by Amy Cross
As I stare at the knife in my hand, I start to sob uncontrollably. I swear, I've always been able to keep my emotions in check, but it feels as if all my strength has ebbed away. These fears have always been inside me, but until this moment I was able to keep them under control.
"Think about it, Juliet," Jennifer says, standing over me. "You could live another seventy or eighty years, but so what? Is that the point of life? Are you just here to cling on for as long as possible? What if all those years are just a crushing, humiliating experience? What if you end up like your mother, suffering in a lonely hospital bed? Or what if you actually manage to have a vaguely good life? It still doesn't mean anything, because ultimately everything has to end. You'll still die at the end of it, so really, what's the point? All you have to do right now is make the brave choice, and end the pain".
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to ignore what she's saying, but in some weird and twisted way it all makes sense. I open my eyes and examine the knife, staring at the sharp, polished blade. The thought of slicing the metal into my skin is terrifying, but the thought of trying to keep living is much, much worse. If I just focus on getting through the moment, I can do this. All the pain, all the torment, will be gone, and I'll just be able to slip into permanent darkness. Death is inevitable for everyone, and I might as well just get it over with. Right now, I'd do anything to end this pain.
"What are you waiting for?" Jennifer asks. "It won't get any easier. Trust me, it doesn't hurt as much as you might think. You just slip the blade through the skin -"
"I don't want to," I say, my voice wavering through the sobs. I've thought about doing something like this before, and I've always been terrified that I might end up killing myself one day, but I always felt I could keep my dark thoughts under control.
"You do," she replies. "You really do, Juliet, you really, really do. Think about your mother. If she'd had the courage to end her life when she was your age, she'd never have endured all that pain. She'd never have suffered unending agonies in a hospital bed, with chemicals being pumped into her body. She'd have avoided all those terrible things, and her life would have been much happier, even if it would have been a little shorter. She'd have never had to die a slow, agonizing death".
"I don't want to die," I whisper through the tears.
"Your have your mother's genes, Juliet," she continues. "You're just like her. You'll end up with leukemia when you're older, the same way she did. You'll end up in a hospital bed, being filled with the same chemicals. You saw how much pain she was in. You saw it, but you bottled it up inside because you couldn't face it. Do you really want to end up going through the same agony? Why bother breathing another breath when the misery is so inevitable?"
I nod, realizing that everything Jennifer is saying is true. I've always been scared of ending up like my mother, and this knife is the one thing that can guarantee I'll never, ever meet that fate. At least this way I'll be in control.
"Do it," Jennifer says.
"I can't," I whimper.
"You can".
I shake my head. "I can't".
"You can, Juliet! All it takes is one brave moment".
"No," I whisper.
"Just do it," she insists, leaning closer to me. She reaches out and gently puts her hand on mine, pressing the knife against the skin of my wrist. "A little more," she adds, as the blade pushes harder. "The difficult part is getting through the skin, but once you've made the first incision, all the blood just comes flowing out and you can sit back and watch. I promise, the pain is over quickly. The final minutes are like a dream. A beautiful dream that eventually slips you into eternal darkness". She pushes the blade, and the tip makes a small cut. "Just a little more," she says, grinning as she stares at the tiny trickle of blood. "Soon you'll hit an artery," she says. "It'll spray and -"
"No!" I shout, throwing the knife across the corridor. I get to my feet and start running, determined to get away from her. I run as fast as I can, but after I've turned a couple of corners, I pull up short and realize that I'm totally lost. I swear the exit should be right here, but I just seem to be in yet another corridor. I pause for a moment, trying to calm down and get my thoughts together.
"Don't fight it," Jennifer says, having caught up to me. "You were so close".
"No," I say firmly, turning and running to the next junction. As soon as I go around the corner, however, I find myself face to face with Jennifer once again. She's smiling, as if she's enjoying seeing me like this.
"Just do it," she says, holding the knife out to me. "All the pain and fear will be over. You know it's the only option".
For a moment, I'm tempted to take the knife, but finally I turn and run. When I go around the next corner, I realize I'm trapped in some kind of loop, constantly running along the same corridor over and over again. I pause for a moment to catch my breath, and I remind myself that I don't really want to die. Finally I turn and see that the exit is right next to me, even though I swear it wasn't there a moment ago. I take a step forward, but the wave of despair becomes much stronger, almost like an invisible barrier, and I drop to my hands and knees, shaking with fear.
"You're not leaving," Jennifer says, standing right behind me. "You don't get to leave". She places the knife on the floor next to me, and she uses her foot to slide it over to my hand. "Everything I've said is true. You know it deep down. Just get it over with. Share your pain with me".
"What are you?" I ask, staring at the knife.
"I'm just someone who's been through the same things you've been through," she says. "I've been sitting here for so long, waiting for people like you to come and admit the truth. Jennifer also needed a little gentle persuasion, but eventually she understood that it was for the best. I've got to admit, you're putting up a lot more resistance than I expected, but I know you'll come around. All the pain is inside you. All this fear and anguish has been inside you since you were younger, but you learned to crush it into a little ball and hide it away in your soul. Just let it free".
