Everything She Saw

Everything That Rises Must Converge

If there was a god that existed, he or she would have been having a good laugh at the soap opera known as Amber Connery's life. Every time I told myself there would be no more asylum, there was somehow always more asylum. If gods existed, they for sure would have had a sick sense of humor because I didn't think any of this was funny.

The receptionist was the male I'd most likely spoken to on the phone. Arkham went through them so quickly. I briefly wondered what happened to the last woman to have made her quit.

"Dr. Strange is expecting me," I said without preamble. I wanted this over with.

"I was told you know where his office is."

I nodded and started off down the hall when he didn't add anything else. Was leaving a visitor to wander around alone even allowed? I highly doubted it was, but I also doubted anyone would really care.

The door to the director's office seemed so much more daunting now. My heart thumped loudly in my chest. The only little thing that calmed me was the fact that Zoey knew where I was. I had told Zoey that if I was gone too long or I didn't answer my phone, then she could call the cops. That thought calmed me only the slightest bit. The insinuation behind what I meant when I said that didn't.

I really hoped that was only a what-if scenario.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. A deep, German-accented voice responded. I opened the door and stepped inside the room. I shut the door behind me.

The office itself wasn't much different from the last time I had been in it. Maybe it was a bit more organized than when Jeremiah Arkham had used the office, and I could hardly compare it to what it had looked like when Jonathan had been the director. Jonathan had never used the office. The atmosphere, however, was far from the same. There was something about Hugo Strange that was far more menacing than Jeremiah Arkham. The gaze he set upon me was more like Jonathan's, cold and calculating. Strange was studying me.

The silence was deafening.

"You wanted to speak with me, Doctor?" I finally spoke up, not being able to take the quiet anymore.

"I did. I was hoping to address some rumors I have heard," he said. He spoke slowly. Measured. Sure of what he wanted to say.

"And those are?" I asked, even though I knew very well what they were.

"Do you deny that you have been investigating matters concerning me? On what grounds are you conducting this investigation?" he asked.

"Well, I've heard-"

"Heard? You seek to destroy my reputation on the basis of things you have simply heard? You have nothing to fight against me with."

"That's how most stories start. That's how-"

"I know about Jeremiah Arkham, Ms. Connery. I read your article," Dr. Strange interrupted again. The fact that he was able to guess that was what I was going to say was impressive, but I was getting annoyed by his constant interruptions.

"Patients are going missing in your asylum, Doctor. It is cause for some investigation. My title isn't investigative journalist for nothing. I'm just doing my job. I apologize if you're offended by that, but it's what I'm supposed to do," I said. "And I think you should be more concerned about what I've heard. The stories aren't pretty. It should be of concern that others know about them."

That was the wrong thing to say.

The man stood from his desk. He stood at about six foot. Shorter than Jonathan, but he still towered about me. He came closer until I had to crane my neck to look him in the eye.