Living the Good Death

by Scott Baron

  Curtis sensed something behind him, the hairs on his neck tingling.

  Stan had walked up to him unnoticed, surprisingly quiet for such a large man, and gave him a shove.

  “Move along, little man,” he threatened.

  Curtis rose to his feet and paused, flashing an angry look.

  “What?” Stan challenged. “You wanna try something?”

  Curtis glared at him, but turned and moved off down the hallway, shooting daggers from his eyes as he headed to join the others.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Stan called after him, ever the bully.

  Curtis passed Doctor Vaughan as he made his way back to the rec room. The doctor was once more performing his hanky trick with a flourish, reveling in the rapt attention of his captive audience now that Dorothy wasn’t there to ruin his illusions.

  With a flash, the hanky disappeared, replaced by an old silver coin, prompting applause from his small audience of drugged patients. He smiled broadly, ego expanding even further as he basked in the spotlight. He was about to launch into another illusion when he saw Curtis and paused, looking theatrically at the clock on the wall.

  “Oh my,” he said loudly, his eyes fixed on Curtis as he passed. “Look at the time. I mustn’t be late for this morning’s appointment with our favorite guest.”

  The patients grumbled.

  “Don’t worry,” he continued, “I’ll be back just as soon as I’ve given her my extra-special attention.” He gave Curtis a wink as he walked off to room forty-two.

  It had been nearly a month, and Dorothy was worn out. She barely managed a scream at all as Doctor Vaughan dosed her with electricity. Her bloodshot eyes teared up, and her body convulsed from the charge, but she didn’t resist. All she could do was flop like a rag doll.

  He smiled. It looked as though her will had finally broken.

  Uncharacteristically, Doctor Vaughan stopped the treatment he’d only just begun and studied her carefully as she lay strapped to the table. He looked her over a moment longer, then headed to the door.

  “Clean her up and bring her to my office.”

  Patients turned their heads to stare, then quickly averted their gaze as Dorothy was led down the hall to Doctor Vaughan’s office. She was haggard and tired, but at least she’d been spared a full round of shock therapy, and her appearance showed it.

  They’d actually taken the time to bathe her, providing clean garments for her to wear to her rendezvous with the doctor. She walked slowly, head down, watching the tiles pass as she drifted down the hall guided by two orderlies. Dorothy readied herself for whatever would come next.

  When Doctor Vaughan’s door swung open, she knew what she’d find. Her bearded nemesis was seated on his throne, everything in place to convey a sense of power and control. To be honest, given what he’d put her through for the past month, it wasn’t that much of a stretch. So long as she was on his bad side, he had the ability to make her life a living hell, if he so desired.

  And for nearly a month, he most certainly had.

  The door closed loudly behind her, causing her to flinch.

  Doctor Vaughan smiled at her reaction and gestured to the nearest chair. Dorothy gingerly slid into it, trying to find a comfortable position, her hands unable to stay still as she squirmed under his intense gaze.

  “Stop that fidgeting,” he commanded. She stopped abruptly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said timidly.

  “What was that?” he asked, an edge to his voice.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor Vaughan,” she replied, emphasizing his name and title. His brow relaxed ever so slightly as he relished the feeling of having brought his most troublesome guest under control.

  “I still don’t know how you managed it, but that’s behind us now. What is important to me, what is important to your continued well-being, is that I don’t want to see you outside of these walls again. Clear?” He fixed her with a piercing gaze. Somehow she’d managed to keep Curtis’s secret despite her daily torment.

  “Yes, sir,” she peeped.

  “Any more unrest, any more disturbances from you, and there’ll be hell to pay. I think by now you know just how serious I am. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Yes, sir…?”

  “Yes, sir, Doctor Vaughan.”

  “Good.” He stared at her until she bent under his gaze, looking away in discomfort. “Now, what is your name?”

  Without a trace of guile or trickery, she answered.

  “Dorothy.”

  “Are you quite certain about that?”

