04 Heller's Punishment - Heller

by JD Nixon

  I turned to Felicia, who was watching TV with a blank look on her face, yawning. I noticed with revulsion that I tried to hide, she hadn’t bothered to put on another pair of panties. She could at least close her legs, I thought angrily. I didn’t need to see that again before dinner. She might be relaxed about that sort of thing, but I wasn’t.

  “Felicia!” I barked to get her attention. “Dinner’s at six.” It was now five-thirty. She listlessly turned her eyes to me, gave me a disinterested nod, then turned her attention back to the inane game show on the TV, which had lots of screaming and whooping from the audience.

  I went to my pile of approved possessions and carefully stashed them back into my bag. I was upset looking at the small stack of my things left behind. Surely I wasn't defined by my material possessions? I thought to myself. I’d always wanted to be free of greed and materialism, but I found that without my phone and my email, I felt disconnected and slightly panicky. I really needed to talk to Daniel, Niq and Heller on a regular basis.

  Chapter 6

  “Why don’t you take a shower before dinner?” I suggested to Felicia, thinking that she might like to clean up after peeing all over herself. I would. But she looked at me as if I’d asked her to swim the Pacific Ocean alone, coated in body butter made from fish guts.

  “Now, Felicia,” I insisted, turning off the TV. “You need a shower.”

  In the bathroom, I set out the towel, soap, washer, shampoo, conditioner and moisturiser provided by the clinic. I grabbed a fresh change of clothes for her, but found the rest of her wardrobe as garish and inappropriate as what she was currently wearing. I took a pair of precious jeans from my stock and one of her least offensive t-shirts, careful to find a fresh pair of panties as well, and placed them in the bathroom for her. No bras had been packed.

  I’d read in the clinic’s handbook that all clients’ laundry needs would be dealt with by leaving dirty clothes in a messy pile next to the door of the room. No plastic bag was provided.

  They’d better wash my clothes in a separate machine to Felicia’s, I thought grumpily.

  After another unsubtle prompting from me, Felicia listlessly entered the bathroom and a few minutes later, I heard the splash of the shower running. I settled down to watch the early news. When that had finished, I realised that Felicia had been in the bathroom for a ridiculous amount of time. I jumped off my bed and banged on the door, calling her name.

  There was a knock on the room door and it opened. Another man in the white smock and white pants stood at the entry, staring at me.

  “You’re not Felicia,” he said, eyes round with surprise.

  “Well spotted, champ,” I said. He was big like Jorge, but pale with large blue eyes, floppy fair hair and a full fair beard and moustache. “I’m Tilly Chalmers. I’ll be staying with Felicia for the next week. Making sure that she does what she’s supposed to, I guess.”

  He nodded his understanding. “Good. About time someone tried to make her behave. God knows we haven’t had much luck in that department. Where is she?”

  “In the bathroom having a shower. But she’s been in there for ages – over thirty minutes. I was just checking that she was okay.”

  He pushed past me, careful to shut and lock the room door behind him as he did. He thumped on the bathroom door. “Felicia! It’s Dave. What’s going on in there? It’s time to go to dinner. Come out now.”

  There was silence from the bathroom; not even the slightest sound of someone moving around. Dave didn’t hesitate but opened the door without any further comment and stepped into the bathroom. There was obviously no privacy in this place for its clients.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed when he found her lying on the floor, completely naked. Her lips were blue around the edge and some drug paraphernalia was scattered on the vanity.

  He dropped to his knees next to her, commencing CPR and ordered me to pick up the internal phone and ask for a medic team. The phone was an unusual design – it had no dial or number pad. You picked up the receiver and talked to one of the clinic’s office staff. It was not possible to ring anybody or anywhere else with it.

  “Yes, Room 212?” came a voice at the other end.

  “We need a medic team up here immediately. Possible overdose for Felicia Heyne. Dave is here now giving her CPR,” I said, trying not to panic.

