Chapter 1
Anecdoche
J'aurai les yeux des marées bleues
Et le visage des temps pluvieux
J'aurai le cœur sur un nuage
Passerai ma vie en décalage
J'aurai la tête sur l'oreiller
À peine poser les plumes aux pieds
J'abandonnerai mon âme d'avant
Chercherai celle au présent
Tourne encore
Tourne encore
Sûr de mes pas je prends le large
Les idées un peu moins sages
Je marcherai sans peine sur les os
Mettrai la nuit au tombeau
Que je suis seule
Que je sois folle
Que je ris bien
Que je grogne
Il y aura toujours sur ma peau blanche mes détours et absences
Tourne encore
« Tourne encore – Salomé Leclerc »
''I feel the sun on my face, I see trees all around me, the scent of wild flowers in the breeze, it's so beautiful. In this moment, I am not stranded in the space. It's been 97 years since a nuclear apocalypse killed everyone on earth, leaving the planet simmering in radiation...-''
Tic Tic Tic
''...fortunately there were survivors, twelve nations had operational space stations at the time of the bombs. There is now only the Ark, one station forged from the many . We were told the earth needs another hundred years to become survivable again. Four more space locked generations and men can go home, back to the ground. The ground, that's the dream. This the reality.''
Tic Tic Tic
Ssssssssssss…
''September 18, 1968, session number 4 of patient Clarke Collins, first establishemed link with her fictional world through hypnosis.
Dr. Jake Griffin, psychiatric facility,the Ark, Mt weather.''
Ssssssssssss…
To the crackling sound of the recorder, doctor Abigail Griffin turned off the device and withdrew the ribbon that she had just listened. She looked at the label taped on the side of it. She could read the same date she had just heard her husband recite. The doctor leaned her back on the wooden chair and looked around Jake's office, where she had finally put a feet in. She turned her head toward the large box where she had taken the ribbon and realized just how many there were. With a sigh, she rubbed her eyes and replaced the recording with the others. Abby could not possibly listen to another one of those so she decided to close the box and focus on the manuscripts files instead.
She spread the various folders in front of her, not surprised by the number of them. How many times had she listened to Jake speak of this famous patient in the last two months? But despite all the interest he had given this young troubled woman, he had been unable to refuse the opportunity that was offered to him. Head of the Psychiatry Department for the Hospital Memorial of Washington DC, the kind of offer that even the greatest patient-doctor bond cannot overcome.
He left two weeks ago already, leaving Abby alone in their house at the bottom of the mountain. His new functions and the distance had made it impossible for him to come back home yet. However, he would always find a time to call almost every day to talk to his wife or receive update on his unique patient case. Before leaving the asylum where he had worked for nearly twenty years, Jake had made Abby promise that she would take over Clarke's case, no matter what.
And so on this foggy morning of October, the doctor had finally decided to honor the promise made to her husband. Every day, she had walked in front of the closed door of his office in their home and she couldn't bring herself to go in, to fulfill the task he had abandoned. Unlike for Jake, this case was more of a burden than a beautiful challenge for Abby, but eventually, after incessant pleading from her husband, she had consented to truly take over his patient.
She had her doubts and had postponed her decision over and over, because Clarke was not the kind of patient she was used to work with. While Jake worked in the alienated murderers wing, she was currently working in the minimal security sector, far from the dangerous prisoners such as Madam Collins.
When Jake left, it had been necessary to redistribute his cases among the team, because his colleague, Lorelei Tsing, could not take them all, although she was the most qualified to do so. Abby and Marcus had therefore inherited a few additional patients, some of them far from their field of expertise, but this was temporary, until the position could be filled.
Doctor Griffin took a few folders and placed them on her husband's desk. She opened one. On the top right corner, there was a stapled picture of Clarke, blonde and cold. In this picture, Abby could relive their first meeting a few days ago. A first contact, though distant, where they had exchanged a little bit. With her eyes wide open she could still feel the intensity of this peering blue. The color of a stormy sky as clear as a veil of unfathomable reality. To reach it she would have to follow her husband's footsteps and resume this experimental therapy he had gradually attempted. Abby was concerned about this part, the part where, in order to get to Clarke, she would have to use technics to violate her mind, to reach its depth without her actual consent.