"You're not Jennifer?" I ask, trying to stop crying.
"I look like her," she says.
"But you're not her".
"I might as well be," she continues. "I've taken her form, and I have all her thoughts and feelings. When you step up and make the right decision, I'll have yours too".
I take a deep breath. "You made her kill herself?"
"I didn't make her do anything," she says. "I helped her, just like I'm helping you, and just like I'll help other people in the future. I've made myself look like Jennifer for you, and I'll make myself look like you when the next girl comes along".
Picking up the knife, I slowly get to my feet and stare at the door. Tears are flowing down my face, and I can feel the morbid dread and anguish getting even worse. I try to step forward, but it's as if some kind of force is holding me in place, preventing me from leaving the ward.
"Do it," Jennifer whispers in my ear. "Let go of your fear. Embrace the end".
"No," I whisper.
"Do it," she says again, sounding as if she's enjoying my pain.
I close my eyes for a moment. There's a part of me that wants to surrender, to cut my wrists open; at the same time, just as there's a barrier preventing me from leaving the ward, I feel as if there's another barrier preventing me from killing myself. After all, if I was going to do something so drastic, I would have done it long before today.
"Do it," Jennifer hisses.
"No," I say, reaching out and pulling the door open before I finally manage to step out into the corridor. As soon as I've crossed the threshold and left the abandoned ward, the feeling of fear and dread vanishes completely, and I'm back to normal. As the door swings shut behind me, I open my eyes and the tears stop flowing. It's as if the ward itself was exerting some kind of power on me. I turn and look through the window, seeing nothing but the deserted corridor stretching ahead. There's no sign of Jennifer. It's almost as if the whole thing never happened.
After a
moment, I open the door again and lean through so I can drop the knife onto the floor; as soon as I'm back over the threshold, I feel the dark emotions rushing back into my head. I drop the knife and then I pull back and close the door, and once again everything goes back to normal. It's weird, but I feel as if every time I step through this door, I become suicidal. Whatever's going on in the abandoned ward, it's as if the ward itself is affecting my mind and trying to get me to kill myself; it's as if something was able to reach into my mind and dredge up all my fears, and then use them to drive me insane. She might have looked like Jennifer Mathis, but that woman was someone or something else; she was some kind of emotional vampire, bringing all my buried fears to the surface so she could feed off them.
After a moment, I turn and hurry along the corridor, heading back through to the red ward. By the time I get to the main reception area at the front of the building, my hands are shaking.
Chapter Six
Eleven years ago
It's weird seeing my mother with so few tubes and pipes going into her. For the past year, the doctors have been filling her with lots of different chemicals and liquids, and it's always been kind of interesting to see what new things they've have hooked up each time I come to visit. Today, though, most of that stuff has gone, and it's just my mother in the bed, wearing a bandage around her bald head and with a single drip connected to her pale, bruised wrist.
"We're not going to stay too long," my father says, his voice so low it's almost a whisper as he holds my mother's hand. "We don't want to tire you out, but we wanted to come and see you".
As she smiles, her dry, chapped lips start to crack, revealing little red lines of blood. To be honest, I'm glad she isn't talking much; lately, her gums have become so bloody and nasty, I feel a little sick whenever she opens her mouth. Most of the time, she just smiles and listens to other people. I don't think I've heard her voice for weeks.
"Juliet wanted you to see her new dress," my father says, smiling at me. His eyes quickly dart to the two small ketchup stains. "We went out yesterday and bought it at a new store in the mall," he continues. "Juliet, take a step back so your Mom can see your new dress".
I step back and give a little twirl, so she can see it all the way around. Realizing that she's too weak to say anything, I walk back over to her and I sit on the edge of the bed. I reach out and put my hand on the side of her face, feeling her cold, almost white skin. It's so obvious that she's going to die, and frankly I don't see how my new dress is going to cheer her up much. Sometimes my father makes odd decisions.
"She's already managed to get some stains on it," my father adds.
"Mom," I say after a moment, "are you scared of -"
"Juliet!" my father says, interrupting me. "I think your mother's probably too tired to answer questions right now".
"But -"
"Juliet!"
I sigh and look over at my mother. She's staring at me, but her eyes are bloodshot and yellowy, so I don't know if she can see me properly.
"Maybe we should go soon," my father says, turning to me. He's clearly a little annoyed. "Juliet, do you want to give your Mom a goodbye hug?"
I take a deep breath. My mother smells pretty weird, as if all the chemicals inside her are starting to leak out through her skin. I don't really want to touch her at all, but I figure I should at least give her a hug. Leaning close, I put my arms around her. She slowly leans her head toward me, and our cheeks brush together as she puts her arm around my body. I don't know what to do next, so I just stay like this for a moment, until suddenly I feel something wet against my belly. Looking down, I see that the drip has come loose from the vein in my mother's wrist, and blood is seeping out. I try to pull away, but my mother insists on holding me in place. I wait for a moment, until the blood coming through my dress starts to feel warm and clammy. After a brief struggle, I manage to get free from her arm and I step away from the bed. Blood is flowing slowly but steadily from her arm, and I look down to see that the whole of the front of my dress is soaked.
