“I had Pete's gun, one he kept in a locked box in his bedroom. He didn't know I'd learned the combination, knew how to get into the gun and access the ammunition he had supposedly secured. I went to the bar, walked straight up to him, and shot him. Six times. Two bullets in his chest, and four in his head. I wanted him dead before he hit the floor.” I ground my teeth together, remembering the desperate rage I'd suffered, the grim satisfaction that had followed the shooting, knowing I'd killed the man who'd taken everything from me.
“I thought I'd go to jail, I deserved to go to jail, for not protecting Mom and my siblings when they needed me most. I wanted to be sent to jail, find someone to provoke into killing me. I needed to end the misery; I didn't want to go on.” I took another deep breath and didn't care when the pain ripped through my broken ribs. I wished my chest would collapse in on itself, and let me escape the wretchedness that smothered me so completely.
“There was one thing I didn't allow for. The judge took into consideration the circumstances leading me to murder him. 'Justifiable Homicide' – that's what they call it. I received a two year suspended jail sentence and a good behavior bond for five years. The judge and my attorney thought they were doing me a favor – they couldn't see that I didn't want to live.”
Leaning back against the pillow, I squeezed my eyes shut.
“We can't control this for much longer,” Striker growled, his voice strained. “Marianne, go and find out if Ben's back.”
Marianne patted my leg and disappeared, her movements barely visible to the human eye as she flashed from the room.
I looked up at Lucas, biting my lip before I spoke again. “So now you know. Why I didn't want to go on with living. Why I couldn't go on with my life. I've tried any number of ways to kill myself, but I'm a spectacular failure. I slit my wrists, but I couldn't cut deep enough, because I'm scared of pain. I tried swallowing pills, but all they did was make me sleepy, and vomit. I thought the day you hit me might be the end of the torture.” I grimaced, at the futility of my hopes. “Trust me to get hit by a vampire – who naturally has lightning-fast reflexes. And of course, you guessed about that day at the falls. If you hadn't turned up, I had every intention of jumping.”
Doctor Harding appeared at my side, Ben beside him. The Doctor's brow was deeply furrowed as he drew some liquid from a tiny bottle into a syringe. “This will help, Charlotte.” He inserted the needle into my arm, dropping the syringe onto the table before he grasped my fingers in his. “Try to relax, now. It's over now, Charlotte, relax, and sleep.”
“We're losing her,” Acenith warned. She was gripping Striker's shoulder with her free hand and they both continued to focus intently on my eyes.
I sighed deeply, completely spent. “It's okay. You can let go now.”
Striker and Acenith both battled for a second longer, then released their hands from my shoulder, apparently ending the tenuous link they'd held to my mind. Acenith stumbled heavily and Striker steadied her slim body against his.
The colossal waves of sorrow and misery hit me, swallowing me up in an abyss, in which I would surely drown. Struggling to suck air into my lungs, I felt unbearable pressure against my ribs and tears flowed freely, pouring down my cheeks in silent streams.
The last thing I recalled was Doctor Harding slipping an oxygen mask over my face and the anguish in Lucas's eyes before I was swallowed by darkness.
Chapter 10: Recovery
I don't know how long I fought against the ocean, it seemed like an eternity, and I was so very tired. There was no land to be seen, water surrounded me as far as the eye could see and choppy waves beat against my body endlessly, I could barely catch my breath between them. The temptation to sink, to stop fighting against the forces and plunge to the depths was overwhelming. I could give up, allow the waves to take me, and never have to think or feel again.
Two things stopped me. Mom appeared, as she had so often in the past, begging me to continue. Beseeching me to live, to move on, and find happiness again. She pleaded with me to carry on. I argued with her, tried repeatedly to tell her I didn't want to be alone any longer. She smiled and replied that I didn't need to be on my own now. She told me to be happy; there would be time for us to be together again, once I'd lived my life – but not to give in now. She didn't want me to give up on my life, because of what had happened to her and my siblings. She held Henry in her arms and my sisters stood beside her, holding hands. All of them were whole and perfect, floating just about the swirling currents that entrapped me.
