Burlap

25 - The Red

“Welcome back, Kate. Have a seat.”

I lowered myself into the new leather chaise lounger Shilling had replaced the nice, normal chair with. The man had probably known that replacing a basic, comfortable chair with this confusing piece would set us on edge. Finding an acceptable position to sit in on the chaise felt impossible. I would have put my left arm through a meat grinder before dropping my guard and stretching my feet along the elongated cushion, but sitting sidesaddle only left me with the interesting and uncomfortable feeling of spending an hour without a backrest, with the arm of the stupid thing digging into the side of my thigh.

“We’ve had some interesting developments this week. Have you heard anything about it?” he asked, entirely too relaxed for me to believe that he was actually so apathetic about it. Of course, I knew what he was talking about. Nurses and orderlies hadn’t been able to keep their gossip from leaking into every crevice of Rosenton’s halls. News of Ernie’s mysterious disappearance spread through the staff and residents alike like wildfire, though it seemed to be more entertaining than worrying to most. Apparently, Ernie’s creepy advances and too-friendly touches spread over many different women, all brunettes and all petite. But, as relieved as I felt over that revelation, the fact that no stories of any of his other targets ever feeling anything more than mildly annoyed with his antics rather than scared settled uneasily in my stomach. He’d found something different about me that took his interactions with me to a higher, more disturbing level.

So, with the full knowledge that Shilling knew for a fact that I’d heard, I shook my head ‘no’ and stared at him with what I hoped was a blank expression. Power stirred beneath the surface of my mind, not liking the way he led the conversation. We both knew, from experience, that he often used that tactic to launch an attack of some sort, usually resulting in me fighting Power back down. Which, in turn, caused Power and I to be at odds for hours afterward, both angry with each other. Her, for my refusal to let her have control, and me, for her tendency to want to shoot first and ask questions later.

The doctor smirked and shifted in his leather desk chair, leaning back with his spidery fingers spread across his thin and fragile looking torso. He watched me, studying me with a gleam in his eye that told me to stay on guard, even more so than usual.

“It seems one of my employees has gone missing, and all evidence points to foul play. Would you know anything about that?” he prompted, raising one thick eyebrow over the golden rim of his oval glasses.

“I don’t see how I would. I barely know most of your employees’ names, much less their personal lives or schedules.” Aloof confidence seeped into my tone, all impressively faked considering how shallow my breathing was becoming.

He hummed, tapping his pen against the ever present clipboard. Memories of my first ever session drifted to the forefront of my mind, reminding me of how much the incessant tapping had made me feel even angrier and crazier. Compared to then, I felt more sane than ever. Maybe all the events from the past few weeks had grounded me. Maybe the seriousness of every insane thing that had happened had snapped me out of my crazy for my own good.

Maybe it’s been almost a year since it happened and you’re coping. You over analyze everything.

I blushed at her simple, logical explanation. Why couldn’t I have been the more logical one? Why was I, Sane, the one who always tried to look too deeply into things that were clearly cut and dry? I wanted, so badly, to believe her to be completely evil and useless. Admitting someone who murdered without a conscience possessed good qualities felt like a betrayal to the human race in general. But, I couldn’t deny it. As much as I hated her, I cared about her and I needed her.

The similarities between the way I felt about her and George were astounding.

“That’s interesting. Because we’ve come across some evidence that point in your direction, Miss Thornton.”