"Jesus!" my father says, turning to hit the alarm button so that a nurse will come.
I stare at my mother for a moment, and she stares at me, and then I turn and run screaming out of the room.
Chapter Seven
Today
"Who the hell are you?" says a large, middle-aged woman as she comes lumbering into the reception area. She stares at me for a moment, clearly not impressed. "Are you the new night girl? Are you Juliet?"
"Yeah," I say. I've been sitting on the sofa for the past few minutes, trying to get my head around everything that's happened tonight. I know I probably should have just got on with my duties, but my hands were shaking so much, I felt I couldn't do anything. I've just been sitting here, going over and over the events, trying to flatten everything out so that it makes some kind of sense. So far, I haven't had much luck.
"I've been looking for you everywhere," she continues. "Where have you been?"
"I..." I pause for a moment. "I was on the red ward most of the time. I just..." I take a deep breath, realizing I can't possibly tell her the truth. She'd think I'm insane and she'd probably just send me home if I mentioned even a word about the abandoned ward and Jennifer Mathis. "Are you Lizzie?" I ask.
She sighs. "Yes," she says firmly. "Of course I'm Lizzie. Lizzie McGuigan, manager of the night shift". She stares at me, and it's pretty clear that she's sizing me up. "I was starting to think maybe you hadn't shown up," she continues. "Have you been here since ten o'clock?"
I nod.
"Huh". She stares at me. "But you haven't been just sitting around, twiddling your thumbs?"
I shake my head. "I just got on with whatever I thought needed doing".
"Huh". Another pause as she watches me for a moment. "Okay, well this clearly isn't your fault. I've been rushed off my feet, so I didn't have much time to come and try to find you. I guess Charles just deposited you on the ward and assumed we'd bump into each other. That man is a..." She smiles. "Lesson number one, Juliet. Charles Taylor might be our manager, but he's also an incompetent idiot. Never assume that he'll do anything properly, because most of the time he drops the ball and leaves everyone else to sort out the mess he's left behind. I can't believe he just dumped you in a corridor and assumed we'd find each other. This place is like a labyrinth, especially when the residents are acting up".
"I thought..." I stare at her, trying to work out exactly what's been going on. After my experience with Jennifer, I'm loathe to just believe everything Lizzie says, but so far she seems to be okay. "I checked on the residents," I say eventually. "The ones on the red ward. I checked to see if they were okay. She said to look into their rooms and make sure they were asleep".
"She?"
"I mean..." I pause for a moment. "He. Mr. Taylor told me".
"He did, did he?" she says, seeming a little suspicious.
"One of the residents had got out of bed," I explain, "so I had to go looking for him. It... It took a while, but I found him eventually. He was wandering around on his own, so I took him back to his room".
"Would that be Ken Jenkins, by any chance?" she asks.
"Yeah," I say. "He walked off, and it took ages to find him. I was getting worried that maybe he'd got outside somehow".
"Typical," she replies. "He's always getting up in the middle of the night. Where did you find him in the end?"
"In the..." I pause. "Actually, he'd managed to get into that old part of the building, the part that's abandoned".
"Really?" She pauses for a moment, seeming a little shocked. "Well, I guess Charles left the padlock open. Pretty typical. But you got Ken back into bed, right?"
"Eventually," I say.
"And he was fine? He hadn't fallen, had he?"
"No".
"Okay," she replies. "Well, that's good. It shows initiative. The worst thing would have been if you'd just sat around waiting to be told what to do. Believe me, sometimes Charles hires girls who haven't got a clue. At
least you haven't been sitting on your ass all night. I could tell someone had been cleaning, too. Good job. We'll make a successful night shift girl out of you yet".
"Thanks".
There's an awkward pause. "Something wrong?"
I open my mouth to reply, but I'm not sure what to say. Although the negative emotions I experienced in the abandoned ward have now lightened, I still feel their echoes, like bruises in my mind. I know that nothing I felt back in that part of the building was new; it was just my normal fears, which somehow became magnified to the extent that I could no longer ignore them. Now I'm out of there, I know those fears have sunk back into my subconscious, but they're still part of me. In particular, I can't help thinking about my mother, and whether Jennifer was telling the truth when she said that I'd end up dying in the same painful way.
"You know that abandoned ward?" I ask after a moment.
"Yeah," she says, looking a little uncomfortable.
"Why's it all locked up?"
She swallows hard. "It's not in use any more," she says eventually. "It was a money-saving decision. The owners decided the place would be more cost-efficient if we reduced our intake from sixteen residents to twelve, so they boarded up one of the wings and..." She flashes a fake smile at me. "Well, I'm sure you know there was also some unpleasantness in there. Just before it closed, there was an incident with one of the nurses. It was in the local paper".
"Jennifer Mathis," I say.
"Yes," she replies, clearly troubled by the name. "It was a pretty tough time, as you can imagine. After everything that happened with her, everyone was glad to be able to get away from that part of the building. Bad memories, you know?"