Candy however was already reading the woman's mind.
She could see images of a woman giving birth in a strange chair, Jan beside her, holding the woman's hands, whilst a man and woman scurried here and there. The accompanying feelings were a mixture of love and gain and excruciating pain and loss.
The woman was telling the truth.
This was Jan, the green eyed girl's mother.
She noticed the palm of her right hand was sore from grasping the knife's handle and released her grip as she sat back down.
I've had the unfortunate privilege of meeting the fucking beast, so you'll no doubt understand my reaction to the mention of her name-” began Candy, however Jan was quick to interrupt. “I feel the same way, Candy. She killed someone I loved and destroyed a part of me in the process.”
Both parties were silent. Jan stood up and indicating the empty glasses on the table started walking towards the bar. Candy tried to revive the image of the green eyed girl's birth in her mind, however it was fuzzy, like a badly tuned black and white television. She was startled out of her reverie by the sound of a glass being slammed in front of her, then another. It was a tequila, with a beer chaser. Jan set down an identical set of drinks at her place at the table, then reached again for the tequila. The glass looked slightly odd in her hand as if she was not used to the shape. However, Candy copied the gesture and they knocked glasses before downing the fiery substance.
“Cheers,” said Candy, fighting her gag reflex. “You were telling me about the subway? They dead guy in the cubicle?”
Jan had already started on her chaser and after a sizeable swallow she set the beer bottle on the table and rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers.
“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Well, the place smelled like shit. Literally. So much so that I nearly threw up. I sit the guy on the toilet and take his wallet, then stick my head out from behind the door. The space outside is empty, only the guy in the end stall still in the vicinity. So I closed the door behind me and used a card from dead guy's wallet to lock the door behind me. Then I approach the stall at the end.”
“Was his stall door locked?” asked Candy, feeling slightly left out of the conversation.
“Yeah. So I knocked on the door, said I was interested in buying his suitcase.”
“What did he say?”
“I'm not sure exactly, but I think he told me to fuck off.”
“So what did you do?”
“I kicked the door in. Turns out the guy is examining the contents of the suitcase, which just happens to be sixteen pounds of cocaine. Turns out this guy is a trad or something, I forget the exact term for some reason.”
“A trad? What the... you mean a triad?”
“Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, he's pissed and as I reach for my cleaver, he reaches for one of his own. Of course, I had the upper hand, so I sever his jugular, then knock him out to stop the screaming. By this time there is blood flowing every which way and I'm staring at this suitcase full of drugs. Just standing there, staring, like I'm in some kind of trance. Then it hits me. The entire reason for wanting the suitcase in the first place. So I zip up the suitcase and walk out the room to the sink and wash down my cleaver and the blood from my face and hands. Then I quickly take off the explosives, before I realise that I've forgotten to disarm them.”
“How do you do that?”
“Remote control. So I flick the switch and the explosives are no longer a problem. There's a small pouch at the front of the suitcase so I pile the explosives in there and zip it up and walk out the bathroom. Outside there's another couple of Chinese guys hanging around, but thankfully they aren't looking at me. So I climb the steps and get a cab back to Faith's.”
“And all this cocaine is at the flat now?”
“Yeah. You want to head back and try some?”
is a certain degree of temptation to the offer, the way addiction will find excuses to put itself first in any situation.
However, despite the want and need, Candy shakes her head along with the sudden shaking in her hands.
“There are a few things I have to attend to first. Can you give me an address where I can find you?"
"Yes. We’re staying at Faith's old flat. Faith's mother Faith that is. It's a few blocks from here. The address is 402 Belle Avenue. What is it you have to do?"
"There's a few people I have to look up. I'll see you in a few, yeah?" Candy made to stand, yet Jan grabbed her hand.
"Listen, perhaps you could do with some company? I know I could," said Jan.
Candy smiled and nodded. The two woman stood.
"So where are we going?" asked Jan.
“To visit an old friend,” replied Candy. “Two old friends actually.”
The single bulb hung nakedly from the bathroom roof, its weak light doing little more than adding a yellowish discolouration to the fading sunshine entering through the bathroom window. Her back against the bathtub, Wanda tightened the rubber tubing around the diminished muscles of her right arm.
Wanda's habit on the junk started when Candy was on the ward. On one occasion she did not have the money to pay for the crack that Candy had demanded she bring. Instead she had bargained with the dealer for a lay on of goods. The dealer instead gave her the goods for a lay on her. Surprisingly, Wanda actually enjoyed the sex. The man was well hung and she came. Afterwards he had offered her a smoke of Heroin.
Chasing the dragon he had called it. She had accepted. The drug had taken away her worry, given her back some strength. An hour later she had fucked the man again for a twenty bag and a lesson in burning it.
That was nearly two years ago.
Now her habit was full blown and she had progressed to injecting. It no longer gave her the same renewal of strength but enough took away her worries, especially when combined with a few benzos.
The needle tore painfully through her skin and instantly she was worried. If it was not sharp enough to slide easily through the skin, was it sharp enough to pierce her veins? This was the last works she had and she did not want to travel down town to get more.
