Chapter Six - Betrayal
I burst out into the cold night without a coat or shoes. My nightgown flew out behind me as I ran to the only house that was safe. The marked man may hurt anyone else, but he would not harm my Uncle Charles. William's brother would be safe, and he was my beloved Charlie's father. My cousin had to get his kindness from someone, and it certainly was not from Aunt Agatha.
Time slowed to nearly a standstill, and I felt like I was running in a nightmare. I did not slow my stride as I reached the house. I flew up the steps and let the front door stop my momentum. I pounded on the door for what seemed forever before they finally answered.
"Alice?" Uncle Charles asked holding a fireplace poker in his hand, "What's the matter? Is everyone okay?"
"No," I gasped out breathlessly and told him everything.
"Oh Alice," he said with concern when I had finished, "I don't know what to say."
"I do," Aunt Agatha said as she stepped out from behind her husband, "You killed my son, and you need to leave."
"I don't have anywhere to go," I said hopelessly.
"Go join the circus…you freak!" she screeched and shoved my off the porch.
I landed hard on the cobblestone walk. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I saw flashes of light all around me. Darkness loomed in my peripheral vision, but I fought it with all I had. I concentrated on Uncle Charles' voice.
"Why did you do that Aggie?" he asked in disbelief, "I think you really hurt her."
"Good!" she said and laughed, "She deserves every bit of this. Go let the dogs out. They'll run her off or chew her to pieces."
"I won't do that," he refused.
"Fine," she raged, "I'll do it myself."
I found the strength to sit up. Uncle Charles rushed down the steps to help me to my feet. I tested my muscles and they seemed to be in order. I was on the run once more. I ran all the way home, but it took much longer than before. My back was killing me so I decided to get some help. I grabbed Buster's bridle, and put it on him. I did not bother with his saddle, as it would take too much time. Riding him bareback, I headed toward the home of Sherriff Ben Roberts.
To my relief, the gaslights blazed brightly inside. I would not have to wake the marshal. When Buster was securely tied to the hitching post, I hurried to knock on the front door. The door opened and a pair of hands grabbed me, and I looked up in surprise. My former father held on to my arms too tightly. Uncle Charles, Aunt Agatha and Polly stood huddled together in the corner. The trio wore sad expressions, but only one face was sincere.
"Let go of me!" I cried and tried to get away from his evil touch.
"Alice sweetheart," he soothed, "Try and calm yourself."
"Get your hands off of me," I screeched, "They have my mother's blood all over them."
"You see blood on your father's hands?" Sherriff Ben Roberts asked.
It took only a moment for me to realize the implications of his question. I stopped fighting and looked at each of their faces. I didn't need a vision to know what was going to happen this night, but I had to try.
"Of course I don't see blood on his hands," I answered calmly and jerked my head toward William, "He paid the man to kill her so I meant figuratively."
"I understood most of what you just said," he said and then became serious, "Your family has come here tonight because they love you and are terribly worried."
"Rubbish," I hissed through my teeth as I struggled to maintain control, "This man and his new wife conspired to have my mother killed for her inheritance from my grandfather. But what they didn't know was that my mother had left the money to me, and now they are trying to have me killed."
"And how did they attempt to kill you? He asked with a smug smile.
"I witnessed him," I said and again jerked my head toward the man holding my arms, "giving an envelope of money to the man that killed my mother."
"Where did you witness this transaction?" he asked still smiling.
"On the shore near the lighthouse," I replied truthfully and my arms were suddenly free.
"Was it this envelope?" William asked and pulled the envelope from his pocket.
I stared at it in disbelief, and the sheriff said, "I will take that as a yes."
"She must have seen me with it earlier," he explained, "I will be making a sizeable pearl purchase early tomorrow. But in her paranoid state, she believed it to be something it isn't."
"Liar!" I screamed and jumped on him with my claws out.
Everyone else was on the other side of the room so I was able to do some real damage before they pulled me off. I saw that I was getting nowhere so when I saw an opportunity to inflict some damage, I took it. I drew blood for myself and for my mama. Uncle Charles begged me to stop, but I ignored him. Polly moved closer to lend a hand, and I lunged for her. The three men had control of me by then, but the look on her face was well worth the effort.
Shackles were locked onto my wrists and ankles. There was a chain that connected them so it was more comfortable to sit. I was warned that if I didn't behave myself, the marshal would haul me down to his office and lock me in a cell. Every time Polly glanced at me, I gave her a big grin. I know it was childish, but I could not help it. Maybe I had gone mad as they claimed. While I sat there, they spoke about me as if I weren't.
