to suppress her need to be with him.
She looked at her phone. There was a voice message from Twig. She punched in the voicemail code and listened, her heart racing.
She heard some sounds, and some conversation. Twig’s phone must have speed-dialed her in his pocket. Or he had wanted her to hear what he was hearing. She turned the volume of the phone up all the way up. She heard a muffled discussion, followed by some loud crashing noises, and then the piercing sound of a woman screaming. She listened while the message grew silent. Suddenly she heard the unmistakable sound of police shouting orders. “Lay down! Hands on your head!” Zara sighed and started to feel tears forming in her eyes. A moment later she heard the deep man’s voice again. “Don’t worry Nick. I have many friends at Whispering Pines. Seems we are both to have a family reunion.”
Zara felt dizzy and sick. That must have been Damon’s voice. Alive and well. She had heard of Whispering Pines before. It was a psychiatric facility about twenty minutes north of Denver where the suicidal and violent usually wound up. She had heard stories before of shock therapy and other horrors that she had always dismissed as High School rumors. But now, with someone she cared for within its works, she felt a sudden dread they might all be true.
With Micah and his pals upstairs admiring a set of French guillotines, Zara had her chance. She ran back to the set of stairs that led down to the first floor and flew down them, bounding six steps at a time with ease. She was much stronger since the last flush of painful sensations had shot through her body. She guessed this… metamorphosis , took place in stages. When she got to the front door, she found it fairly easy to kick it off its hinges. She raced across the dark parking lot, her mind twisting around like a dust devil.
She opened the driver’s door to the Porsche, minding her newfound strength, and hopped in. When she started the car a thumping dubstep beat began to play on the stereo and vibrate the car. She looked back up at the museum one last time before she peeled out of the parking lot. The moon was full and high in the night sky. In a few moments she was on the highway heading north.
21.
Vivian Caspari stood impatiently at the counter. The girl at the computer was new, pretty, and a very slow typist. She was using one finger to tap on the keyboard, and finding each letter took her all the concentration usually reserved for finding Waldo.
Vivian checked her watch. Almost midnight. She was worried. Lately Damon had started to ask questions about her ballroom dancing class, what steps she taught, and so on. He had become increasingly suspicious since his awakening, and each day his power to see into her mind grew stronger. But if he had known she had come to see… him , he might finally do away with her.
The girl finally looked up from her computer screen. “I’m so sorry for the wait Miss Caspari, I have found your clearance.” She peeled a red sticker off a roll of tape that said W-5 GUEST, and handed it to Vivian.
“Don’t worry that pretty little face over it, darling girl. But do go into the bathroom after I leave, and smash it against the mirror. Do it several times.”
“I will do that. Thank you,” the girl said, sitting there with a vacant look on her face. The buzzer over the door leading into the ward buzzed loudly and the door opened. Vivian strode through the doorway—the sound of her stiletto heels against the linoleum floor filled the hallway and the lobby. The young girl turned and went to the bathroom.
Doctor Jenson was still engrossed in his crossword when Vivian strode into his office. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed her standing over his desk, looking down at him
She looked at her phone. There was a voice message from Twig. She punched in the voicemail code and listened, her heart racing.
She heard some sounds, and some conversation. Twig’s phone must have speed-dialed her in his pocket. Or he had wanted her to hear what he was hearing. She turned the volume of the phone up all the way up. She heard a muffled discussion, followed by some loud crashing noises, and then the piercing sound of a woman screaming. She listened while the message grew silent. Suddenly she heard the unmistakable sound of police shouting orders. “Lay down! Hands on your head!” Zara sighed and started to feel tears forming in her eyes. A moment later she heard the deep man’s voice again. “Don’t worry Nick. I have many friends at Whispering Pines. Seems we are both to have a family reunion.”
Zara felt dizzy and sick. That must have been Damon’s voice. Alive and well. She had heard of Whispering Pines before. It was a psychiatric facility about twenty minutes north of Denver where the suicidal and violent usually wound up. She had heard stories before of shock therapy and other horrors that she had always dismissed as High School rumors. But now, with someone she cared for within its works, she felt a sudden dread they might all be true.
With Micah and his pals upstairs admiring a set of French guillotines, Zara had her chance. She ran back to the set of stairs that led down to the first floor and flew down them, bounding six steps at a time with ease. She was much stronger since the last flush of painful sensations had shot through her body. She guessed this… metamorphosis , took place in stages. When she got to the front door, she found it fairly easy to kick it off its hinges. She raced across the dark parking lot, her mind twisting around like a dust devil.
She opened the driver’s door to the Porsche, minding her newfound strength, and hopped in. When she started the car a thumping dubstep beat began to play on the stereo and vibrate the car. She looked back up at the museum one last time before she peeled out of the parking lot. The moon was full and high in the night sky. In a few moments she was on the highway heading north.
21.
Vivian Caspari stood impatiently at the counter. The girl at the computer was new, pretty, and a very slow typist. She was using one finger to tap on the keyboard, and finding each letter took her all the concentration usually reserved for finding Waldo.
Vivian checked her watch. Almost midnight. She was worried. Lately Damon had started to ask questions about her ballroom dancing class, what steps she taught, and so on. He had become increasingly suspicious since his awakening, and each day his power to see into her mind grew stronger. But if he had known she had come to see… him , he might finally do away with her.
The girl finally looked up from her computer screen. “I’m so sorry for the wait Miss Caspari, I have found your clearance.” She peeled a red sticker off a roll of tape that said W-5 GUEST, and handed it to Vivian.
“Don’t worry that pretty little face over it, darling girl. But do go into the bathroom after I leave, and smash it against the mirror. Do it several times.”
“I will do that. Thank you,” the girl said, sitting there with a vacant look on her face. The buzzer over the door leading into the ward buzzed loudly and the door opened. Vivian strode through the doorway—the sound of her stiletto heels against the linoleum floor filled the hallway and the lobby. The young girl turned and went to the bathroom.
Doctor Jenson was still engrossed in his crossword when Vivian strode into his office. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed her standing over his desk, looking down at him
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