I reached for them, pleading that they take me with them. Mom shook her head.
She and my sisters glanced to their left, as if they'd heard someone coming and I saw the second thing that would stop me. It was Lucas, but he was different. Like a movie incarnation of a vampire, he wore a black silk cape and when he smiled, I felt safe and comforted. His eyes were filled with kindness as he held his hands out to help me. I reached towards him, but hesitated, suddenly uncertain. He beckoned to me again, but when he smiled this time, his fangs glimmered in the darkness. I screamed, as he grew larger and took on a terrifying appearance, his face morphing and changing into something inhuman and his fangs plunged into my throat, tearing into my tender skin as he growled inhumanely—
“Lucas!” I sat bolt upright, eyes wide with terror and immediately regretted the act as fiery pain throbbed incessantly through my chest.
“Charlotte! Oh, thank the Lord. You're awake! We've been frantic,” Rowena cried. She clutched me to her chest, wrapping her arms around me and rubbing my back.
“What happened?” My throat was dry and scratchy, my tongue thick against the roof of my mouth.
Rowena released her grip and picked up a glass of water from the bedside table, holding it while I sucked gratefully at the straw. “You've been unconscious for five days. Jerome was alarmed; he couldn't snap you out of it. He said you were catatonic, he thinks it was your mind's way of coping with what you'd been through.” She settled me back against the pillows, fussing with them before covering me carefully with the blankets.
Doctor Harding appeared in the doorway, closely followed by Marianne who greeted me with a delighted hug before Striker walked in. “You gave us a scare, Charlotte,” he announced nonchalantly.
Ripley came in, and behind him, Acenith, the one who'd helped calm me. She and Ripley stood to one side, allowing Doctor Harding to check me over, but Acenith smiled warmly. She was slender, with small breasts and slim hips, and wore a pale blue t-shirt and blue jeans. Her hair was honey golden, lying against her back and reached her waist. “Hello, Charlotte. We weren't introduced properly before. I'm Acenith De Bourgain. I've heard a lot about you.”
“And none of it was good,” Striker grunted.
Marianne swatted Striker, the sound reverberating like a small thunder strike. “Striker, will you ever learn to think before you speak?”
“What?” Striker protested. “Lottie knows I'm joking.”
I wasn't certain I did, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Ripley was watching me and I recalled Lucas saying he could read minds. It was unsettling to think he might be doing just that, and I glanced away, wary of the thought. Although, in all honesty, my history was out in the open. There was nothing left to hide. Well, maybe there were a couple of things. “Where's Lucas?” I asked, suddenly aware of his absence.
“Hunting with Ben. We convinced him to go further afield when you remained unconscious for so long. They've been away since yesterday,” Striker explained.
Doctor Harding was checking an IV drip, which hung from a pole beside the bed, the line running from a bag and into a hypodermic needle inserted into the back of my hand. “I needed to keep your fluid intake up, it's a saline solution to keep you hydrated,” he murmured softly.
“The only way to persuade Lucas to go, was to assure him we would take turns sitting with you,” Marianne added. She was dressed more demurely than I'd seen before, wearing pale grey woolen trousers and a pink c
ashmere twinset, which matched the color in her hair perfectly.
“Which we have done,” Ripley added. “By the way, Miss Duncan, you snore quite dreadfully.” He winked at me, softening the comment.
I rolled my eyes and turned to Rowena. It seemed Ripley had put his concerns about me to one side for now. “Is Lucas okay?”
“Struggling a little,” Rowena admitted.
“William has gone to find them,” Marianne added helpfully.
“William?” I questioned vacantly. I didn't remember a William.
“Gwynn's husband,” Marianne prompted, reminding me that Lucas had mentioned him. It seemed he and Gwynn were the only two I hadn't met, besides the other vampire who was overseas.
Doctor Harding turned towards the group that had congregated. “You've seen for yourselves that she's awake. Could I ask you to leave the room now, so I can examine my patient?”
