by Riley Ross, Sally Slayer, Kaydence Rayne, & Dovey Mayali Cralk
Chapter Three
Opening my eyes, I saw my waking nightmare. Dr. Kreseb, AKA creepy killer clown dude, AKA my personal torturer, was leaning over me with a speculative expression. “I would’ve thought you would be more cooperative by now. When will you ever learn these things we do in here are for your own good? If you can’t keep her on the inside where she belongs, I’ll cut her out of there permanently! Now, close your eyes and uncurl your fists. It won’t do any good, anyway. You are strapped down for a reason.” With a huff, he stalked back to the tray that held all the devices used to torture me every day.
While his back was turned to me, I began to struggle against the restraints. Though I already knew it was useless, I still had to try. Before I made any sort of progress, he spun around to face me, his overly large eyes boring into me as though he knew I was trying to escape after he told me to be still. A wide smile spread across his skeletal face as he casually spun the scalpel around in his hand like it was nothing more harmful than a feather. “I told you not to move.” He smiled as though this pleased him, though it shouldn’t have. “Now we get to do things the fun way.” With an even bigger grin, he stabbed a needle into my thigh. I hadn’t even seen the damn thing in his hands! To my utter horror, he began to morph right in front of my eyes into my worst nightmare. His frizzy orange hair and bright red nose were at odds with the painted-on grin that betrayed a few drops of blood dripping slowly down the grossly elongated chin. I had tried all along to be calm and not betray my fear, but at this horrible sight, I couldn’t hold back the scream that erupted from my lips, scraping my throat until it was raw.
I sat up panting and drenched in sweat. A dream. It had only been a dream -- well nightmare, really -- but it felt so real, as though I had actually lived it. With a shudder I realized it probably had been real, and was one of the many memories that had begun to surface since we had escaped our imprisonment. Most things were still pretty hazy, but every once in a while I remembered something. I was certain that with a bit of time I would regain all, or at least most, of my memories, but unfortunately patience wasn’t really my strongest personality trait.
With a sigh, I tried to flip the covers off, but they were tangled around my feet. After a few minutes of struggling and cursing under my breath, I was finally free of the wrinkled bedclothes. Shakily, I found myself trying to calm my nerves, but the whole effort was in vain. After seeing the freaking clown in my dream, every time I closed my eyes it was all I could see. “I need coffee, and lots of it.” I announced to the silent room. Wait, just where the hell was Bobbi, anyway? Glancing at the illuminated numbers Bobbi’s alarm clock displayed, I saw that it was far earlier than I was expected to awaken. I had assumed she would have been sleeping in today. After all, it was a weekend -- at least that’s what I had been told. I wandered around the small space, snooping, until I surmised the lack of any sort of early morning caffeinated beverages. “No coffee? What the hell kind of place is this?” I was less than thrilled at the prospect of having to speak to anyone this early in the day without my beloved coffee. I most likely resembled a bear this morning, with my hair ratted like some sort of rodent nest and my eyes only opening to half-mast. This thought reminded me of some distant memory that lay hidden just beyond my conscious line of thoughts. Growling aloud -- yep, definitely a bear-like trait -- I slumped toward the door, determined to find coffee somewhere in this damned place even if I had to trek back through the tunnel of doom and go back toward the small town we had passed through on the way here.
“Wow, you look like...well like some sort of wild animal that’s ready to tear someone’s arm off. Rough night?” I knew before I turned to face the man that it just HAD to be Adam. No one else could sound quite as snarky as he did.
I spun, glaring incredulously at the offending voice. “It’s early, I’m tired, and what the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought we weren’t supposed to leave until seven.” I stomped closer, inches from his face. “And are you seriously going to talk to me that way first thing in the morning? The proper way to address me is 'Yes, my queen, I DO have your coffee ready for you.’” I tweaked his nose, earning a scowl. “That is, if you don’t wish to have your appendages forcibly removed from their proper sockets...” I let the threat drift away -- to me it always seemed more menacing that way; I mean, a person’s own imagination is usually far better suited to torture them, anyway -- and turned on my heel to stalk away.
