42.

~ "So you've spent a week interviewing Norman Bates, going over our notes and treatment plans from the past two decades." Doctor West said with some indignation at having his professional reputation spurned by the much younger and more famous Doctor Romero. "What are your findings?"

Julian adjusted his reading glasses and looked over his notes.

"Firstly, the treatment plans are a joke." he said scathingly. "Doctor West, you've hardly seen your patient in the past year except to sign off on progress reports, all of which are done by unqualified staff members. These staff members are not medical experts, some of them have barely graduated high school."

West looked liked he'd been slapped and Julian went on.
"Oh, I did my research, Doctor West. I asked around. You're hardly on the floor except to scribble notes here and there. You delegate authority to staff far too much. You've got several patients here who you haven't seen in over a year, but you have documentation with medicare stating they you have seen them and they need to stay in county care. You'll be happy to know I've already sent notice to the licensing board about this matter." Julian said smartly.

The board of county looked around. West had been an attending for three decades. He was unmovable as a rock.

"It's called gross neglect of your duties, Doctor West. I hope you lose your license." Julian said.

West went slightly pale but said nothing.

"You weren't here to judge the competency of our doctors. Many of who oversee hundreds of patients, Doctor Romero." the chairman of the board interrupted.

"You have four in house doctors with clinic privileges." Julian snapped back. "You have three hundred and twenty-five patients here at county. That's about eighty-one patients per doctor. You're telling me these four doctors can't see six patients a day, five days a weeks for a month? That would be more than enough to clear the back log."

There was a silence that seemed to echo though the large meeting room that Julian saw was well furnished and nice looking. Nothing at all like the rest of the hospital.

"Don't worry, I'm putting all of that in my report to the state. I'm also putting in the disgraceful condition of what you're feeding these residents here. Nutrition is still important and I'm shocked they haven't gotten scurvy. Inmates in prison eat better than these men." Julian said.

"We have to follow diet restrictions due to medications" West interrupted.
"I'm glad you brought up medications." Julian said. He adjusted his glasses and looked over a list of names. "I've counted at least fifteen men, including Norman Bates, who's teeth have rotted out due to poor nutrition and medication who's side effects erodes the teeth. Medication that you know has these side effects. There are drugs out there that have the same effect without rotting their teeth, Doctors."

"Very expensive, medications, Doctor Romero." The chairman reminded him. "We are a county run-."

"At the expense of these men's teeth?" Julian barked.

The chairman looked unimpressed with Julian. The younger man could threaten the board all he wanted but they both knew nothing would come of it. These doctors were paid terribly and were willing to work for less because they simply didn't care and were lazy in their duties.

The county and the state didn't have the money to put into the old mental home anymore. It was a crumbling old building where crazy men were shut away until they started to decay themselves.

"We appreciate your concerns on our facility and we'll take them under advisement. For now, your report on Norman Bates, if you don't mind." The chairman hissed. "He's up for evaluation and we need to know if he's component enough to stand trial."

"He is." Julian said automatically. "The 'Mother' personality isn't real. She'd simply a tool he used. No different than a knife or hammer. He was well aware of wanting to hurt his victims long before the 'Mother' device came into play."

Julian brought out Norman's sketch book. All the interesting sketches he'd looked over of and made notes on.

"To assume Norman Bates is innocent is exactly what he wants. He was always in control. When Madeline disrupted his fantasy of a submissive housewife by being too sexual, she had to go." Julian held up a perfectly poised drawing of a beautiful Madeline in her demure dress that went past her knees. Nothing risky here.

"It was when he saw her as something impure, something beyond his control, he realized he had to get rid of her." Julian brought up Norman's handmade porn drawing of Madeline. Another hidden drawing he found. This one of her nude and looking at herself in the mirror; her modest clothing wrinkled on the floor was very symbolic to Julian. Like a casting away of innocence and allowing wolves to devour her.

The older men flinched away from the nude drawing. Clearly shocked.

"He drew this some years ago." Julian explained quickly. "Norman also said he was wanted to train the Lawson runaway to take Madeline's place. That she was young and could learn. But, when he found out she wasn't as innocent as he wanted her to be, he realized he had to get rid of her and had 'Mother' do it for him. Like I said, the 'Mother' persona, is just a tool."

Julian showed them the drawing of the sinister creature in the bedroom sitting in a rocking chair.

"So, Norman Bates is sane enough to stand trial?" Doctor West asked.