He waited for them to leave and turned back to me. “I'd like to look at those ribs, if I may. You caused some damage when you got so distressed and your recovery has been delayed by a week or so. It's only fair to tell you that Lucas has told me the entire story. I insisted when I arrived, and saw the state you were in.” He probed my ribs gently, satisfying himself that all was well before he pulled the covers back up.
“What happened?” I questioned when he'd finished his examination and seemed satisfied.
Doctor Harding sighed, running his fingers through his unruly grey hair. “I'm not a qualified psychiatrist, so I can't be quoted on my observations. You weren't truly unconscious and yet, you weren't awake. I'm assuming the intense stress caused your brain to shut down, until it felt prepared to deal with the information you'd recalled. I've heard of people reacting in that way, but to see it happen myself was disturbing. I'm very pleased you're awake now – another twenty four hours and I was going to have no choice, but to transfer you to hospital.”
“I imagine that would have been difficult to explain,” I suggested dryly.
Doctor Harding smirked. “We were struggling to come up with a suitable explanation, that's certainly true.” He paused, choosing his words carefully before he spoke again. “You should also know, Ripley and Striker checked into your story, Charlotte, to determine the full details. I seemed to remember hearing of the death of your mother and siblings in the news, they confirmed it through newspaper reports.” He watched me cautiously, waiting for a response.
“I guess that isn't surprising, they probably needed to confirm I was telling the truth.”
“Sadly, you were. The newspapers confirmed the story, how you were arrested and charged with the murder of your stepfather, after he murdered your family.” He squeezed my shoulder gently and offered me a compassionate smile. “You were very fortunate at the trial, it seems almost as many wanted you to be incarcerated, as did those who insisted you should be freed.”
“One of the reasons I started moving around so much, to escape the gossip and people's opinions,” I admitted. “For every person who believed in me, there was another who thought I'd gotten away with murder.”
“Difficult to cope with, no doubt,” Dr. Harding suggested.
“Particularly as I was convinced of my own guilt,” I agreed quietly. “I really thought I should be sent to prison. I failed Mom, my family. I deserved to spend the rest of my life in prison for what I did to them.”
“I don't believe that, Charlotte, not for one minute.” Rowena appeared unexpectedly and sat on the edge of the bed, her expression fierce. “You didn't kill your family, Peter Hurst did. You didn't destroy your mother's self-esteem. He did. All you are truly guilty of is the crime of loving your mother enough, to want something better for her. Ridding the world of scum like Peter Hurst is not a crime in my books.”
I smile halfheartedly, warmed by her obvious concern and her determination to make me see things in a different light. In many ways, Rowena was right. I'd done everything in my power to try to convince Mom to leave, but in the end she had so lacked in belief in herself, she was rendered immobile by her own fears. In hindsight, I'd done everything I could do, to help Mom. It just hadn't been enough to save her or my siblings.
“I'm afraid I must make one more confession, Charlotte, to add to what Jerome has already told you. I have approached the local police chief, and confirmed you are staying with us for the moment. You are on parole; it seemed prudent to confirm your residential address with him, to ensure he wasn't likely to visit and arrest you for breaking your parole conditions.” Rowena had the good grace to appear uncomfortable as she made this confession.
“Sheriff Davis?” I'd met Clinton Davis when I first arrived in Puckhaber Falls, as was required by my probation. He was a laid-back man in his mid-forties and he'd treated me kindly and with great respect. We'd seen each other a few times since my first official visit to the Sheriff's office and he'd always been very pleasant. He'd made it patently clear with a few obtuse sentences, that he believed I had a right to be free and had been supportive of my staying in Puckhaber. I'd even shared coffee with him a couple of times in Hank's store. “Clint's a nice guy.”
Dr. Harding grinned, obviously amused. “Indeed, he is, a very pleasant man. He seemed genuinely pleased you were staying here with Lucas and sends his best wishes.”
“He knows what happened to me?” I questioned doubtfully.
