The morning of the storm began like any other. It was grey and misty and a bit windy but nothing out of the ordinary. By the afternoon it had picked up to a gale-force wind and Kit noted nervously that the light in Doctor Thredson's office kept flickering, threatening to extinguish altogether. Oliver was in a poor mood, looking exhausted and distracted. Kit wondered why he was even here in the first place.
Dr. Thredson was looking through something on his desk, a smoke hanging between his lips and his eyes ringed with fatigue.
"Looks like it's gonna be an awful big storm," Kit offered by way of making conversation.
Oliver glanced up from his notes distractedly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion before glancing out the window and looking at the blustery day.
Of course, the storm. In his rush to leave the house today Oliver had completely forgotten. He hoped that he'd be able to leave before this evening when it got worse. The storms in this city had been especially bad the last few years.
"I apologize Kit," Oliver said, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes harshly. "I've had quite the caseload and its left me feeling rather depleted, I'm afraid."
What he had actually done last night was far more sinister than casework. He had gone to the home of Wendy Peyser and stabbed her repeatedly until she had been drained of life. He'd tried to keep her face in fair condition for Lana's sake. Then he'd heaved her into his car and then into his home. It was strange having her in one piece, kept on ice in his deepfreeze in the basement.
He'd never kept one alive intact before and it kept him up all night. A strange childlike part of him was fearful she would rise from her cold coffin and come for him. He knew it was a dark fear but still, it had caused his sleep to be restless and his body trembled until dawn.
"I wanted to speak more about Alma and the men from outer space," Thredson finally continued, readjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "I want you to tell me everything you believed to have happened, step by step."
And so Kit recounted the same story almost word for word as his prior confession. Oliver frowned as the boy continued, believing his own falsehoods. He could barely believe that Kit could sit there, looking him straight in the face and tell these bombastic lies!
Oliver nodded as Kit spoke, writing down notes here and there but mostly his mind drifted to Kathryn and their meeting yesterday. It was she who had inadvertently convinced him to act on his plan of taking out Wendy last night. He hadn't wanted to kill Wendy at first, instead just lock her up in the basement until Lana's arrival. A sort of welcome present of sorts.
But Kathryn had sat there asking if he was a whoopsie. At first Oliver had been amused at the thought, even finding her embarrassment endearing. But as their session wore on her words continued to crowd his head. A whoopsie. Did she think him non-masculine? He felt his bravado falter as their session wore on and he had questioned her further on her family life.
Not much had been discovered there. A child left home with her imagination and freedom. Scholastically excelling and building a few close relationships. Nothing had stuck out as particularly sinister. They had parted promising to resume work the next evening before the movie started. But the day's events had still unsettled him. Jeb Potter. The things the boy had said. The warning that she would abandon him. The entire experience with the Potter boy had left him slightly unhinged.
He had been in sour spirits when Kathryn left and he had rushed home after her session to ready himself for that evening's exploits.
Wendy hadn't been prepared. Listening to a record and dressed in pajamas she looked remarkably fine for having turned her lover over to an asylum. Oliver decided that she had to die then. He had killed before. Many times. His mask was a trophy that proved just that. But the fury behind his slashes were directly attributed to Kathryn's assumption of his masculinity and sexuality. It cut him to the core though he would never admit it.
Why did he care what she thought? She wasn't to be his mother. She was too young for the part and besides he had Lana for that (if she would go willingly and if not he'd find someone else.) And the only connection they had was their mutual abandonment issues. So then why was she still at the forefront of his mind most nights?
"Doctor Thredson?"
Oliver snapped back from his reverie as Kit's voice broke through his thoughts. The young boy's face was drawn in confusion and concern at the doctors sudden silence. Oliver straightened in his seat, pretending to be pondering over what the young man had been saying.
"Thank you for coming in today," Oliver said gently closing the file and standing, guiding Kit to the door of his office. Two orderlies waited outside, arms crossed. "It proved quite illuminating."
"I'm no murderer, Doc," Kit implored desperately. "You gotta see that. Don't you?"
Oliver said nothing, opting instead to open the door and watch as Kit was taken from his office, the door closing quietly behind him as if he had never been there at all.
