The sun cast shadows on the walls as it began to set.
I grew frantic. I had no patience left in me to just sit around. According to Mary, as she told me later on, I talked to myself like a real lunatic, going back and forth between the kitchen and the telephone. Although I don't remember that part myself, I remember the boiling frustrations deep in my gut, as I complained about the capability of the detectives.
Mary tried, to the best of her ability, to calm me down. "They are doing their best," she said. "And, Miss Wendy has only been there for a day."
"One day too long."
"I know. But, you were there for two months and survived. Sister Jude can't do much in one day, can she?" It sounded more like self-persuasion than anything else.
"On the second day they fried my brain."
"But—" She pressed her lips together, as she struggled to come up with something.
"Forget it." You are only fooling yourself, I almost said.
Then, a faint gasp left her. She twisted her body at the waist in her seat, to look at me with a hopeful light in her eyes. "When Sister Jude caught you, didn't she come to Miss Wendy, to this house, for the paperwork?"
I said yes, though I couldn't see her point.
"If Miss Wendy is really at Briarcliff as a patient," she said. "Sister Jude has to come to you, doesn't she? And then— And then, you could . . . do something." The gleam of optimism died out, as her voice faded out. She dropped her shoulders.
"Something? Like what, talk her out of it?" I began to walk to and fro again, taking the deepest drags on a cigarette. I felt it chipping away at my patience at an alarming rate. "Jude doesn't have to come to me or anyone, because I'm fucking dead and Wendy doesn't have anyone else."
In the heat and frenzy of the moment, I marched to the telephone. I looked at the memo pad in the dim hallway. My hands shook both in nervousness and rage. I dialed the number, for real this time. I couldn't have explained myself if I'd tried. I felt so desperate, just to get out of this purgatory of lethargic waiting, to actually make a difference with my hands, with some action.
Mary came following me. "Lana, this is too dangerous."
Her begging had no effect on me this time. I could hear her voice, but it sounded like a voice coming from a radio. The toot of the phone resonated in my ear. My impulse only grew stronger, the thumping or my heart louder. The hypnotic sound and the craze in me worked in tandem, and I developed tunnel vision. Everything now sounded as though I was under water.
"What can she possibly do over the phone?" I heard myself say above the water surface. "If she could put a curse on me, she would've done it a long time ago."
Then, at last, the witch picked up the phone.
"Briarcliff Manor."
The low-pitched, unamused voice caressed the wall of my eardrum. The simple utterance discharged jolts of static electricity through my veins. My vision, for a split second, became absolutely black, like in the movie. Then, absolute clarity.
"Jude," I said.
A short silence followed. And, there came a snicker. "Miss Winters, I'm quite surprised you possessed the courtesy to give me a call. I was wondering just now how you are doing. Thanks for the greeting through the police by the way. I hope they delivered my message to you correctly."
"Where is Wendy?"
"Who now?"
It turned my stomach. "Wendy Peyser. You know who she is."
"Ah, yes, your roommate," she said, and let out a laugh. "And, would you care to explain why you assume I know about her whereabouts?"
"You can keep up your oblivious pretense as much as you please. But if you ever lay a finger on her, I swear to God I will bury Briarcliff underground with you and Monsignor in it."
"Swear to God? That is rich coming from you."
"I'm writing stories about my experience there, and guess what, you're in them. I already have many ideas for the titles. Just wait until I finish them. You'll be dead famous."
Jude snickered again. "I look forward to it," she said. "Just out of curiosity, though, which do you think would the public believe, a devout Catholic elderly or a sapphic reporter who writes cooking columns?"
"People are not stupid. Truth will always prevail."
"Truth lies where God is, Miss Winters. As far as the general public is concerned, we are the truth."
I wanted to spit in her face. My lips parted, with expletives on the tip of my tongue. But then, the anxious face of Mary caught my attention.
I brought my mouth closer to the receiver. "You seem to forget something very important. I have Mary on my side. An insider."