  “Righto, understood. The team will be there as soon as possible.” Then the phone disconnected.

  A few minutes later the door was unlocked and flung open. I just managed to jump out of the way as a man and woman stormed in, carrying a case and a small cylinder of oxygen. They took over from Dave and sent him off to retrieve a foldaway gurney from one of the hall cupboards, one of which was apparently stowed on each floor. They were well organised at this clinic.

  “Do you know what happened?” called out the woman to me over her shoulder. She was setting up the oxygen cylinder and adjusting the mask around Felicia’s mouth.

  “No,” I said, overwhelmed. “I made her go in for a shower and she was taking an age, so I banged on the door and then Dave turned up and forced the door open. We found her lying on the floor.”

  “Where did she get the heroin from? Didn’t Jorge frisk her?”

  “Yes, he did. Both of us. I have no idea where the drugs came from.”

  Dave returned with the gurney and quickly commenced assembling it. Everyone was quiet and professional. The female medic asked Dave the same questions that she’d asked me. He threw her a disgusted look as he worked.

  “Probably had them stashed up her arse. Jorge can be a bit squeamish sometimes. Maybe he didn’t do a full cavity search.” He looked up at me. “Did he?” I shook my head. “Did she go to the bathroom since she got off the plane?”

  “Yeah, at the airport. She took a while in there as well. Do you think . . .?” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  “Who knows? She could have stashed them before she got onboard. It would be a lot safer for her getting through security that way instead of having them in her bag. Jorge really should have checked her better. He’ll get a bollocking over this tomorrow.” Then he looked at me speculatively. “I should really do a proper search of you now, just in case you’re hiding something as well.”

  “Don’t even think about it, Dave,” I warned. “You have to remember that I’m no friend of Felicia’s. I’m working for her parents and you can check my credentials with them or with my boss, if you like. But you are not giving me a body cavity search. I don’t get paid enough for that kind of shit!” He shrugged in good-natured defeat.

  “She’s stabilising for now. We’ve given her a shot of Naloxone,” said the male medic.

  He and the woman gently lifted Felicia out of the bathroom onto the gurney, carefully strapping her down, before wheeling her away. Dave stayed behind and looked around the bathroom, carefully picking up the disgustingly soiled plastic bag the powder had been stored in and the cut-off straw she’d been using to snort the drug.

  “She would have preferred to shoot it, but it’s hard to fit a needle, spoon and lighter up your butt, I suppose. Snorting takes longer to get a hit and the rush isn’t as good. She’ll be in the infirmary all night for observation now though, to make sure there are no bad effects. You never know what heroin’s been cut with – could be anything. You’ll have a peaceful evening to yourself, Tilly.”

  I didn’t want to sound callous, but I was hungry. “What about dinner?”

  “I’ll bring you up some. No need for you to have to suffer by eating down in the communal hall with the clients. Will that be okay?”

  I nodded. “Also, I need to ring my boss to let him know that we’ve arrived. Can I come to the office and do that now?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Follow me.”

  He led me through the maze of hallways back down to the administration area on the ground floor, taking me past the reception desk into the back offices. He introduced me to the duty manager, gave her a brief summary of what had happened w
ith Felicia and explained my request.

  The manager turned to a row of lockers and found the one for Room 212, unlocking it and handing over my mobile. I had to stand in front of the both of them while I had my conversation with Heller. I spoke fast, not giving him a chance to interrupt, explaining about Felicia and that he wouldn’t be able to ring me personally on my phone, but could leave me a message at the office if he needed to contact me urgently.

  Of course he was concerned. “My sweet, is everything all right? Do you want me to come there?”

  “No! I can manage,” I snapped, annoyed by his constant assumption that I needed help. He’d never assume that with any of the men. I said goodbye without giving him a chance to respond and handed over my phone to be returned to the locker.

