...And I'm back from the dead. ENJOY!
Catherian Sanitorium, New York – 11.30 p.m.
Kristen Gregory scorned fortune telling. To her, it was nothing more than an elaborate stage set up by pretentious phonies determined to con weak-willed people out of their money. So of course, she hadn't been listening when the world-renowned Madame Henlé had cautioned her that she was going to have some very bad luck this year. Now, in light of what had already happened, the gypsy's soft, quavering voice drifted back. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer…a friend always holds the knife.
A bone-numbing chill that had nothing to do with the biting autumn wind coursed through her spine. Taking a deep breath, Kristen wrapped her black velvet trench coat around her tightly and pulled her cap even lower, hoping desperately that the moonlight did not glint off the few strands of golden-blonde hair that had fallen from under the cap. For self-explanatory purposes, she had chosen the most inconspicuous coat she had and dull black jeans. With the unflattering backpack over her shoulders, she hoped she looked like a homeless junkie to passers-by.
Despite the cold, she felt a sense of security. Of course, you could never be too safe in New York. God knows what would happen if the real homeless junkies took notice of her. Hunching her shoulders, she quickened her pace.
In the dark, Catherian Sanitorium loomed ahead of her – imposing and proud like ancient architecture, but blurred and vague, like it encased dark secrets – sticking out at harsh angles. The heavy, wrought iron gates with wickedly sharp spikes at the top kept everything out – and everything in. Without surprise, Kristen noted that it was locked shut with a rusty, mould-infested padlock.
This would be the part where she put her martial arts skills – she was secretly a karate black belt – and scale over the gates, she thought humourlessly, if she were in a movie. However, as this was reality, she pulled out her gold monogrammed Blackberry and texted the nurse she had bribed at Alicia's funeral.
A middle aged woman, her hair a colourless yellow, dressed in the standard nurse attire appeared within minutes. Gazing at Kristen intently, she passed the keys to her wordlessly. Kristen forced a smile and nodded at the woman, thanking her.
The woman leaned in and whispered, "Whatever you do, Miss Gregory, don't wake them up."
And then she was gone.
A flash of uncertainty passed over Kristen. Was she really going to do this? Kristen Gregory, model student and poster child of St. Geraldine Academy, law abiding student with not a toe out of line, trespassing government property? If she was caught, she could lose everything. Whatever. If this Z person wasn't stopped, she would lose everything anyway. As she crept in, making sure her sneakers did not scrape the leaves littering the ground, her mind flashed back to the text message she had received during Alicia's funeral earlier on.
Honey, remember when we were kids? I saw you sweeping the floor… - Z
This would not have sounded even mildly threatening to anyone else, but she had literally dropped everything on her hands and bribed the nurse, then called in sick at the academy to fake an alibi for this night's journey to Catherian Sanitorium.
Room 301, the nurse had told her. For a moment, she stared at the door, hesitating. Something seemed off. For one, the corridors were completely deserted despite the guards being on duty. And it was completely silent. Not even the occasional snore or whimper from an inmate, or the footsteps of nurses and guards. As usual, Kristen chalked it up to her paranoia.
She pushed open the door gingerly.
Cookie Elson was curled on the edge of the bed, staring blankly into space. She looked like a little girl, innocent and frightened. The confident, suave, high-maintenance teenage girl was gone. She didn't even look up at the intruder.
Among all the seniors, she had been on best terms with Cookie Elson. She identified best with the former Valedictorian, former poster child and model student. Both of them had been determinedly competitive, classically overachieving, children of parents who had sky-high expectations, and best friends to the Queen Bee. However, unlike Kristen and Claire who were really best friends, Alicia Rivera and Cookie Elson had a friendship based on convenience.
Cookie had always been sorely jealous of Alicia, but Kristen didn't believe for one second that she had murdered Alicia. She knew this because she was clear of Cookie's personality. Cookie was a good girl, through and through. Sure, she had a few dark secrets of her own, but who didn't? Even if Cookie had harboured thoughts of ill-will against Alicia, she would never have carried them out. It just wasn't in her. A sudden feeling of tenderness for Cookie washed over Kristen, invoked by pity.
"Cookie? It's Kristen." She whispered, bending over Cookie. The girl lifted her eyes and stared at Kristen. For a moment, her brown eyes were blank, then they widened in recognition. A combination of relief, panic and fear overtook them and Kristen knew Cookie was going to scream. Hastily, she jammed her hand against Cookie's mouth.
"Shit, Cookie. Do you want to get me in trouble? Damn it. I'm here to help you." Kristen hissed fiercely. Cookie's eyes flashed, locking eyes with Kristen for a full ten seconds, and Kristen thought she could once again see the former valedictorian. Then the brown irises quivered and dropped so she looked like a contrite little girl again. The battle was over. Slowly, Kristen released her hand.
"God, Kristen," Cookie cried the moment her mouth met no hindrance, her words tumbling out in a frenzy, "You have to get me out of here. You have to. This is no place for me. This is hell. Please, Kris, please – "
"Calm down!" Kristen said, sharply. "I'll find a way to help you. Now, tell me what happened that day."
"Okay, okay." A shadow passed over her face. "I was in the bathroom, touching up on my make-up. Then someone came up to me and knocked me out. The next thing I knew, I was in the basement. I saw Alicia's body and realized I was holding a bloodstained knife, so I freaked. Of course I freaked, right? Anyone would. So I ran up. The-Then –" A sob escaped her. "The police didn't believe me. They didn't."
"Okay, relax. I get it. I get it. Oh my god, chill!" Kristen almost screamed in frustration, struggling to keep her emotions on leash. Cookie visibly tried to calm herself down. Kristen watched and prayed as Cookie's eyes grew soft. Suddenly, she spasmed. It was as though the tight leash on her repressed emotions had suddenly snapped, already stretched to it's breaking point.
"Cookie, no. I'm here to help you, you have to believe me – " Kristen tried for a soothing voice.
" – They didn't believe me – "
" – I know, I'll help. I promise-"
" – I told them, they didn't believe me –"
" – Cookie, you have to give me time – "
"I have no time!" Cookie thrashed around furiously, resisting Kristen's attempts to keep her still.
"Cookie!"
"You have to get me out of here. You have to –" A loud crash resonated. With horror, Kristen saw the broken shards of the lamp Cookie had toppled, the room plunging into instant blackness.
All hell broke loose.
The alarm started screeching, a loud wail. All the inmates were waking up, shouting. Guards were rushing up. Kristen could hear the ominous click of their pistols and the heavy, metallic pounding of their footsteps.
"Shit!" Kristen cursed out loud. "I have to go."
"NO!" Cookie screamed and grabbed onto Kristen's arm. "DON'T LEAVE, PLEASE –"
Wild panic rose in Kristen's throat as she fought desperately to free herself of Cookie. But the harder she pulled, the tighter Cookie seemed to hold on. The guards were approaching, ready to burst in any minute. With a last burst of energy, she wrenched hard…and managed to free herself.
"FREEZE." The guards hollered.
Without even thinking, she leapt towards her only exit – the window, thrown wide open.
She jumped.
Bad fortune indeed.
The plot thickens...