Lana sat in the common room smoking furiously. After her short interlude with Doctor Thredson yesterday she was a bundle of excited nerves. She hoped she would see him tonight. She hoped there would be good news. There had to be. Lana's attention was drawn to the double doors that swung open loudly as Mary Eunice stepped into the room, her habit swishing dramatically behind her as she moved, surveying the scene of quiet chaos before her.
Everyone was quiet with the storm approaching as if all of them knew of its preparation to engulf Briarcliff. The constant patter of rain on the roof have proven to have a soothing, almost numbing effect on most of them.
Lana frowned at the nun as she smiled mirthlessly at the unfortunate souls. Lana had noticed a change in the woman since her arrival. When she'd snuck Lana into Briarcliff she had been shaking, terrified. Now she wandered the halls with an easy gaze, her movements powerful. As if feeling her gaze Mary Eunice turned and viewed Lana, drawing over to her conspiratorially.
"Enjoying the day Miss Winters?" Mary Eunice offered with a grin. Was she serious?
"Could be better," Lana replied warily, inhaling slowly.
Mary Eunice offered a snort of laughter before nodding, continuing her way to talk with the rest of the residents. Lana glanced over her shoulder when she heard the quiet voice of Kathryn behind her.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Kathryn was saying forcefully, her eyes alight on the face of Sister Mary Eunice.
She had her left hand on the white piano keys, the rest of her body turned away from the piano on the bench seat. Lana turned her body to face the scene. Some of the other residents had grown quiet, watching on in interest. Sister looked down at Kathryn, her back to Lana as she spoke quietly to the girl. No one could quite catch it. Whatever she had said upset the girl greatly because the normally demure Kathryn was on her feet, her face blotchy with anger.
"How dare you say that?"
Without warning Kathryn had reached her hand to strike Mary Eunice's cheek, shocked as the woman's small hand came up to block her at the last second. Kathryn winced as the woman dug her hands into the girl's wrist.
"You're hurting me. Let go."
And only because Lana was listening intently did she hear the nun's cruel murmured words.
"You don't enjoy that, do you Kathryn? Not unless its Thredson doing the touching."
Kathryn wrenched out of the woman's grasp, her eyes wide and filling with angry tears as she held her bruised wrist. She looked as if she were about to murder the woman in front of her and Lana wondered why Kathryn was in Briarcliff in the first place.
"Frank?" the nun inquired casually, watching with mirth as Kathryn was approached by Frank, his head shaking slowly as he slapped the cuffs onto her wrists. She was still, her jaw clenched as she glared at Sister Mary Eunice.
"Stay away from me," she hissed lowly. "I know what you are."
Sister Mary Eunice rolled her eyes dramatically before turning back to the rest of the group, informing them that the night's movie was to be a good one. Kathryn was rushed from the room by Frank, her hands cuffed behind her back. Lana frowned to herself before turning back to the sofa she was sitting on. Grace had entered into the room along with Kit who looked rather upset. She ignored them as they sat a few feet away near the piano.
"He doesn't believe me," Kit was saying with a choked voice. "He's going to turn that paper into the courts and I'm screwed. I'll either be here for life or fry at the chair."
"You cannot think like that," Grace said, her French accent clipped and comforting. She placed a hand on the boy's kneecap, looking up at him with her large green eyes. "You must keep your chin up."
"How can I do that, Grace? They think I killed my wife. They don't believe me about the aliens. What else can I do?"
Kit threw himself into the back of the chair, covering his eyes with his hands quickly. He didn't want to cry in this room of people. He just wanted to be home, to be able to bury his wife and mourn her in peace. Grace was silent, her face drawn and thoughtful. Lana gasped slightly as her large eyes darted over to where she sat. She sneered openly at Lana, her bottom teeth bared in muted fury.
"What are you looking at?"
Lana turned to face the other way on the couch, her cheeks red and her heart racing from the altercation. Despite her sweet looks and diminutive stature that Grace girl was frightening. She could hear Grace mutter something quietly about her being a traitor before continuing.
"During the movie tonight," she whispered to Kit excitedly. "I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. While I'm doing that you sidle out of the room. We meet in the hallway and go to the boiler room. From there out the tunnel. We have to bring Shelley. She doesn't belong here either."
"It'd never work."
"It's something, Kit."
There was a moment of silence from the young man's end before Lana heard him sigh.
"Alright, let's do it."
