1929 Book 2 - Elizabeth's Heart

by ML Gardner

  “Anna,” she said, looking around the room. “Is this where you hide?” she asked.

  “Hide? No, this is where I like to be,” I said.

  “Near her,” Anna assumed and I nodded. “I watched you, you know. When you were alive. I saw how you both looked at each other, how much you loved her. It made me sad.”

  “Why did it make you sad?” I asked.

  “It made me miss my beau. He was waiting for me.” She glanced up at the barred window. “Out there.”

  “You can go see him,” I said. “Like I see Elizabeth. I don’t know if it will make it better or worse. Sometimes I’m torn.”

  She nodded slowly, thinking it over. “It never occurred to me that I could leave,” she said. “I knew I couldn’t go through, but he lives far away,” she said sadly.

  “Well, something David told me is that you simply have to concentrate on something or someone, and you are there. Just like that,” I said.

  “Really?”

  I was taken aback at how some of the dark had lightened around her sunken eyes, and I could see that they had been blue.

  “I haven’t tried it, but that’s what David says. You really should talk to him,” I suggested and then looked up at her gratefully with a thought that hadn’t occurred to me. “It’s been really nice talking to you. I almost forgot what it’s like to have a two-way conversation.” She returned my smile as Elizabeth walked through the door, humming. I stood up with a relieved smile on my face. Elizabeth stood in front of the small desk, picked up the brush and began running it through her hair. I leaned over, kissed her cheek, and whispered in her ear. She brushed over my kiss with the back of her hand, a faint smile on her face.

  “She really can hear you,” Anna said in amazement as she turned her face away with an expression that mingled longing and embarrassment and then left.

  Anna returned the next day and waited for me in the commons room. She sat with her hands in her lap, head hanging down, letting her hair hide her face. Elizabeth was asleep. So heavily sedated I knew that there would be no chance she would hear me as one of her own thoughts, and that was the only time I felt like I could be close to her. I took the time to wander the halls, peeking in on people I knew. I checked on Ronnie often. Not that I liked the bastard. Even in death, I couldn’t bring myself to like him after what he did to Elizabeth. But I did feel sorry for him. David had worked out some sort of temporary truce with the king who haunted Ronnie, and he had yet to be seen by anyone, alive or dead, in a few days.

  David had told me the day before that the ghost that haunted Ronnie had actually been a soldier from the Revolutionary War. He had died on the battlefield, quite possibly because his inflated ego made him so easy to pick off, even from a distance. He was buried where he fell by his soldiers who didn’t take much time out of their day to grieve for him. He had watched and listened, after he’d died, to crude remarks made at his expense. It made him angry and he chose to stay to seek revenge for the disrespect paid to him by them. The company of soldiers had no idea that their less-than-liked dead comrade stayed very close to them. They only knew about the strange things that started to happen. Eventually, every last soldier was driven to madness by the stresses of war and deprivation and the constant unseen, unheard taunting that echoed deep in their minds as a memory or a harassing thought. Or a very malicious suggestion.

  When the hospital was built over the patch where the self-proclaimed king was buried, he thought it was being built as a shrine to immortalize him. When he found out it was a lunatic asylum, he was more offended than when his fellow soldiers mocked and ridiculed him in death. He had been there ever since, torturing different patients of his choosing since the place had opened. I sat on the far end of the couch in the commons area.

  “Hey, Anna,” I said. I felt tired, but knew that it was only an illusion. The memory of being tired. She made a small noise of acknowledgement and crossed her arms. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She looked up; the area around her eyes again darkened several shades.

  “I found him,” she said.

  “Your beau?” She nodded, clearly not happy with what she had found. “It’s harder in a way, isn’t it? Seeing them, hearing them and yet not able to touch them or talk to them. Not how we’re used to, anyway.”

  “It’s not that,” she said and suddenly her face stiffened. It made her cheekbones stick out in a grotesque and unnatural way. “I found him, but now he has a new girl. He’s getting married,” she said, low and angry. I watched her as she recounted the first few moments of seeing him again.

  He had sat in the living room with his parents, talking of serious things. Marriage and military. Honor and country. She had been elated, relieved and overwhelmed by the love she remembered. And then a young woman walked in. She sat next to him on the couch and he took her hand, turning it over to show his parents the diamond ring on her left hand.

  “I know it must have been hard, seeing him having moved on,” I said.

  “If only they hadn’t thrown me in here. If they hadn’t given me that medicine.” She glanced back to the table. “If only I could have eaten,” she said. “I hate them. I hate every single one of them.”

  “Anna, I know this is hard. But he’s still living. Of course he moved on, but it doesn’t mean that he didn’t love you. Or that he doesn’t still love you and think about you.” She shook her head in disagreement. “You have a choice, Anna. You can stay near him, or you can move on at midnight. You can wait for him on the other side if it’s too hard to wait here.” She looked as if she were deciding or, at least thinking about deciding.

  “Or…” she said. Her eyes flashed with an idea, dark and sinister.

  “Or what?” I asked, trying not to sound wary.

  “Or I can make him pay.”

