Samantha- The Haunting

by A A Bavar

  “Whoa! Well, that wasn’t exactly the traditional way to meet someone, now, was it?” the young woman – whose age was probably about half her bust size – exclaimed as she yanked on the hem of her t-shirt to cover up as much of her butt as possible.

  Patricia stared at the woman as reality set in. She was acting like a fool, and for what? She was the one who ended the relationship, the one who decided that Alex was too much of a child. She shouldn’t have come back. There was nothing left for her here.

  “Excuse me,” she muttered with a frown and squeezed past the woman into the kitchen. She reached for the cupboard door above the stove and opened it, her eyes burning with a mixture of sadness and anger. Then, as she reached in and reclaimed her vase, she slowly exhaled, calming her nerves.

  “Oh, you found it,” said Alex nervously from behind her. “Um, that’s good…”

  Patricia closed the cupboard door and turned. Alex was standing in the doorway behind the blonde woman, his eyes darting back and forth between them. The sight of him so unnerved and jittery reminded her of a schoolboy standing in front of the principal. Patricia shook her head in disbelief, tucked the vase into the crook of her left arm, and stepped forward with a smile.

  “Hello, I’m Patricia, Alex’s last roommate,” she said, and extended her right hand to the blonde woman.

  “Oh, hi, I’m Crystal,” said the blonde, smiling and pumping Patricia’s hand. “Pleased to meet ya. I’d offer to make you a cup of coffee or something but I’m guessing you know where stuff is in here better than I do.”

  “Just moved in, did you?” Patricia asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked over Crystal’s shoulder at Alex.

  Alex scratched his head and looked down at his feet.

  “Well, officially, just a few days ago,” Crystal said with a giggle.

  “Officially,” Patricia repeated, wondering how long it actually took Alex to find this rocket scientist after she moved out. “So are you a college student?”

  “Oh, nooooo,” she laughed. “Books and me, well, let’s just say we don’t see eye to eye. Nope. I work at the bowling alley. Near the campus, at the bar.” Crystal had a southern twang and every sentence ended on an up-note, sounding more like a question than a statement.

  “Well, good for you, I hope you like it here.” Patricia started to walk away and then turned back to Crystal. “Oh, and the dryer on the end in the downstairs laundry room will always give you about twenty extra minutes, so be sure to use that one.”

  “Ohhhhh,” Crystal chirped. She slipped her arm around Alex’s waist, pulled him closer, and patted him on the chest. “Alex does all the laundry, dontcha, honey?”

  Patricia smirked, caught sight of Alex’s bewildered look, and said, “And who said love doesn’t change people?” Then, glancing at Crystal’s breasts, added, “Although in this case I think it might be something else.”

  “Thank you!” Crystal looked at Alex, smiled, and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “You’re welcome,” replied Patricia. As she walked past Alex to the front door, she remembered one of their favorite quotes from Seinfeld and whispered, “I bet they’re real and they’re spectacular, but how long will your brain stay on pause?”

  Her experience with Alex left Patricia wary of relationships, and for the next couple of years she decided to focus on her studies. However, her desire to find love and plan her future never really subsided and she eventually succumbed to Derek’s advances during her final year in college. She wasn’t head over heels in love with Derek, but she liked him, and he was everything that Alex wasn’t.

  As a pre-med student, Derek was focused and very serious about his studies. As a person, he was attentive, faithful, tidy, and conscientious. He treated Patricia like a lady and doted on her with loving respect, always complimenting her appearance, her cooking, and pretty much every little thing she did. Their dates were always carefully researched and planned, everything arranged to please Patricia, which rarely made things spontaneous. He was also a bit boring and overly insecure, but Patricia decided that his positive qualities contributed to making a solid relationship and, therefore, outweighed his lack of wittiness or enthusiasm.

