Epistle of the Damned

by M. Lee Mendelson

“ . . . and then she handed me her number. Can you believe it, Nancy? She gave me her number!”

  Nancy was so happy to see her son finally enjoying his youth.

  “Your father will want to hear about this, too.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Dad.”

  When Big Mike got home, Mike rushed in and told him all about how great his first day of high school had gone. He especially bragged about getting the prettiest girl in school, Sheila’s phone number. Big

  Mike said, “That a boy! A chip off the old block.”

  “When should I call her, Dad?”

  “Well, son, I always liked to keep ‘em waiting for a bit. You don’t want to come across too eager.”

  Eavesdropping from the other room, Nancy yelled, “DON’T LISTEN TO HIM, MIKEY. HE CALLED ME THE MINUTE HE GOT HOME AFTER WE MET!”

  Big Mike winked and said, “Did I say always? Your mom was the exception, I knew it the minute we met. Just follow your heart, son.”

  Mike smiled at the thought of his parents’ first meeting. Later that evening, the three went out for their family run, unaware that across the street Sarah was ominously surveying all their activity with icy vigilance from her unlit room.

  Downstairs, Sarah’s mother was talking to her father on the phone and crying.

  “There’s something wrong with Sarah. I think she’s having another episode.”

  Her father said, “I think it must have been triggered by that boy.”

  “I don’t know, but can you come home? I’m scared. She won’t speak to me and has locked herself up in her room.”

  “Okay, hon, I’m leaving now. I’ll be home in about twenty minutes.”

  Upstairs, Sarah’s mother came in and found her in a catatonic state, staring out the window. She still would not respond to any of her mother’s pleas.

  When her father got home, he carried Sarah to bed. She lay in bed, still unresponsive. They had seen this before, but it did little to lessen their fears.

  “What are we going to do? She’s scaring me.”

  Her father answered, “I knew we should have found a new doctor as soon as we got here. Tomorrow, I’ll call Dr. Greenberg in Memphis.

  Maybe he can recommend someone in town. I’m sorry, honey. I’ve been so busy at work.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. Dr. Greenberg did tell us she would have this the rest of her life. I was so hopeful that this fresh start would have helped her. She has been doing so well. I guess we just let our guard down.”

  ***

  After dinner, Mike made his way upstairs to his room, where he called Sheila. They spent three hours on the phone together. Nancy was walking by his room when she heard his voice. Being an expert eavesdropper and a nosy mom, she listened in.

  “No, my parents are really cool. I think you’d like them. Maybe you can meet them one day. What do your parents do?”

  Nancy then smiled and waltzed into their bedroom to tell Big Mike, “It sounds like this girl really likes him.”

  “Were you listening in again?”

  “I am a mother, I’m entitled.”

  “I suppose. Well, with everything I taught him, she doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “Yes, big daddy, he is your son. He looks more like you every day, and he’s becoming quite a dapper young man, much like you were.”

  “Were?”

  “I’m sorry, you are. I just hope his ego never gets as big as yours.”

  “Ego? You’re my proof that the Michael school of charm works.”

  “Yes, dear, of course you’re right,” Nancy said in a patronizing tone. She leaned over and gave Big Mike a kiss before turning off the light.

  ***

  Certain that Sarah was asleep, her parents also turned in for the night, optimistic that the next day would come with some resolution to their dilemma.

  “We’ll figure something out, sweetheart,” her father said as he hugged her mother.

  Still weeping, Sarah’s mother responded, “I just want my little girl to be happy and healthy. Is that too much to ask?”

  “I’ll make that call first thing tomorrow. Did you get her to take her medication?”

  “Yes. I watched her swallow them.”

  “Then she should sleep well tonight. I love you. Let’s try and get some sleep.”

  Unbeknownst to Sarah’s mom, she had been lucid the entire time. Sarah had put the pills in her mouth while her mother watched, but she hid the pills between her upper back teeth and cheek. She then proceeded to swallow the water. Her mother had verified that she took the pills. “Okay, open your mouth. Lift your tongue. Okay, sweetie, please try and get some rest. I love you.”