A hand snaked out and gripped my bicep firmly. “All the food joints are this way, Cleo.” With a smug grin, he indicated the direction I had been facing when we spoke and dropping my arm abruptly, he strode in that direction.
“Ass...” I mumbled under my breath as I jogged to keep up. Ah, to be cursed with these terribly short legs -- or at least shorter than his...really, how many people have legs built like stilts?
We neared a cheery yellow building whose sign boasted “best coffee around”, not that they had too much competition. As soon as the door opened, I knew they weren’t just boasting. The intoxicating smell of fresh coffee brewing, along with fresh muffins and pastries, immediately made me feel human again, the bear a distant memory. Adam strutted up to the counter and ordered two caramel macchiatos. Briefly I wondered how he knew that was the drink I wanted, but chalked it up to just one more thing my poor mind had forgotten. He gestured for me to pick a table and sit while he waited for the coffee. I slunk down in the comfy chair, facing the door, just in case, and hoping to suddenly become invisible. It seemed most of the people around here had either seen us walking through the camp or heard about it from someone, and they were all staring at me.
Just when I was about to give up on the coffee and make a break for it -- a crime, I know -- a calm voice came from behind me. “Your coffee, my Queen. Please don’t have me beheaded for my insolence.” The deadpan way he said it caused me to break out in a fit of hysterical giggles. For one moment, I didn’t care that every person in the room was staring at us. It was just a funny moment between two old friends, and I laughed until tears streamed down my cheeks while Adam gaped at me as though I was ready for a straightjacket.
Before I was ready, he herded me toward the door and my waiting “psych evaluation”. I didn’t want to go, but couldn’t think of a good excuse to get out of it so let myself be led along. What if this person doing my little evaluation decided I was crazy? Would they send me straight to a padded room with no windows? Just the thought of it sent an unwanted chill down my spine as I remembered another solitary room without windows. Adam glanced down at me with, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve assumed his expression held a bit of concern in it. Of course he didn’t really care about me, it was just in his job description as my guardian to escort me around and keep me in one piece. “Hey, everything OK?” His voice was quiet and soft as he pulled me to a stop and stared into my eyes.
“Uh, yeah. I was just...remembering...something.” I tried to keep my speech even and appear unconcerned, but failed miserably. Taking a deep breath and screwing my courage up, I continued. “Look, I’m just a little worried about going to see this ‘psych’ person. What if they decide I’m crazy and need to be locked up in a padded cell with a straightjacket and an IV drip of sedation medication?” Once I started, it all rushed out at once, and I hoped I wasn’t speaking too fast to be understood. “What if it’s just like...before? Just because I don’t quite remember it all doesn’t mean I didn’t hate every second of it I DO remember!” Feeling quite drained, I slumped as I turned to keep walking. It wouldn’t look good for sure if I was late for the very first appointment. I kind of wished Jack were the one to escort me to this appointment. At least he would attempt to understand my worries and possibly try to make me feel better, not like Adam, who was still standing in the same spot and staring as though he hadn’t understood what I was talking about. Maybe I should’ve told Jack the correct time instead of letting him sleep. I just couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking I was crazy. It’s not like
everyone else didn’t already think that, it was just nice to have one person who thought I was perfectly sane. My steps began to quicken as my mind tried to sort out the hurricane of thoughts that swirled around inside.
Adam finally broke from whatever spell was holding him in place and jogged to catch up again -- it seriously is not fair that his legs are so long, most other people would’ve been left behind! Keeping in stride with my shorter legs, he nudged me in the side, something Jack had done numerous times when he wanted to speak to me only and not alert the others. “Look, if...that...happened again...well we would do the same thing as last time and bust out! Don’t worry about it too much. Anyway, I’m pretty sure the boss wouldn’t allow that to happen.” He murmured as he leaned down toward my ear. The warmth of his breath tickled, and it was difficult not to squirm away - that would’ve offended him and brought on asshole-mode, I’m sure - so I suffered in silence.