  Dave took me back to the room and locked me inside again. When I protested, he claimed it was more for my safety than anything, and I had no choice but to accept that explanation. He returned thirty minutes later with a tray, placing it on the wall bench for me.

  “Enjoy,” he said and promised to pick it up later, leaving to return to his dinnertime supervisory activities. I sat down at the bench and lifted the trays off the plates, surprised to see how delicious the food was. It was a restaurant quality meal and I ate it with pleasure, watching the news as I did. Then I took a shower and slipped into my pyjamas.

  Thankfully Jorge had left me the detective novel I’d packed and I lay on my bed reading for a while. Dave came back and took my tray away, advising me that he’d checked on Felicia and she was stable and resting comfortably. He promised to tell Jorge to bring me breakfast at seven the next morning, then said goodnight cheerily and locked the door behind me, leaving me a prisoner.

  When I was bored of reading I found a Marilyn Monroe movie on TV and that entertained me until bedtime. I slept well and woke early, did some isometric exercises, including my least favourite, push-ups. For some obscure reason only known to Jorge, my exercise bands had been confiscated as contraband goods so I had no exercise equipment to hand, except my own body.

  Jorge turned up on the dot of seven and brought in a tray that smelt good. He was more subdued than he’d been the day before, obviously having received a serve over not finding Felicia’s drug stash.

  “She’s so determined to keep using, despite everything,” he said unhappily. “I should have known better, but I guess it threw me that she wasn’t wearing any panties. She deliberately distracted me. I have to be so careful with the female patients. Someone like her is very capable of accusing me of molesting her just to get me into trouble.” He gave a bitter laugh and then sighed heavily. “Please Tilly, don’t trust her for an instant. Not about anything.” He turned to leave, then swung around once more. “I’ll be bringing her up here again soon and I’ll pick up your tray then.”

  I nodded and tucked into the delicious breakfast. Geez, if I couldn’t get to some exercise equipment soon, I’d end up putting on weight while I was here. Oh well, what the hell, I thought as I buttered another piece of toast. I loved food, which was one of the reasons that I’d decided to give up on my acting ‘career’ when I’d started working for Heller. Sure, a lack of talent and success were two other important reasons for that momentous decision, but I didn’t want to live the cigarette, vodka and lettuce leaf diet of the female celebrity. I wasn’t skeletal by any means, but I was tall, lean and muscular and still managed to keep a few nice curves in place as well. I’d never had any complaints from my lovers about my body, and my boobs received more than their fair share of attention from men, so I figured that whatever I was doing was working for me.

  Around eight, Jorge brought Felicia back to our room. She was wearing a loose hospital style gown and was barefoot. Jorge took her into the bathroom and stood there with the door open watching her as she stripped off her gown to dress in the clothes I’d picked out for her when she’d gone for her shower the evening before.

  “Enjoying the view, Jorge?” she taunted. She bent over lewdly to flash her privates, laughing nastily over her shoulder at him.

  He grimaced. “Not particularly, Felicia. It’s a bit too well used for my liking.”

  “You wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway,” she sneered.

  “Yes, I would, and it would involve some penicillin, tetanus shots and a stint in a nunnery,” he snapped back at her, momentarily forgetting his professionalism in his anger. She gave another nasty laugh then, knowing that she had stung him, enjoying her small victory.

  “I can’t wear these jeans. They’re too big,” she complained as she pulled them on. “Whose are they? That fat bitch in the office?”

  “They’re mine, you ungrateful cow!” It was my turn to snap at her and she laughed again at baiting me as well. “Give them back. You can wear your skanky ho clothes instead.”

  She stepped out of my jeans contemptuously and kicked them in my direction, before walking to her bag in her see-through, lacy panties, slipping on another micro miniskirt, this one a deep red colour, which clashed in an ugly way with her violet singlet top. She slipped on the Elmo jacket, and pulled out a pair of teetering gold sandals, frowning at me as she remembered the loss of her ugly green shoes. She again applied the almost-dead face powder and the garish lipstick. She was ready for some kind of action when she’d finished, but not the kind that a decent law-abiding woman would want to know about.