"Yes, but I doubt it will ever come to that." Julian huffed.

"How so?" the chairman asked.

Julian shrugged.

"He'd been in this institution for twenty-five years. He's been a model prisoner. No outbursts of violence and he's never tried to escape. There's no reason to remove him now; and put him under the stress of a trial." Doctor Romero said. "I'll be recommending he stay here at county, but that his medication be changed. I'll also be sending in the report to the state."

Julian carefully organized Norman's drawings and put them neatly back into the portfolio before leaving.

~ Norman Bates didn't really care for drawing, but there wasn't much he could do here that would pass the time. He'd been thankful for Doctor Romero with the half dozen book he'd devoured like a starving man. Classics mostly. Beautiful books about whaling ships and great Greek battles.
"Norman?" came a soft voice. A voice he remembered and associated with a Sheriff's SUV. But when he turned around, he was happy to see Doctor Romero had returned with his portfolio.

"You came back." Norman said happily. "I'm glad. I'm almost finished with this and I wanted you to have it."

Doctor Romero sat Norman's portfolio on the table and looked at the intricate owl Norman had spent the past two week sketching. All the detail and shadows were perfect. It's talons looked like it was ready to snatch a mouse out of the soft earth at any second.

"It's… beautiful." Doctor Romero said. "Thank you."

"I wanted to do something. For the books. You have no idea what they mean to me. It's… such a gift." Norman said.
"I'll make sure you keep getting them. Don't worry." Doctor Romero told him. "I'm going to have a caretaker come in a bring them to you. He's going to bring you some better food to when you see him. Fruits and vegetables; that sort of thing."

"You're leaving." Norman said. It wasn't a question. Just a fact. Everyone left him. Why should Doctor Romero be any different?

"Afraid so." the younger man said. "But I enjoyed out time together. I enjoyed talking to you. I really liked your drawings."

"That sounds rehearsed." Norman spat and pushed aside his beautiful owl drawing and went to work rudely sketching something else. "You say that to all the killers you see?"

"I thought you weren't a killer, Norman." Doctor Romero said gently.

Norman shifted in his seat.

"Well, there is overwhelming evidence to the contrary, Doctor Romero." he said.

He looked at the young, handsome doctor, his dark hair and eyes, his perfectly sculpted cheekbones, his soft voice when he needed it to be. Then his nose. That odd little nose Norman had drawn a hundred times over. He'd noticed right away and said nothing. He wouldn't let Doctor Romero go without saying something now.

"Is our mother still alive?" he asked soberly. Tears swelling up shamefully in his eyes.

The younger man was quite a moment. He took hold of the owl drawing. Norman's gift to his brother.

"Yes." Doctor Romero said in that soft whisper that reminded Norman of a certain Sheriff he hated so much. "She's alive. So is he; my Dad. They've been very happy together."

Norman gripped the charcoal tightly. If it had been a knife he would have slashed the younger man's throat. The blood would have splattered over the walls of this dank art room and he would have rejoiced to see Julian Romero, son of Norma and Alex Romero, bleed out before his eyes.

"Well, she traded up." Norman breathed at last.
"Don't say that." Doctor Romero told him. "She did her best by you."

"Is that what she told you?"

"That's what the evidence told me." Romero said. "That you left a very nice treatment facility after a year and a half of your own will. That you refused medication and neglected appointments with your out patient doctor. You were a grown man so it was your choice. She didn't abandon you, Norman. She just let you go, she had to; to save herself. To save me."

Norman glanced at his half brother and all he could see was that awful Sheriff Romero. That smug expression of a man who forced his beautiful mother to do things with him just for insurance.

"She only married him for insurance." he said. "She never really loved him."

Doctor Romero rolled his eyes.
"Tell yourself whatever you want, Norman." he said.

Doctor Romero looked at the owl drawing.

"Thank you for this. I'll still send you books, a helper will still come to check on your well being and send reports, I'll have a medical doctor come see you next month to do a full exam and a dentist will come fit you for dentures." the younger man said. "I'm sorry but I doubt we'll ever see each other again."

Norman was silent. He had a million questions. Why didn't his mother contact him after the arrest? Why didn't she come see him here in this awful place? Why didn't they move him back to PineView?

"Goodbye, Norman." Romero said and he was gone. The last family Norman Bates had walked out of his life forever.