  “Yes, sir, Doctor Vaughan,” she quietly replied. “My name is Dorothy.”

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re not just lying to me? Do I need to question you more intensely?” He let the threat hang in the air. She was broken, that he could see, but he couldn’t afford any more disruptions. Not if he wanted to keep the board from firing him.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you sir—Doctor Vaughan.” She started to quietly sob. “I was very sick before. I was so confused… I was so sad. I wanted to die so badly, I-I thought I became Death.” She looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “I understand now that I’m not well. I need help. Please, Doctor Vaughan, my name is Dorothy and I want to live.”

  Doctor Vaughan slowly reclined in his butter-soft brown leather chair, smugly admiring his handiwork, smiling to himself as he watched her sob.

  “We’re done here,” he said into his intercom. “Take her back to her room. This phase of her treatment is complete.”

  Shortly after Dorothy was returned to her room, her door unlocked with a noticeable click. She looked around, unsure. The light filtering through her small window had shifted to an uneasy, dim hue as a rainstorm started to roll in. With a sense of unease and uncertainty, she tried the door.

  It swung open.

  Cautiously, she stepped out into the hallway. The orderlies and nurses took note, but didn’t move to restrain her. They actually seemed relieved that the whole lockdown ordeal was finally over. While the overtime shifts were a welcome source of extra income at first, as the weeks had drawn on, they had grown weary of constantly working without proper rest. Her cooperation with Doctor Vaughan had been a good thing for the entire staff, and most of them gave her a slight smile as she walked slowly to the rec room.

  Dorothy found a comfy lounge chair away from the others and curled up in it like a cat who’d finally found a ray of warm sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day, and the day was indeed cloudy. Rain had started spattering gently on the windows, but the increasing wind signaled something far bigger was in store.

  She was absentmindedly staring at a ping pong game, near catatonic in her trance as she watched the little white ball bounce back and forth, when Curtis strode into the room. He spotted her almost immediately, a happy smile erupting from ear to ear.

  “Hey, you,” he said, gently placing his hand on her arm, “glad to see you’re all right.”

  Almost as if he could sense her being comforted, Doctor Vaughan floated into the room, scanning his kingdom. His eyes paused on Dorothy and Curtis a bit longer than on the other patients.

  “Look,” Curtis continued, “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t able to get to Randy. They put the entire wing on lockdown every night. You weren’t the only one stuck. We all were.”

  She didn’t look at him, but just sat quietly. She flinched as Doctor Vaughan sidled up to her and Curtis where they sat.

  “Dorothy. Curtis,” Doctor Vaughan greeted the pair, eliciting nothing but a cold stare from Curtis. Dorothy, on the other hand, looked at him timidly.

  “Hello, Doctor Vaughan.”

  No sass. No snark. Now Curtis was concerned.

  Doctor Vaughan kept his gaze on Dorothy as he reached into his coat and slowly, and quite dramatically, pulled out her prized book from his pocket.

  Dorothy’s eyes betrayed a look of genuine shock. The malevolent little grin it evoked on Doctor Vaughan’s f
ace was equally real.

  “Tsk, tsk,” he chided. “You know unapproved reading material is not allowed in Camview. I mean, we have to keep the patient’s best interests in mind, do we not?” He paused, waiting to see if she’d respond, but she was gazing at the book in his hand, tears in her eyes. “Don’t you worry, I’ll have Stan dispose of it for you. I know you wouldn’t want to break any more rules.”

  Seemingly out of nowhere, Stan was suddenly at his side, taking the book from Doctor Vaughan’s hand. He gave Dorothy an unsavory look as he walked away.

  But… that only leaves two options now, and Randy’s watch hasn’t been panning—

  “Oh,” Doctor Vaughan interrupted her rumination. “I almost forgot. I thought you’d like to know just how committed I am to helping you continue along on your road to recovery. Your disruptive little friend claiming to be one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, um, Pestilence wasn’t it? Yes. Well, I had him transferred to Westmoreland Psychiatric for more ‘intense’ treatment. In fact, he was shipped out yesterday.”