  “Come on, time to get going,” ordered Jorge. “You have group session this morning, then lunch, then physical activity, followed by personal counselling.”

  “So fucking boring,” she groaned and flopped down on her bed in protest.

  “Get moving, Felicia,” he insisted, pulling her by her arm off the bed. “You have a lot of making up to do after your little stunt last night before we can give you a clean bill of health to your parents. And you know what that means.” They exchanged unfriendly glances. “They will cut you off without a cent this time if you don’t make it through the program. How long will your charming boyfriend want to hang around you then without mummy and daddy’s generous pocket money coming in each week?”

  “Fuck off,” she spat out, but it did the trick and she reluctantly climbed off the bed and straightened her clothes. “Well, let’s get it over and done with.” She teetered to the door in her heels and rattled on the handle.

  Jorge looked back at me. “Coming too, Tilly?”

  “I’d better,” I decided and followed them out the door.

  He led us on a circuitous route to the floor below to a large bland conference room, like that you’d see in any mid-range hotel. A circle of chairs had been placed in the middle. A number of seats were already taken by clients, obviously the ones trusted and motivated enough to make their own way to the session. A quiet murmur rose from those clients who were more social and had sat next to other people.

  Felicia deliberately chose a chair well away from everyone else, and sat gracelessly, her knees drawn together, feet either side of the chair, her arms crossed in an unreceptive manner. I wasn’t sure whether to sit near her or not, but Jorge gently took me by the arm and led me over to some seats at the side of the room, where a few other staff had congregated.

  “We stay on the sidelines in case anyone gets too angry or upset, or tries to make a run for it. But generally we don’t interfere with proceedings,” he explained.

  We sat down and he commenced chatting to an attractive dark-skinned female staff member on his left, catching up on office gossip. More patients came in then and almost every seat in the circle was full. I noted that her scowling features had kept a seat free either side of Felicia, though she didn’t seem to mind the snub from the other clients at all.

  Two very perky and resolutely positive counsellors burst into the room, arms full with huge sheets of paper, highlighters, marker pens and squeezy stress toys.

  “Good morning, people!” exclaimed Perky One, a short, rotund blonde woman with a permanent smile etched into her jolly features. She commenced affixing paper to the
wall.

  “How is everyone today?” asked Perky Two, a tall, lean, extremely elegant woman with a slicked back bun, stunning facial features, dressed as if she was heading off to lunch at the Hilton. She also had a smile baked onto her skin. In fact, I didn’t see her smile reduce in brightness to below gigawatt the entire two hours, regardless of what anyone did or said. It became quite creepy after the first ten minutes.

  She broke the ice by randomly throwing the squeezy toys at the clients, causing some good-natured bickering among them as they clamoured to score one for themselves. Felicia sat in her chair, not participating in the game, immediately bringing herself to the attention of the counsellors.

  “Well, well, we have Felicia back with us. How lovely to see you again, Felicia. How have you been?” Perky One enquired. Felicia shrugged one shoulder in an uninterested manner. Perky Two threw her a toy. She didn’t even try to catch it, but let it bounce off her on to the floor.

  “Now, now, Felicia,” Perky Two admonished cheerfully. “You’ll be needing that later. We’ll all need them later, because ladies and gentlemen, after our session today you all get to vote with them.” She beamed even wider. “That’s right. You all get to choose who you think was the most honest with us today and you give them your toy as your vote. The person with the greatest number of toys wins a special prize.”

  Dear God, I thought, it sounded so juvenile. Had she forgotten she was dealing with a group of adults? The clients didn’t seem to mind being patronised in such a way though. The Perkys managed to settle the group down and start the session, advising that the topic would be on trust. They talked for a while about what trust meant, letting the group brainstorm, writing the responses on the paper. They then asked the clients to talk about the issue of trust in their own lives.