~ It was raining in Seattle when Julian called his mother. He was examining the beautiful detail of the owl and decided it wasn't so majestic after all. It wasn't an owl in flight as he first thought. I wasn't free in the open air hunting mice like a normal owl would.

The more Julian examined it, the more he saw it was a drawing of one of Norman Bates' taxidermy creations. Oddities that had vanished from police lock up and remerged over the years on the dark web selling for thousands of dollars. Especially valuable, were the ones photographed with Rebecca in the large freezer.

Humans were morbid. There was no escaping that. And there was nothing wrong with that. Humans enjoy the macabre and the spooky. It's why kids love haunted houses and why there will always be goth girls in every high school in America. Its' fun to touch the surface of darkness, so long as it doesn't pull you in. So long as the darkness doesn't drown you.

Norman lived in the darkness now. He was apart of it. The more Julian looked at this strange, magnificent drawing the more it struck him as out of place with the rest of his work.

He could have done the owl as something alive and free, but he'd chosen to make it a dead thing. Chosen to make it posed and perched on a wall with faded drab wallpaper instead of clear sky.

Chosen to make it's wings spread forever, it's talons in its' kill position. It's glass eyes staring, but not seeing.

Norman, a man who'd stuffed birds as well as his best friend, had chosen to give Julian this odd gift of a dead and mounted owl.

It's meaning was clear. Julian, all knowing and wise like the owl, would have been a perfect addition to Norman's taxidermy collection. If Norman Bates had his way, Doctor Romero would have been in that freezer right next to Rebecca, if not worse.

~ His mother picked up on the second ring, she was good about that.

"Honey!" she gasped in delight. "Are you home? Did you eat? Are you keeping warm? It's raining here in Seattle."

"I'm home, Mom." Julian smiled happy to hear his mother's worried voice.
"Your father doesn't want that home helper to come by." his mother said and Julian could picture her clutching her locket like she always did when she was worried. "You know how he hates strange men in the house."

"Mom?" Julian asked. He'd have to deal with all this tomorrow. Having aging parents was like caring for children sometimes.

"What is it?" Norman Romero asked.

"Who didn't we ever talk about Norman? I mean, we never really talked about him. Not really." Julian asked. He felt a little childish, but he wanted to be comforted like a child would be just now.
"Oh, sweetheart." his mother sighed. "You have to understand, we were in agony over it. We didn't know for sure if Norman was dangerous, or if maybe I was an overbearing mother. Don't think that hadn't crossed my mind when I was expecting you."

Julian sat back in his desk chair and looked at his laptop screen. A blank laptop screen.

"The truth is, Norman had these horrible black outs over the years. He would do things. Hurt people and not remember it. I didn't know how to deal with them and I thought someone would come and take him away." she explained.

"Because he killed his father." Julian reminded her.

"Norman was defending me." his mother scolded. "Then, it was like I'd gotten in too deep. I was too busy protecting him, I couldn't help him anymore. The next thing I knew he was a grown man and I had no say so. I married your father in the hopes of getting him real help and it worked for a while. Then, we found out we were expecting you. I knew, I knew down to my bones that if Norman ever found out about you that he would hurt you. It killed me that he could never be around you. That you could never have the brother you deserved. Norman could be so sweet when he wanted to be." she explained sadly and Julian suspected she was crying.

"When you found out what he did, how did you feel?" he asked. He never asked about Norman and knew he never would again. This was his last chance.

"Like my son had died in PineView and this other person had stolen his name." she said bitterly. "Honestly, that's what I told myself. Dylan said it was a good thing the media thought his mother was dead. They never came after us. Can you imagine? All he did? That poor woman in the freezer? It could have just as easily have been any one of us. It kept me up most nights. I kept checking on you. I had terrible dreams and your father kept checking the locks."

"I remember." Julian said.

"I never plan to go see him." she said. "Because I can't forgive him for what he did. For what he did to those women. It was too much. Before I was never sure and I blamed myself for most of it. For being overbearing or smothering him too much; never letting him have a girlfriend. When he killed those women, he became something else. Something horrible."

Julian was well aware of his mother's overbearing nature. It had been tempered by his father's even temper. Something he was always thankful for.

"It's why you're in this terrible profession." his mother sighed. "Interviewing killers and writing those awful books."

Julian rolled his eyes.

"I love you, mom." he laughed. "I write those books for you. Remember?"