  Patricia loved the attention at first, and Derek’s constant fawning and romantic gestures were flattering. His sheepish grin and sad, chocolate, puppy dog eyes were endearing, and the fact that he was willing to give her the world for a smile, was heartwarming. However, she soon realized that his attentiveness was nothing more than a deep sense of insecurity. He was never willing to argue a point or risk Patricia getting upset with him, not even to choose a movie or type of restaurant. And although he was loving and generous, she eventually got tired of Derek’s constant submissive attitude and began to see him more as a man-servant than a man.

  It was much harder to break up with Derek than with Alex. Alex was a mistake, and even though she was attracted to him and loved him, he was nothing but an anchor; a big baby. Derek, on the other hand, was loving and truly cared for her, which made her decision to end the relationship that much harder. She even thought that not accepting his generosity for what it was and resisting his attempts to please her made her a heartless bitch. Worse yet, her parents and brothers loved Derek and kept badgering her to make up with him for weeks after the breakup. Thankfully, she graduated soon afterwards and was able to use the fact that she was moving to Sacramento to take up her new position at Clearwell, Inc. as a definitive excuse.

  “Paul Blast, the mysterious bad boy in a suit. Who would have guessed?” Patricia said under her breath.

  Patricia looked up. The moon was at its peak, casting its silvery light across the sky and into her room. “What I need right now is a good Jane Austen book.”

  Everything was white, sterile. A bluish haze of undefined white light.

  Samantha DesJardins sleepily opened and closed her eyes. Her mind was in a fog, and her eyes were having trouble focusing. Slowly, the white light started to take form and shaped itself into long, fluorescent light bulbs, the type you see in the ceiling of corporate offices or hospital buildings. She was lying on her back, her body heavy, almost detached.

  “Hi, sweetie,” said a woman’s voice, “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” Wendy Jewett leaned forward and gently pushed aside a strand of auburn hair from Samantha’s forehead. They were both in their late-twenties and could have been sisters. Wendy’s hair, however, was shorter, a stylish vogue cut that perfectly complimented her form fitting black, Dior suit. Her makeup was subtle and perfectly applied, accentuating her honey-brown eyes, and showing off her natural beauty.

  Samantha lazily turned her head in the direction of the voice. Her eyes looked drugged and out of focus. “I had a dream,” she mumbled. “I liked it, made me feel good again.”

  “Oh? How nice,” said Wendy. “What was it about?”

  “I’m not sure… I was with a group of… mostly women.” Samantha closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in concentration. “We were standing in the woods around something, chanting, and moving our hands like this…” Samantha tried to move her right hand, but it was strapped to the side of the bed. She lifted her head and looked from one wrist to the other and then to her ankles. She exhaled and let her head fall back on the pillow.

  “You said you would tell them to take these off,” she said, and turned to the woman again.

  “They will, sweetie. They will,” said Wendy. “Now tell me more about your dream. Do you remember anything else?”

  “There was a woman, a blond woman with grayish green eyes, she didn’t want me to move my hands. She was trying to stop me but I was stronger!” Samantha grinned and her eyes hardened for a split-second as she pulled against her straps. “Dreams and reality do mix, huh?”

  Wendy smiled feebly, the concern in her eyes apparent. “Sometimes our minds play tricks on us.” She reached out and touched Samantha’s shoulder. “What do you mean you were stronger? Were you fighting?”

  “In a way. We had ma
gic.” Samantha suddenly looked more alert. She scrunched up her nose as if adjusting a pair of non-existent glasses, and said, “You know, she had a mole on her cheek just like you.”

  Wendy touched her cheek where the mole was and forced a smile. “Yeah, my man magnet,” she said, and laughed, but Samantha wasn’t really paying attention.

  “I think we used to be friends… but it was a dream, so how can that be? It felt so real.”

  “Dreams can be strange, especially when you take medicine. Let’s talk about something fun!” Wendy stood up and leaned over Samantha to adjust her pillow, causing her necklace to fall out and dangle in front of Samantha’s face.

  “Oh, wow! This one is so much bigger and shinier.” Samantha stared at the glittering blue diamond as it swung back and forth. “What happened to the other one? I liked that one a lot, it was so red, just like my ring.”

