Disclaimer: The character of Albert Shaw does not belong to me.
Even Killers Have Broken Hearts
By 1980, Albert Shaw was known for one thing.
The Grabber.
But ten years earlier, in 1970, he was known in the oncology ward of the Denver Community Hospital for a different reason. He was the father of the favorite patient of all the nurses on the ward, Natalie Shaw.
Natalie had a fighting spirit that every nurse on the ward admired. Being a somewhat small community hospital, some of the nurses had even been there six years earlier for Natalie's premature birth. It had been quite certain by everyone in the hospital involved with Natalie's case that she would not live the night. When she did live the night, they were certain she wouldn't live to be a week old. But Natalie proved them all wrong, going home with her father at exactly one month old.
Albert Shaw had been an unusual figure in his and Natalie's small community. There were whispers of where Albert's wife, Lucia, had gone after Natalie was born, but no one ever dared ask the truth. Albert made a comfortable living, good enough to provide him and Natalie with a small, cozy house at the end of the street. Natalie had a few friends, mainly ones that she made at nursery school while her daddy worked. Natalie had occasionally been invited to play dates, but she spent most of the time she wasn't at school at home with her father.
Had any of the parents on the street known what had been going on in Albert's mind, they would have never allowed any of their children near him. Albert had been through things growing up that led him to have certain urges he spent all his time trying to fight. When Lucia had announced her pregnancy to him, Albert had made up his mind-he would provide his son or daughter with the exact opposite upbringing he had been subjected to. He would pour into him or her the love and care which he had never received.
His plan worked well, right up until the latter part of 1969, when Natalie started to get sick.
She had always been a sickly child. It was an unfortunate effect of being born too early, and it was one that Albert surprisingly had adapted to very well. She had frequent colds, and Albert knew what to do each time. A warm bowl of soup, a cup of milk, a warm bath, and a cuddle on the couch with Daddy led Natalie to a good night's sleep and, nine times out of ten, a much happier Natalie in the morning. If she was hurt? Before she had the ability to cry too many tears, Daddy was there with a hug and a tickle that led to the giggles which softened Albert's heart every time.
Halloween 1969 was Albert's first hint that something was wrong. Something was really wrong.
Natalie, now five years old, had been debating what she wanted to be for trick-or-treating for weeks. She'd gone from being a princess to a cowgirl to a nurse to a witch and back to a princess in the course of a week. Albert had finally been forced to put his foot down and make her make a decision on October 28th. He purchased the costume and brought it home, never knowing that having Natalie try it on would be one of the last happy nights of their lives.
Not thinking much of it, Albert had snapped a photo of Natalie that night as she twirled for her Daddy in her princess costume. It became the photo that Albert would keep with him for the rest of his life. It was the last time he remembered having fun with her, not worrying about the future. It was the point in his life that everything truly began to unravel.
At three o'clock exactly the following morning, Albert was awoken from a sound sleep by a crying Natalie. She had gotten out of bed and come to him, shaking and crying. She had a dangerously high fever, a headache, and when she blew her nose, there was blood. A lot of it. Albert didn't even bother to dress Natalie, leaving her in her pajamas as he quickly threw on a shirt and put her in the front passenger seat. The ride to the hospital, normally five minutes, seemed to take Albert hours. Natalie cried steadily the entire way, clinging to her father's arm. Albert swallowed his own fear, assuring Natalie the whole way that she'd be just fine.
The next month of their lives were taken up with doctor's visits, paperwork, and mountains of medications for Natalie, all without a diagnosis.
Natalie cried a little when she couldn't go trick-or-treating, but cheered up when the nurses allowed her to go from station to station and do a mini version of her favorite night of the year. Albert found himself smiling, despite the fear that had taken hold of him and threatened to choke him whenever he was alone. Natalie's fever broke their third night in the hospital, but spiked again after another week. Natalie began to visibly lose weight, despite mostly maintaining her normal appetite. Despite her physical problems, Natalie kept up a somewhat positive attitude. She wanted to color or draw constantly, play games with her father, read books, or work on her schoolwork.
The diagnosis finally came. While Albert was glad to finally have an answer, it brought on a whole new set of fears.
Natalie had an aggresive case of leukemia.
The doctors were clear. Her chances of surviving five years to age ten were fifty-fifty, and that was what the doctor called 'generous'. He recommended taking Natalie out of school and homeschooling her, as she'd have to come back and forth to the hospital constantly for treatment. Albert quickly decided he'd do whatever he had to in order to keep Natalie alive, and a week after her diagnosis, the two of them were sent home.
