The Night Girl: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

  "I knew they'd hire a new one," he says, refusing to budge. "They just bring in some kid and set her loose on us with no training. It's not right".

  "I guess not," I say, "but let's get you -"

  "What's your name?" he asks, interrupting me.

  "Juliet," I reply.

  "Juliet?" He pauses for a moment. "That's not a bad name. Better than a lot of the names people give their kids these days".

  "Thanks," I say, "but -"

  "This is where it happened, you know," he continues, pointing across the room. "Right over there".

  "Where what happened?" I ask.

  "The girl who died," he replies, frowning at me. "Don't you know anything?"

  I follow his gaze, realizing he's pointing at the floor on the opposite side, over by the showers. "Yeah," I say, "I mean, I know there was a woman who died here, but I didn't know where it happened". I take a deep breath, not really sure what to say.

  "It was right there," he says, still pointing at the wall. "They found her right down there. Right there". He pauses for a moment, as if he's lost in thought. "Do you know who actually found her, though? It was me". He sniffs. "I used to be on this ward, before they shut it down. It was late at night, just like it is now. I heard a noise somewhere nearby, like someone getting all upset, and I got out of bed to see what was wrong. By the time I got through here, it was all over". He stares across the room. "It's not right, you know".

  "You found the body?" I ask hesitantly.

  He nods. "She was a pretty girl," he continues, "but there was so much blood. You don't realize how much blood there is in a person, not until you see it all come out all over the place. It was everywhere. You know the worst thing? They never even cleaned it all up properly. I'll show you". He suddenly lurches forward, tottering on his bad legs, and I follow him, keeping hold of his arm in case he falls. "Right here," he continues, pointing down at the tiles. "You see? Right there. You see it?"

  I look closer and see a dark stain between some of the tiles. "Is that blood?" I ask.

  "Course it is," he says. "They hired in this outside company to come and clean up the mess, but they didn't do a very good job, did they? They should have picked up everything and thrown it away, but they just wiped it all down, collected their fee, and left little bits of her in the cracks".

  "Yeah," I say, a little lost for words, "Maybe we should get going".

  "It's not right," Mr. Jenkins continues. "They should have cleaned up properly. It's not respectful. Do you think it's right?"

  "No," I say, staring at the stain between the tiles.

  "And you know what's even worse?" He pauses for a moment. "After they'd finished cleaning up, they put all the waste in black bags and left it in the back yard for a week. I saw it every day and I always knew what it was".

  "Come on," I say, still trying to get him to come with me. "It doesn't help to stand here in the cold and think about bad things, does it?" As soon as the words leave my lips, I realize how inane I must seem. I wish I could think of something meaningful or powerful to say. "I'm sure it was very sad," I add, "but you need to rest".

  "Why's that?" he asks, seeming a little annoyed. "That's all I do every day. Nothing but resting. It's like they think we're children. Any time I try to do something interesting, I'm told I have to go and rest".

  "It's one in the morning," I say. "Do you really want to be up?"

  He stares at the ground. "When I found her," he says after a moment, "I went to get some help. I knew it was too late, but I thought maybe there was a chance. At first, no-one believed me. They thought I was a stupid old man, imagining things. One of them even told me I was having a flashback to the war. Eventually I got one of the nurses to come with me, and finally she believed me when she saw it all with her own eyes".

  "Who did it?" I ask.

  "What do you mean?" he replies, frowning. "Don't ask stupid questions. She did it herself".

  I stare at him. "She -"

  "Right here," he says, interrupting me. "There was always something a little bit off about her. Something in her eyes, like she was always a bit sad, even when she was happy. I still never thought..." He pauses for a moment. "It's not right when someone does that. She had her life ahead of her, but you never know what's going on in someone's head, do you? You never know what they're thinking".

  "Come on," I say, gently leading him to the door. "You should get back to your room".

  "I've seen some things in my life," he continues as we slowly walk away from the room where the woman died. "Never seen so much blood come out of one person, though. And the look on her face was... That's gonna haunt me for the rest of my days. Not that I've got many days left, but you know what I mean. All that blood, and she was just staring straight ahead as if nothing was wrong, almost like she was relieved it was over".

