by A A Bavar
The ceiling lights started to flicker and light the room as if breaking through a dense fog. Samantha was standing by the door enveloped in a diaphanous red halo, Wendy sprawled on the ground across from her. Suddenly, there was loud banging on the door.
“Are you okay in there? The door is jammed!” shouted the nurse.
Samantha scrunched up her nose and whispered something under her breath. “Everything is fine, thank you,” she said, her voice not hers, but Wendy’s. “Can you fix the door?”
“I’ve sent for security. They’ll get it open soon.”
Samantha walked over to Wendy and knelt beside her. “You never were a match for me,” she gloated. Then, with the palm of her hand placed on Wendy’s forehead, she muttered something unintelligible. Wendy’s body started to shake, her back slowly arching up towards the ceiling, and when it seemed like it would snap her mouth opened and a blinding silver light filled the room. Immediately, her body collapsed to the ground, the light gone.
Samantha was on her side, barely conscious. Slowly she lifted her head and sat. “Well, that was draining. I need what you have, my dear…” she looked at Wendy beside her and inhaled deeply, full of satisfaction. Lying in front of her was a woman with long, blond hair.
“Gwen, Gweny, Gwendolen! How long did you really think you could trick me?” she said, and got up. “But I have to admit, the ring was an impressive touch, too bad you let its powers drain too much. I won’t make that mistake.”
Samantha grabbed Gwendolen’s arms and dragged her across the floor to the bed. Then, from behind, she slipped her arms under Gwendolen’s and lifted her, leaning back as far as she could. Slowly, inch by inch, she pulled herself and Gwendolen up onto the bed.
“Maintenance is here, Ms. Jewett. Shouldn’t be long now,” shouted the nurse through the door.
Samantha could hear people working on the lock, trying to force it open. Her spell wasn’t going to hold much longer. “Thank you, no rush,” she said, gasping for air.
Samantha put her left foot on the bottom railing of the bed, clasped her hands around Gwendolen’s chest from behind, and heaved as hard as she could. Gwendolen landed beside her, most of her torso on the bed. Quickly, Samantha pulled Gwendolen’s legs up and strapped them in. From behind her, the lock started to creak. It was giving way. She hastily strapped in Gwendolen’s left hand, jumped off the bed, and pulled the covers over Gwendolen’s body. Time was running out. She grabbed the necklace with the Hope Diamond from around Gwendolen’s neck and put it on. Immediately, maybe for a second, the stone glowed a deep scarlet, and a spider web of energy crawled up Samantha’s neck to her face. She grabbed her face and ferociously bit her lip to keep from screaming. Blood trickled down her lip, but when she removed her hands she looked years younger, her face unblemished, beautiful. Gwendolen, on the other hand, looked older, more spent.
The door creaked again and the lock finally snapped. Samantha grabbed Gwendolen’s right hand and started chanting under her breath, her back to the door. The nurse rushed in, the maintenance man in tow. “Are you alright, Ms. Jewett?”
Samantha slowly turned to face the nurse. “Yes, thank you, we’re fine.” Samantha, now the spitting image of Wendy, smiled warmly at the nurse.
“I have no idea what happened,” stammered the nurse. “It was like the lock and door were being forced shut somehow…”
“What happened is someone jammed the lock!” interjected the maintenance man as he shook his head. He was large, in his mid-sixties with a thick, black mustache and a contrasting mane of absolutely white hair. “With all the things I have to do today, this was a big waste of time.” He wrung his hands together and looked at the nurse, who stared back disapprovingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll replace it and shut up,” he said, and turned without another word.
“Thank you, Walter,” said the nurse, and turned back to Samantha, her eyes suddenly wide in shock. “Why is Ms. DesJardins’s hand free?” Without waiting for an answer, she bolted forward and grabbed Gwendolen’s hand away from Samantha. Samantha stepped back and watched in silence, a venomous smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. How strange, yet satisfying, to see Gwendolen’s body but with her face lying there, helpless. The nurse restrained Gwendolen’s hand and leaned over to check the other straps.