  Her last resource gone, Dorothy started to cry quietly.

  Doctor Vaughan smiled.

  “I knew you’d be thrilled,” he said with relish before walking away.

  “Dorothy?” Curtis asked.

  She looked up at him, then over at Doctor Vaughan where he stood observing them from across the room.

  Her gaze shifted back to Curtis as she muttered something quietly. Curtis leaned in closer, paused, then moved to touch her shoulder. Dorothy shrugged him off violently.

  Vaughan smiled to himself. Things had gone better than he’d imagined.

  Curtis leaned toward her again, and she once more muttered something back to him. He gave the slightest of nods, almost imperceptible, then reached out to try and comfort her again.

  Dorothy slapped his hand away and jumped to her feet.

  “Just leave me alone! Why can’t you just leave me alone!” she cried out before turning and running off down the hall to her room, leaving Curtis looking distraught and alone.

  Later that night, the majority of the residents were just starting to gather in the rec room for movie night. Tonight was everyone’s clear favorite, The Wizard of Oz.

  Dorothy, though now free to join the others, had elected to stay in her room, away from the throng. Given what she’d gone through, no one on staff thought it unusual in the least.

  Every so often, thunder would rattle the windows as the storm outside intensified.

  At one such rumbling interlude, Curtis stopped outside her door, casually squatting as if tying his shoe, though they all had slippers, and slid a small note under the threshold before continuing on to the screening.

  Dorothy rose from her bed and picked up the paper. A small bundle of cash was tucked inside. More important were the words hastily scribbled in her friend’s handwriting.

  “Westmoreland Psychiatric, 1223 Bates Drive.”

  Pestilence. She allowed herself the smallest of smiles. Curtis came through.

  The duty nurse was about to dig through the pile of DVDs on the table for The Wizard of Oz case, but to her surprise, it was conveniently resting on the top of the stack. Curtis watched her intently from across the room as she opened it, not even bothering to look at the disc as she inserted it into the player. He smiled.

  Had she looked closely, she’d quite possibly have noticed the DVD in her hand was not the plain Wizard of Oz disc but rather one Curtis had substituted on the sly. A disc he’d shoplifted several months ago.

  One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

  A film about riots in a mental hospital was not likely something Doctor Vaughan would have put on the approved entertainment list. Oblivious, the nurse slid the disc into the machine, pushed play, and walked out of the room as soon as the FBI warning flashed on the screen.

  Movie night was the rare moment the staff could actually leave the patients unattended and get a little time to themselves. While it was against regulations, there had never been an incident yet.

  Curtis’s smile widened as the movie started, bouncing in his seat with excitement.

  He’d been looking forward to this for a very long time.

  Back in her room, Dorothy lay quietly under her blankets. She heard quiet footsteps approach her door. Larry the buzz cut orderly quietly opened her door. He poked his head in the room. Seeing Dorothy in bed, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  “So, you’re not going to the movie tonight?” he asked as he moved closer. Dorothy didn’t respond. She just lay there. “Aww, you feeling a little down? Well I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up.” He reached a calloused hand down and began unbuckling his belt as he leaned over her still figure.

  “Oh yeah, you’re gonna love this,” he leered.

  With a quick motion he yanked back her blanket, his pants halfway down. Much to his surprise what he discovered was not a pajama-clad victim, but rather Dorothy fully clothed in her outside attire.

  Including her boots.

  “What the—” was all he managed to say before she lunged, kicking him square in the balls, dropping him to the floor in a writhing heap.

  “Sick son of a bitch,” she spat as she swung off the bed to her feet. “How many women have you pulled that on?”

  Several additional kicks gave her a surprisingly enjoyable rush of satisfaction.