Abby reread the informations about the young Collins, on the events that led to her detention. She clenched her teeth as a flow of emotions took her by surprise. She tilted her head back on the chair and looked at the ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes tightly. The doctor sighed again while closing the document. With a brief glance at the clock hanging on the wallpaper covered wall, she stood up. Unhurriedly, she gathered all the work she had brought home, Jake's files were hers now.
After three round trips to her car, the files boxes on the back seat, she was finally able to lock the front door of her house, their house. So big and empty now that she lived there alone, no children and a missing husband. Abby threw this fleeting nostalgia in the back of her mind and adjusted the collar of her beige raincoat to shield her neck from the cold wind blowing. Shivering, she climbed in the driver seat of her car and took the road to the Institute.
Turning the corner of the street that made her leave her neighborhood, she decided to turn on the radio to fill this silence that accompanied her well enough in the house already.
''Today is the day the jury will pronounce its verdict on the Ice Queen case...-''
Abby shook her head while tuning to another channel. For months now this story fed the media. How many headlines had talked about the gruesome murders perpetrated by the one the media called ''The ice Queen''. Almost as much ink as blood had been shed for each bodies found beheaded. The victims remains left in their freezer, waiting patiently to be discovered, to be brought to light. The nickname, though ironically morbid, fitted her well.
If fear had been the main reason for her popularity until then, it was now her capture that interested the public. Had followed her trial which was now in its end, fortunately.
While the music succeeded the information, Abby remembered what she had read on the Ice Queen case in Court. How the process was long and laborious, how the accused had chained lawyers after lawyers, claiming with violence an innocence tinged with madness. And as was announced by the radio presenter, everything would end today, the case finally closed and we would hear no more of this cold heart murderer, at last.
Abigail changed her thoughts when she saw the outline of the imposing building that was ''The Ark''. At the end of the road becoming a dead-end, hiding up the hill in the morning mist, the psychiatric facility emanated an imposing presence yet gloomy. The forest surrounding the Institute was dressed with gray trees, bare of leaves and the high wrought iron grids framed the sad picture.
The gate opened on her approach and she greeted the guardian in the entry box with a nod. Slowing down gradually, Abby went to her parking spot where she could read her name, next to an empty one reserved for her husband. The sign bearing his name had not been changed yet. She got out of the car and stiffened when the cold air seeped into her coat. The raincoat would soon retreat to the closet, because fall's biting cold presaged the coming of an early winter.
''Morning, Dr. Griffin.''
Abby turned around, seeking this voice that she had recognized immediately.
''Up there, Madam.''
The doctor lifted her eyes toward the parking lot streetlight to finally see the young woman from the maintenance department.
''Raven'' she greeted while taking the boxes from the back seat of her car.
''Need help with that?'' asked the young brunette.
Abby did not answer immediately, looking at the boxes that would make her do several trips to her office. Her hesitation gave Raven the answer she was waiting for and she immediately got down from where she was perched.
''Thank you'' simply said the doctor while she closed the door with her back, arms loaded but not as much as Raven's whatsoever.
''Have you heard the news this morning, Madam?''
Abigail answered with a simple nodd.
''I know that there are crazy here but-''
''patients Raven, they are patients.''
''Yeah well, still, She is one crazy psycho-''
''Raven…''
''Madam, we are talking about a woman who has beheaded more than a dozen people and has frozen them after… if this is not being madly insane, I do not know what it is.''
Abby shook her head, baffled by the brunette's words, which made Raven lips tilt upwards in a small smile. They approached quickly the concrete steps leading to the large doors of the Institute.
''Hey Monty, can you open?'' shouted Raven toward a big bush to the left of the cobblestones.
The doctor didn't have time to ask where the young gardener was, that he came out of the bushes, looking startled. He noticed the two women hands full of boxes and without a word, ran up the concrete stair to open the heavy doors for them.
''Thank you very much Mr. Green'' said Abby offering him a kind smile.
''Gallantry is not dead yet I see!'' added Raven, elbowing Monty in the ribs when she passed through the door.
The latter made her an embarrassed smile and closed the doors behind them.
