Saturday, November 21, 2020

 WE 11/18/20

M.J Coleman



Based on a true story...


November 24, 2016


Groggy. Confused. Terrified.

I struggled to open my eyes and take in my surroundings. An IV jabbed into my arm was hooked up to a beeping machine. The ticking from the analog clock on the wall echoed in the eerily quiet room.

Hospital. Dammit. 

Thoughts raced through my head like cars on a freeway as I tried to recall the events that led up to this predicament.

I had been in non-stop abdominal pain for months now and had refused to get checked out due to my extreme fear of doctors. Everything I ate came back up with a vengeance. Before all this started, I was about 160 pounds. The last time I checked, I was 112. I was weak and my body was shutting down.

A blonde-haired woman in dark blue nurse scrubs bustled in and approached the beeping machine. She pressed a few buttons and the machine went silent. She turned to me and smiled.

“My name is Sarah and I’m your nurse today. Can you tell me your name and date of birth?”

I looked at her, confused. Shouldn’t she know this already from my chart or something?

She saw my expression. “It’s just to make absolutely sure we have the right patient.”

I nodded and said weakly, “Mikala Coleman, 7/11/96.”

Sarah checked my patient wristband to confirm. “Alright, Mikala, you were admitted around 10 last night. Your mother said you were having severe abdominal pain for a while now and you collapsed. Does that sound right?”

I nodded.

“Ok, Mikala, we drew some blood and it came back with an elevated white blood cell count which means you have an infection. We’ve started you on antibiotics and want to keep you for a few days to monitor you. We’ve also put you on total parenteral nutrition to help with the loss of nutrients.”

I nodded again, my head swimming with the information.

“On a scale from 1 to 10, 1 being no pain and 10 being maximum pain, how are you feeling today?”

“Um…” my thoughts tried to catch up, “10?”

“Ok, I’ve brought some pain meds for you. The doctor is starting you on dilaudid.” 

Sarah went over to the computer on the opposite wall and typed some things into it. Then she walked back over to me and produced a syringe. She hooked it up to my IV and pushed the clear liquid slowly through the tube.

My eyes drifted shut.



**********



December 22, 2016


“Wakey, wakey! Eggs and bakey!” 

The fluorescent lights flashed on and I quickly shielded my eyes from their scornful glow.

I groaned. “First, you wake me up at 4am and then you tease me with the thought of food. Shame on you.”

The nurse walked over to the computer to put in the details of my medication. “Sorry honey, but the doctor said no food, TPN only.”

I had ended up in the hospital again with the same abdominal infection, but much worse this time. They had put a tube in my buttocks to try to drain it. This was the second week I’d been here.

Amanda turned to walk towards me and held up a syringe. “But I brought you a present.” She smirked.

I dropped my arms and smiled. “You’re an angel.”

“You’re just saying that because I give you the drugs.”

“Yeah, probably.”

I recited my name and date of birth before she even had to ask.

We shared a chuckle as she pushed the dilaudid through, causing my entire body to feel like a giant weight.

“How’s that drain treating ya?”

“It’s a pain in my ass.” I smirked. “Literally.”

She laughed. “Alright, the day shift nurse will be here in a couple hours. Get some rest.”

I nodded as I let the drug take over. 



**********



April 29, 2017


The psychologist told me to relax and picture myself doing something I enjoyed. 

I closed my eyes and imagined sitting on the couch in my living room, eating popcorn and watching one of my favorite movies. Suddenly, a sharp claw-like shadow loomed over my head, ready to swallow me whole.

I sighed and opened my eyes. “How exactly is this supposed to help with my suicidal thoughts?”

Before the psychologist could answer, the surgeon came bustling in, his assistant right behind him. He walked over to the side of my bed. His face wore a grim expression and my heart sank into my stomach, creating a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow away.

My mother looked up at him from her chair beside my bed. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern. 

I glanced at my mother. I had watched the worry lines in her face deepen and new ones appear over the past 4 months. She had been by my side for 2 surgeries in that time span. Every day, whatever was wrong with me got worse. Every surgery, the doctors left with more questions than before. She was growing tired. We both were.

“Look,” the surgeon hesitated, “there’s no easy way to say this. But your condition is not getting any better. We need to operate before you become septic.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “Operate? Again!?” 