“No, not at all. But with a little tweak of his mind, he believes you had a skiing accident over the Christmas break, that you are dating Lucas, and naturally, Lucas and his friends wanted to look after you whilst you recover from your broken arm and ankle,” Rowena explained, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
I couldn't stop myself from grinning back at her, an open, honest smile that I would never have believed I was capable of after the past two years. “A little tweak?” I queried mildly.
Rowena chuckled. “Besides being able to convince people our eyes are exceedingly normal, we can tell them something and place a suggestion in their mind that they have no need to question what they've been told. Whilst I've never had to use it on Sheriff Davis before, I found he was extremely receptive.”
The mention of Lucas reminded me of the last time I'd seen him – when he'd been deeply upset over what I'd revealed. “Are you sure Lucas is alright?”
Dr. Harding sighed, leaning heavily on his good leg. “I believe so, though certainly he's finding the situation difficult and blames himself for your breakdown. I've explained it was healthy for you to vocalize what you were feeling. Holding all those memories in was putting enormous strain on you, Charlotte.”
“A problem shared is a problem halved,” I agreed quietly. It was an analogy used by my Grandmother regularly, and I could hear her calm voice in my mind, as soothing and loving as I remembered. It reminded me of oatmeal cookies and warm milk, listening to stories in bed as Gran lulled me to sleep when I stayed with her. She'd died about six years ago, and I missed her every day.
Doctor Harding nodded. “Exactly. Given what you've been through, I'm surprised you've survived for as long as you have. Holding it all inside wasn't healthy.”
“I had no-one to share with.”
“You've proven yourself to be a strong young woman,” Doctor Harding remarked with a note of satisfaction in his voice. “You're recovering well. Your blood pressure is back to normal, after being elevated for the past few days.” He sat on the chair beside my bed, studying my face astutely. “Did anyone suggest you seek help after your family died? There are a number of extremely good psychologists and therapists who may have helped you through the grieving process.”
I frowned, shaking my head firmly. “They offered, but I didn't want any help. When it happened, I was so angry, so full of rage. It took over my every waking moment; all I could think about was vengeance. Afterwards, I—” I stopped, struggling to vocalize the fact that I had murdered someone in cold blood. “When he was dead, the anger slipped away and was replaced with grief. My whole world was desolate, a wasteland with nothing and n
o one in it. I didn't want to think about Mom, or my siblings. I didn't want to think about anything, except dying. I'm not sure anyone could have helped me through that.”
Rowena watched me for a few seconds, her expression serene as she searched my eyes. “How do you feel now?”
I examined the memories, which had been carefully shut away for so long. It had become a habit to avoid them – I had an imaginary box where the most horrendous of my thoughts were kept. Anything I couldn't – or wouldn't – think about was placed in the box and locked away. Imagining now that the box was open, memories inundated my mind. It was surprising to discover they didn't feel so intensely painful now. Picking through them, examining each one, didn't make me feel I would collapse in agony. It still hurt, but somehow it was better. “I feel calmer than I have in a very long time.”
Doctor Harding nodded thoughtfully and smiled, his eyes lit with satisfaction. “That's good to hear. You've been through an enormous ordeal, Charlotte and there will be effects for considerable time to come. Whilst you've faced your demons and handled them better than I would ever have expected, there will still be highs and lows, days when you'll feel unhappy and down in the dumps. I'd like to prescribe anti-depressants for you, after I've consulted with an associate of mine who specializes in the field. Would you consider taking them?”
I nodded. “If you think they'll help.”
He smiled approvingly. “Good girl. I would like you to speak with both Rowena and Marianne about your feelings. You seem to be developing a good rapport with both of them and they want to help as much as they possibly can. Use them as a sounding board for your emotional health; allow them to offer you friendship and a willing ear.”
“Whenever you want to talk, Charlotte, I'll be more than happy to listen,” Rowena urged.
The Doctor stood up and smoothed down the front of his shirt. “I'm sure Lucas will be relieved to hear you're feeling a little better. He's been beside himself with worry about you in the past few days.”
Knowledge Revealed Page 12