  Still unresponsive to her mother, Sarah lay back and pretended to go to sleep. Sarah knew how to play this game. Her mother never thought to check between her cheek and gum. As soon as her mother left the room, Sarah spit the pills out and put them under her pillow. She knew full well what the pills did to her, and she knew tonight would be no night for drugs to cloud her mind. She would have to be awake and alert to put her well-conceived, spiteful plan into action.

  12:30 a.m. Sarah had not had her medication for well over twenty-four hours. A side effect of her condition was severe insomnia, particularly when unmedicated, so she remained wide awake and unable to sleep. With hours upon hours of brooding and plotting behind her, she quietly slipped out of bed ready to implement her destructive plan. She snuck out of her house and crept surreptitiously through the neighborhood toward her intended target, the home of Sheila.

  It was a warm, humid evening. It had just stopped raining and the streets were aglow with the illumination of street lights reflecting off the wet asphalt. The neighborhood was quiet, with the exception of an occasional dog barking in the distance. A sporadic bolt of lightning would pierce the cloudy darkness like a strobe light, followed by the grumble of thunder.

  In her light blue bathrobe, Sarah walked with resolute determination through the streets in her bare feet. She had a focused gaze on her sweaty face. She knew her destination and had plotted her course hours before.

  “Say goodbye to Benny, bitch,” Sarah mumbled through tightly clenched teeth.

  As Sarah approached Sheila’s house, she surveyed the two story Victorian style home. She noted that the front porch light was ablaze. “That’s no good. Someone will see me.” She then saw a dark route along the right side of the house that lead to the backyard. “Perfect.”

  With a cat burglar’s precision, Sarah slithered along the darkened outside wall. When she got to the closed gate attached to a privacy fence, she stammered, “Damn it!” She was relieved to discover that the gate was unlocked. As she opened the gate it made a horrible groaning noise from the rusty hinges, much like the sound made by the proverbial creaking door in all the old horror movies that she watched as a little girl. She was sure the whole neighborhood was awake now, but all remained still. She opened the gate, just enough to slip in. In the backyard she was pleased to see it was pitch black with no lights on, and the large wooden privacy fence assured her that she would remain undetected by meddlesome neighbors.

  Her mission now was to figure out how to get inside. She surveyed the entire back of the house, and to her delight, she discovered a small doggy door that led to the kitchen. Sarah was sure she could squeeze in through the tiny entrance.

  “There’s my ticket in. Here I come, Benny!”

  Sarah checked the door handle to verify it was locked. Then, with unwavering determination, she managed to squeeze through that little door undetected.

  Now standing in the kitchen, she looked around and grinned ominously as she saw the wooden knife block that was filled with a lovely assortment of specialty items perfect for carving up favorite little boys. She withdrew a large carving knife. She slid her left thumb along the razor-sharp edge, causing a slit which oozed forth thick, dark red liquid. “Perfect!”

  The handle felt good in her hand and she whispered, “Here Benny, Benny! Come here Benny, you l
ittle bastard.”

  Benny was nowhere to be found. “I bet he’s upstairs, probably in that whore’s room. All the better if he is.” Sarah had determined that she would filet Benny in front of Sheila so she could feel the pain of losing someone she loved. Then, Sheila could join her precious Benny by meeting the same fate at Sarah’s hand.

  Armed with her weapon of choice, she climbed the stairs like a ghost until halfway up, when she heard a CREEEEAAAAKKK from under her right foot as she stepped up. “Shit!” She whispered to herself. She froze, but suddenly there was a Yip, yip, yip from upstairs. That damn dog had heard her.

  Sarah made a hasty retreat down the stairs, and for whatever reason, she bypassed the front door and returned to the kitchen. Panicking, Sarah decided to unlock the back door and run out into the dark yard. She opened the kitchen door, leaving behind a bloody thumb print from her fresh cut. As she exited, she could see a glow from behind her; the living room light had been turned on and Sheila’s father was crying out, “WHO’S THERE? I HAVE A GUN! THE POLICE ARE ON THEIR WAY!”