Life got back to a somewhat normal pattern after that. Natalie wasn't thrilled about being pulled out of school, but Albert promised that she would be able to go back next year. He worked with her on her reading and math skills when she was feeling well enough to do it, which at first was most days of the week. He set aside every Sunday for the two of them to play, a time he would come to cherish later in his life when it was some of the only happiness he had to look back on. He cut down his hours at his grocery store job from five days a week to three, feeling blessed that the house was paid for and he was able to spend more time with Natalie without having to worry about whether or not the bills were paid.
Easter of the next year, Natalie began a gradual downturn.
The fever that had started the entire ordeal came back, and Albert once again rushed her to the Emergency Room in the middle of the night. The doctor broke the news in a compassionate way, but Albert took no note of it then.
Natalie's leukemia was advancing.
For three weeks, Natalie stayed in the hospital. Her vibrant optimism that had been in abundance during their first stay was no longer there. She was sluggish, weak, and in pain. No amount of medicine or comfort from Daddy could stem the tears she cried. Albert left at the same time every day, for thirty minutes, to run home, shower, change clothes, and come right back. He would get a book for Natalie, or a toy, something to try and ease the suffering she was going through or put even a faint wisp of a smile on her face. Nothing worked. Her condition continued to deteriorate, and Albert knew he'd soon have to face the horrible truth.
Natalie was going to die, and it would be soon.
But every day that he walked into the hospital and saw that Natalie was still breathing, he pushed that fear down. She had made it one more day, she could make it another. Because if she didn't make it another day, Albert was certain he wouldn't either.
That tight knot of fear that had settled into Albert's chest on their first hospital visit had never left him. There had been times that it loosened slightly, like when Natalie was smiling and laughing, and times when it would tighten painfully. One of those times was the half hour he spent out of the hospital every day. He knew he needed it, knew that it would do Natalie no good to get himself sick, but when he got back into the car and drove back to the hospital, an invisible fist would take hold of Albert's heart and slowly twist it. By the time he parked the car and walked inside, that knot would be painful but he'd be able to breathe. The worst time was rounding the corner to get into Natalie's room. Albert always worried that Natalie would flatline while he was gone, and the last thing she'd see on Earth would be strangers around her and not her Daddy.
It was on this day, though, that something changed.
When Albert had rounded that dreadful corner every day for the last week, Natalie had been in bed asleep. She would stir slightly when her father came back, maybe offer him a slight smile, but would ultimately go back to sleep. The rest of the day would be spent listening to the various monitors in the room, watching nurses and doctors come to take her vitals every few hours, and trying to plead with Natalie to eat and drink anything.
But when Albert came in that day, Natalie was not only awake, she was sitting up in bed, eating a sandwich and drinking some juice with the help of a nurse Albert had seen on the ward a few times. She had a fever again, evident by the sweat on her face and the hair sticking to her forehead, but when she spotted Albert, she smiled and waved at him. The smile that crossed Albert's face felt foreign to him, but he quickly crossed the room and hugged her.
"Hello, beautiful."
"Hi, Daddy." Natalie said. "You want a bite? Nurse Jamie made it, it's really good."
"No, baby. You eat."
Though her turnaround was something Albert wanted to celebrate, the nurses and doctors were worried. Suddenly turning around was not the sign that most people thought it was. It was a sign, they feared, that Natalie was approaching the end of her life.
Their fears came true two days later.
Albert left once more to go home and shower. Natalie had slipped back into the condition she'd been in when they arrived, but Albert had hope now. She had gotten better before, she could do it again. So when he left that day, he was confident he'd come back thirty minutes later, refreshed and ready to take on another day.
But he didn't come back in thirty minutes.
Albert hadn't slept in his own bed in weeks. He got out of the shower and felt slightly guilty when the urge to take a nap seemed overpowering. He called the hospital and was assured that Natalie would be just fine, to go ahead and take a quick nap and they'd call him if he needed to come back right away. Yawning, Albert set his alarm clock to wake him up in thirty minutes exactly, and took note of the time. By four that afternoon, he'd be back by Natalie's side.
When Albert awoke hours later, it took a few seconds for him to realize where he was. It was dark outside, and the phone was ringing. It rang three times more before Albert thought to get up and answer it. He wondered what was wrong with him, as his head felt heavy and foggy. He checked the time and gasped; it was after seven. He'd slept for almost four hours. Throwing on his shoes, Albert grabbed the phone and answered it impatiently.
"Hello."