"Mary Eunice?" she said. "Why do you think she's any different from you? That girl is a patient of ours, whose ungodly delusions led her to further sins. But I have forgiven her, in spite of her ungratefulness after all these years. Tell her, when she's no longer useful to you, that she can come back."
I lost my ability to speak. How could someone be so cruel, without effort or qualms? Wasn't Mary like a child to her? Those words ripped my heart out, and filled the hole with venomous loathing. I hung up the phone, slamming the receiver down. My chest burned, as I breathed through clenched teeth. At least, I told myself, Mary didn't have to hear her.
Then, like an epiphany, I saw the image of the officer, in the parking lot with his gun, before my eyes. I had never wished so strongly that I had a gun.
"Put on a jacket. We are going," I said to Mary.
I marched into the kitchen. I grabbed one kitchen towel out of a drawer and a knife out of another. I wrapped the towel around it, and went to the entrance door.
Mary still stood by the phone. "Where are we going? What did Sister Jude say?"
Instead of answering her questions, I grabbed the car key at the door. "Come on, get in the car."
The wavering clicking of her heels echoed in the hallway. I felt so wound up, it didn't occur to me to lock the door. Getting behind the wheel, I threw the wrapped knife to the backseat without much care. And as soon as Mary got in the car, I hit the pedal. The tires made a piercing squeak, rubbing against the concrete.
"Lana, are we going to Briarcliff? But the detectives told us to wait," Mary said in the passenger's seat. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.
"It's cancelled. We can't wait any longer." My hands tightened on the wheel.
"What did Sister Jude say to you?"
"I can't let Wendy go through that hell. I promised. I promised to give both of you what you deserve, to make you happy."
She fell quiet.
The roar of the engine grew louder. Without a doubt, the car speed surpassed the legal limit at this point. The buildings and occasional passersby flew by outside the windows. I avoided driving through downtown, and chose more empty streets with few intersections and traffic lights. I ignored almost all of the red lights. I only hit the brake, when a small child and his mother had to cross the road. The red light stared back at me. I bounced my knees. The setting sun painted the horizon ahead of us in a luscious white, as the orange clouds moved in high wind above it.
"Lana," Mary said. A sigh fell from her lips. "I've been thinking. About him."
"That monster doesn't deserve your time."
"But, he looked rather familiar to me. His name, too. I've been trying to remember why that is."
The family finally reached the other side of the road, in safety. Although the light had yet to turn green, I drove forward. And although this topic gave me a sick feeling, I had to listen, for the sake of Mary.
"He sometimes worked as a state-appointed psychiatrist," I said. "Maybe he's been to Briarcliff before."
"I thought about that, but no. When— When I was in that chamber, he asked many times if I recognized him. Almost like obsessed with it. But I couldn't and that made him furious." She clenched her fists in her lap. "I think— We knew each other in our childhood."
"You mean you remember him now?"
"In the orphanage," she said. "I spent a short period of time in an orphanage, after my mother passed. There was a boy, a few years older than me. Other kids called him Little Oliver. We only spoke to each other a couple of times."
"The paper said he grew up in the system," I said. "But, it's been more than a decade since then."
"It's the only possibility I could think of."
It seemed like an unrealistic and terrifying idea to me at first. A man who she wasn't even close to, finding her in the town after ten years, and capturing her only to hurt her. But then, I remembered what men would do for their thirst, what they were allowed to do for their desire. The idea stopped sounding so unimaginable now. We could make limitless speculations about Thredson, but the truth would forever remain in his grave.
We drove by the police station, and soon reached the outskirts of the town. A vast expanse of bleak land stretched away. No human was walking. We could see no other cars. There was only a lone horse, grazing on the grass in the backyard of a house. In the open field, the glare of sunlight came straight through the windshield, and dazzled me.
Next to me, I felt Mary move in her seat.
"Is that—" she said. "Is that a knife?"
I gave a quick glance over my shoulder. The knife now lay bare in the backseat, the blade reflecting the orange sun. The towel must have unrolled itself, when I'd thrown it earlier.
Mary looked at me, with vivid terror in her eyes. "Why is there a knife in the car?"