Their plan was to quietly send me away to an asylum, and tell everyone outside this room that I had died in some sort of accident. A funeral would be held, and a gravestone would be placed. There would be so much effort and expense to save themselves the embarrassment of having a daughter that went insane. And of course, they could collect my grandfather's estate easily enough. The biggest expense would be to pay the Sherriff for his silence.
"When will the doctor arrive?" Polly asked shakily.
"Well they are coming down from Lucedale in George County so another hour give or take."
"I need to get home to Cynthia," she responded, "and I need to get some sleep."
"Mrs. Campbell is there if she wakes up," my father stated.
"I know, but I'm tired." she whined, "And frankly, I don't want to be around her anymore."
I grinned at Polly as Uncle Charles spoke, "I can run her home William."
"Thank you brother," he responded, "I would like to wait for the doctor."
"I understand," Charles said and then turned to his wife, "Are you ready to go home?"
"No," Aunt Agatha stated, "I would also like to stay. I have some things I want to tell the doctor."
"Okay," he sighed obviously fatigued, "I'll come back for you. Are you ready Polly?"
"I'll be out in a minute," Polly said sweetly and stopped in front of me, "Goodbye Alice. I will take care of Cynthia and raise her as if she is my own. She'll be calling me mama in no time at all."
In the briefest moment, I slipped my hands out of the shackles obviously made for an adult male. When she turned to leave, I stood and grabbed two handfuls of blonde hair. She screamed as I pulled her down to the floor. I slammed her head into the hardwood floor. After a few good shots, someone hit me from behind. Everything went dark.
My head was stinging when I awoke. A huge face was right in front of mine. A mountain of a man was holding me down in a chair. I was afraid to move because this giant could break me in half without much effort.
"Don't move," A voice warned from behind me, "I only have one more stitch… There…All done."
"Would you be so kind as to back away," I asked not so sweetly, "Your breath smells like you ate a road apple."
"Barthel doesn't understand English," the doctor said as he stepped from behind me, "Good thing too, because my German friend here has quite a temper."
"Good to know," I said and the doctor said something to him.
"Now… Miss Brandon are we going to have any trouble with you?" he asked as he looked into my eyes.
"Not if you let me go," I shot back.
"That is not the answer I was hoping for," he said amused, "But that is why I have my large friend here with me."
I looked into Barthel's determined eyes and said, "I will behave myself."
"Lovely," he chirped and smiled, "I am Dr. George Kippes and I will be overseeing your care at The Willows. How long you stay with us will be up to you."
I nodded obediently, but I knew what he had just said was a lie. I would never leave his asylum alive. I would go along for now and wait for an opportunity to escape. Dr. Kippes was tall but very thin. He looked to be in his mid-forties with only a few strands of gray in his light brown hair. He wore a trimmed beard like Sigmund Frued.
"Well," he began, "If that's all Sherriff, we will be going."
I had not noticed Ben Roberts sitting in the corner. He stood and shook hands with the doctor. I scanned the room but all the others had already left. I smiled when I remembered attacking my stepmother. The doctor raised an eyebrow but did not say a word.
Once we were in the doctor's motorcar, he asked me about the smile. I told him the truth. In fact, I told him everything. He asked questions every once in a while, but the first hour I talked nonstop. I had planned to stay silent, but there was something about the doctor that compelled me to spill my guts. Somehow, I felt lighter when I was done.
Then it was the doctor's turn to speak. He began by telling me that with therapy, he believed I could live a productive life. I rolled my eyes because I knew better. Then he told me all about his institution. There was much pride in his voice when he explained that he considered it a hospital rather than an asylum. He rattled off daily schedules and rules, and that is when I lost focus. My eyelids felt as if they weighed a ton.
"The Willows," Dr. Kippes announced proudly and I startled awake.
I looked out the window, and my heart sank. The good doctor was the delusional one. The large building was dark gray marble with a high vine covered fence around its perimeter. It looked dismal and downright creepy. He stopped at an unoccupied shack just outside the gates and honked. A few moments later, a hooded figure appeared and opened the gates from the inside.
"That's our groundskeeper Mr. Jones," he said cryptically, "He doesn't speak to anyone, and he wears that hooded robe like some kind of monk. I'd say he has a flair for the dramatic wouldn't you say."
"Why do you have a guardhouse?" I asked changing the subject.