My mother scoffed. “You’ve done 2 surgeries already. How is a third one going to make it any better?”

“...it may not. But if we don’t try...she won’t make it.”

An empty silence settled over the room like a heavy blanket, trying to suffocate everyone within.

My mother was the first to break it. “You told me you knew what you were doing. You promised me in the beginning-...”

The surgeon tried to cut in. “Yes, I know. Her condition-...”

“...that you had every doctor you needed on board!”

“We can’t seem to find any answers, ma’am!”

“You are in way over your head! My daughter has suffered enough!”

As they continued to argue, my eyes drifted to the analog clock on the wall.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Oh god, I thought, that clock is going to be the last thing I hear before I die... 



**********



August 1, 2017


My mother and I were mid-conversation when the foreign doctor in aqua scrubs walked in. This one was new, we had never seen him before.

“Miss and Mrs. Coleman?”

We nodded.

“My name is Dr. Tanlin. I am a gastroenterology surgeon and I have been following your case very closely. Now, we have done 3 surgeries and taken every measure to prevent sepsis. It has been a long and exhausting journey and I know you have questions. But we have finally reached a diagnosis that we think fits your situation, Mikala. We believe you have Crohn’s disease.”



**********



November 22, 2020


Update: It is now 2020 and I have had a total of 5 abdominal surgeries so far. I still struggle day to day with symptoms but for the most part, I am currently in remission. Future complications and surgeries are inevitable as Crohn’s disease is a chronic illness and there is no cure. As many things as this disease has taken from me, it has given me much more in return. I am a stronger individual with a greater appreciation for life and joy, even in the small moments. I am pursuing the career of my dreams that has awakened a passion in me that might not have otherwise been born. I am strong, I am fierce, and I am taking life one step at a time!


Claws


Caroline’s scream echoed down the hall. It bounced off the picture frames and book shelves, rattling the house’s bones. But when her father got to the living room, it wasn’t to rescue her from the horror that elicited such a shriek. It was to turn down the volume on the tv. 


“Your mom is sleeping,” he scolded, setting the remote beside his daughter. 


Caroline was curled up tightly around her half empty bowl of popcorn. She looked away from the monster on the screen to mumble an apology. 


“Just make sure you pick up before you go to bed,” was her fathers response. 


Caroline nodded and shoved more popcorn in her mouth. 


As the tired steps of her father shuffled out of the room and up to the master bedroom, she let her own feet tangle in the throw blanket. Settled back in after the real life disturbance, she was happy to return to the disturbing film. 


Her heart rate spiked again but this time she kept her mouth shut. Why she didn’t shut off the tv even as the gore and blood made the popcorn turn in her stomach is a mystery best answered by all horror movie lovers. Caroline knew she would probably have nightmares later, but kept on watching regardless. 


A sudden rattling from the kitchen, louder than the dialogue on screen, made her spill some of the popcorn. Caroline cursed, using a word her parents still didn’t let her say even as a college grad. She couldn’t help it, feeling both ridiculous at having startled, and annoyed at the mess in her lap. It was just the cat, being noisy as it ate from it’s ceramic bowl. 


Wasn’t it?


The tabby in question was in fact asleep upon Caroline’s mother’s chest. Unaware, the movie viewer shrugged off her fear. She plucked popcorn from her lap and ate the evidence of her mess with the sort of nonchalance that toddlers hone during snack time. We can understand, therefore, why Caroline then ignored the second bout of rattling. 


A shadowed creature leaving behind a trail of entrails somewhere on a Hollywood did make Caroline pause her munching. The movie was getting good. The viewer even felt a chill upon her neck, as if a wind brushed behind her.  Only great horror can elicit such an effect. 


Caroline swallowed another scream as the movie’s hunk, following the remains, meet his own doom. She set the popcorn aside entirely, unwilling to be distracted by even buttery crunch at this plot peak. Her eyes still glued to the tv a moment later, Caroline vaguely noticed a dancing of shadows to her right. 


Tight chested, she looked over. Or rather, Caroline snapped her head to the side in panic. She was unprepared for the sight of the armchair just as it always is: worn from use and a certain tabby sharpening its claws. 