With a sigh and a roll of my eyes, I stomped forward again. Before long, we stopped in front of a building that didn’t quite seem to fit in with the others, just as “headquarters” had done. It was a short, squat thing made almost entirely of glass. It seemed fitting, since its inhabitants were about to try to look through my brain as though it was a window. We entered the building and immediately found ourselves faced with a cheery receptionist, who promptly gave us form upon form and asked us to take a seat as I filled them out. I found it sort of odd that this off the grid establishment would force someone to fill out a bunch of traceable paperwork! Ugh, whatever, at least we weren’t forced to make small talk or read lame magazines. I was actually doing fine until I came to the part of the paperwork that asked about allergies to medicine. Why would they need to know that? They weren’t planning to sedate or medicate me…were they? I was almost finished filling in the blanks when the receptionist poked her head out again and spoke in a voice that was far too cheery for this early in the morning. “Dr. Rochester will see you now.” As I tried to stand, I noticed something was holding me back. With a glance down, I saw that I was clutching Adam’s hand as though my life depended on it. A blush crept up my neck, and I hastily dropped his hand. In a way I wished he would’ve forced me to keep holding on, if nothing else for the comfort of not having to face this alone. Yeah, I was a little more afraid than I was willing to admit even to myself. With robotic steps, I managed to trudge toward the door the receptionist indicated - I sort of wished I had remembered her name, at least then it wouldn’t have been as awkward and we could’ve made small talk. She pointed silently to a door, indicating we had reached our destination and I was to enter, but my feet remained rooted to their current location with no apparent inclination to change it anytime soon.
She cleared her throat uncomfortably, and knocked on the door. Before any response could be heard, she swung it open and shoved me gently inside. Talk about your pushy people…literally! A plump older woman sat reclined behind a desk. She was on the phone, and for that I was thankful. At least that would give me a chance to become less terrified and possibly even relax - yeah, I know, fat chance, but it was worth a shot. I glanced around the office, hoping for something that would put me at ease, but that hope was dashed as soon as I saw the things that adorned the walls. Clowns, clowns and more clowns. Who the hell decorated their freaking office with such profane material anyway?! Feeling dizzy and slightly nauseated, I took a seat in the only chair available, a stiff-backed uncomfortable thing. I hadn’t even been sitting very long, but it was already causing my butt to hurt. The woman hung up the phone after a final word of parting with her caller, and focused her gaze upon me. She wasn’t really a horribly frightening-looking woman, but her obsession with the circus freaks had already caused me to judge her as a bad person. Her soft brown eyes seemed like they would put a normal person at ease and her round face lit up when she smiled, which she did. Even so, I still couldn’t bring myself to speak yet.
“So, Miss Perry, what would you like to talk about today? I know Mr. Black wanted us to discuss a few specific topics, but this is about you. Feel free to set the pace and talk about whatever you choose. I want you to feel completely at ease here.” The nameplate on her desk introduced her as Dr. Kathleen Rochester.
I stared blankly at her for a moment. “If you truly want people to feel at ease, you might think about getting rid of all these damned clowns! They’re freaking me the hell out!” I blurted out in a rush, trying not to look at the offending knickknacks. Immediately I clammed up again, unwilling to divulge anything else that might cause this woman to question my sanity. I sat back in the chair, but didn’t relax my posture just in case I had the opportunity to escape. I understood that I wasn’t actually being forced to stay...just strongly encouraged.
Dr. Rochester cleared her throat, leaned forward, and propped her chin on her hands. “Why do you say that? Do clowns bother you?” She seemed unduly interested in this topic. When it became apparent I was not going to respond to this, she heaved a great sigh and tried again. “Cleo, please feel free to express any opinion here. There will be no judgment. My only hope is to help you feel better.” She spoke gently as though I would fall apart if she raised her voice a tiny bit.
Refusing to break my personal contract of silence, I simply stared back at her in response. I knew no matter what she said, everything I told her would be reported back to Dad. As if that wasn’t bad enough, depending on what she may be able to discover, I could end up in the looney bin with a brand new shiny straightjacket! I wished I had gone with my first thought and ditched the “therapy” session in favor of hanging out with Jack, Bobbi, and Gabe. At least they didn’t seem to care if I was slightly insane.
