𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 • Robin Buckley

XXIV: THE DIRECTOR

Nancy had decided to dress Robin and Claudia in stupid clothes. Of course it wasn't Claudia's usual style, but she was used to wearing skirts and heels. Robin, on the other hand, was not

"I can't breathe in this thing, and I'm itchy. I'm itching all over," Robin complained.

"It's not all about comfort," Nancy said, "Okay? We're academics."

"Who are evidently coming straight from an Easter brunch. Also, this bra that you gave me is really pinching my boobs."

"You're wearing her bra?" Claudia asked.

"You're not?"

"Okay, could you guys just let me do the talking? If that's even possible," Nancy said.

"It's not only possible, it's inevitable, because shortly, I'll be dead from strangulation."

"3.9 GPAs," the director said, "All of you. Impressive."

"And this is a recommendation from Professor Brantley," Nancy said, handing him another piece of paper.

"Yeah, I know Larry," the director said, "Quite well, actually. Eh, you know what they say, 'those who can't do, teach'."

"Uh, yes, yes, that's actually why we're here. I mean, we can only learn so much in a classroom."

"Mhm. And I'm sympathetic to your struggle, truly, but there is a protocol to visiting a patient like Victor, you have to put in a request, and then you have to undergo a screening process, at which point the board will make a decision." He slid the papers back to the three girls. "I can see you're disappointed. But I'm more than happy to give you a tour of our facility. Perhaps you can even speak to some patients in our low-security wing."

"And we'd... we would love that. It's just that, um... our thesis is due next month."

"And you're out of time. Whose fault is that?"

"Ours, absolutely. And I do apologise-"

Robin suddenly spoke up. "Don't apologise, Ruth, screw that. The fact of the matter is, we did put in a request months ago and were denied, and then we reapplied and were denied again. And coming here was our last-ditch effort to save our thesis. And I really... I can't breathe in this thing."

"Well, Rose, maybe you'd like to go outside and get some air."

"Maybe I should, Ruth! Because, I'm starting to think this whole thing is a colossal mistake. I'm breaking out in a rash, my boobs hurt. And I'll tell you the truth, Anthony. May I call you Anthony? These aren't actually my clothes. I borrowed them because I wanted you to take us seriously, because nobody takes girls seriously in this field, they just don't! We don't look the part or whatever, but can I tell you a story? 1978, I was at summer camp. And my counsellor, Drew, told me and everyone in Cabin C the true story of the Victor Creel massacre. And little Petey McHew... You two know Petey, right, girls? Yeah. Little Petey McHew started sobbing right there on the spot, full-on hyperventilating, and all the other campers couldn't sleep for weeks. And I couldn't sleep either, but not because I was scared, because I was obsessed with the question, 'what would drive a human being to commit such unimaginable acts?' Other kids, they wanted to astronauts, basketball players, rock stars, but I wanted to be you. I wanted to be you! So, forgive me if I'll now try anything in my power, including wearing this ridiculous outfit, if I might get to speak to the man that ignited my passion and learn a little bit more about how his twisted, but let's face it, totally fascinating mind works. So, yes, we don't have the official paperwork, but don't tell me that cry-baby Petey McHew wouldn't have gotten an audience with Victor in a matter of moments if he'd asked politely, because you and I both know that he would. So... ten minutes with Victor. That's all I ask."

Robin's speech made the director agree to give them time with Victor. "How the fuck did you do that?" Claudia whispered.

"I just channelled all of the passion I have for saving you and turned it into one, big, guilt tripping lie."

"You're amazing."

"Aren't I?"

The director lead them to Victor, taking a small detour along the way. "These are our gardens," he said, "Beautiful, aren't they? We allow them two hours of outside time a day."

"Can't they just escape?" Robin asked.

"They could, but the vast majority choose to be here. They like it here." He them led them indoors. "This is one of our more popular areas. The listening room. We found that music has a particularly calming effect on the broken mind. The right song, particularly one which holds some personal meaning, can prove a salient stimulus. But there are those who are... beyond a cure."

Finally, they were led down to the bottom floor. "Uh, Dr Hatch," Nancy said, "Do you think it might be possible for us to speak to Victor alone?"

"Alone?"

"I think that we would just love the challenge of speaking with Victor without the safety net of an expert such as yourself," Claudia said.

"Yeah," Robin said, "Then we could really rub it in Professor Bradley's face when we get back to-"

"Professor Bradley? I don't believe I know a Professor Bradley."

"Brantley!" Nancy corrected, "She... she meant to say Brantley."

"Didn't I say Brantley? What'd I say? Sorry, silly me. Words, letters. Guess I'm just nervous. I mean excited! So excited to speak with Victor. Preferably, as she said, alone?"

"Yes. Why not? You've got me in a rebellious mood. And there's something rather urgent I need to check on anyway, so... Sure," he turned to the guard, "Keep a close eye on them."