Maybe I should turn this off, Caroline briefly wondered. I’m starting to imagine things.


A hacking sounded from the speakers, as the small nerd, who’s advice was ignored in the beginning of the 93 minute film, gave his best shot at bravery. He was armed with an axe and swipes again and again at the shadows. Even though he was unsuccessful, his effort draws Caroline back in. 


It’s almost over anyway. 


The nerd turns, confused as shadows surrounded him. Claw like hands reached for him, and though they were made of darkness, they take hold of his glasses. Soon, they would destroy him.


The rattling from the kitchen sounded again, accompanied by another chill. Caroline turned, and missed the nerd’s heroic final moments. She barely noticed though, too frightened by what couldn’t simply be an old house creaking in the November winds. 

 

I definitely should turn this off, she thought after taking a deep breath to steady her jumpy soul. I’m absolutely imagining things. 


Yes, the shadows in her real life living room certainly were not menacing. Darkness wasn’t coming for her, clawing it’s way towards destruction. She was simply tired and—


The rattling sound, the chill, the shadows—it all came again. Caroline’s blood froze. 


The ceiling shadows reached towards her, the clicking fingers and nails of the claw rattling the air. With each inch it attempted to stretch nearer, a horrible breeze blew over the girl. 


There was nowhere to run for the girl stuck to her couch. She was no fighter, more comfortable sitting at a desk behind a microscope than battling unseen forces. To be faced with the supernatural unexplained by science was enough to elicit shock. The paralyzing fear was just an extra adhesive working to keep her from flight. 


And as the claw finally snatched her arm, Caroline knew this is her end. It was unavoidable now. She had no axe, and would die torn to bits like those on the tv. Already her throat, desperate to release another scream, seemed to fill with blood instead. She would drown in her own fluids then, before loss of limb or even being able to try to flee. 


This horrific realization, worse than physical pain, is followed by a sharp sting. The claws had begun to tear at Caroline’s arm. 


Her final thoughts go to the uneaten popcorn. Swimming to her forethought is the image of Caroline’s mom being really pissed at finding her couch covered in kernels and blood in the morning....


“Caroline?” 


Already her mother cursed her name. 


“Caroline get up. Murphy get off her!”


Caroline jolted awake, consciousness flooding her just as the morning light flooded the living room.  Her mother, adorned not in mourning attire, but rather a morning robe, stood above her. 


“Mom?”


“Caroline did you spend all night watching that crap?”


The sleep filled eyes of the girl glanced around in confusion, looking for the terrifying shadows. When it was clear there were none, room is left for logic to return. 


“I fell asleep?” 


Caroline’s mother didn’t acknowledge the obvious. She picked up the overturned popcorn bowl and headed to the kitchen, muttering about overgrown children and absent minded scientists. 


Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. It was suddenly quite an agreeable option to quit watching scary movies. Perhaps documentaries following micro-biotic discovery were best suited to her personality, not the fictitious adrenaline inducing crap her artistic roommates had craved. Nightmares like that just didn’t make the viewing worth it. 


Stranding to stretch her stiff body, a twinge on her arm made Caroline glance at the limb. Red marks from a claw had been left there. 


And just when she was about to release another scream, fearing her beloved spectrum of reality and fact, a soft purr gave Caroline pause.


The tabby, sitting on the arm chair, was cleaning his front paw innocently.


 Glaring at him, the young mistress made then and there the harsh decision to forgo the usually morning cuddles with her pet. Instead, she stalked to the bathroom to clean the scratches. As she walked past, Caroline murmured a soft, “Damn you Murphy,” to the unconcerned and unapologetic tabby. 


Weekly Expressions 3.1 ~ TJ

 


We live in your homes, we live in your mind,
we are what you turn to for answers,
we are who you turn to for lies. 

Not the lies, of course, that are obvious to see,
but rather than the harshness of reality,
we give a vision of what could be,

You want to know about the war, but do you really?
Sure, your loved ones fight,
but we'll tell you their cause is silly,

You want to know about the money, is it truly safe?
Stupid ignorant! Of course it is!
It's locked away safely in my private case,

You want to know about the food, will it run out?
Fear not, for we will work the farmers straight into the ground, have no doubt,

You want to know of the energy, will it always flow?
It will, if you swear your dollars to us,
 and every cent you ever know.