"I'm not going to hurt anybody," I said. "I just need it to get Wendy back."
"You will get arrested."
"Then, so be it. Me in jail is much better than her at Briarcliff."
With my numbing foot, I floored the gas pedal. The engine vroomed. Dead branches and small pieces of concrete made rigid bubbly sounds, fractured under the tires. I pressed down on the pedal even more. The speedometer needle swung to the right, for a second, but the next moment, the car began to lose speed.
"What the—" I pressed on the pedal, many times. It only produced empty sounds.
The fuel gauge now stayed still, pointing at 'E'. The needle of the speedometer pointed at zero. And at last, the scenery around us came to a halt.
"Fuck, fuck!" I hit the pedal, moved the shift stick with fierce force. But the car remained lifeless in the middle of the bleak field. "Fucking Louise!" I stepped out of the car. "Who fucking lets someone borrow a car that's almost out of gas?!" Although I felt a strong urge to get violent with the car, I held it in. I looked to the road ahead of us, and looked back to the road that we had drove on. The house with the horse was still close.
"We can borrow a telephone there," Mary said, as she stood on the other side of the car. "I— I can go. I can run. You can wait here with the car."
"No, I'm not letting you go by yourself." I pulled the car key out.
We began to walk, then, under the darkening sky. The winter air stroked the bare skin of my neck, and I stuck my hands in the coat pockets. My fingers touched the silky fabric of a scarf. I pulled it out, and gave it to Mary. But her eyes caught something else ahead of us.
There was a car, coming towards us.
"To the sidewalk," I said to her.
And while she obeyed, I trotted straight towards the approaching car, waving at them. The car slowed down at the sight of me. With enough distance in-between, it stopped before me. Behind the wheel sat a vexed person, of course. What I hadn't expected, though, was the wrinkled face of Barren there. Mary came running to me.
The door of the passenger seat opened. Castelo stepped out. "Miss Winters, what are you doing out here?"
A sigh of relief fell from my lips. "Our car ran out of gas. Could you give us a ride?"
"Where are you headed?"
"Briarcliff."
At this, he furrowed his brow. A frown of confusion, rather than irritation. Then, from behind the stout frame of his body, a man in police uniform appeared, his hand on his belt. I saw a police car pulled over behind this car.
"Everything okay here, sport?" the man said.
Castelo said yes. "Their car's out of fuel. Request backup. Tell them to take these ladies home, too."
The uniformed officer threw a glance at us. He walked back to the police car, with unenthusiastic gait.
"No, we can't go home," I said to Castelo.
"You need to stay home and let us handle this," he said. "I thought we'd made it clear."
"But I can't—" I dug my nails into the palms. The pain, then, cast a ray of light in my mind. I looked up. "Take us with you, and we'll help. We can show you around that place."
"It's a terrible idea, Miss Winters."
"Briarcliff is a dungeon. You could overlook anything, and that'll only delight them. Let us look with you. I promise both of us would be great assets."
With a pensive air, he looked at Barren in the car. I could hear the gears inside his head hard at work, as he rubbed his chin. At last, he drew out a breath.
"Alright, ladies," he said. "Give them the car key. They will make sure the car will be towed away. Hop in. Do you have anything left in your car?"
I shook my head, and handed the key to one of the officers. My whole being pulsated with the newly provided hope. The muscles around my mouth twitched, in a weak smile. We hopped in the backseat of their car. Barren turned around in his seat, and his eyes travelled between me and Mary, rather puzzled. Mary greeted him. The cigarette between his lips made a faint sizzling noise. When Castelo got back in his seat, those googly eyes moved to look at the young detective.
Castelo gave him a concise account of the situation.
A shadow of apprehension crept up to me, then. I studied Barren's expression, the depths of the creases in his forehead, as much as I could from behind. I kept my body tense. Despite this feeling, however, the thin lips of Barren never moved to protest. He only puffed his cigarette, as he started the car.
A/N: hiya! I started a new Foxxay fic. check it out and leave a comment :D