  "It sounds horrible," I say, glancing back at the empty room as we slowly walk along the corridor. Thinking back to the grating and remembering the phone, I feel a cold chill rush through my body. "What was her name?" I ask.

  "Jennifer," he replies. "Jennifer Mathis".

  "That's a nice name," I say, guiding Mr. Jenkins along the corridor. He seems very old and frail, and I'm worried he might fall and break a bone.

  "What's your name?" he asks.

  "Juliet," I reply.

  "Like in the play," he says, smiling.

  "Yep," I say, "like in the play".

  The rest of the walk back to his room is slow but uneventful. I steer the conversation away from the horrific events surrounding Jennifer Mathis, and onto Mr. Jenkins and his life before he came to Eldsview. He tells me about his time in Vietnam, and about the jewelry business he used to run in New York, and he talks about how he was married until his wife died a few years ago, and he says his children don't come to visit him very often since they live too far away. By the time we finally get back to his room on the red ward, I feel like I know his entire life's history. Glancing at my watch, I realize that it's taken us almost an hour just to get here.

  "So can you promise me you'll stay in your room this time?" I ask, holding his arm as he carefully sits down on the side of his bed.

  He smiles. "You wanna stay with me? Keep me warm?"

  "I think you'll be okay," I reply as I help him get his legs up onto the bed. "Is there anything you want before I go? A glass of water?"

  He shakes his head. "I'm okay".

  I stare at his for a moment, and he smiles back at me. "Are you tired at all?" I ask.

  "Hell no," he replies. "How can I be tired? All I do all day is rest!"

  "You still have to sleep," I say. "Try to think about nice things". Damn it, did I really just say that? I feel like I'm patronizing him every time I open my mouth.

  "And you look after yourself," he says as he settles down under the duvet. "You're a nice girl. What's your name again?"

  "Juliet," I say, feeling a little sad that he's already forgotten.

  "Juliet," he says, smiling. "Like in the play".

  "Yep," I say, "like in the play". I walk over to the door and switch the light off. "Good night, Mr. Jenkins".

  "My name's Kenneth," he replies.

  "Good night, Kenneth," I say, pulling the door shut. As soon as I'm alone in the corridor, I take a deep breath. Turning and walking back toward the rec room, I pause for a moment to close the door that leads to the abandoned ward. I still don't quite understand how Kenneth managed to get the padlock open, especially after the way Mr. Taylor kept telling me how important it is to keep all the doors and windows locked. Feeling a vibration in my pocket, I pull out my phone and see that Lizzie is calling. Pausing for a moment, I think back to the phone hidden behind the grating, and then finally I accept the call.

  "Hey," I say, "I just -"

  "Help me..." she whimpers, sounding as if she's crying.

  "What's wrong?" I ask, trying not to panic. "Li-"

  "Help... I need... someone to..." Her voice trails off.

  "Where are you?"
I shout, running along the corridor before I come to a halt and look back at the door to the abandoned ward. "Lizzie," I shout, "where are you?"

  Chapter Four

  Eleven years ago

  Standing by the door, I watch as my father talks in hushed tones to Dr. Martindale. They're definitely talking about my mother, and they have very serious faces. I like Dr. Martindale most of the time, but unfortunately he's usually the one who has to deliver bad news, and it seems like lately there's just been a whole lot of bad news. My father always keeps the worst of it from me, but I'm pretty sure I know what's going on. Today, though, something seems to be different. As my father talks to Dr. Martindale, I can see that they're both sadder than ever, and this time I don't think they're going to be able to hide anything from me.

  "Come and sit down," my father says eventually, walking over to me and taking my arm so he can guide me to the sofa.

  "Hello, Juliet," Dr. Martindale says, smiling as he turns and walks away toward the other end of the ward. He usually stops and talks to me for a minute, but today he seems to want to get away as quickly as possible. There's a very serious look in his eyes, and I can't help thinking that my father's going to tell me something I don't want to hear.

