Fist of the Spider Woman by Amber Dawn

herself in the mirror as black blood trickled down her face.
    It took all the strength left in her arms to reach for the bathroom door. It wasn’t locked anymore, and the light that spilled in reminded her that there was indeed light in the world. She stumbled out, unaware that she was hyperventilating until her vision blurred and darkened. She rested her head against the doorframe and gathered herself. As soon as she could walk, she ran, grabbing the things she needed this time.
    Lila was still looking at her.
    â€œYes, I cleaned it. I’m not stupid,” Kate answered. “Stop staring at me, it’s creeping me out. Don’t you have work to do or something?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m doing,” Lila said. She pulled a file from under her arm and tossed it on top of Kate’s keyboard. “Check out your new patient up here, honey. You won’t believe it.”
    â€œMarlene Davidson, thirty-seven years old,” Kate read, “lacerations, possibly self-inflicted, possible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder … holy shit, this is the woman who—”
    â€œSurvived the Surgeon,” Lila finished, grinning. “One and the same. Her family isn’t letting her talk to the press, but yours truly knows why she’s being transferred up here. It’s not just to get her away from the public eye and give her counselling to help her adjust.”
    Kate’s eyes sped over the file. And froze when she read the initial doctor’s concluding evaluation.
    â€œYep,” Lila said, seeing that she had reached the juiciest information. “She actually said that the Surgeon was Mary Worth.
    Isn’t that just sad? Imagine, Bloody Mary. Did you ever play that game when you were a kid? I was always afraid to try.”
    What Kate was doing was not permitted. She was neither a nurse nor a doctor; she had no business entering any patient’s room unless she had someone else present or there was an emergency.
    She stood outside the door, her hands gripping her sleeves. Finally, when the coast was clear, Kate unlocked the private room and slipped inside. It was a small room without much in the way of decoration except for flowers in a plastic vase. The bed was propped up, and Marlene was reading a book. Her right hand trembled violently as she turned the page. She looked up at Kate as she came closer and waited for Kate to explain herself, her ragged expression troubled but almost trusting.
    â€œI’m sorry to bother you,” Kate murmured. She tried not to stare. She knew that disfigured patients never liked it. But it was hard not to. “I don’t mean to …”
    Marlene’s face immediately changed. “I see. You’re here because you think I’m crazy.” She had a slight lisp because of her missing lips, but Kate could understand her perfectly.
    â€œNo, no, no, nothing like that.”
    â€œOr you want to see what she did to me.” Marlene’s voice was rough and accusing, but underneath was a note of self-deprecation.
    â€œDo you think you’re crazy?” Kate asked.
    â€œBloody fucking Mary nearly killed me. I was there. It’s not the sort of thing you just forget.” Marlene carefully rested her head against her pillow and exhaled at the ceiling. “Of course I think I’m crazy.”
    Kate pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, hugging Marlene’s file to her chest. “Do you … do you mind telling me about it?”
    Marlene did not move her head, but her eyes turned to look at Kate. In the midst of her mutilated face, they looked particularly bright blue. Kate was once again struck by the odd thought that the face—like that of the woman in the mirror—was beautiful. Kate’s arms pebbled with goosebumps.
    â€œYou’re not a doctor, are you? You’re not even a nurse,” Marlene said.
    Kate shook her head.
    â€œWhy do you want to know?” Marlene