  “Anna. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s doing what anyone would do, you included. If you loved him, then you wouldn’t want him to be sad and alone. You’d want him to find what happiness he could.”

  She listened to me patiently and then smiled, tight and malicious. “Not my beau. Not Matthew. The doctor,” she said with venom and stood, gone before I could blink.

  I sighed, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I felt bad for her and I had a fairly good idea of what she intended to do, but thought she could do little harm, since she had never grasped the ability to move things. She seemed to have a strong vocal impact, however; she had agitated the doctor much more than I had. Or he could simply feel more guilty over her death, I supposed with a slight shrug.

  I found Elizabeth in my mind and relived the happier memories from the cabin.

  My head came up off the back of the couch with a snap and I stared ahead in disbelief. I held my breath, unsure of what had just happened. Woven into my memories of Elizabeth, a vision had begun to swirl and form in front of me. It startled me and for the first time, I was able to stop it simply by opening my eyes. I was hesitant, not wanting to be held a captive audience as I had been in life, but closed my eyes, directing my thoughts again to the vision. It picked up right where it left off. After a few seconds I opened my eyes, mid-vision. I gave a short disbelieving laugh. I was in total control.

  I concentrated again, this time with eyes open, and clearly saw a man with white blonde hair and eyes black as pitch sneaking along a pier. He held a box far out from his body as he walked, peering in the early evening darkness at the painted name of each moored boat he passed.

  I moved my eyes, breaking the concentration and sighed. I was relieved I had control of the visions, but was frustrated that it was another I didn’t understand. Mostly though, I was amazed that they had followed me after death.

  I followed Elizabeth into the doctor’s office. He really looked like he was falling apart; dark eyes, limp greasy hair, a disheveled white coat. He popped two pills discreetly as my love sat down across from him.

  She, on the other hand, looked wonderful. Her skin was smooth and bright, her eyes clear and lively. She had an a
ir of vibrancy about her. She smiled at the doctor and, much to my amusement, took control of the visit.

  “So, how have you been, Doctor?” she asked, crossing her legs and then folding her hands across her lap.

  “I’m–I’m fine, Elizabeth. And you?”

  “Just lovely.” She smiled sweetly.

  “Well, let’s get started, shall we?” he asked, opening her file and searching for his pen.

  “We already have.” She grinned and added, “You don’t look so well, Doctor. Have you been sleeping all right?”

  He looked slightly surprised and then very distracted. “Ah, no, actually, Elizabeth, I haven’t. Is it that apparent?” he asked, his voice wobbling slightly.

  “Yes,” she said with a pitiful expression. “What seems to be troubling you so much that you can’t get a restful night’s sleep?” she asked, tilting her head in the same way he did when he was waiting for an explanation.

  “Well, now, it’s just a touch of insomnia, really.”

  “There are medicines to help with sleep,” she said helpfully.

  “And they do help somewhat.”

  “Are you taking anything for the stress, Doctor? This has to be an awfully stressful job. Especially after all that’s happened.”

  He nearly looked relieved; grateful that someone finally recognized the weight he carried on his shoulders of trying to mend broken minds.

  “I am and it helps somewhat. I just feel like–” He stopped abruptly, remembering which side of the desk he was on and straightened in his chair. “That’s not important,” he said, trying to regain control of the conversation.

  “But it is important, Doctor. After all, how can you help me, if you are in need of help yourself?” She smiled sweetly and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “God, I love you,” I said with an amused smile. Something flashed in her eyes.

  “Today I would like to talk to the others,” the doctor said. She shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. “I understand you go by the name of Elizabeth, but I want to talk to the real Elizabeth. The original Elizabeth.

  “Ah,” she said, seeming to understand. “Go right ahead. What would you like to ask me?”

  “W-wait,” he looked slightly lost. “You are not the original Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, I’m quite certain I am,” she said. “Go ahead, ask me anything.” She smiled confidently.

  “Alright. If you are indeed the original Elizabeth, there are things you’ll know that the others wouldn’t. For example, how did you and Simon escape?” he asked with a curious, almost teasing tone.

  Her smile dropped and she looked upset. “I don’t want to talk about Simon.”

  “Because it upsets you? Or because you are not the original Elizabeth and don’t know.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “I just don’t–” She looked away, toward the window I stood near. She looked as if she were about to cry.

  “The gate was open,” she started. “Someone opened the door for us just at midnight–”

  “Elizabeth, don’t! Don’t tell him about David!” I yelled.

  “Who opened the door?”

  “Damn it, Elizabeth, don’t you dare!”

  “It was Greg,” she said. Greg, the pervert who had tried to sneak in her room before I learned how to move things.

  “Ah. I see,” he said, scribbling on his pad. I wondered how long it would take him to figure out that Greg had been hired after we had been caught. “Where were you going to go?” he asked.

  “Mexico,” she said and I stood a little straighter. I began to think it really might be her. Only stronger. More confident. I would have given anything I had to kiss her. And all I owned was my soul.

  “And what after that?” the doctor asked, trying to hide excitement at the breakthrough.

  “We were going to find work, a little place of our own. Maybe adopt children one day.” As her voice broke, I felt my throat begin to close a little. “That’s all we wanted.”