  A close-call. Sarah ran outside into the dark yard and out through the waiting open gate as it started raining again. Undaunted by the deluge, Sarah calmly strolled down the sidewalk humming love songs to herself. Her normally frizzy red hair now hung low and stuck to her face from the relentless downpour. She still had the knife, and Sarah conceived a new plan that would solve everything.

  “We’ll be together forever Michael, I promised you this. I know this is not your fault, I know you love me . . . I’m coming for you, my love. Everything will be all right soon.”

  The police had been dispatched to Sheila’s house after Sheila’s mother called 911. When they arrived, her father reported finding the back door open, and the door handle had blood on it. The only thing he discovered missing was the large carving knife from the wooden block. He told police it had just happened, and that he never saw or heard any cars leave the area. The police canvassed the neighborhood, anticipating that the perpetrator must have left on foot and could possibly still be in the area.

  Ten minutes passed, and four houses down the street from Mike’s house, Sarah was located by one of the police units canvassing the neighborhood. She was still wearing her now weighted down robe and was carrying a knife that matched the description given by Sheila’s father.

  With his gun drawn, the officer shouted out from behind the blinding spotlight, “DROP THE KNIFE AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!”

  Unfazed by the warning, Sarah continued walking and humming her love song, knife in hand.

  Again, the officer shouted, “DROP THE KNIFE OR I WILL SHOOT YOU!”

  Sarah remained resolute in her determination to get to her beloved. Nothing was going to deter her, especially the threat of death.

  “Unit 17 requesting backup units to 56 Blue Jay Lane. I have the possible burglary suspect armed with a knife. I have her at gunpoint! White female, mid-teens, wearing a blue robe and is barefoot! She’s not complying with my orders!”

  With lights and sirens blaring, several more police units converged on the area.

  Undaunted by the arrival of more officers, Sarah continued walking, humming and carrying the knife despite repeated orders to drop it.

  Seeing that she was a young girl, the officers showed a great deal of restraint and were hesitant to use deadly force. She had not made any overt threatening moves toward them, and it was clear to them that she was not in a normal frame of mind. They wanted to bring this to a peaceful resolution and get her some much-needed psychiatric attention. The officers hatched a plan for one of them to come up from behind her and tackle her to the ground, while other officers would secure the knife and take her into custody.

  The officers put their plan into motion.

  As several of the officers distracted her from the front, another officer came up from behind her, grabbed her and simultaneously took control of the knife hand. Sarah’s body went to the ground in a heap with the officer on top of her. Then, the others rushed in and secured the knife. Immediately, Sarah started kicking and shouting, “GET OFF OF ME! GET THE FUCK OFF ME! MICHAEL! MICHAEL! MICHAEL! I LOVE YOU, MICHAEL!”

  The officers continued to wrestle her to get handcuffs on her. She calmed down briefly, just long enough for officers to move her arms around to her back and handcuff her. She continued to kick and scream all the way to the police station.

  Meanwhile, four houses away, Mike and his family lay unaware of the deadly menace that had just eluded them. They slept peacefully, hypnotized by the soothing sound of the pounding rain and distant thunder.

  Now in custody, Sarah remained in a focused trance and would not respond to any questions. Police had no idea who she was or where she lived. They placed Sarah in the back of a police car and drove her away to the station, while just a few doors down the street her parents still lay awake, sick with worry about their daughter’s condition.

  2:43 a.m. The phone rang and Sarah’s father answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, good morning sir. This is detective Franklin with the

  Louisville Police Department. I apologize for the late hour.”

  “That’s fine detective, I was already awake. How can I help you?”

  “Sir, we have your daughter, Sarah, here at the station and we would like you to come down.”

  “I’m sorry sir, that’s impossible. She’s here in bed.”

  Sarah’s father set the phone down, leapt out of bed and ran to Sarah’s room, where he discovered that her bed was empty.

  He got back on the phone. “I’m sorry, sir, it appears that she must have snuck out. What happened? Why is she at the police station?”

