by Alice Ayden
With a quick movement, Natalie sprung from the corner and stood behind Cora ready to confront Johnston.
He smirked at them both. “You can’t protect Cora anymore. She’s mine.” He pulled a knife from his jacket pocket. “Remember this, Natalie?”
Natalie rushed around Cora towards the bathroom, but Johnston grabbed her and threw her to the ground. He pounced at Cora and clasped his hands around her neck. The more she squirmed the harder he squeezed. “You just had to forget. How difficult was that?” Sweat dripped from his forehead. “I need you in pain.”
He wasn’t calm or rational, and Cora was in trouble. She gasped for air. “Please,” Cora whispered. “Your mother.”
Johnston’s spell broke a bit, and he relaxed his grip.
Mrs. Kiness jiggled the door handle. “Cora? Why is the door locked? What’s going on?”
Natalie jumped on Johnston and tried to pull him off Cora, but he elbowed her away. The knife careened across the floor in the struggle. Cora reached for the door, but Johnston grabbed her and whipped her around to face him.
“So many things I’m going to do to you.”
Cora heard the bathroom door jiggle.
Mrs. Kiness must have gone around to try that door.
“Mrs. Kiness get help!”
As soon as Cora screamed for help, Johnston gurgled like an overused coffee maker. He reached around him to his back and slowly fell to his knees.
Behind him, Natalie held onto the knife. She stared at the blood on her hands. “I had to.” She started shaking as she backed up and dropped the knife. “What have I done?”
Cora stared at Johnston. For a few seconds, she couldn’t process the scene. “I’ll get help.”
“He kept us in the cellar,” Natalie said as she stared at Cora. “Why didn’t you remember we were right there? Why didn’t you save us?”
The memories gushed in too quick. Cora steadied herself as she stared into Natalie’s eyes. Then, she remembered everything. “No.”
Natalie grabbed Cora and shoved her into the armoire. “Glad you finally remembered who I really am.”
Chapter 37: Remember
Cora tried to wrestle away, but Natalie tightened her grip until she stopped fidgeting. “Oliver again?”
Natalie grinned an unearthly smirk. “I like using the classics.”
Cora wanted to melt from her sight. She couldn’t see a shred of anything human. Natalie’s eyes didn’t betray remorse, compassion, empathy. They were holes, caves to an empty vessel. She didn’t have a soul to reflect.
“You remember our game, don’t you Cora? Let Johnston take the blame, and the others might, just might, live.” Gone was Natalie, the frayed victim. In her place, the grinning psychotic emerged. “You’re such a small, pathetic creature but so much fun to play with.” Natalie laughed. “I like you all confused and twisted to the core. And Johnston? He’d been with me for so long. I let him do unspeakable things to so many. But you would know. He did unspeakable things to you first.”
Cora shook her head. “You never let him touch me.”
Natalie smiled. “Remembering everything, are we?” She showed Cora the scars on her wrists from the chains. “They’ll never suspect. Over the years, I’ve found it easier for people to accept a story if there’s a slight truth. I was a victim. I chained myself in the cellar. I made Johnston hit me. That way, it’s not a lie. People appreciate extra effort.”
Cora didn’t know what to say.
“These are the moments that make all the sacrifices worthwhile.” Natalie backed up and fell to her knees.
Mrs. Kiness rushed in through the bathroom. She ignored Natalie and jumped over Johnston. “I’m so sorry, Cora. I couldn’t find your room key. Are you alright?”
Cora nodded and pointed to Johnston.
Mrs. Kiness reached for him and checked for a pulse. “He’s barely alive. I have to call for help.” She ran out of the room.
“Alive?” Natalie took the knife, plunged it into Johnston’s chest, and gently caressed his face.
Johnston’s eyes widened. “What are you doing? I did everything. This was your plan.”
“You’re right. This was all part of my plan.”
The realization soaked into Johnston, and he reached for Cora.
“You think she’ll help you? This is how it was always going to end.” Natalie leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I don’t need you anymore. You had your fun. No one loves you. No one will miss you.”