"I know. I know you write them because of Norman." she sniffed. "But your father and I want you to find a nice girl and settle down, Julian. No more murders. Your depression was so bad when you were at Columbia. That suicide attempt nearly broke your father's heart. Mine to. If we had lost you..."

"I know." Julian said humbly. The darkness followed him like it followed Norman sometimes.

"Find a nice girl. Emma and Dylan never had kids and I want to be a grandmother." Norma Romero said in annoyance.

"Mom, I love you but I'm not going to get married and bring a child into the world just to make you happy."

"Why not?" she argued.

~ Ten Years Later ~

~ Days like this, Norman Bates and that awful mental hospital seemed very far away. Days like this, when the sun was shining and Zelda's garden was growing wild and unchecked, Julian wondered if he'd dreamed his former life. That maybe that former life had been a mistake or a practice life and this was his real life.

In this new life, was a little white stucco cottage, hidden in the woods was like something out of a fairytale. Zelda was quite possibly a forest nymph only pretending to be human for a few years. She certainly looked the part with her cascading hair of dark ringlets that went all the way to her waist and she never seemed to wear shoes, or even know where they were most of the time.

They couple had met at Julian's publisher in New York. Zelda looking out of place in the drabness and hostility of the city. She wrote books for teenagers but they were hardly dystopian survival BS. They were realistic and moving. The protagonist had parents who were alcoholics, strippers and druggies. People who were homeless and poor and who's mothers were hookers and fathers were abusive. Dark books but wildly popular.

Things Zelda had experienced in her own life being a ward of the state at age ten and having to grown up in foster care. How she'd escaped such a horrible fate was simple enough. She wrote a best selling book about the foster care system at age eighteen. Won all the awards for it, kept writing and her books were turned into movies. A few years later she met an older man at her publishers. A once wildly popular doctor who was absolutely smitten and a little embarrassed by his graying hair.

Without much thought, she took him home with her. To her secluded cottage in the woods that felt as if it had been there for a century.

Julian had been mired in another episode of depression. A darkness he couldn't explain but Zelda had pulled him out of it. She'd cooked for him, made love to him and he was oddly happy.

He started to write again. No more books about killers. His failed attempt to write about Norman Bates, and uninteresting killer who hung himself in a county psych ward eight years before had been his last time attempting anything.

Now, as his always wise mother had suggested, he wrote about resources for families who didn't have insurance and posted it for free online. It felt good, so it became a crusade. He started small, giving online advice like a 'Dear Abby' column and then bigger things came back to him.

He got call backs to write a book again. Not about killers but about real issues. Things that mattered to families. Was it something to worry about it if the kid acted up in school? Was it overbearing if mom did the kids homework?

Julian felt slightly unprepared for this seeing how he wasn't a parent, a situation Zelda felt the need to remedy.

So, much to her grandmother's delight and joy, Sadie Romero toddled around the cottage garden. Every bit the carbon copy of her mother. Shinny black ringlets and all. Julian had to wonder if it was possible this child was in fact some kind of fairy, she was so enchanting. But, she would screw up her face when angry, and he could see his own mother all over again.

He father had been very pleased with Sadie to. The memory loss had thankfully slowed with mew medication and he always remembered the important people in his life. Although if Sadie grew too much in-between visits, he deemed it must unfair.

Julian knew the sun was setting for both his parents and they were thankful they had their grandchild. His mother proclaiming loudly to Sadie that she wished she'd had a lovely little girl just like her.

On days like this, Julian wouldn't remember Norman Bates. Wouldn't remember that drawing of a taxidermy owl or the way Rebecca Hamilton's face looked on the slab. Wouldn't think about how his parents time was running out and that his father confessed to him last week that he'd stolen all this happiness and he didn't deserve it.

No, today, he'd go inside, demand Zelda marry him again and if she said yes finally he'd give her his mother's wedding ring. A ring the older Mrs. Romero had eagerly given him when he first moved in with Zelda. If Zelda said no, which she always did with a smile, he'd kiss her and ask again tomorrow. They'd eat the supper she would make. He'd play Disney songs for Sadie on the old piano till it was bath time and bed time. Then Zelda would write and he would write until it was time to go to bed.

Zelda would make love to him, her hair smelling like her garden and sunlight. Their home peaceful and a world away from the horrors he used to know. The darkness he used to seek out. It felt odd to be this happy. He understood what his father meant about a happiness being stolen. A happiness he hadn't deserved but he could never part with.

~ END ~