The two women crossed the great hall whose ceiling had for limit only the top of the fifth and last floor. Doctor Griffin's heels echoed on the marble floor, filling the place that was, until then, silent. In between the two imposing stairs, merging together higher, was the reception desk. At his post, was the night guardian, whose shift was coming to an end with Abby's arrival.
''Ladies'' he said politely.
He raised his cap in greeting and folded his newspaper.
''Mr. Sinclair'' said Abby, tilting her head slightly to the left to read the headline.
"THE VERDICT TODAY" was written in bold letters above an engraving depicting the accused. The image showed a woman howling, face distorted by rage, struggling in the guards arms, a bloodcurling look, literally.
''You want the newspaper, Madam? I have read it twice already'' asked the man handing her the folded papers.
''No thank you, Mr. Sinclair...''
''I'll take it then'' cut Raven.
She picked it and placed it between her chin and the top box she was carrying.
''Thank you!'' she added in a grimace, trying to keep the paper in place.
Abby threw her a reproving look, though not so convincing. Raven's reply was her signature arrogant smile and without saying a word, they climbed the steps to the fourth floor. At the far end of the west wing was her office, as well as Marcus Kane's, with which she shared the minor cases.
Still accompanied by the sound of her heels, they reached the door where we could read Dr. Abigail Griffin in gold letters on the frosted glass. Raven put down the boxes and, unconsciously, knead her upper tight. The young brunette noticed the concerned in the Abby's eyes and didn't lose time to end this little break she had took on her schedule.
''I must go back to work now, Madam.'' Raven said with a small wave of the hand while walking away.
Abby looked at her attempt to hide her limping, but only shook her head knowing already how the young stubborn woman would refused any kind of help she'd offer. She turned back toward the door and freed one hand to turn the handle. Putting the first box on her lounger chair, she rubbed her forehead that was now damp from the effort. Turning around, she jumped in surprise when she saw Marcus in her office, eyeing the floor. Her heart missed a beat and she tried to slow down its beating, a hand on the chest.
''Marcus, what are you...''
She left her sentence die in the air when she took notice of her colleague's state. He had a pale complexion and seemed thoughtful, no, affected.
''Marcus?'' she repeated, approaching him slowly.
''Mmh?'' his answer a simple hum.
''What is it?''
Their gaze met.
''One of my patient committed suicide last night'' confessed the psychiatrist, rubbing his forehead.
''Who?''
''The one that Jake entrusted me with… Anya.''
Abby took a step back passing a hand through her hair, visibly shaken. She closed her eyes and breathed out, letting the air leave her lungs slowly.
''ANYA, TAKE MY HAND!''
Clarke helped her back on her feet even if she could hardly stand herself. They must have fell the equivalent of two floors in this drop. In their escape, they had seen this hatch and soon discovered its function. Although they had no idea where they were anymore, at least they were out of this room.
Anya looked at her right in the eyes with contempt, a nice remember that this alliance was ephemeral. She took the blonde's and Clarke helped her out of the metal bin in which they had landed. Trying to catch her breath, Clarke looked around them.
''We're out.'' she sighed in relief.
She moved away from the bin and crouched down in front of a pile of clothes on the ground.
''Hey! Come pick some clothes. We won't cover much ground dressed like that!'' Clarke said, already set on a pair of boots and a shirt.
''I will not leave the others here.'' Anya said, her gaze still fixed on the metal bin.
Clarke got up quickly and went to stand beside the grounder woman.
''Anya, listen to me. They have guards, they have weapons. Once we find our way out of here, we will find help and then we can come back-''
''There is no we.'' cut Anya.
The blonde maintained her gaze and time stood still, until voices afar drew their attention. There was no time for further questions. Anya turned her back on her to look in the muffled voices direction.
''Someone's coming.'' she said.
Clarke walked around her to stare at this dark tunnel, carrying these unsettling voices.
''Not just one…''
TOC TOC TOC
''Time to get up in here!'' Byrne knocked three times on the padded wall of the isolation cell.
The guard replaced her keys to her belt and approached the young woman, until then asleep.
''Get up, Clarke. It is over, I will bring you back to your wing.'' she added taking the blonde by the arm.