Only one way to find out, she thought as she pulled back on the plunger, and she sighed with relief as blood mingled with the amber fluid in the barrel, a brief trauma in bliss. Wanda was about to depress the plunger when she heard a noise from behind. Wanda was already jumpy, drug paranoia being a species of feeling that she had grown accustomed too, however it was with a justified fear that her eye caught sight of bloodstained steel, and it was with understandable panic that her gaze met with the eyes of the holder of this object of violence.
"Don't mind us Wanda. Just go right ahead and have your hit. We've got all the time in the world," Candy fingered her knife absentmindedly.
A flair of panic arose in Wanda throat, and she let out a defeated moan. "No Candy. Please. I did everything you asked. I helped you!"
The needle, standing alone, wavered slightly, as if it itself did not know what to do.
"I know, Wanda. You did me proud. That is why I've come to save your life. However I need your help one last time."
Wanda looked at Candy like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
She looked at the needle in her arm. "Candy. Listen I need to hit this or the blood is going to congeal and my shot will be wasted. Is that okay?" Wanda said, the lull of desperation adding an extra pleading to her meek tone.
"Sure. As I said, this is a social call. If I wanted you dead the needle would be in your eye by now."
Wanda found it hard to find comfort in this as she depressed the needle. Immediately the feeling of warmth enveloped her and she laughed a short burst. "Jesus Christ. I've got a serial killer in my house and I'm a junkie. Never saw that one coming, did you mum?"
"I like you Wanda. Is there somewhere we can talk?" Candy said with a smile on her face.
Wanda slowly stood and pointed vaguely in the direction of the hallway. "How about my bedroom. I need to lie down."
"You got any more of that?" Jan as
ked.
Wanda smiled. "It's all I've got these days. Yeah. No more needles though."
Jan returned the smile. "It's fine. I always carry mine with me."
They entered the bedroom and Candy noticed that the double bed was neatly made and she remembered Beano's bed all that time ago, exactly the same and wondered if there was a pattern between drug users and bed hygiene.
Wanda opened a drawer and pulled out a baggie of smack and handed it to Jan, then sprawled out on the bed.
Jan removed a glass barrelled syringe. "What do you use for citric in this backwards dimension- some kind of fruit no doubt?”
Wanda laughed. "Hey this is the year Two Thousand. We have citric acid these days. It's in the drawer, the little yellow sachets. Help yourself."
Rummaging for a minute Jan pulled out a small sachet, just as Wanda had described. She needed water to cook her hit, boiled preferably. “You got a kitchen? Don't get up I'll find it,” she said to Wanda, motioning for the wasted psychologist to stay on the bed.
Candy took a seat beside Wanda.
"So how did you do it Candy? We all thought you were a goner. The doctor said you'd be a cabbage when you woke up. Several people smiled at the news."
"Glad to make people happy, and sorry to disappoint. I had friends on the outside. At least you're one of the few who actually know the truth. That I was telling the truth.”
"You know that day you saw the goat, I believed you. I even told Nowes that and they laughed at me. That's why I decided to bring you the chocolates. Big mistake, huh?"
"Who is buried there, Wanda? Out of curiosity?"
"It's my late husband. He used to beat me you see. And take sex when he wanted it. He was going to kill me one day so I shot him. I felt justified. Still do. Now what the hell do you want here, Candy? I think you're probably able to score for yourself so that can't be it."
"I told you. I'm here to save your life. I made two promises before I left the institution. One was to rescue a friend of mine. The other was to raise the place to the ground."
"Jesus. And so you came to warn me? I would never have thought..." Wanda looked thoughtful, "So when is this going to take place?"
"As soon as you get me the keys to the ward."
Wanda laughed heartily. "You are a key Candy. A fucking renegade. So you want me to be complicit in your murderous plan?"
"Look at it this way Wanda; you never had a choice. Do you have the keys or do you need to get them?"
"It just so happens I'm working night shift tonight."
"Graveyard shift, huh? Isn’t that the shittiest one? I thought you were day staff."
"Bit of both since I developed a habit to feed. Night shift pays double."
Jan entered then and Candy nodded towards her. "I don't need to remind you not to double cross me."
Wanda sighed, "You've got a murder on me and probably a murderer for a friend. Do you know what the life expectancy is for a junkie these days? So I'm not really afraid of death, and I could always find that in prison. But no Candy I'll help you, not because I have to but because you warned me, and because I hope that someday you get the peace you crave. I am still a psychologist Candy. And I know regardless of this brave face you put on for the world, you suffer like crazy. I don't want to get caught up in your world. Hell meeting those two; that fucking black god and the chick with the cuts over her face is enough of a reason to keep you far far away from me. But I know you didn't kill your friends. And for what It's worth both Fortune and Randolph got what was coming to them. Just do me a favour. If you do happen to get arrested again, keep my name out of it. And if you could see your way clear to getting me some smack for helping then it'd be a bonus, fuck knows I got you enough drugs in my time and I just gave your friend there some of my own personal."
Candy smiles at this, "Sure. I'll be back tomorrow, and I'll come bearing gifts. There is only one other thing I want from you. Do you have Belinda's address?"
