Chapter 8: Alone in the Hospital Room with Stepmother
I awoke quite some time later with a throbbing, and heavily bandaged head, lying in a very lumpy bed in the far left corner of an unfamiliar room that I had never set foot in before.
Only after some time of wincing at the pain that was quickly beginning to announce itself in the back of my head, and looking around my surroundings to find the yellowing wallpaper that papered the walls did I realized where I now was. St. Marge's-- the hospital.
I guess they didn't give me enough painkillers, I thought, as the throbbing in my head worsened.
Dad's dead, I suddenly realized, as a shiver was sent up my spine, He's dead, and Jacqueline killed-- I felt a second shudder; my stepmother had just tried to kill me. I hastily shook the images out of my head of the woman coming from behind, and hitting me over the head with a baseball bat when we had just made friends not even five minutes earlier...
It was frightening. Absolutely frightening; how had it happened-- why had it happened...? The image of the heavy blood-red apple entered my mind, and I shuddered; I could still taste it in the back of my throat. A part of me still hungered for it; I reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed a small cup of water; after a single moment, I had drained the entire thing, and the flavor of the apple at last left my mouth.
I hated being alone right now; who knew what was lurking in the corner-- or in the other room, for that matter. Jacqueline had killed my father, and she could be waiting for me right outside the window for all I knew. I stared at the small window, and found, to my relief, that curtains blocked out the view of the outside world; it was still unsettling, yes, but at least I didn't have to see whatever was waiting...
But still, the thought of being all alone...
I coughed; my throat was dry now, and there was no water to be found in the room; it didn't matter, though. My father was dead, and Jacqueline had probably just slipped away into the night after having left me for dead; I closed my eyes in silent terror. Someone in the adjoining room had screamed in their sleep for some reason; Maybe someone is having nightmares-- my life is a nightmare... I opened my eyes again, and stared down at my fingernails; they were still stained red from the juice of the apple. I shuddered, and tucked them underneath the bed covers-- and out of sight. It was quite unnerving, however. Knowing that parts of the apple still lingered; the flavor was now coming back into my mouth.
I blinked sleep out of my eyes, What time is it? I wondered, once again pulling my right hand out from under the sheets, and staring at the watch that was wrapped around my wrist; it read 3:00, Useless, I realized, remembering that the thing had stopped working almost a year ago. A second thought lazily entered my mind; How long have I been here...? I stared at the buzzer that lay on a small tray beside me; I knew that if I pushed it, I could get answers; my hand inched towards it, but then, I decided against it, knowing that they'd probably just give me more medications, and tell me to shut up; and as I was already drugged up enough... I stared out the window, and frowned at the dark skies slowly turning pink; I was drowning in self-pity as a wave of guilt fell upon me; Dad's dead, and it's all my fault...
But that wasn't necessarily true; I knew that. Even then. When I was practically delirious with grief. A part of me still knew that the death of my father could only be blamed on one person, and that was Jacqueline.
Jacqueline had murdered my father in cold blood.
She had killed him, and had attempted to do the same with me-- with the apple. It had been so delicious. Bewitching. Somehow, it had made me forget-- if only for about forty-five seconds, it made me forget that my father had died. Jacqueline's voice echoed in my mind, 'It was an accident, Beatrice-- a horrible accident.' I had been stupid enough to believe it, and it just wasn't the apple-- her voice. Her voice is what really had controlled me.
I sighed, and felt warm sweat slowly dripping off of my forehead; I tended to get sick in the midst of pain, so it made sense that I would feel so warm and nauseated.
My stomach was burning; it felt like it had been filled with acid. I groaned, rolled over on my side, and kicked the sheet off to expose myself to the cool air of night.
And though the night was freezing cold, and I barely had had a sheet to cover me up, I felt hot. I brought a trembling hand to my sweating forehead, and realized with some annoyance that I had a fever... I closed my eyes, and lay my head back down on the equally lumpy pillow, determined to fall asleep again; suddenly, there was a voice-- a whisper clearly uttered to draw my attention; my eyes snapped open, "Who's there?" I called out, but before I had finished my sentence, a third shudder was promptly sent up my spine as I realized who occupied the sitting-chair across the room from me; it was my murderous stepmother! She clutched her hand-mirror in one hand, in the other she held the silver comb; she had been brushing her golden hair-- as if she had just spent a nice evening out in town, as opposed to killing the parent I had left, "Hello," she whispered, seeing that I had awoken; a smile spread across her face as she realized her whispering tactic had worked, "Why have you followed me here?" I demanded in a shaky voice; the drugs were still wearing off, and I felt groggy and it all felt like a dream.