  “It was time for a change,” said Wendy as she unobtrusively moved her right index finger in a circle and pointed at the opposite wall. She then quickly glanced at a beautifully set ruby ring on Samantha’s index finger.

  “Change…” repeated Samantha, her eyes closing into thin lines. “People can change on the outside, but who they are never really changes. Does it?”

  “I guess not,” said Wendy, then added suddenly pointing at the wall, “Oh, look!”

  Samantha turned to look in the direction Wendy was pointing. To her surprise, a beautiful and very realistic image of a park had filled the room. She smiled and using her head motioned to a trove of sycamore trees, “There’s a pink elephant walking by!” her brown eyes wide with childlike glee. “Do you see it? Look, it has yellow dots!”

  Wendy smiled. “Yes, Sam, I see it too,” she said, and placed her hand over Samantha’s, touching the ring. The stone shone deep red momentarily. “Isn’t it pretty? Tell me how big the dots are.”

  “That’s easy, the dots are as big as pie plates,” said Samantha, scrunching up her nose. “But they can be as small as doughnuts too!”

  Wendy laughed. “Yes they can. They’re such beautiful creatures. How do you think they will disappear this time?”

  “Same as always. They will pop and disappear when you go,” said Samantha with a hint of sadness. “And then I’ll sleep again.”

  For a few minutes, Samantha and Wendy watched in silence as the pink elephants walked, jumped and pranced around like cartoon characters. Two of them stopped and played a game of tic-tac-toe using the yellow dots on their bodies, then shook the dots off and ran into the woods.

  “Wendy?”

  “Yes, Sam?” Wendy turned in Samantha’s direction.

  Samantha wasn’t really looking at Wendy, but staring at her mole. “What’s your name?”

  “Oh, you know my name. It’s Wendy, remember?”

  Samantha squinted, her eyes hard, angry. “I mean your real name.”

  Wendy smiled. “You mean Jewett?” her tone soft, patient.

  “You know what I mean, but that’s okay,” said Samantha, her eyes slowly moving down to the diamond necklace around Wendy’s neck. “Do you like surprises?” she asked coldly.

  Wendy tucked her necklace back under her sweater and bit the corner of her lip. For a few seconds there was absolute silence. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “I mostly do, as long as they’re fun.”

  Samantha smirked. “Fun? But fun is subjective, don’t you think?”

  “I guess,” said Wendy with a shrug.

  “Some people think being strapped to a bed is fun.” Samantha tugged at her wrist straps. Her eyes were now fixed on Wendy. Cold. Hard. “Anyway, I’m planning a surprise for you,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be fun for one of us. I hope you enjoy it too.”

  Wendy looked back without saying anything. Did Samantha know? Or was it the usual anger seeping out. She smiled in return. “I have to go now, sweetie, but I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Wendy stood, squeezed Samantha’s arm affectionately, and walked to the door.

  “I miss our painting classes,” whispered Samantha to herself. It was heartfelt, sincere.

  Wendy opened the door and motioned for someone to come in. She looked back. The warm, pleasing forest with the pink elephants was gone, replaced once more by the colorless, aseptic room with the padded walls. She waved at Samantha and said, “I do too, sweetie.” It had been a long time since their last painting class. Since Samantha’s breakdown.

  A burly nurse, straight-faced and all business, walked into the room and stood next to Wendy. Her dark, peppery hair was pulled back into a tight bun and she was carrying a metal pan and a syringe. “Please close the door behind you.”

  It was her cue, time to go. Wendy walked out and pulled the door shut behind her. She hated seeing Samantha being drugged, but there was no other way. She was a danger.

  “Time for your meds, Sammy.”

  “I told you, don’t call me Sammy,” she hissed, each word drawn out, low, full of hatred.

  “Oh, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. So much anger. This will calm you right down.” The nurse picked up the syringe, the needle pointing up, and pressed the plunger. A small jet shot into the air.

  “Go ahead, mock me now while you can.” Samantha’s eyes were mere slits, her nose pulled up into a snarl. “When I get out, and it’s going to be a lot sooner than you think, I’ll make you eat your words. I’ll cut out your tongue out and feed it to you. You like onions?”

