Disclaimer: The assorted cast of CI belongs to Dick Wolf. The millions of
dollars in profits belongs to Dick Wolf. This story and not much else
belongs to me.
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"Good night, Kelly," Zoey called out cheerfully as she passed her door. Kelly never looked up from her chair, staying motionless and silent as she quietly rocked back and forth, her wispy, mousy-brown hair hiding her face.
"Good night, Peter." Peter waved to her from his bed, his wrinkled face crinkling into a crooked smile. "Good night, Elizabeth... did Bobby come today?"
Sitting in a stuffed armchair across the room, Elizabeth raised her head from the book she was reading, snuffling and sniffing as she wiped her nose. "No," she answered thickly, "not today," and sneezed.
"He's cute," Zoey giggled, blushing prettily. "Does he have a girlfriend?"
The older woman's face closed like a door being slammed shut. "Go to bed, Zoey," she said in a hard tone, turning her back on the girl and dabbing at her runny nose with a handkerchief and a loud sniffle.
Zoey flounced off, bouncing along the corridor and barging into her room. She undressed quickly, flinging her clothes into a crumpled pile, and brushed her teeth, making silly monster faces at herself with squishy squelching noises.
She clutched her teddy bear close, her feet shuffling in her fluffy blue slippers as she climbed into bed. She kissed the top of his head, beaming happily as she cooed, "Night, sweetie, see you tomorrow." Flicking the switch on the lamp, she snuggled down into the soft sheets and closed her eyes with a happy smile.
The doorknob turned with a click, the door silently swinging open and someone stepping inside. The sound of stiff, starched clothing rustling crackled softly through the air as the person advanced towards Zoey's bed, where she winced and wrinkled her nose before blinking blearily and sitting up, drawing handfuls of her sheets close to her chest.
Eight hours later, at seven-thirty in the morning, Sarah Telford unlocked the cabinet and fished out a bottle of pills. She shook out a handful, dropped two into a tiny paper cup, and returned the rest to the brown glass bottle. The frayed, worn label was peeling off, the inky letters faded and scratched out, as she replaced it on the shelf.
Shutting the door behind her, she stuffed her keys into her pocket with a jingling clink and headed towards the elevator. The dull, droning buzz of the neon lights overhead hummed loudly in the silence as she checked her watch, then turned around the corner.
Sarah reached the end of the hallway and tapped lightly on the door. "Zoey? Are you awake?" she called quietly.
No answer. Sarah shrugged with a sigh and turned the handle, stepping into the empty room. The sheets were rumpled and one of the pillows had been flung across the room. A battered old teddy bear lay on the floor, squeaking as Sarah stepped on it. "Zoey, honey, are you in the bathroom?"
Still nothing. "Zoey..." Sarah cooed in a singsong voice, approaching the bathroom door. "Zoey, are you playing hide and seek?" The door creaked open as she pushed it, scraping against the hard floor.
And as she recoiled with a gasping scream and then flew down the hallway, shrieking for the doctors, the limp, lifeless body of Zoey Andres floated in the bathtub, with its blank, staring eyes glazed over and its jaw slack and sagging.
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"Good night, Kelly," Zoey called out cheerfully as she passed her door. Kelly never looked up from her chair, staying motionless and silent as she quietly rocked back and forth, her wispy, mousy-brown hair hiding her face.
"Good night, Peter." Peter waved to her from his bed, his wrinkled face crinkling into a crooked smile. "Good night, Elizabeth... did Bobby come today?"
Sitting in a stuffed armchair across the room, Elizabeth raised her head from the book she was reading, snuffling and sniffing as she wiped her nose. "No," she answered thickly, "not today," and sneezed.
"He's cute," Zoey giggled, blushing prettily. "Does he have a girlfriend?"
The older woman's face closed like a door being slammed shut. "Go to bed, Zoey," she said in a hard tone, turning her back on the girl and dabbing at her runny nose with a handkerchief and a loud sniffle.
Zoey flounced off, bouncing along the corridor and barging into her room. She undressed quickly, flinging her clothes into a crumpled pile, and brushed her teeth, making silly monster faces at herself with squishy squelching noises.
She clutched her teddy bear close, her feet shuffling in her fluffy blue slippers as she climbed into bed. She kissed the top of his head, beaming happily as she cooed, "Night, sweetie, see you tomorrow." Flicking the switch on the lamp, she snuggled down into the soft sheets and closed her eyes with a happy smile.
The doorknob turned with a click, the door silently swinging open and someone stepping inside. The sound of stiff, starched clothing rustling crackled softly through the air as the person advanced towards Zoey's bed, where she winced and wrinkled her nose before blinking blearily and sitting up, drawing handfuls of her sheets close to her chest.
Eight hours later, at seven-thirty in the morning, Sarah Telford unlocked the cabinet and fished out a bottle of pills. She shook out a handful, dropped two into a tiny paper cup, and returned the rest to the brown glass bottle. The frayed, worn label was peeling off, the inky letters faded and scratched out, as she replaced it on the shelf.
Shutting the door behind her, she stuffed her keys into her pocket with a jingling clink and headed towards the elevator. The dull, droning buzz of the neon lights overhead hummed loudly in the silence as she checked her watch, then turned around the corner.
Sarah reached the end of the hallway and tapped lightly on the door. "Zoey? Are you awake?" she called quietly.
No answer. Sarah shrugged with a sigh and turned the handle, stepping into the empty room. The sheets were rumpled and one of the pillows had been flung across the room. A battered old teddy bear lay on the floor, squeaking as Sarah stepped on it. "Zoey, honey, are you in the bathroom?"
Still nothing. "Zoey..." Sarah cooed in a singsong voice, approaching the bathroom door. "Zoey, are you playing hide and seek?" The door creaked open as she pushed it, scraping against the hard floor.
And as she recoiled with a gasping scream and then flew down the hallway, shrieking for the doctors, the limp, lifeless body of Zoey Andres floated in the bathtub, with its blank, staring eyes glazed over and its jaw slack and sagging.
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