  Dorothy walked to the door and peeked out. Satisfied no one had heard anything, she turned her attention back to the unconscious would-be rapist and gave him a long, cold stare.

  One thing was for sure, if Doctor Vaughan could see her now, he’d realize the wool had been pulled over his eyes, and Dorothy was not so timid and broken after all.

  With movie night in full swing, a poor orderly named Dean was the unlucky one who drew the short straw, having to leave the impromptu staff poker game to go check on the patients.

  It should have been a simple thing, really. Just pop down the hall, poke your head in to see the loonies all drooling and watching tin men and scarecrows merrily skipping down a yellow brick road, then get back to the game. Dean was annoyed. He had been doing well at the table and didn’t want to mess up his streak of good luck, but as he approached the rec room, he heard uncharacteristic hoots and hollers.

  The nutjobs loved The Wizard of Oz, but this sounded like something different.

  “Hey, guys,” he said into his walkie-talkie. “You might want to get down here. Something’s going down.”

  “Copy that, on our way.”

  With backup en route, he put his hand on the knob and pulled the door open. Inside, he found a chaotic scene.

  Patients were up on tables, furniture was upturned, the bowls of pretzels and popcorn, left for them to snack on during the film, were flying through the air like edible confetti.

  “Hey, what’s going—” He didn’t make it any farther before being broadsided by a hysterically laughing patient. Curtis saw the takedown and heartily approved, adding his own Nicholson flair with a favorite quote from the film.

  “I must be crazy to be in a loony bin like this!” he cried out, then beat his chest like Tarzan, let out a whoop, and started flinging pretzels into the crazed throng.

  Doctor Vaughan had been at home, shoes off, listening to the steady patter of the storm as rainfall landed on his windows. It wasn’t often he’d break out the good stuff, but today was a good day, and he was thoroughly enjoying a tumbler of his precious and pricey Midleton whiskey. A little reward to himself for finally successfully putting an end to his most pressing troubles at Camview.

  Sure, things would always happen to throw things out of whack, that was expected, but Dorothy had been a whole new level of problem, and one that had been bringing increased scrutiny from the board, and that simply couldn’t be allowed. It was a good thing he now had that situation under control.

  Or so he thought.

  Standing in the aftermath of the movie night mayhem a short while later, Doctor Vaughan was most certa
inly not amused.

  He had only just taken his first sip of whiskey, savoring the heat and subtle flavors, when his phone had rung, the panicked cries of his staff abruptly jarring him from his happy place.

  As fast as he could get there in the pouring rain, he was back at Camview, storming down the hallways as his staff wrangled the last of the patients back into their rooms.

  He surveyed the mess they’d made of the movie room. Another expense he’d have to creatively cover discreetly from his budget if he wanted to keep the board of directors off his back.

  This was not good.

  Things like this didn’t happen at Camview. Unless…

  “Come with me,” he growled as he spun off down the hallway, the few staff not hauling people to their rooms following in tow.

  As he approached Dorothy’s room, Big Stan appeared from the other end of the hall, soaked from the rain and dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, having rushed in from his night off. He hastily trotted over to meet the doctor, leaving a small puddle beneath him as water dripped off his hulking frame.

  “Open it.”

  Dorothy’s door swung open, the orderlies moving aside as Doctor Vaughan stepped into the room.

  Larry, the would-be rapist, lay tied to the bed, pants down and bound with sheets, gagged with a sock and his own belt.

  Doctor Vaughan erupted.

  “Find her!” he yelled, and his staff scattered, searching every nook and cranny of the building.

  But Dorothy was long gone.

  CHAPTER 26

  The storm had developed into a full-blown downpour. Howling wind whipped rain sideways along the dark streets as the gusts redirected it as it buffeted off the darkened buildings.

  A solitary figure in black forged ahead, ignoring the elements as she made her way toward the warm glow of a welcome place.

  The door to the diner swung open with a bang as the wind seized it from Dorothy’s hand. She pulled it shut behind her and strode in, dripping wet.