The gesture was neither rough nor restrictive, but it left no room for discussion. Clarke had yet to open her eyes completely because of the sudden bright light that blinded her for a moment. Spending a long period of time in a room where your only company is the pitch black had this effect. She was locked here for what? Hours? Days? she had no idea. In these cells, time looses its meaning. They went out in the corridor of the first basement. The concrete cold under her feet had the effect to wake her up completely. The blonde stopped to walk, which made Byrne thighten her grip on her arm.
''Where is she?'' Clarke asked, twirling from left to right, searching someone.
''Come on Clarke, it is over, I will bring you back with the others'' repeated the guard.
''WHERE IS SHE?!'' howled Clarke, stirring more and more in the guard's hold.
''Clarke! Do not force me to-''
Byrne had no time to finish her sentence that already the blonde had lost her strenght, her vigor. She calmed down so quickly that it was almost unbelievable... The guard stared at her when Clarke suddenly fell on her knees, gaze turned toward the end of the corridor. She followed the blonde's gaze to see what had caused such an unusual reaction.
A few meters away from them, the doors separating the isolation wing from the medical center were closing heavily. In their swaying motion of back and forth, Byrne was able to discern Doctor Jackson who was pushing a stretcher transporting a body covered with a white sheet. An arm hung freely on the side, a tattoo on the forearm betraying the identity of the patient whose fight was now over. Anya.
Abby's heels echoed again in the long corridor of the fourth floor while she and Kane headed toward the opposite wing. Marcus had not only come to announce the death of one of Jake's former patient, but also to inform her that Dante expected them in the conference room for a meeting with every psychiatrists in position.
They came to a stop in front their director's large office. Kane pushed the door and held it open with his wide palm for Abby to pass in front. Tsing was already there, sitting on the left side of the oval table in the center of the room. The place was relatively dark due to the big clouds covering the sky. A yellowish light beamed from a few lamps on the wooden furniture. Despite the wallpaper, carpets and dark furniture, there was this smell that could only be found there. The memory of pages from a borrowed book, a library of past time, a surprisingly soothing scent.
''Abby, Marcus, take a seat'' said Dante when he rose from his chair to greet them.
''Doctor Wallace'' said Abigail while Kane merely nodded.
Together they both took place as requested by their director, readying themselves for this early meeting. The old man looked at everyone around the table and then joined his hands together before speaking.
'' You have all been summoned this morning for several reasons. The first being the death of the patient…''
He frowned, seeking the name of the woman in question. Abby and Loroleï exchanged a look that howled in silence what no one would dare to say aloud. Eyes still fixed on those of her colleague, Abigail finished Dante's sentence.
''Anya, her name was Anya.''
''She had been entrusted to me-'' began Kane.
''-by Jake. We all know Marcus.'' Cut Tsing right away.
Dante lifted up his hands in the air with reproving eyes. This was a secret to no one that there was no chemistry at all between Tsing and the other two.
''The suicide of Miss Anya is an unfortunate and sad event…''
Wallace made a pause and took a deep breath.
''We will contact the family.''
''She has no relatives sir'' answered Marcus.
Dante nodded, eyes set on the mahogany table.
''We will do the necessary Doctor Kane, we will do what needs to be done. I want to see you after this meeting so we can discuss this together more in detail.''
The old man shook his head slightly, as if to physically get rid of his current thoughts. His expression changed when he suddenly stopped.
''For some time now, we have been dealing with Dr. Jake Griffin's absence. You have all received additional patients and this, even if they are not in your field of expertise.
Dante looked toward Marcus, then Abby, while saying these words.
''However, you will be pleased to learn that this overload of patients will soon end.'' Dante sat back in his chair.
''Have you hired a new psychiatrist, sir?'' Tsing didn't succeed to completely hide the apprehension in her voice.
Wallace pursed his lips for a moment while shaking his head again, a little sway of hesitation.
''Not exactly. You all know my son, Cage?''
''Yes, sir." they all said in unisson.
''Cage is back in the country, he graduated med school overseas.''
''With all due respect Mr. Wallace, you said yourself, your son just finished his medicine, he is no-''
''Doctor Tsing, it is Cage who will inherit everything that is around us as we speak. It is to him that I will leave the reins of this place. My vision, the work of a lifetime, Loroleï. It is about time that he takes a part in it with us...''
He made a pause and looked at everyone around the table, eyeing each of the physicians, focusing on Tsing particularly.