  "Can we go in and see Mom now?" I ask as I sit on the sofa.

  "In a minute," my father says, sitting next to me. "Before we do that, though, I want to talk to you for a minute, because..." He pauses for a moment. His eyes look different, as if he might be able to cry at any second. "You're going to have to be very strong, Juliet," he continues eventually. "You're going to have to be brave, braver than a girl your age should have to be. I'm going to have to be brave too. And your Mom... she's going to have to be brave, but in a different way". He takes a deep breath, and for a moment he seems to be lost in thought.

  "Can we go in and see her now?" I ask.

  "In a minute," he replies. "Juliet, do you remember how we talked about how your Mom's treatment might go well, but it might not? Well, leukemia is a very nasty illness and it doesn't give up easily, and it takes a lot of luck to beat it. Sometimes we can't be lucky, and it looks like your Mom isn't going to be one of the lucky ones". He stares at me. "Do you understand what I'm telling you, Juliet?"

  I nod. It's true: I do understand what he's saying. He's saying that she's going to die, even though he hasn't actually used the word 'die' yet. I guess he thinks I'm too young.

  "It's very, very important that you know she tried," he continues. "She tried really, really hard to beat this thing, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't quite win. Sometimes people just can't manage to get better, even if they really, really want to be well again".

  "Is she dead?" I ask, interrupting him. Sometimes my father takes too long to get to the point when he's talking.

  "No," he replies, "not... not right now. But..." He pauses, taking another deep breath. "What we're going to do, Juliet, is we're going to go in and see her and she's going to be very weak. Weaker than usual. She really wants to see you, and she'll be so happy you're here, but she might not be able to express that happiness very well. She might not talk much, or move much, but she'll be very, very happy to see you, okay? And we won't stay long, because she needs to rest. We'll just go in for five minutes and see her. Okay?"

  "Okay," I reply.

  "Okay," he says, standing up and leading me away from the sofa, toward my Mom's room.

  "Dad," I say, stopping and pulling on his sleeve. He turns to me. I pause for a moment, and then I point at the little red spot of ketchup on my shoulder. "I did that earlier. On purpose". As he stares at me with an annoyed look on his face, I can't help but smile.

  Chapter Five

  Today

  Racing along the brightly-lit corridors of the abandoned ward, I quickly reach the bathroom and come to a halt. For a moment, my brain can't process the things I'm seeing, as if I can't bring myself to accept the truth.

  "Help me..." Lizzie whispers. She's on the floor, over by the showers, and she's covered in blood, some of which has leaked out across the floor in a large puddle that's slowly making its way to the drain.

  "Fuck," I say, frozen with fear.

  "Help me," she says again, barely able to keep her eyes open.

  "What..." I spot a knife on the floor, with blood smeared on the blade. "What happened?" I ask after a moment.

  "I..." She stares at me, and I realize she's starting to lose consciousness. "There... I..."

  "Wait!" I say, hurrying over and kneeling on the floor, my knees getting soaked in her blood. I don't know what to do or where to start, and there's so much blood all over the place, I can't believe she's still alive. "Can you hear me?" I ask, forcing myself to stay calm. I reach out and gently turn her face so that she's looking at me, but her eyes seem dazed and tired, and I'm not sure she really understands that I'm here. "Don't fall asleep," I say. "You have to stay awake or -"

  "Cold," she whispers.

  "What happened?" I ask, looking down at the gaping wounds in her wrists. It's as if someone has started gouging her flesh away, not just slicing her but actually digging deep. The skin has been torn open, and chunks of ravaged muscle are slopping out, with the bones of her wrists clearly visible. There's not much blood flowing from the hole any more; I guess most of it is already out of her body. "Is there someone here?" I ask, turning back to her. "Who did this to you?"

  She slowly shakes her head. "I just... I can't do it anymore".

  "Can't do what?" I ask, fumbling for my phone so I can call an ambulance.

  "It all seems so..." She pauses for a moment. "I tried to stay strong, but sometimes it just feels as if there's nothing left. Everything's so lonely. Tell them I was lonely".

