if he was going to be successful.
“Where are you going?”
“Shh.”
“Be careful.”
He peered out the doorway. All was quiet; all was still. The nurse
was still half in and half out of her television set. It was his best opportunity. He tiptoed over the hall floor until he reached the kitchen. Then he went to the side door that opened to the garage and turned the knob a fraction of an inch at a time to subdue the sound of the click. When the door opened, he looked back and listened. She hadn’t heard him; it was still okay.
Remembering where things were kept in the garage, he went directly to the bin that contained the tools. He lifted the lid as carefully as he had turned the knob on the kitchen door, and then searched within until he found the machete. When he was a young teenager, he used to enjoy clearing pathways in the forest, pretending he was on a safari in the jungle.
The edges showed some rust, but he thought it was still sufficiently sharp. He took it out slowly and lowered the lid softly. Then he made his way back to the kitchen and tiptoed through the house to his room. Once there, he shoved the machete between the mattress and bed springs.
“Good work,” his second self said. He didn’t respond, but got back into his bed and lay there, waiting for her. He heard the tiny voices die, then heard her footsteps. He turned when she appeared in the doorway.
As usual, her face was flushed from the excitement she experienced living vicariously through television characters. Her thick neck was blotched red at the base of her throat, and her breathing was labored. He imagined how hard her heart struggled to lift that heavy bosom.
One of the buttons of her white uniform had come undone just at the center of her bosom. She was braless, and her nipples pressed vigorously against the garment. At this moment her breasts terrified him, but he couldn’t turn away. He didn’t want her to suspect anything.
She approached slowly, moving like a drugged gorilla, her heavy arms held low and away from her body. When she reached his bed, she undid the remaining top buttons of her uniform and leaned over to spill her breasts over him.
“Love me,” she commanded, “love me like Cliff loves Tandy.” She brought her hands to her bosom and pressed her breasts against his face, nearly smothering him. He tasted her salty skin and smelled her perspiration. It nauseated him, but he swallowed back the urge to dry heave and accepted her nipple between his lips, licking it like a hungry puppy dog.
She moaned. Her television lovemaking had brought her to the brink of orgasm, and now she quickly went over, revealing it in little cries of pleasure. His entire bed shook as she pumped her body against him. He was afraid the machete would fall out.
But it didn’t, and soon her passion receded like the ocean tide. She backed away from him, her face red, her eyes watery, her lips puffed. She ran her hands over her hair, then rushed out to wash her face in cold water.
He knew what she was doing; she had done it before.
“That was disgusting,” his second self said.
“What did you want me to do, drive her away and get her upset? She might interfere with our plans.”
“I can still feel disgusted, can’t I?”
“It wasn’t you.”
“I feel what you feel.”
“So then you know I’m not happy about it.”
He sat up and checked the machete. Then he got off the bed and went to the window.
“My father’s down there,” he said. “You don’t think he could be warning her, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You’re not going to chicken out now, are you? Not now, when you’ve gone so far.”
“No.”
“I’m coming with you.”
He turned around quickly. “No. I don’t want to have to worry about you stepping into the light. I’ll have enough on my mind.”
“You’re going to need me. I can see that.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No!”
“No what?” the nurse said, appearing in the doorway, her face cooled down, her hair brushed neatly, her uniform buttoned. “What is it now?”
He looked at the shadows. His second self had retreated sufficiently.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I…I had a bad thought.”
“Only one?” She came into his room and went to his closet. “You’re getting dressed up tonight. Your father wants you cleaned and dressed properly for dinner. You’ll wear these slacks, this shirt and tie, and this jacket. What he expects you’ll look like, I don’t know,” she said, turning to him. “Maybe he’s testing some of those vitamins himself,” she added and laughed.
Then she stopped thoughtfully.
“Maybe he’s getting ready to demonstrate you. He’s been mentioning that lately. Oh, well,” she said, shrugging. “Ours is not to question why. Ours is but to do and—”
“Die,” he said.
She tilted her head, and he saw just where the wires were connected in her neck. Surely they were located in the same place in the girl’s neck.
“Very good. Okay,” she said. “To the showers.”
He started out, but just before he reached the doorway, he heard his second self whisper, “I’ll keep my eye on the machete.”