''All of you, I count on your collaboration for this.''
Dante closed his eyes a moment and sighed, calming the turmoil within himself.
''The departure of Dr. Griffin left a great void within the Institute, by both the person he his and the work he left behind. For many years you have worked all four of you and now I understand that the team is shaken, but we have to put it back together.''
A silence ensued. The three psychiatrists were all lost in thoughts, thinking about those years that slipped between their fingers, shared memories.
''Therefore, I take back Jake's patients from your care immediatly.''
''for what remains of them...'' murmured Abby, loud enough so only her could hear.
''Cage and doctor Tsing will work together, that should ease you both.'' Dante's attention was on Abigail and Kane.
Marcus nodded, obviously relieved to go back to his normal tasks and patients. As for Abby, she was lost in her thoughts, eyes set on the wooden table. Eyes open, she could see all the details in Clarke's file, her tormented blue eyes when they first met. Then she heard her husband's voice asking her to take Clarke's case, she could see herself when she had promised him that she would take care of this one patient he worked so hard with. With a sigh, she looked up to meet Dante's eyes.
''I will keep one of Jake's patient...Clarke Collins.'' she said in a slow but firm voice.
She and Wallace stared at each other for what seems like hours, but was really just a few seconds. Tsing was about to argue when Dante silenced her with a brief sign of the hand.
''If this is really what you want Abigail.''
''No… but that is what Jake want.''
The Director concluded the matter with a nod to which Abby answered with one of her own.
''Well, we will deal with the details of the transitions when Cage will be in his position, he should pass by the end of the day. Now, there is one last thing I would like to discuss with you.''
The old man rubbed his temples before continuing.
''I have just received a call from District Attorney Miller, the verdict is in.''
''But what verdict? What are we talking about here? Kane asked, completely oblivious.
As for Abby, she wished to be oblivious like her colleague. She was praying that her director wouldn't go where she thought he would.
''You are talking about… her, sir?'' questioned Tsing.
Dante nodded.
''But who are we talking about?'' Marcus asked for a second time.
''Do you not read the newspapers? Her, the one everybody's talking about... the ''Ice Queen''! ''answered Loroleï.
''Oh…'' He said simply. Abby closed her eyes and sighed rather loudly.
''Indeed, as I was saying, the judgment has been rendered… the one that the media have named the ''Ice Queen'' has been found guilty of twelve premeditated murders. Nevertheless, considering the violence and the dementia shown through both the acts and the person, her lawyer had no problem to convince the jury of her insanity. She will therefore not be condemned to the death penalty but will rather come-''
''here'' completed Abigail.
''Yes'' sighed Dante ''The inspectors responsible of the case will escort her here tomorrow at dawn, Tsing I need you there for her arrival.''
''Very well sir.'' Tsing could barely hide her wide smile, she could not hide the brightness in her eyes, the frenzy to have to deal with this kind of patient, this kind of mind.
''A great deal of journalists will be here tomorrow, I count on your discretion, not a word to the press. I can understand your fascination Dr. Tsing, but all of this is just a publicity I'd rather not have.''
''But sir, this is a great opportunity…''
''No, doctor'' he lifted his hand to interrupt her. ''Here we treat the patients, we do not use them for personal purposes of advancement or glorification of any kind.''
Abby and Loroleï exchanged a knowing look, which was very rare for them. Both knew that their director did not know much more than he thought. If Abby had difficulties with her husband's experimental methods, she didn't want to think about what was in Tsing's head at the moment. Abigail adverted her eyes from her colleague's as she would always do, thinking, there are things that are better left unknown.
''Tomorrow we will welcome our new patient and I do not want to ever hear the name ''Ice Queen'' between these walls. This young person has a name and you will use it as it should be.''
''And what is her name, sir? '' questionned Kane.
''Heda… Alexandria Heda.''
Abby wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, thinking back to the meeting. She was back to her office for not more than ten minutes when someone knocked on her door.
''Yes?'' she answered with a sigh.
The door opened slowly and Guard Byrne appeared in the doorway.
''I am here with your patient, Mrs. Collins, for her appointment.'' said Byrne, but seeing the look on the doctor's face, she added ''or do you prefer that I escort her back with the others?''