You want to know of the children, will they learn?
Rest assured, we will teach them all they need to know, have no concern

You want to know of the elders, will they have care?
Who cares about the old and sick?
We have our own world we must prepare!

You want to know of yourself, will you be okay?
Of course, we know what's best for you,
so do as you're told every day,

Don't try to resist us, don't dare to try and fight this,
you'll have better luck using a kitchen spatula to carve out a virus,

You asked for us, you trusted us to know the truth,
but now we have infected your entire lives,
even begun to recruit your youth,

But now that you see, you may be thinking to yourself,
"who are you? Where did you come from?
How did you get on my shelf?"

Once again, the answer is awfully easy,
but it will make you more than a little queasy,

Who are we? What do we do? 

It's so obvious I can't believe you couldn't see it! 

Who are we? 

We are you.

Weekly Expressions 3.1 - JRK

                                                                   Weekly Expressions 3.1


“The Mind Reaper” 

By J.R.K



“You were never meant to save them…”


    Joshua Stillman dropped the pile of papers back onto his desk, not even bothering to return them to the case file. He had had enough of the endless details and useless facts. Twelve years and he was still no closer to apprehending the shadow that haunted him. Twelve long years of restless days and watchful nights. Still he was no closer to discovering the truth.

He gathered his belongings and shut the light off as he left his office. All the lights were off on this wing except for the offices that the night custodian was still cleaning. 

He pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he hailed a cab, thankful to get out of the cold. Winter in Chicago was frigid but there was still no sign of snow yet.

Thirty seven minutes later they were pulling into the driveway of his home in the suburbs. He paid the driver and began the walk to the front door. It was dark out. Darkness always unsettled him. 

There wasn’t much in this world that reminded him he was home than that first moment you walk into a warm home with all the lights already on and the smell of dinner hanging in the air. After living on his own for seven years, he never got tired of this feeling of serenity when he stepped across the threshold. No matter what the stress of the day brought, it all melted away when he got home. 

He set his keys and wallet in the bowl on the table by the front door. He unclipped his badge and added it in with the contents. It will be fifteen years with the bureau next month. The last thirteen years had looked vastly different than his first two. But those two years were too painful to keep remembering. 

He walked into the kitchen to see Martha drying the last of the dishes. “Evening, Martha.”

“Oh, hello! Long day?”

“As usual.”

“Well, dinner is in the microwave.”

“Thanks. Where’s Emma?”

“Just putting a movie on in the den.”

“Thanks. Have a great weekend.”

“You too, Mr. Stillman.”

He nodded and left the kitchen. He’d be lost without Martha’s help. She was the perfect candidate for a nanny. Sure, Emma was old enough to take care of herself but he didn’t want Emma to be alone and he didn’t think either of them could ever part with Martha. She meant too much to them. She had retired from field work and was getting bored sitting behind a desk when Joshua came to her with her new assignment. Twelve years and she worked harder than ever for him and Emma. She was warm and gentle and so full of wisdom. A great mother figure for Emma to grow up with. It was his one regret over the years, not settling down. He was so focused on Emma and his cases with the FBI to find a wife. Martha did more than enough to fill the gap...at least that’s what he hoped for for Emma’s sake. Anyway, it was too dangerous to bring in another person when the threat still hung above them. 

He unloosened his tie as he took the four steps down into the den. 

    Emma smiled up at him. “Hi, Dad!” 

    “Hey, kiddo. What’s on the menu?”

    “Martha made lasagna for dinner. I’ve got popcorn ready and I’m just trying to pick between the sequel to that mummy movie or the new Max Montanna movie.”

    “Sounds like a great night.”

    “Rough day at work?” 

    He smiled as he fell into the couch beside her and wrapped her in a tight hug. She was very perceptive for sixteen. She cared for him just as much as he cared for her. In that way they made an inseparable team. “Seems like everyday is a rough day lately. I’m just glad that I have you to come home to.”

    Emma sat backup and pointed to the screen. “You pick the movie tonight.”

    “Max Montanna! He’s my kind of hero!”

    “You just like him because he’s an agent.”