After a few more minutes of our staring contest, Rochester cleared her throat again. “You know...I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.” She stared deep into my eyes again as though it would force my mouth to begin spewing secrets merely from meeting her gaze.
With a huff, I finally broke the silence. “Look, lady. What do you want me to say? I don’t really have any memory of anything that happened before last week. What could you possibly do for that?” I gave her a challenging glare.
“There are plenty of things I could do, dear. First things first, though. We need to determine exactly how much you do or do not remember. After we get a baseline, there are some exercises we can do to help you get more back.” Dr. Rochester stated with a placid smile.
I took a moment to digest this before carefully picking my words. “Have you people ever considered that there may be a reason I forgot those things?” When she looked like she would interrupt, I continued hastily. “I mean, what if the things that happened to me in that horrible place turn out to be even more horrible that we originally thought? Couldn’t that like...I don’t know, traumatize me or something?”
Seeming extremely pleased that it hadn’t taken me long to begin speaking to her, she leaned back in her chair. She seemed to be deliberating the meaning of my words as she leaned her desk chair back and forth, like some old southern grandma sitting on the front porch in her rocking chair. Her perfectly manicured brows knit together as she examined me from across the desk as a weird buzzing feeling hit me like a fly zooming around one’s head. I shook it off and continued in my reverie.
As I watched her watching me, a funny thought crossed my mind. Rocking chairs are an awful lot like worrying. They’ll both keep you busy, but neither will get you anywhere. Briefly, I considered where this particular saying came from. I seemed to have heard it somewhere before, but couldn’t quite place where. There seemed to be a voice that went along with the saying, as well, but I had no idea who it could be. I felt that familiar itchy feeling somewhere inside my head, as though something were trying to get out, but couldn’t. Perhaps she could actually help me remember some things from my past. It couldn’t all be bad, right? I shook my head ruefully as I began thinking that perhaps this whole therapy session thingy might not be such a terrible idea after all as the doc started speaking again.
>
~~~~~~~~~~
After an eternity in the doc’s office, I was finally allowed to leave -- truthfully it had only been an hour, but it still felt interminable -- and was surprised to find that Adam wasn’t the only one waiting for me to come out. Jack was sitting in a chair nearby, making small talk with him. Both men turned to stare at me as I meandered toward them. They popped up like a piece of toast that was finished in the toaster and rushed to meet me halfway.
“Well, what’s the verdict? Crazy or insane?” Jack winked at me, negating the harshness of his words. “Cause we already knew you were crazy...that’s one of the things we love about you!” He blushed after finishing that sentence, which made me wonder what that was all about.
“Not sure. She said she wanted me to come back tomorrow.” I dropped my head sorrowfully. “But at least this appointment won’t be at the buttcrack of dawn!” I managed a small smile as Jack beamed at me.
“Did you remember anything important? Like what the purpose of kidnapping and imprisoning us was?” Adam spoke bluntly as usual. “They pretty much neglected me, only taking me out to question me and that wasn’t even very often.” He frowned, apparently trying to puzzle the reasoning behind this.
“No. We just stared at each other awhile, and then she started asking dumb questions that didn’t even apply. Eventually we just ran out of time.” I shrugged noncommittally. I omitted the part where she mentioned possibly trying hypnosis next time. For some reason, that thought frightened the hell out of me.
The pair gazed expectantly at me, no doubt waiting for me to go into all the gory details of the session then and there. I held my hand up, explaining that I wouldn’t say another word about it until there was a steaming mug of coffee in my hands. With a chuckle, Adam agreed as Jack glared suspiciously toward him.
To be continued…
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The Twisted Sisters are a group of friends who also happen to be writers. They decided to join forces to bring you collections of fun short stories. The core group includes Kaydence Rayne, Sally Slayer, Riley Ross, Charlie McVay, Dovey Mayali Cralk, and, occasionally, CM Wright.
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