Abby raised her eyebrows, having totally forgotten about this scheduled meeting with Clarke.
''No…hum...bring her in, thank you Mrs. Byrne. I will let you know when we are done.''
''Very well, doctor.'' she said, slipping out of the office for a moment.
A few seconds later, the door opened again in order to let a young blonde woman come in. Byrne closed the door behind her, leaving Clarke alone with the psychiatrist.
Abby was still sitting, leaving her young patient standing in front of the now closed door. Clarke set her eyes on the floor, rubbing her hands greedily as if she was trying to clean them of something. Yet, there was nothing, and after a few seconds she abruptly stopped. Her hands remained still, but eventually her fingers relaxed a little bit and she started to massage her wrists gently.
She raised her head so their eyes could finally meet. Both Abby and Clarke remained silent, studying the other in a heavy silence. There was something in her blue eyes, a subtle glimmer in what seemed to be a sea full of bewilderment.
''Hello, Clarke.'' Abby greeted with a nod of the head.
''Doctor Griffin.'' There was this raspy voice.
''If you will...'' added Abigail indicating one of the two chairs in front of her desk.
Clarke took a first hesitant step, then a second and eventually went to sit while continuing to massage her wrists.
''Are you hurt, Clarke?'' Inquired the doctor with a calm and neutral voice.
The blonde let go of her wrists to close her hand in fists. This was the only response she gave. Her gaze rather deflected toward one of the Frameworks that were placed on her psychiatrist's desk. There was a photograph of Jake and Abby, smiling and happy, together.
Abigail took advantage of this moment to scrutinize her new patient. Her hair was a mess, at least more than ordinary, her wrists had purplish marks and a few scratches here and there betrayed a hectic night. But above it all, there were her eyes, sunken and swollen, a sign of clear insomnia and tears retained.
What had happened? She had not the slightest idea. She would have to have a talk with the night guards or to take a look at the registers from the isolation cells. However, those would only be superficial facts, Abby knew it. Another version shimmered in the depth that is Clarke, in the darkness where true and false blend together. But to get these confessions, this version, Abby knew very well where she had to go, where she had to dive to find the answers.
She tore her eyes from Clarke's figure to gaze at the photo that seemed to captivate the blonde so much. The hint of a smile appeared on her lips as she looked at her husband, frozen in time behind this thin glass and silver frame. She closed her eyes hard and clenched her teeth "that's what Jake wanted".
''Clarke, I want you to lay down on the lounger chair please.'' said Abby opening her eyes again.
The young woman looked away from the photograph and her eyes met her new psychiatrist's. She stood still for a moment, but finally stood to go take place on the said long chair in a slow pace
The doctor got up in turn and went to the large book shelf covering one of the office's walls. She stopped in front of the recorder and metronome that were placed there previously. This session was planned for a while now, but Abby had not deemed it right to do it before, not before today. She waited for the right moment, the one that would mark the point of no return.
She took a deep breath and pushed on the ''REC'' button with her index. In a crackling sound, the reels started to turn, burning on tape what would come next. Abby then withdrew the triangular cover at the front of the tempo instrument. Gently, she placed the little weight to the desired pace and lightly pushed the thin metal rod.
Tic Tic Tic
There. They were all set and ready to begin so she started.
'' Clarke, I want you to close your eyes and I want you to concentrate on the rythm of the metronome.''
Abby let her words sink in and went to pick up a pencil and a paper pad before she went to sit in the chair near the lying blonde.
''I want you to forget about everything that holds you here, let it all go.''
Tic Tic Tic
''Nothing is as it seems. More than one reality to explore, more than one world to run to. Go where only you know. Go back there…''
Clarke's breathing slowly decreased, became deeper and even. There she was, so far yet so close at the same time.
''Clarke, I want you to tell me where you were last night.'' asked Abby.
''With Anya…''
Abby almost droped her pen when she heard the late patient's name.
''What were you doing with Anya, Clarke?'' she inquired, trying to hide her curiosity.
''We have waited until Dr. Tsing left and got out of the cage.''
Abigail knew that Loroleï was the on call doctor last night. She was really intrigued as to where her young patient was going with her story. She listened to Clarke talk about how they escaped threw the corridors in the mountain, how they got lost.