Wanda laughed again, "It's in my book. Are you going to warn her too?"
"She was warned plenty of times. Now it’s time to deliver."
Wanda looks thoughtful for a moment. Candy notices and waves her hands, indicating that Wanda should share her thoughts."It may be nothing, but it certainly is coincidence. You remember the murders that were happening around the same time you were killing people, two years ago?"
"Yeah," says Candy. "So what?"
"Well they stopped after you were arrested. However, it’s just been on the news that they've started again."
"Well, I have killed someone already since escaping. That’s no coincidence."
"Well, there happens to be three dead bodies, not just one. I'm not saying you're responsible but maybe someone wants you in the firing line."
This time it was Candy's turn to look thoughtful. "Thanks for the heads up. Just out of curiosity who is it that's been offed?"
"Three woman in their twenties. Police aren't saying much more than that."
"Uh-huh. Well, seems I've got competition."
"I don't think you're grasping what I'm trying to say here Candy. The cops are going to be everywhere. And due to the coincidence, they're going to be looking for you."
Candy nodded slowly then turned to Jan who was in the process of plunging the H into her bloodstream.
Candy watched her shoulders turn inwards as the drug took hold.
"Do you carry anything else sharp Jan?"
Jan nodded and smiled at Candy, who turned to Wanda who lay with her eyes closed, junked out on the bed.
"Be seeing you," said Candy and when Wanda opened her eyes they were gone.
The orderly was called Mark, but liked to call himself Manic.
Manic felt the name suited not only his job, but his personality, considering himself a larger than life happy go lucky player. He had been fucking Belinda for a month now.
As he slipped the cool denim over his thighs Manic thought he looked hot, and he caressed his finely toned stomach, before giving his penis a tug under the snugness of his jeans.
Manic was new to the institution, had no knowledge of Candy, although God knew that nurse he was boning liked to talk about her. As far as Manic knew, Belinda had a lot of pet peeves, yet this Candy girl had really got under her skin.
Manic smiled. This didn't matter to Manic. Belinda was a good fuck and the fact that he was fucking a psychiatric nurse got him some good jobs in the institution. He could put up with her moaning. It wasn't like he was married to the bitch. He would go over there tonight and slip her one, maybe get some of that good home cooking she made into him. And then maybe tomorrow instead of mopping up toilets as he was scheduled to be doing he would be sitting in a comfortable chair, reading up on the latest in gent's fashion.
Satisfied with his appearance, Manic checked his watch.
He had another hour to kill.
HHHHSSSSSSSSS! - Steam rose from the heated metal as water spilled from the pan. Belinda rushed over and turned the knob then headed back towards the ringing.
RING RING RING...
The telephone sat atop a small well polished coffee table beside the couch, and she flopped onto the cushioned seat and lifted the receiver.
"Hello?"
Silence.
anyone there?" the sound of heavy breathing was sudden on the other end of the line.
Belinda visibly flushed just as the doorbell went.
"Go to hell!" Belinda screamed, before slamming the receiver.
She stood and composed herself. That would be Mark at the door. Manic, she reminded herself with a slight roll of the eyes. She walked across the plush beige carpeting through the hallway towards the entrance of her two bed roomed apartment.
She turned the snub lock and opened the front door.
The hallway was empty. A sudden fright set in, yet she attempted to shrug it off.
Manic was due to be here, and any minute now. She took a further look around the doorway, which she considered to be a brave action, then turned
and closed the door, and set herself back towards the kitchen. She still had onions to chop. Feeling a little foolish at her previous fear she began a whistle, an improvised tune and reached into her vegetable cupboard and brought forth a small onion and then a larger one.
It wasn't until she turned to her knife wrack that she began to suspect something was perhaps quite wrong. The cleaver was missing, alongside the large kitchen knife she was about to use. She knew they were not in the dishwasher as she had emptied that particular machine only thirty minutes ago, and both of the items had been hung up. She rushed over and opened the door to make sure. As she gazed upon the empty drawers, the water once again boiled over, and amongst the hissing of the steam arose the sound of a man screaming.
Belinda froze. The telephone was in the sitting room. That was two doors down. She felt her heart begin to race, a thudding against her chest as adrenaline started to course throughout her body. After a minutes deliberation she lifted a knife, the largest the rack had to offer, and crept silently through to the hall.
Everything was again silent.
Ignoring both bedroom doors, and walking in the centre of the hallway she managed the twelve or so steps to the sitting room. With relief she noticed it empty. It was somewhere in her mind that she was no longer alone in her apartment and perhaps it was this that propelled her into her quick walk towards the telephone, all traces of hesitation wiped away.
She lifted the receiver, however instead of a dial tone she heard only the sound of the person breathing.
Belinda felt herself break as tears filled her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. "Who is this? What do you want?"
"Come through to the bedroom and -"
Belinda did not wait for the rest, instead fleeing for her front door and the safety of the outside world.
The hallway was clear, and it was with an outward cry of relief that she flung open the heavy oak door, and with the same breath that she moaned in terror as she was greeted with the sight of Candy, smiling, holding her kitchen cleaver.
Psycho Candy Page 36