Johnston struggled and coughed up blood. Natalie pushed down harder into his wound until he grimaced and stopped moving.
Natalie dropped the knife and shoved Cora’s head into the armoire.
The sharpness of the pain brought instant nausea.
“See this.” Natalie showed Cora a mark on her left hand. “Where you bit me?” Natalie bit into Cora’s flesh until the blood ran down her arm. She didn’t stop until her teeth rattled against bone.
The intensity blinded Cora who grabbed the armoire for support.
Natalie wiped off Cora’s blood from her mouth. “And you stomped on my foot when I took a razor to your arm?” She raised her foot and smashed it down on Cora’s boot. Natalie muffled Cora’s scream. She tore off the gold locket and threw it at her. “Recognize this? It’s your mother’s. The blood on the back is hers.” With footsteps getting closer, Natalie let go of Cora. “You blame Johnston, or you’ll never find the others. Poor little Marie. You remember her from the TV? And Rachel? Rachel tried to help you that night. Their families will never find them.” Natalie hurled herself into the corner.
Mrs. Kiness, Evan and Lillia rushed into the room.
“What the hell?” Lillia stared at Johnston. She sprinted to Cora. “Are you alright?” She looked at her face and then her bloody hand.
Mrs. Kiness checked Johnston’s pulse again. “Saints be kind. He has passed from us.”
Natalie huddled in the corner and rocked back and forth.
Mrs. Kiness ran into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and held it under cold water. She came back out and pressed it against Cora’s lip and then her hand. “I did not notice these wounds.”
Sirens screamed closer, and Cora hoped she’d have the strength to lie to the police.
Lillia leaned close to Natalie. “What happened?”
“He hit Cora. He tried to kill her. He strangled her and hit her and wouldn’t stop.” Natalie resisted Lillia’s reach. “I didn’t know what to do. He was going to kill her. I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else.”
“Where’d you get the knife?” Lillia asked.
Natalie looked down. “It was him. He kept us in your old cellar.”
“The old cellar?” Lillia asked. “But it’s on the damn tour.”
“The original cellar,” Natalie said. “The one you don’t use.”
Lillia frowned and looked to Mrs. Kiness.
“It is true, child. The original cellar has been abandoned for decades. No one used it. Most had forgotten about it.”
Lillia put her hands on her hips. “Now how the hell was I supposed to do a proper investigation and nail this piece of shit...” Lillia looked down at Johnston. “...if I didn’t have all the damn evidence?”
“I couldn’t tell anyone. He swore he’d kill me.” Natalie winced on cue. “I had to do it. He was going to kill Cora.”
Cora studied the faces of Natalie’s audience. She didn’t lie: a little bit of truth did make people believe a story. It all fit: a despised member of society, Johnston ensured people would think him capable of more than they already suspected.
“I didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t stop.” Natalie noticed the blood on her hands. “I stabbed him! I killed him!”
“It will be alright.” Mrs. Kiness gingerly helped Natalie stand up. “It was self-defense, child. Everyone will see it that way. And you saved our Cora.”
“You’re shaking.” Evan grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around Cora.
“All thi
s time.” Mrs. Kiness stared at Johnston. “It is ill to speak unkindly, so let us leave this room.” She motioned to Evan who led Cora around Johnston’s body.
He wasn’t a nice man. He wasn’t even a good man, but Cora hesitated stepping over Johnston. Worried about Natalie’s next move, Cora turned around and peered into Natalie’s eyes hoping to see a trace of the evil she’d seen a few minutes before.
Too good to hint at her true self, Natalie glanced back at Cora with the haunted eyes of poor, tortured Natalie held in the cellar. Nothing hinted at the undiluted evil just unleashed.
Chapter 38: Numb
Cora lingered in an airplane bathroom sized room outside the hospital’s Radiology department. In the corner, a small sink and blotchy mirror waited, but Cora lacked enthusiasm for exhausted reflection confrontations. When questioned by police, Cora’s voice had sounded monotone, but she didn’t think they suspected her version of events; Johnston did attack her.