Samantha smirked with delight. No one would ever restrain her again. “She was asleep, and I wanted to hold her hand to comfort her,” she said with a sweet smile. “By the way, have you seen her ruby ring? It’s very precious, an heirloom from her great-grandmother.”
The nurse frowned, but when she spoke her voice was soft. “Ms. Jewett, please don’t ever do that again. It’s against regulations and a danger to Ms. DesJardins and yourself.”
“Yes, of course. I apologize,” said Samantha, then added, “And the ring?”
The nurse’s face hardened. “I removed it for her safety,” she said, and unconsciously slipped her left hand into the front pocket of her uniform.
Samantha took a step towards the nurse and gently put her hand on her arm. Her body tensed and she had to control the urge to squeeze. To break every bone in that bitch’s forearm. Instead, she smiled warmly and said, “Jane, could you get it please? I would like her to wear it.”
Jane took a step back and turned to the bed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said as she tucked the sheets neatly under the mattress around Gwendolen. “It’s a choking hazard.”
“I don’t think you understand. The ring comforts her, controls her anxieties. Look, Jane, you even said she was a lot more agitated this week. It’s not a coincidence.” A red streak flashed across Samantha’s eyes as she focused her gaze on Jane. “Let her have the ring.”
Jane stopped fixing the bed and stood motionless for a few seconds. Then, as if coming out of a stupor, said, “Now that you mention it… I think you’re right.” Without another word, she put her left hand in her pocket and retrieved the ring.
Samantha stood in the half open doorway, her right hand on the handle, and looked back at Wendy. She wasn’t going to leave just yet. There was one last thing she wanted to see, to hear.
Wendy groaned softly, her eyes opening and closing lazily as she regained consciousness. Her head was turned to the side, facing one of the padded walls, away from the door. Suddenly, she jerked up instantly awake, her arms pulling forcefully against the restraints. She looked down in surprise and collapsed, her head snapping towards the door.
Samantha smiled wickedly as their eyes locked. Wendy looked terrified, her eyes wide open, her mouth a black hole. It was enthralling for Samantha to see her, the always composed and beautiful Wendy, so shocked, so distressed. She suppressed the urge to laugh out loud, winked, and slowly closed the door.
“No! God, no!” wailed Wendy as the door locked shut. She continued screaming, an animal in pain, her words muffled, incomprehensible.
“She didn’t wake up well,” said Jane from behind Samantha. “I guess the ring isn’t that effective.” She turned and started down the corridor.
“Give it time, it will calm her down.”
Samantha followed Jane past the nurse’s station towards the reception area, and despite the gloom surrounding her, she looked happy, her face glowing. They rounded the corner and came to a set of sliding doors. There were large windows on the wall to her left facing what looked like a parking lot. Samantha stopped and stared, almost laughing with delight. It was the most beautiful sight she had seen in a long time. She wanted to run, to get away as fast as she could before something went wrong.
“I guess this is what euphoria feels like,” she half mumbled. “Can’t get much better than this…” she said, and turned back, realizing that Jane had been talking to her.
“… right in. It’s the second door to the right past the sliding doors,” said Jane.
Samantha smiled embarrassed. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Dr. Yurka. His office is the second door to the right,” said Jane, and pointed. “He’s waiting
for you, you can go right in.”
Samantha paused, her smile replaced by an expression of complete wonder. “I guess things can get better. This is going to be quite a memorable day.”
Jane shrugged and looked up at the clock above the sliding doors. “I should be getting back. It’s almost time for Ms. DesJardins’s medication,” she said as she turned and walked away.
Samantha winced. “No more medication for me, you bitch,” she whispered, then added in a controlled tone as she walked through the doors, “Thank you, Jane. See you soon. Real soon.”
Samantha stopped behind Dr. Yurka’s office door and looked towards the main, circular reception area. The hall leading to it was completely empty, but she could see two receptionists sitting behind terminals at the desk, one much older than the other and clearly in charge. The older one shook her head disapprovingly and pointed at the monitor in front of the younger receptionist, who in turn nodded and started typing again. This was going to be easy, way too easy.
Samantha turned back to the door. A gold plated plaque with Dr. Yurka’s name and position, Program Director for Mental Health, stared back at her. She smirked and knocked, didn’t wait for a response, opened the door, and walked into the office.