The news took Albert to his knees. He needed to get back to the hospital immediately. An hour after he'd left, Natalie had stopped breathing. The doctors had tried hard to revive her, but she was gone. Albert was led down to the morgue, where he was left alone with Natalie to 'say goodbye', as if that was something he'd ever be able to do. He said nothing for quite a few minutes, just stood next to the cold table Natalie lay on and stroked her hair. Even though the body on the table looked nothing like the Natalie he remembered, he wanted to take in every last detail he could.
The small birthmark underneath her eye was still there. She'd asked him once what it was, and Albert had told her on the spur of the moment that it was a princess mark, and that it meant she would always be daddy's princess. Her shoulder length blonde hair had somehow survived the rounds of chemotherapy she'd gone through, though it was noticeably thinner than it had been when she was healthy. Finally, Albert choked out his final words to Natalie.
"I'm so sorry I left you today, baby. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. You must have been so scared, wondering where Daddy was. I'll never forgive myself for that, even though I know you would."
The next few days were a haze in Albert's memory. His brother came into town and helped him arrange Natalie's funeral. Most of the moms in the neighborhood showed up, offering their worthless condolences to Albert. Albert stood at the graveside, staring down as they buried Natalie's casket. He somehow fought the urge to jump into the grave with her, and headed home to bask in his own misery.
He wasn't sure what made him first think of it. There had been countless doctors and nurses in and out of Natalie's room in the days before her death. Albert had stopped keeping track of them, choosing instead to keep his focus on Natalie. But a face started to creep itself into his memory.
The nurse that had been there the day Natalie seemed to get better? He had never seen her before.
Albert looked through the pile of paperwork that he'd received from the hospital. He had put it on the counter in the kitchen, as he did with mail and bills, to be sorted through later. A part of him had believed that if he kept it in there, then maybe he wouldn't have to fully accept that Natalie was gone. But he began to rifle through the papers, not knowing exactly what he was looking for at first. It was buried at the bottom of the pile, and Albert read every word of it three times before the meaning finally came through to him.
At the bottom of Natalie's autopsy report, there was one line-patient has a larger than usual amount of medication in her system.
Albert's grief shattered in that instant. He was no longer led by sadness or grief.
He wanted revenge.
He didn't have a plan of attack, just drove straight back to the hospital and waited. The nurse finally came out and headed to her car. Albert got out, grabbed her, and threw her in the back of his car. He dragged her inside, finding it miraculous that none of his neighbors heard her screaming. He threw her down the stairs and into the basement of the house, where he promptly landed a punch to her face that knocked her out. Deciding that he suddenly had all the time in the world, Albert waited patiently for her to wake up.
An hour later, she did. A day later, she admitted it. She had been watching Natalie's case closely. When she had rallied that day, the nurse had known what was coming. Natalie would get sick again, probably suffer, and likely die. Wanting to make Natalie's suffering end as soon as possible, she had slipped Albert half a sleeping pill in the water he was drinking at the hospital. Not enough to knock him out for long, but long enough to do what she felt she needed to do. When she received the call that Albert would be a few minutes later than normal, she'd put her plan into action. She'd given Natalie a double dose of morphine when no one was looking, and forty minutes later, she was pronounced dead.
Albert said nothing at her confession for nearly a full minute. He then walked across the room, delivered a slap to her face that made her scream and fall back, then asked one more question.
"How many other children have you killed?"
The nurse, still fearful, answered in barely above a squeak. "Seven."
The nurse, whose name Albert never bothered to remember, had a quick death. Albert took the knife out he'd had in his pocket, slit her throat, and watched her bleed onto the floor of the basement. It was there that the first tendrils of his plan began to take place.
He'd killed the monster who'd killed his baby. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough.
A part of Albert's heart had died when Natalie did. He had thought it would just become hard, that he would simply live out the rest of his life ignoring people and die quietly by himself one day. But instead, a darkness came to rest over Albert Shaw that day. A darkness that had always been there, but which Albert had worked diligently to hide in order to give Natalie the best life she could have. Now that Natalie was gone, there was no reason to continue to fight his demons so hard.
He'd need them soon, after all.
He would have to take children, seven of them, healthy ones. He'd take them and take their lives from them. He'd hurt them some, not a lot, but just enough that he was able to give someone else a little bit of the hurt he was now destined to live with forever. He knew he couldn't start right away. Taking the nurse had been reckless, and he'd have to come up with a plan. It might take years, but eventually, he'd do it.
Taking in a deep, calming breath, Albert nodded, then proceeded to come up with a plan to bury the nurse.