  The nurse stared down at Samantha. The contempt was mutual. Without taking her eyes off Samantha’s face, she stabbed the needle into her arm and injected its contents. “Sweet dreams, Sammy dear.”

  Suddenly, Samantha jerked her body up, the motion cut short by the restraints. The nurse jumped back startled. “Not as tough as you think, are you?”

  The nurse didn’t respond. Slowly, deliberately, she tightened the belt around Samantha’s right wrist. Samantha grimaced in pain. “It’s for your own safety dear,” she said as she walked to the other side of the bed. Again, slowly she tightened the belt to its maximum. Samantha gritted her teeth.

  “You have no idea…” she seethed.

  The nurse wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes were riveted on Samantha’s ruby ring.

  Samantha followed the nurse’s gaze. “What are you looking at?” she said, and tried to put her thumb over her ring to hide it, but her fingers felt foreign. Her head felt numb and her vision started to blur.

  The nurse watched as Samantha’s eyes started to glaze, the corner of her mouth faintly curling into a smile. “This is a safety hazard, Sammy dear. You could choke on it and we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Slowly, she slipped the ring off Samantha’s finger. “Why don’t I hold on to it for you?”

  “Thank you…” said Samantha and closed her eyes.

  Beth Schnurr picked up the phone on the first ring. There were two case folders open on her desk, one much thicker than the other. She closed the thick one and pushed it slightly to the side. Written on the cover were just two words: The Phantom. She pulled the other one in front of her and picked up an enlarged photo of the Marie Antoinette from the museum, the Hope Diamond necklace clearly visible around her neck. It was a taunt, a slap in the face for the FBI, and Schnurr wasn’t going to let it pass this time.

  “Ma’am, there’s a Mr. Dave Mackey from the Office of Protection Services at the Smithsonian on the phone for you,” said a young female voice.

  “Thank you, Sue, put him through.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” There was a click on the line followed by a soft hum as Sue patched the call through.

  Schnurr adjusted her glasses and sat up even straighter than she already was. “I was wondering when you would call, Mr. Mackey. Certainly, confirming the authenticity of the Hope Diamond could not have taken so long,” started Schnurr. “Which leads me to conclude that my original suspicion about the theft was correct.”

  Mackey cleared his throat and said, “Yes, unfortunately the Hope Diamond has indeed been stolen.”
r />   “And?” pressed Schnurr.

  There was an awkward silence as Schnurr waited for Mackey to continue. Finally, Mackey exhaled deeply and said, “We need to prepare a media release statement, but I’m not sure what there is to report. The only concrete fact we have is that the diamond was stolen, but nothing as to how, when, or who.” There was another pause.

  Schnurr remained silent. She wasn’t going to offer any advice until she knew exactly what Mackey wanted. She didn’t really care about the OPS’s image with the public. Her focus was retrieving the stolen stone and catching the thief. She put down the photo and allowed herself a smile. The Phantom wasn’t getting away this time.

  Mackey cleared his throat again. “Director Schnurr, the OPS is in the midst of a funding crisis and going public with this would be disastrous. I was hoping that in the media release we could address the alarm trigger as an electronic malfunction and avoid any speculations regarding the Hope Diamond.”

  “And how would you explain the return of the Hope Diamond once it’s retrieved by the FBI?” asked Schnurr.

  “No one needs to know. The replica is flawless. We can easily replace it with the original once it’s found.” Mackey sounded more relaxed.

  “I’m afraid that won’t work for us, Mr. Mackey. We need to release the suspect’s photo to the media. As you know, she’s quite unique in her appearance, and someone may have noticed her or her whereabouts. Furthermore, if the theft of the Hope Diamond is not made public, we would be accomplices in its eventual sale by the thief.”

  “But this will destroy our reputation!” Mackey was almost shouting. “There is no sign of forced entry, no fingerprints, nothing at all that indicates a theft. What is the OPS to say? That a ghost stole the diamond?”

  “Not exactly a ghost,” said Schnurr amused. “We call her the Phantom.”