  The doctor stared at her, hints of victory vanished, replaced with visible regret.

  “I am sorry for your loss,” he said finally. I had the overwhelming feeling that he truly was.

  “I want to go home,” she said, raising her head after discreetly wiping her eyes.

  “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I need to know that you are cured. And it’s curious, you do appear to be in control of yourself despite any change in therapy.”

  “She’s better. Let her out,” I interrupted. “Write it down. Now. That she’ll be monitored for two weeks, and, if there are no signs of another personality, then she will be released.”

  He rubbed a hand hard over his stubbly face and sighed. “I will see what I can do, Elizabeth. To see you home as soon as I am sure you’re well enough.” She smiled again and rose to leave without waiting for his signal. After she left, I watched over his shoulder as he scratched out his progress notes. I smiled as I left the room.

  Patient is to be monitored for the course of two weeks.

  A week or so passed and things seemed to settle down. I rarely saw the other ones, and that was fine with me. Only I worried about Anna making daily visits to the doctor’s office. She would walk in slow circles around the desk, glaring hatefully and talking constantly. I knew he could hear her, deep in the recesses of his own damaged mind, and he looked like he was unraveling at the seams. I tried to get Anna to stop, or at least, back off a little. Not for his sake, but because I still needed him. Just a few more days’ worth of progress notes and Elizabeth would be able to leave. She ignored my pleas. Her hate had intensified, feeding off itself and growing into an uncontrollable monster. She grew more creative in her torture by bringing others to help her.

  I watched helplessly the next afternoon as she and the woman who died during sterilization chanted together, circling the desk. He was really cracking now; digging in his drawer and taking pills, chasing them with a long drink from a flask. He covered his ears and made pitiful whimpering noises. He knew he was losing his mind. I hated feeling sorry for him. I spent my time talking to him about letting Elizabeth out. I no longer blamed him, out loud anyway, figuring that Anna was torturing him enough for every lost soul in this building.

  I was so happy when he finally wrote the words.

  Patient is to be released the end of the week.

  I walked back to Elizabeth’s room to tell her the good news. I knew what was going on with her now. She was using the same trick her father had used when he was released. She let the stronger Elizabeth take over long enough to convince them she was stable. When she got out, there would be no need for her to hide behind the stronger one and she would be all right. I looked forward to seeing my Elizabeth again.

  Late the next evening, I walked the halls. David was out sick, and I was bored with no one to talk to. Passing the doctor’s office, I noticed light coming from under the door and stood close to it, listening. I wondered why he was working so late. I heard several voices; six, at least. I stepped past the door and found Anna, along with several others, circling the desk like sharks. All of them had their eyes fixed on the doctor who looked nearly dead himself. He was drunk, slumped over his desk, and looked as though he had been crying.

  He struggled with writing his progression notes in the open file in front of him, stopping periodically to give a desperate growl and bang his fists on his head. He wasn’t working late. He couldn’t leave. They wouldn’t let him.

  “Anna, that’s enough,” I said. I was all for justice, but there was no need to go this far. She ignored me. “Anna, I said that’s enough. You guys need to leave now,” I said, taking a step inside the circle of hate that took on a translucent dark glow around the doctor’s desk. It was cold and I could feel their hate. It crackled like electricity and swelled like the ocean’s tide.

  I instantly felt scared, hollow and very much wanted to run. I stepped back, outside the ring of revenge, and the cold nauseous feeling went away.
I called to Anna again. Her eye sockets had returned to their previous black-as-night hollow state. She was so caught up in the witch-like proceedings that she ignored me. I looked at the others as they passed in front of me. They were chanting together now with heads low and never taking their eyes off the doctor.

  Besides Anna, the woman who looked for her baby and the self-proclaimed king walked with them, plus a few new ones I didn’t recognize. A young man in his early twenties with dark scorch marks on his temples. I assumed he died as a result of too much voltage as well. Another young man with no visible marks chanted in a foreign language. Another woman, older and slightly pudgy with long, stringy gray hair. She looked more sinister than the king with deep-set dark eyes and no teeth. Wringing her hands in front of her chest, she grew more and more excited. As I watched them, I realized something was about to happen. And it wasn’t good.

  The doctor rose from his chair with a start, his face decided and his fists clenched on the desk in front of him; the circle around him stopped abruptly, silently watching. They all smiled. He swayed slightly where he stood as he wiped beaded sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. As he moved from the desk, the circle dissipated, allowing him to pass. They all filed out behind him. They whispered now, a chorus of diverse hissing mumblings that I couldn’t understand. I watched in confusion as he turned down a darkened hallway of supply closets instead of toward the exit.

  After fumbling with a ring of keys, he opened a heavy door that led to stairs. I moved to the front of the crowd, standing beside him as he began his slow climb.

  “What are you doing, Doc?” I asked. I glanced up the winding staircase and back at him. The whispering continued in a constant volume behind him, echoing through the empty stairwell, broken only by the occasional outburst of sadistic giggling from the woman with no teeth.

  At the top of the stairs, he unlocked the door that led to the roof. Suddenly, I knew what he was going to do.