Dr. Yurka, a pudgy man with a doughy face, black beady eyes, and a goatee, was sitting behind his desk, his head bent down toward the file he was reading. His eyes, however, were looking up over the rim of his glasses at her. Since the last time Samantha had seen him – or more accurately, since he had last come to see Samantha in her padded room, he had completely shaved his head. It looked ridiculous, an obvious and desperate attempt to hide the fact that he was going bald, and maybe try to look more charming. It was a complete disaster; he was no Bruce Willis, and even Uncle Fester would be a stretch.
“Wendy, where have you been?” Dr. Yurka half whispered emphatically then, while motioning for Samantha to come in, added, “What are you waiting for, an invitation? Close the damn door and sit.”
Samantha closed the door and paused. The damn door? Sit… Obviously, Wendy and Dr. Yurka were a lot more intimate than she would have imagined. She frowned and looked at the two cushioned chairs facing Dr. Yurka’s desk. Their fabric was an unflattering shade of brown with green and orange circles, and they looked old, worn, and in need of a good wash. The rest of the office had the same feel, like a well-worn piece of clothing from the seventies. Even the framed articles from different journals hanging on the walls were old and outdated. Samantha walked over and sat on the edge of the chair to the right of his desk, crossed her legs, her back as straight as a plank, and rested her hands one on top of the other on her knee.
Dr. Yurka sat up and leaned back in his chair, his eyes dark, opaque marbles. For a few seconds, he sat there looking, staring, contemplating, then leaned forward again and crossed his arms, resting them on the desk. “It’s time to stop, Wendy. No more elephants.”
Samantha arched her brow in mock confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.” She scrunched up her nose then continued, “Samantha has delusions and I play along, that’s all it is. It helps her relax. She loves those damned elephants.”
Dr. Yurka scratched his goatee and looked at Samantha. When he spoke, his tone was shaky, stressed. “Come on, Wendy, it’s not working anymore, but you already know that. You saw how she was today, completely out of control. It’s been like that the whole week. Right now she’s screaming her head off. What am I to do? I can’t keep upping her doses.”
Samantha calmly tilted her head to the side and smiled. “I’m sure Jane would love that… but don’t worry about it, she’ll calm down soon.”
“Calming down isn’t enough!” Dr. Yurka slammed the palm of his hand on the desk. “Don’t you see? Samantha’s slowly breaking free. You have to do something to strengthen your hold.”
Samantha leaned forward, picked up a small snow globe from Dr. Yurka’s desk, and shook it. She watched in silence as the snow twisted, fluttered, and drifted around the winter scenery. “See how the snow is gradually calming down and settling after the storm?” She looked up at Dr. Yurka, her eyes cold. “All it needs is time,” she said, and put the globe back on the desk.
Dr. Yurka watched with a frown. Suddenly, he laughed and nodded. “You little witch, you did it. You replenished the stone!”
Samantha gasped slightly. “You knew? You knew about the ring?”
“What ring?” Dr. Yurka replied, confused. “I’m talking about the stone. You know, the stone. The one that was stolen from the museum last week?”
Samantha was looking straight ahead, past Dr. Yurka, her eyes unfocused. “You knew…” she repeated, and continued in a whisper, “You’re in on it… with Wendy…”
“Of course I knew,” said Dr. Yurka, pleased with himself. “The second I heard about the robbery it was obvious. Wait, what?” Dr. Yurka looked up at Samantha, who scrunched up her nose and smiled slyly, making his face fall into a blank stare as the truth dawned on him. Unconsciously, he cleared his throat and said in a forced, casual tone, “That was an interesting disguise, your picture was all over the news. But why Marie Antoinette?”
Samantha uncrossed her legs, leaned forward, and put her hands flat on the desk. A brittle smile crossed her lips. “It was the Hope Diamond. Don’t you think it deserved to be taken by someone memorable? Marie Antoinette was the perfect choice. She did own it once before, after all.” She looked across the table, her eyes resting on a can of bee repellent. “Have a problem with insects?”