Her mind didn’t swirl with images, but her head ached as the last jagged pieces of her missing memories cemented into place. Tears filled her eyes, but even they lacked motivation to fall. “This is what the memories feel like.” Cora didn’t collapse from their weight, but she easily could have. She had to keep herself strong for Marie and Rachel. She knew there were others, but they were the ones she remembered from that night. Marie reached out to her. If Cora had only remembered earlier…
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t go there. Not yet. Cora knew there’d be plenty of time for guilt and accusations later. Cora couldn’t feel her left arm wrapped in a sling or the bandage protecting the stitches in her hand or her face ripening into a bruise or her injured ribs or her mashed foot or her swollen lip that tasted like a rusted tin can.
A nurse returned with an overflowing cup of ice chips and handed it to Cora. “Here you go. Follow me. You can wait in the outer room with your friend.”
Following the much too quick nurse, Cora forced her muscles to shuffle out the nondescript room and down the bland hallway.
The nurse stopped suddenly and used yellow smiley faced nails to point where Cora could wait.
Natalie and Detective Weever sat in the blue cushioned seats. Cora flinched when she saw Natalie. Her stomach tanked, but she willed herself to move.
“How’s everything?” Detective Weever jumped up and asked the nurse.
Cora watched Detective Weever’s fascination of the nurse’s creative nails.
“We’re just waiting on the doc to see the films.” The not too chatty nurse left.
Cora’s body stiffened as Natalie stepped close enough to study her. She bit the inside of her mouth to stop the bile.
Detective Weever nonchalantly checked her phone.
On display, Cora appeared calm but worn out. In reality, the mind tingling, bone squashing fatigue drained her of energy; she meandered like a toy slowly drudging along as the batteries quickly drained. She tried to ignore the pain and sat down before she fell.
Natalie quickly sat down beside Cora.
Cora jumped up. “Too jittery to sit.” Although, Cora had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing.
“Mr. Stonston had a record.” Weever spoke as she texted. “It wasn’t remarkable. Most of it had been expunged, but, given the circumstances, it helps prove a pattern of escalation.”
Detective Weever’s eyes darted the entire area. Cora figured the detective would have known how many patients were on the floor, the nurse’s most popular Dansko, and which doctors should have skipped medical school and gone straight into food service. Cora couldn’t blame anyone else. Few could recognize a Natalie.
“We have your statement and the evidence.” Detective Weever motioned to Cora’s wounds. “Miss Wells, as the corroborating witness, has given her statement that Mr. Johnston Morgan Stonston attacked you a few days ago. And there is ample evidence linking him to other cases. You were very lucky.” Weever paused and glanced at Cora just back from her tour of hell. “You might not think that now.”
“What did they find in the cellar? Anyone else in there?” Cora asked but knew the answer. Natalie had it planned. Rachel and Marie must be somewhere else.
“I can’t really comment on an active investigation.”
Cora sat back down in one of the not so comfy chairs bolted to the floor and winced as if she’d just plopped on a splintery two by four. She strategically placed her ice chip cup in the chair next to her so Natalie wouldn’t get too close.
“I know what he did. What I saw in that cellar...” Natalie’s voice wavered. A few tears fell, and she buried her face in her hands. She unleashed a few audible sobs that resembled muffled coughs.
Detective Weever pounced to the reception desk. Then she spotted a nurse’s assistant. “You got tissues or something?”
The assistant immediately grabbed a tissue box from another room and threw it to Weever. He noticed Natalie. “You’re the one, aren’t you? The one that got that guy?”
Natalie, perfecting the sorrowful and humbled victim, immediately stared at the ground.
“I saw you on the news. Man, I was telling my girlfriend how you did a beat down on that guy. Hey, guys. Shannon…” He called to people down the hall. “This is the one from the news.”
A commotion of clanging clipboards and squeaky shoes produced a few more people dressed in scrubs. “I saw that,” a pinkish haired nurse blurted. “Damn.” She jumped back when she saw Natalie’s wrists. “That’s from the chains.”