"It's manned during the day," he explained.
I searched for the hooded man's face but it was hidden in the fabric. We pulled through the gates and came to a stop next to a side door. A large woman soon emerged.
"This is Helen," he announced, "She is Barthel's wife and our head nurse. She speaks both English and German fluently. She is strict but fair, and has no sense of humor to speak of."
"I heard that doctor," Helen said gruffly, "This would be Miss Brandon?"
"No," the doctor joked, "We decided to pick up a hitchhiker instead."
Helen stood straight-faced waiting and the doctor said, "See what I mean. Okay you may get her squared away. I'll see you in the morning Miss Brandon."
I nodded as he went through the side door. Helen led while her husband grasped my arm tightly. My feet barely touched the ground as we made our way to a room around the back. She rolled a large door back to reveal a huge shower room.
"Time to delouse you tiny one," Helen said in an amused tone, "Your not much bigger than a louse are you?"
"Dr. Kippes is wrong," I said in a small voice, "You do have a sense of humor. It's a sadistic sense of humor."
She stared at me for a moment with no expression on her face, and then she burst into hearty laughter. When she ordered me to undress, she was still chuckling. Barthel stood against the wall as I was washed from head to toe with a harsh soap. And when it was over, my skin was red and irritated. I longed for an oatmeal bath and my favorite nightgown. Instead, I was given a gray shapeless garment to wear. It was once white, but the fabric had grayed.
My prison cell was as dismal as the outside. There was a small bed against the wall with a steamer trunk at the foot. The only other furniture in the room was an old wooden chair with a chamber pot underneath. All the walls were solid and empty except for the south wall featured a small barred window. It looked over a small cobblestone courtyard.
As I looked out into the darkness, Helen said, "You are lucky to have a window. Not many of our residents do especially the violent ones. Bart told me what you did to your mum and your pop. I expected some fight from you."
"They are not my parents," I said and turned, "Besides, you didn't kill my mother, and those two miserable excuses for human beings did."
"Hmm," she answered then someone began mewling somewhere down the hall, "Duty calls."
Without another word, she left the room and locked the door behind her. A shiver ran down my spine because I felt watched. I scanned the tiny room and turned back to the window. The night stared back at me. After I found no sign of anyone I crawled into the small bed. The pillow smelled horrible so I pushed it off the bed. Before I turned off the light, I found an extra blanket in the trunk and rolled it up to make a pillow. I soon fell asleep from exhaustion. It had been a long day.
"It's time to get up Miss Alice," a harsh voice said loudly then I opened my eyes, "There you are. You have only twenty minutes left for breakfast so you must hurry."
"Okay," I sighed and slipped out of bed.
Out of habit, I quickly made my bed and kicked the vile pillow under it. The nurse gave me a pair of house slippers that were much to large. She told me her name was Judith as she showed me the way to the dining room. Because I was lucid, I would be expected to find my own way to my meals each day.
Right after an inedible breakfast, I had my first actual therapy session with Dr. Kippes. It went well enough. I read enough about Sigmund Freud to know what he wanted to hear. Unlike his idol, the good doctor believed in electro-shock therapy. I was scheduled to receive my first treatment at the end of the week. It weighed on my mind for the rest of the day.
Most of that first afternoon, I spent outside in the courtyard. I tended a small apple tree that grew in the corner. It was chilly out, but the sunroom was crowded. Inside there always seemed to be someone screaming or crying, and every now and then the lights would dim. Which reminded me of my date with electricity.
Supper was really quite good or maybe I was just hungry. I sat alone because the other patients frightened me. They were all female as I was in the women's ward. But they all either had a wild look in their eyes, or there was emptiness there. I was afraid that my eyes would soon mirror theirs.
Before Helen locked me in for the night she left an armful of clean gowns and a laundry bag. I thanked her, but she didn't reciprocate. I refolded the garments and opened the trunk. My hairbrush was sitting on the extra blanket I had used as a pillow the previous night. At first I was afraid to touch it thinking it was a delusion. But when I finally did, it was solid and cool in my hand.
Still holding the brush, I looked where the extra blanket had been left. I found my pillow from my bed at home. I was confused because I knew William and Polly would never send my things to me, but here they were. I picked up my pillow and hugged it to my chest, and then I discovered the best thing imaginable. The needle point sample with my name emblazoned on it lay unfolded where the pillow had been. I snatched it up as tears welled in my eyes. I brought it up to my face, and it smelled like home.