He checked to see if the nurse heard anything, but she was too occupied with his wardrobe.
“Thanks,” he whispered, then left the room, confident all would go well.
“Her misbehavior,” Dr. Lawrence said, “is not entirely her fault. Another girl, a problem child, has been a bad influence on her.”
“Lois Wilson,” Justine heard her mother say. She had gone far enough down the stairs to listen in on the conversation. “She said that Lois told her to stop taking her vitamins.”
“That’s right. The Wilsons have had a terrible time with their daughter. I’ve begun seeing her on a regular basis again.”
“Maybe you should see Justine on a regular basis,” Kevin Freeman said.
Justine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Hadn’t her father believed anything she’d told him?
“That’s why we called you right away.”
“It’s good that you did.”
“But she won’t take her vitamins,” Elaine whined. Justine couldn’t believe the sound of her mother’s voice. It was more like the voice of a little girl, frustrated and tired. Justine thought she even heard her sniffling.
“That’s all right,” Dr. Lawrence said. “She doesn’t have to take them herself.”
“Oh?”
“For the next few days you can crush them up and put them in her food.”
“Oh. What a good idea. Isn’t that a good idea, Kevin?”
“Yes, it is. Should I keep her away from the Wilson girl, too?”
“No, that’s not necessary anymore. The Wilson girl will be all right now. However, I have heard that Justine is paying too much attention to some problem kids at school, a girl named Bonny Joseph, and a boy named Tad Donald. Both are very bad influences. You must forbid her from seeing or talking to them. Ever,” he added.
“I’ll see to that,” her father said gruffly.
“But you’ll see her, won’t you, Dr. Lawrence?” her mother asked, a frantic tone in her voice.
“Of course. Right after you start her on her vitamins again. You can bring her around to my office in two days,” he said.
“Oh, good,” her mother said. “I feel so much better now.”
“Me, too,” her father said.
“In fact,” Dr. Lawrence said, “I’d like to have a few words with her now. Just to see how much damage has been done to her,” he added. “It will give me a better idea of how to treat her later on.”
“Of course,” her father said. “She’s up in her room. I’ll get her.”
Justine started back up the stairs quickly.
“No, that’s all right,” Dr. Lawrence said. “Let me go up myself. I do better with teenagers when their parents aren’t present. Understandably, parents are a bit intimidating for them.”
“Certainly,” Justine’s father said.
“Thank you,” her mot
her added. “Thank you, Dr. Lawrence,” she said as the doctor started out of the living room.
Justine had backed up to the top of the stairs when she debated rushing down and running out of the house. However, he was at the foot of the stairway already, and he would only block her exit. She retreated to her room quickly and stood there, frozen like a trapped animal. Moments later, he was at her door.
He tapped gently, and then opened it. “Hello, Justine.”
She stepped back, obviously terrified, but he didn’t acknowledge her reaction.
“I understand you’re not feeling well today.” He stepped farther into the room and looked around. “You have a very nice room, cozy and comfortable.” He went to her window and looked out at the street. “And a beautiful view of the development, too.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said quickly.
He simply smiled. Dressed in a light gray sports jacket with a dark gray shirt and a navy tie, he looked tanned and relaxed, unruffled by the conflict around him. His calm, soft expression confused Justine. She expected rage and anger because of the accusations she had made against him and the development.
“I can understand that,” he said. “You’ve been frightened and confused.”
“I’m not confused. Something terrible is happening here, and not just to me and my parents.”
“Terrible?” His smile widened. He had such soft, comforting eyes, eyes that lulled and soothed, eyes that mesmerized. She didn’t want to look at him, but it was difficult to turn away. “What’s terrible? Everyone is happy and healthy here. Everyone’s prospering. I told you to call me if you had any problems. Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, sitting at her desk so casually, it was as if he often came up to her room to talk to her.
“You did something to Lois,” she said. “She’s different.”
“Uh-huh. She was in bad shape the other day, Justine. Her parents were very worried. Lois has been having hallucinations. I don’t like talking about another patient, but in this case, since you have already been affected by her problems, I think it’s all right,” he added, crossing his legs and sitting back.
“Hallucinations?”
Perfect Little Angels Page 18