She stared at me; clearly surprised my question, "You don't honestly believe I could stand around and let you go blabbing to the authorities do you?" her right eyebrow rose slightly, "Due to what you might have believed before tonight, my dear child, I am not as stupid as I may seem." She stood up from her sitting chair, and let the silver comb fall to the floor; she calmly bent down, and picked it up again as my anger and fright escalated.
"Why have you done this...?" I asked, returning my gaze to the woman whom I so despised, "Dad loved-- thought he loved you, and you killed him while his back was turned... You're nothing but a fucking coward."
"Don't call me a coward," she warned, her eyes flashing dangerously; I cringed at her anger; all false compassion was now gone from her voice; she meant what she said-- no longer the false twit I had once known; Jacqueline was pure evil.
There was a moment of silence between us while I slowly regained my energy, "Why did you try to kill me?" I asked, allowing a quick glance outside the window at the morgue across the street.
She clucked her tongue as she slipped the beautiful comb back into her pocket, "'Kill' is such a strong word. I was just getting rid of you."
"WHY?" I roared across the room, as my head pounded with all of the things that had just befallen me.
She laughed; her voice rather like the chiming of bells, "You're so foolish, Beatrice... Maybe clever, but you don't know anything about life; if it weren't for your foolishness, your father would still be alive."
"FUCK YOU!" I screamed.
"Quiet down, Beatrice;" she whispered, "Do you want to wake the entire hospital?"
"YES!" I screamed, "HELP!"
She rushed over to my bed, "Shut up," she hissed, clutching my neck in a strangulatory grip, "I could kill you right now," she loosened her grip, "but I won't."
"Why don't you kill me now, bitch?" I asked, angrily, as she let go of my neck, "It is you who are foolish in thinking that I am afraid of death; you've made my life miserable enough… just finish it. Kill me now."
"False bravery," she laughed, "My, you are stupid, here I am allowing you to keep your life, and yet, you still wish to die."
"WHY DID YOU KILL MY FATHER?" I roared across the room.
"Shut up," she repeated, "It was actually very simple, but you-- such a stupid girl like you could never understand why I married your father only to kill him."
This time, it was I who laughed, "What was it, Jacqueline? Life insurance? There had to be a reason."
"You could never comprehend it."
"TRY ME, BITCH!" I roared across the room.
"Stop screaming, you little whore!"
"No!"
"It's all your entire fault. That's why the paramedics came in the first place, and whisked you away-- rescued you… it was 'too late,' as they so kindly put it for your darling little father. He's in the morgue across the street from us as we're having our little discussion. They said he was killed on instant... I stayed in the house for a bit to hear their conversation... 'Such a tragedy,' they had said."
"You fucking old hag," I hissed, "I just have one question before I get someone in here... The apple. What was in it to make me believe you."
"Apples have always been a very important part of my culture-- It was the apple, after all, that first tempted Eve in the Garden."
"I don't care to discuss theology-- least of all with the likes of you."
"Well, it worked, didn't it? Your lips are still stained bloody-red from the apple. I always prided myself on things like--"
I reached for the buzzer, "They'll believe me. They'll take you away. You'll die for your crime."
"Not so fast, Beatrice," she whispered, as I pushed the button, only to find that nothing happened, "Do you honestly think I would leave that thing the way it is? I cut the wires right after I arrived here."
"I can still scream. They'll come for me. They'll find you, and--"
She laughed, cutting me off, "I followed you here to get rid of you once and for all."
" 'Get rid of me!' " I repeated, "What in the fuck do you mean? KILL ME NOW!"
"No, I'll be generous-- I have other ways of disposing of you-- of sending you away, I mean. I was going to kill you before, but I suppose I've changed my mind... I hope you can survive for just a little bit there... Who knows? It might be fun watching you squirm, and I assure you, I'll be there soon to dispose of you for forever. Keep an eye out for me."
"WHAT IN THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? A FUCKING WITCH?"
"Hey! Patient #212 is acting up!" a voice called from outside the closed door.
"See?" Jacqueline hissed, "They're coming for you."
She ran over to her chair, and picked up the pocket-mirror, "Now, they'll be looking for you, but they'll never find you where I'm sending you."
"WHERE?" I roared.
And she smashed the strange mirror over my head; knocking me unconscious for a second time in two hours. Though I was unconscious, I saw and felt everything that followed.
My body felt as if it had been encased in hot, molten, liquid glass, and suddenly my stepmother's black outfit became fur, and her ears became pointed, and she shrunk down in size, and she became the black cat. No, she was the black cat.
Then, my world disappeared, and my uncomfortable bed became a grassy field. Then everything disappeared; becoming black. I truly was unconscious NOW.