  “Sir, I would rather not discuss it with you over the phone. Can you please just come down?”

  “Is Sarah hurt? Is she okay?”

  “Sir, I assure you she’s physically unharmed. About how long before you can get here?”

  “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “That’s fine. Oh, could you please bring her some dry clothes?

  I’m afraid she’s wet and is very cold.”

  “Yes, sir, we’re leaving now.”

  Sarah’s mother overheard the conversation, “Oh my God. What has she done?”

  “He wouldn’t say, but let’s just hurry up and get down there.”

  Sarah’s father and mother got dressed and drove to the police station as quickly as they could.

  When they arrived, they met with Detective Franklin, who explained what had happened.

  “Officers were called to the home of the Bannister family for a reported break in. Apparently, Sarah walked into the kitchen through an unlocked door and stole a knife. Responding officers found Sarah walking through the neighborhood, carrying the knife. It took an hour with one of our specially trained detectives to find out who she was and how to contact you. Otherwise, you would have been contacted sooner.” Her father asked, “Can we see her?”

  Detective Franklin explained, “She’s fine. She’s in an interview room with a female detective. We haven’t questioned her yet. We wanted to get hold of you first. Can we get your permission to interview Sarah?”

  “Can we be with her?”

  Detective Franklin replied, “I can’t stop you from being in there, but I’m requesting that you allow Detective Gilbert to interview your daughter alone. She is the special detective I told you about. We determined that Sarah must be suffering from some sort of mental break. Detective Gilbert has a degree in forensic psychology and has already built a rapport with Sarah. You can watch the interview from the other side of the one-way glass and still stop it at any time you wish.”

  “Can we have a minute to discuss it?”

  “Of course, take a minute. I’ll be outside.” Detective Franklin stepped out of the room.

  “What should we do?” Sarah’s mother asked her father.

  “I think we should tell them about her condition. Maybe they can help us get her into a
program. She needs help, honey. Besides, we still don’t know what happened.”

  A few minutes later, Sarah’s father emerged. “You said we can watch from the other side of the glass, correct?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “And we can stop it at any time?”

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  “That will be fine. Can we please see that she’s okay?”

  “Yes, sir, come this way.”

  Sarah’s mother had started crying. “I can’t believe this is happening.

  She’s a good girl . . . she just has emotional issues!”

  Detective Franklin asked, “What kind of issues? Can you elaborate?” Sarah’s father explained, “Well, back home in Memphis, Sarah was diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. We were told by her doctor that hers was one of the youngest cases he had ever seen. She has been on anti-psychotic meds since she was ten. She had an episode with a boy in Memphis when she was nine, and that is when she was diagnosed. She attacked the boy because he was playing with another girl down the street from us. She imagined that she owned the boy, and he could not play with anyone else. Thankfully, the boy wasn’t hurt, but her behavior was getting out of control. Her doctor placed her on meds, and she had been doing better for the past several years. We just moved here in June, and I’ve been so busy lately with my new job we haven’t gotten her to a new doctor yet. She had been doing so well that we really didn’t worry too much.”

  “Are you sure Sarah’s been taking her medications?”

  Her father answered, “We used to oversee her medication for the first few years, but then she would just take it on her own and I suppose we just trusted that she had been taking them. Last night, my wife oversaw her again because she had an episode yesterday afternoon. Normally when she takes her evening pills, she sleeps through the night.”

  Sarah’s mom assured them, “I watched her take them. I even checked her mouth and saw no pills. I was sure she was asleep before I left her alone in bed.”

  Detective Franklin said, “It sounds like she hasn’t been taking her pills, and pretended to swallow as you watched her. Unfortunately, I’ve seen this before when I used to work in the jail. People can get very creative when they don’t want to take medication. She probably hid the pills somewhere in her mouth, and unless you probed her entire mouth it would appear that she had indeed swallowed the pills. This information will be very helpful to Detective Gilbert’s investigation. I’ll be right back. I’m going to pass this information and the dry clothes along to Detective Gilbert.” He left the room and passed along the newly disclosed information.