  "Hang on," I say, trying to get my phone to work. For some reason, though, I don't seem to have any signal. I swear to God, when I was here earlier, everything was working perfectly. "I need your phone," I say, desperately trying again and again to get the call to go through. "Where is it?"

  She stares at me, her eyes seeming a little more dull.

  "Where's your phone?" I shout, trying to stay calm but finding it hard not to panic.

  "It's too late," she says, looking down at her wrists. "There's no more blood. It's all out". She smiles as she closes her eyes. "I've waited so long for this moment. All the peace and calm. No more loneliness or emptiness. I thought I'd be alone at the end, but I'm glad you're here". With that, she slowly closes her eyes.

  "No!" I say, gently shaking her. "Lizzie, you have to stay awake. I'm going to go and find a phone, okay?"

  She opens her eyes and looks over at me. "Lizzie?"

  "You'll be fine," I say. "I promise".

  She frowns. "My name... not Lizzie".

  I stare at her for a moment. "What... What's your name?" I ask eventually, even though I've got a horrible feeling I know what she's going to say.

  "Jennifer," she says, closing her eyes again. "My name's..." Her voice falls silent, and although I try to shake her awake, she doesn't respond.

  "Wake up!" I shout, desperate to keep her alive. Getting to my feet, I run out of the room and along the corridor, desperately looking for a phone. There was a phone on the wall of the rec room in the red ward, but the rec room in this ward turns out to have been stripped completely bare; where I'd hoped to find a phone, all I find is a space on the wall with a couple of wires sticking out. I check every room, convinced that I'll eventually find something I can use, perhaps even a First Aid kit, but there's nothing.

  Realizing that time is running out, I turn and race back to the bathroom, figuring my only option is to get her through to the main part of the building. Perhaps I can call for help from the office, and she might just last long enough while we wait for the ambulance. "It's okay," I say as I run through the door, "I'm -" I pull up short as I see that the room is completely empty. Moments ago, she was on the floor in a pool of blood; now she's vanished, and all the blood has gone. I step out of the room and double-check that I'm in the right pa
rt of the building, convinced that I must have made a wrong turn somewhere; after a couple of minutes, however, I realize that I haven't make a mistake. When I get back to the bathroom, I stare at the spot where Jennifer used to be, and I feel my chest tighten a little as I face the fact that Jennifer has just vanished into thin air.

  Walking across the room, I kneel down and see the dried blood between the tiles, just as things were earlier in the evening when I was here with Mr. Jenkins. Feeling a cold chill run through my body, I try to come up with some kind of logical explanation for all of this, but there's nothing that explains how the body and the blood could have disappeared in the couple of minutes I was looking for a phone. Jennifer was almost dead when I left her, and there can't be anyone else around; even if someone did come and move the body, they couldn't have cleaned up all the blood and dried the floor so quickly.

  "Hey," says a voice behind me. "You okay?"

  Spinning around, I find that she's standing right behind me, smiling in the doorway. All the blood is gone, and her wrists look to be completely normal again. She's smiling as if nothing strange has happened.

  "Where did you go?" I ask. "What... What did you do?"

  "Nothing," she replies, "I just..." She pauses for a moment, frowning as she glances down at the floor. "I was just..." She smiles. "Huh. It's weird, but I don't really remember. I was helping some of the residents, and then I..." She shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I've just been rushed off my feet all night. It's just been one thing after another".

  I stare at her. "Jennifer Mathis," I say eventually.

  "Yeah," she says, smiling. "I'm really sorry, you're going to hate me, but your name has totally slipped my mind".

  "Juliet," I say, taking a step back. "Sorry, I really thought you were called Lizzie".

  "Lizzie?" She pauses. "I don't know anyone called Lizzie. I don't think there's a Lizzie working here".

  "You're..." I take a deep breath, trying to work out what I'm getting wrong. There has to be a simple explanation for this, something that makes sense, but right now I can't shake the feeling that I'm talking to a dead woman. "Earlier," I continue after a moment, "you were on the floor. Your wrists were all cut up, and there was blood everywhere".