“Not insects, bees. And you should know. You were the one who insisted I have one on my desk because of those pesky bugs outside my window,” said Dr. Yurka, his tone rigid. “You’re not Wendy.”
For the first time since meeting Dr. Yurka, Samantha truly smiled. “And you’re not a good doctor.” Samantha’s eyes flashed red and she transformed into herself. “That’s better. Now we can have an honest conversation, and guess what, I’m not strapped down, drugged, or controlled by magic, so you better be pretty damn convincing.”
Dr. Yurka gasped in shock. He stared at Samantha, disbelief, horror, and confusion coming together like a tsunami. “What the fuck…”
Samantha smirked and watched Dr. Yurka’s eyes, two wide, black orbs reflecting deep primordial fear.
Dr. Yurka rubbed his temple and adjusted his body into the corner of the chair, trying to look relaxed, to restore some control. “Look, Samantha… may I call you Samantha?”
Samantha shrugged.
“When Wendy approached me about you, I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Obviously, there were things she couldn’t tell me at first, the magic for example, and that made things complicated. But she was emphatic that you needed help, that you were suffering from delusions, schizophrenic episodes, and had made threats, so I agreed to see you. Remember?”
Samantha nodded.
“At first, I actually thought she was nuts with all the talk about you controlling people, hurting people, stealing… and… the whole thing about dark magic. Honestly, I was this close,” he said, lifting his hand to show his thumb and index finger half an inch apart, “to committing her, but then you came to a session and—”
“You obviously changed your mind and decided to chain me to a goddamned bed, instead,” interrupted Samantha angrily. “You know what, I don’t care. Bottom line, you did what you did, and you hurt me. Now it’s my turn.” Very calmly, almost lazily, Samantha lifted her hand and pointed at Dr. Yurka. Dr. Yurka’s arms snapped back beside him and rested forcefully on the arms of his chair. He tried pulling them away but they wouldn’t budge.
“What are you doing? You can’t do this!”
“Not too bright, are you? Because obviously, I can, and I am. What I think you’re trying to express is your indignation towards what I’m doing. But I suggest you save your strength, because what I’m about to do next is going to be a lot more distressful than this.” Samantha rubbed her hands together and giggled. “It feels so good to be free. I love this
!”
Dr. Yurka glanced at his office door and back at Samantha. “Don’t make this worse for yourself, Samantha. You were making good progress. I was going to recommend that you return to your old room—”
“Are you really trying to distract me?” Samantha interrupted. “Do you think someone might come looking for you or something? Well, let’s fix that for now.” Without turning, Samantha twirled her finger in a circle and the lock on the door behind her snapped shut. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, your punishment for what you did to me.”
Samantha raised her right hand towards Dr. Yurka’s chest, her hand open, palm facing the ceiling. Slowly, she started to close her fingers into a ball. Beads of sweat appeared on Dr. Yurka’s forehead as his breathing became more and more labored. “We had to do it,” he said in between gasps, “you were going to kill—” Dr. Yurka grunted in pain, his eyes wide open, bloodshot.
Samantha stopped and slightly opened her fingers releasing the pressure. “Ooh, this I want to hear. As I recall, I had already taken care of the neighbor’s dog, so that can’t be it. Hmm, I did hate that gossipy, skinny bitch who used to come to the club, but I never thought of killing her. I did give her a bad case of the clap, though. Hmm, hmm, hmm… No, I just don’t know, so why don’t you enlighten me, and tell me who it was that I was going to kill?”
A look of dread swept Dr. Yurka’s face. He inhaled deeply and said, “Your boyfriend, Paul.”
Samantha scowled. When she spoke, her tone was raw, animalistic. “That’s a filthy lie. I wasn’t going to kill him, I loved him. But he knew the rules and broke them… so I was going to castrate him.” She stood and went around the desk, her walk confident and deliberate, a predator honing in on its prey.
Dr. Yurka used his legs and swiveled his chair around to face Samantha as she approached. “You don’t have to hurt me to keep me quiet. Think about it, who will ever believe me? I would lose my reputation… hell, my job if I even mentioned the notion of magic or whatever it is that you do…” Dr. Yurka looked up at Samantha who was now standing over him, glaring down at him.