A hush swept through the group as each looked in reverence at Natalie’s jagged wrist scars. Cora wondered if she should parade her scars in front of them.
“It happened at that big house. What’s the name of that place?” Pink hair asked the others who shook their heads. “My best friend’s aunt’s boyfriend’s brother’s boyfriend’s cousin volunteers there on the weekends.”
“Oh, yeah, I know that place,” a huge hooped earring nurse said.
“Were you scared?” Pink asked.
“You must’ve been so freaked out. I mean, damn, I would’ve freaked my ass out! But you gave him that beat down,” the nurse’s assistant said while nodding at the others in approval. “You saved that girl.”
In unison, they turned their attention to Cora.
“You’re that girl,” Pink said. “You gotta be, like, so grateful. I mean how do you, like, thank her for what she did? I wouldn’t know, like, where to start, you know. I mean a cake ain’t gonna do it. Maybe a bus load of cash or a—”
“Is there a restroom?” Cora couldn’t be there anymore.
Pink hair pointed to a large door. Cora rushed over and quickly tried the handle. Locked.
“Just a minute,” the voice inside the restroom barked.
Cora waited. The others crowded Natalie. Cora had to get away from the cult before the mass suicide. She tried the handle again.
“I’m in here!” the voice screamed from the bathroom.
Cora turned her back and willed the tears away.
Finally the door opened. The woman stood there, glared at Cora, and took her time moving. “Happy now?”
Cora immediately jumped inside and locked the door. No window and no escape. She leaned against the door. Alone, she couldn’t stop the tears. After a few minutes, she wiped them away. “Wait until I’m home. I’ll be...” Safe. Cora didn’t know when she’d be that word again. She turned on the faucet, splashed water on her face, and forced herself to breath calmly. She wouldn’t risk anyone else’s safety. She remembered Marie’s picture from the news. And Rachel.
Cora saw the cold cellar again. Dirt floor. Stone walls. Outstretched hand. This time the arm came into view. On her wrist, blood dripped across a four leaf clover tattoo. “Help me.”
Cora rushed over and tried to pull apart the handcuffs.
“I’m Marie.”
“I’m Rachel,” another girl said. “From Minnesota. I shouldn’t have run.” breathlessly as if trying to spew all the information before someone stopped
her.
“I need to get to my grandmother,” Marie said.
Rachel cried. “Can you call my mother? When they let you go. Just remember to call my mother.”
“Please remember us,” Marie whispered.
Cora looked around the cellar. She saw the blood. She saw Johnston’s sick grin. Then she saw Natalie.
“You can’t save Rachel or Marie,” Natalie whispered. “You’ll never remember in time. Besides, you’re too weak and pathetic to save them.”
Cora steadied herself as her brain sloshed from one side of her head to the other. She could remember Rachel and Marie, but she also remembered others through the years. “I am so sorry.” Cora didn’t know if any of them were still alive, but she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t save them at the time, but she’d do anything to help them now. She would play along with Natalie’s plan. She wouldn’t risk their lives or their family’s sanity.
Cora jumped at her reflection. Paler than white rice, her ragged hair, split lip, and swollen face reflected back. She stared into her haunted eyes. She didn’t have to tell herself to stay with the images because her mind didn’t try to drag her back to oblivion. She almost wished it had. “Johnston hit me. He pushed me down the stairs. Then...” Cora couldn’t finish. “Stick to the truth. I can do it if I stick to the parts that are true.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Miss Austen, it’s Detective Weever. Are you alright?”
“One minute.” Too exhausted to strategize, Cora opened the door. “Had to throw some water on my face.”
“Sure.”
Cora stepped out of the bathroom. The admirers had scattered, but Mags stood there. Before Cora could prepare, Mags threw her arms around her. She took a deep breath as Mags squeezed too hard.
Mags finished the impromptu hug, gently touched Cora’s arm and then studied her face. She shook her head. “The horrible things they’ve accused my Johnston of. I cannot understand why he would do such a thing. As a child, he was normal until you.”