Albany placed the clothes she had gathered into a rucksack and looked around the bedroom. She remembered Jerome mentioning she should look under the bed. She knelt down and lifted the cream sheet from the side of the bed so she could see underneath. She saw a box. She reached in and brought it out, placing it on the bed. Her fingers grasped the handle and she lifted the lid. Inside was a gun, some bullets, and a knife. Her eyes widened. "Why does he need these?" she asked aloud. She decided not to question his request and shoved the items into the rucksack, hiding them under the shirt she had also placed inside. She zipped it up and threw it onto her shoulder. She looked around the apartment once more, thinking of anything else he might need. Her eyes landed on a newspaper clipping. She squinted and took a closer look, it was from the local newspaper.
The article told of the discovery of a body in an apartment not too far from where she was. The victim was identified as Paul Cicero. He had been found in his apartment sat on a chair, he had been stabbed in the eye.
Albany wondered what significance this had to Jerome. She picked it up.
Images shot into her mind.
"This is Doctor Albany Lux speaking. The twelfth is the tenth of April 2016. I am situated in lab 306 with patient 826. The patient is able to feel certain parts of his body. On last inspection, the patient could not feel anything on his legs. I am hopeful that this will change in a few days." She pressed the record button to stop the recording. She turned her attention to Jerome. "So," she began, "not only did you kill Mommy, but daddy also?" she placed her hands on her hips. "Any step parents?" she took his hand and placed her other on his thigh. "Can you feel that?" she felt Jerome squeeze her hand once. "You were a bit hesitant there, does that mean you can only faintly feel it?" she felt another single squeeze. "Well, it's progress." She began to replace the empty drip bag. "You never answered me last night. I'm expecting an answer tonight you know?"
Albany rubbed her eye and yawned. Writing up notes was not her idea of fun. She sat back in her chair and picked up her cup of coffee. She inhaled the rich smell before taking a sip. She missed the table when she put the cup down. The hot coffee spilt all over her desk and onto the floor. "Oh shit!" she jumped up and tried to save the wad of papers she had scrawled notes on. "Shit, shit, shit!" she ran into her bathroom and grabbed a towel, she returned and tried to mop up as much as she could. She realized it had seeped into the top drawer of her desk. Once she had cleaned the majority of the liquid up, she opened the top drawer. She pulled out as much as she could, but paused when she came across a photograph in a wooden frame. At that moment she forgot about the coffee dripping into the draw. She reached in and brought out the photo.
It was a fair haired woman in her mid twenties. She wore a red and white polka-dot dress and shiny red high heels.
Albany smiled at the happy looking woman, her mother. Albany had few memories of her mother; she had died in a tragic car accident when Albany was seven years old. From that moment on it was just her and her father. That's when the abuse began. She turned the frame over and unclipped the back. She pulled the photo out and wiped the front of it to get the drops of coffee off of it. She unfolded the photo and saw her father next to her mother. "You were a fat bastard then, you're a fat bastard now," she muttered through gritted teeth. She tore the half of the photo with her father off, screwed it up into a ball and threw it across the room. She placed the remainder of the torn photograph back into its frame and set it on her table.
Albany looked down to see she was sitting on a carousel horse, it was slowly turning. She could see the other stalls of the circus surrounding her, a large number of people bustles about them. She looked around for Jerome, but she couldn't find him anywhere. There was, however, another figure. The first time she passed it she couldn't identify who it was. The figure gradually began to become clearer to her every time the carousel turned.
The figure was a large man, a cheap business suit, greasy hair and a bottle in hand.
She watched as he took a swing from it every now and again.
Once the bottle was empty, he approached the ride.
She counted every step.
He was right beside the carousel.
The man reached out and pulled himself onto the ride.
Albany jumped off of her horse, not caring that the floor was still moving. She fell to the floor. Her head began to spin even more when she saw the figure, now recognised as her father, standing on the other side of the horse. She scurried back until she came to the edge of the ride. She looked down at the spinning floor. If she was to fall off, she would no doubt have severe injuries. The ride was faster than any she had been on before. She turned her head and looked for the figure of her father. It took her no time to find him clambering over the horses to get to her.
He placed his feet firmly on the ground after swinging his leg over a pink horse. He loomed above her.
Albany's hand slipped from the edge of the carousel's floor. She whipped it back to her chest when her fingertips caught the ground. She looked down at her fingers, her nails were chipped and the tips of her fingers were covered in a few drops of blood. She clutched her hand with the other and looked for another place to go.
She failed to find one.
She watched helplessly as her father's feet moved towards her. She spotted another pair of feet beside him. She looked up to see Jerome lunging at her father with a knife.
The man dropped to the floor, blood spilling onto the surrounding horses.
Her eyes met Jerome's.
He held out a hand. "You do me a favour, I will do one for you."
Albany took another look at her father's body. After a deep breath, she took his hand.
Jerome laughed and placed his hands on her chest.
Albany felt him push his hands on her, forcing her off of the carousel.
"Wake up!"
Albany awoke with the feeling of shock. She felt pain in her hand. She looked down to see her fingernails were chipped, her fingertips had dried blood on them.