''We came across a hatch… we… on corpses...dead grounders...drained of their blood.''
The doctor circled ''hatch'' and ''grounders'' on her notes, leaving tracks for later when she would try to untangle all this, if this was possible...
Clarke related how, with Anya, they had to jump of a dam, in the water. How they had travelled in the forest to escape those who were hunting them. Everything was so clear and chaotic at the same time, specific details and sensations.
Abby kept directing Clarke, as best as she could, in this world she couldn't see. All she could do was listen to the blonde's scratchy and deep voice. While she was listening something caught her attention. The doctor suddenly sat on the edge of her seat as Clarke's tale was relating a few real facts, including Anya's death.
''She died in front of me...her fight is over.'' said the blonde, trying to hold back her tears.
Her hands balled into fists and her face more and more tensed.
''How did she die, Clarke?'' asked the psychiatrist.
''They shot us...''
Abby sighed. She thought she had a lead on this mysterious suicide, but the possible explanation got lost in Clarke's inconsistency fog.
''Well, Clarke, now I would like to…-''
''We have been separated… I got hit on the head and…''
The young woman's face relaxed, her hands loosen.
''When I regained consciousness, the guards were leading me...but…''
It took Abby every bit of self control she had to not insist and push for an answer. She waited instead, pen in hand until-
''Mom?''
It was past midnight when Loroleï looked at her watch. She rubbed her eyes and pushed the door leading from the isolation wing to the medical sector. The place was white and sterile, ceramic and cold metal furniture. The air was colder in this part of the building and she wrapped her arms around herself, closing her lab coat tightly with her hands. She moved toward the refrigerated drawer, pulled the handle and opened it. A metal sliding sound filled the air as she pulled out a stretcher on which a corpse was lying.
In the white light of the room, Anya's features were accentuated and hollow. A small sheet covering her body from the armpits to the middle of her thighs, leaving the new bruises that recently appeared in plain sight.
Tsing abruptly lifted her head when she heard the sound of the door in motion. She glared at the man who was walking toward her until he joined came to a stop on the other side of the body.
''Doctor Wallace'' she said, resting her eyes on the corpse again.
''Cage is fine, I can call you Loroleï?''
''No'' she said curtly.
Cage could not contain a stifled laugh. Smile painting his lips, he took Anya's forearm and looked closer.
''Cutting the veins…'' he said in a barely audible whisper.
Without even taking the time to put on gloves, he traced the wound on the young woman's wrist with his thumb. Then, in a slow and morbid caress, he moved his finger up to the crook of the elbow. There, he paused and leaned down until his face was only a few centimeters from the pale skin. He smelled a few times and then stood up, a bright smile splitting his face.
''Suicide is a good cover, but I believe you could have done better, Loroleï.''
''I do not see what you are talking about'' answered the doctor, hand ready to push the stretcher back in its cooling box.
Cage interrupted her, placing his hand on hers. Tsing clenched her jaw while looking at his smug face with dark eyes.
''I think you are mistaken on my intentions, dear.''
The doctor did not answer, only kept her eyes on him. Cage chuckled softly.
''I do not know yet what you tried to achieve with this patient to then hide your failure with a suicide...''
Cage withdrew his hand off of Tsing.
''But what I know...is that a beautiful collaboration awaits us, Loroleï.''
''Dr. Tsing'' she corrected.
''Loroleï, none of this between us, okay?''
Cage backed a few steps, rubbing his hands with light in his eyes.
''First, we need to get rid of this'' he said, waving his hands with clear distaste toward Anya's body.
Tsing sighed deeply and leaned her body on the girder, supporting her weight with her two hands.
''Come on my dear, the injection marks will soon appear on her dead skin and then, all this suicide story will no longer protect you.''
Cage was pacing around, snapping his fingers repeatedly to find a solution. He suddenly turned around and stopped.
''The incinerator'' he said.
''We usually bury the dead. The incinerator is only in case of contagious diseases or when the family makes the request-''
The young Wallace lifted up his hand to silence the doctor.
''I'll take care of the details. Let us deal with this at the moment and then…''
''Then?'' Inquired Tsing.
''Then you will tell me everything Loroleï… absolutely everything.''
*Anecdoche – Conversation where everyone talks, but no one listen.
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