    “Hey!” He pretended to be defensive as he threw his hands up. “I’ve got to have role models too.”

    Emma laughed as she pressed play and the two settled back into the couch. 

    Joshua pulled his shoes off and rested his feet on the ottoman. He knew he was drifting in and out of sleep and missing the movie but he couldn’t help it and Emma didn’t seem to care.

Something thudded and Joshua jumped, his heart racing instantly. Emma seemed unphased as she stared at the TV screen. 

    “What was that?” He asked.

    “Probably the movie or the cat…”

    She wasn’t concerned as she answered, seemingly on autopilot as she focused on the TV. 

    Joshua finally pulled himself up off the couch and headed to the kitchen. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since lunch and it was now well past eleven. He pressed the numbers on the microwave and left as it turned on. He saw the cat sleeping on the edge of the counter and promptly returned the cat to the floor. He looked out into the hallway and saw the bowl from the table by the door had been knocked over. He sighed, annoyed to keep cleaning up after the cat. He picked up his wallet and keys and placed them and the bowl back on the table. After ensuring the front door was locked he returned to the kitchen. Something caught his eye towards the patio. The sliding door was open and the screen door ajar. He slipped on his mud boots by the back door as he instinctively reached for his gun. He quietly walked out onto the patio. He stood silently in the night, mostly listening for any sounds out of line. 

    The air was completely still, almost too quiet. His heart rate increased as he settled his breathing. It had started snowing at some point after he had gotten home and so far half an inch had accumulated and covered the patio and yard. He scanned the area as he stepped down the couple steps into the backyard. The moon was full and with the slow falling it was much brighter than usual. 

    He canvassed the backyard, gun drawn just as he had done a million times at his job. It was second nature and only left a little discomfort by the fact he was doing it in his own home. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

    A stick cracked and he whirled around.

     He stood straight and relaxed his posture as he lowered his gun. 

    “Stillman.” His neighbor said blankly.

    Heat flooded his cheeks. “Hey, Mike.”

    “Easy with that thing, will ya? Just put the kids to bed.”

    “Sure thing. Sorry. Have a good night.” He threw his hand up and Mike just waved him off as he ushered his yappy little dog back into the house. 

    “Oh, Josh? Did you get the package left by the delivery guy?”

    “What package?”

    “Saw a delivery guy leave something by your gate.”

    “Thanks.”

    “No problem.”

    Joshua walked to the gate and opened it. He stepped out several steps, confused that nothing was on the ground. He sighed, thinking maybe the delivery guy realized it was the wrong house or Martha had intercepted it. Joshua turned back around and froze. Fear etched into his soul faster and deeper than anything he had experienced in years. A black smeared handprint was slapped onto the wooden fence. The feeling of a rock sank into his stomach as he lurched forward through the gate and back towards the house. 

    He had spent twelve years studying that mark from pictures of a night that haunted him and now it was back. And at his own home no less. His worst fear was coming true and he had left Emma alone in the house!  He threw his hand out to open the door but slid into it when it didn’t open. His feet slipped out from under him and he fell to the ground on his side, covering it in snow. He clambered to his feet and pulled on the door. It didn’t budge. 

    He wouldn’t have locked it when he was inspecting the backyard, he knew he didn’t. He banged on the glass door, heart pounding as he waited but Emma didn’t come. He didn’t waste another moment as he slammed his body into the glass, shattering it. He shook off the broken glass as he ran through the house and back downstairs into the den. 

    He jumped the last two steps.

    Emma sat on the couch, eyes glued to the TV as she munched on popcorn.

    A shadow hung above her.

    He flipped the light switch on which revealed nothing. He blinked as he tried to dispel the fear. Emma seemed fine. Nothing appeared to be in the room. 

Emma sat startled, blinking in the bright light. He ran to the TV and turned it off. “Didn’t you hear me banging on the door?”

    “What’s going on?” Emma’s eyes widened as she watched him dart across the room, gun drawn as he checked every corner. Yet there was nothing here.

    “Come with me.” He waved for her to follow and she did so silently. They made their way back upstairs.

    “Are you trying to burn the house down?” Emma brushed past him and ran to the microwave that was leaking out smoke. He hadn’t even noticed it when he came back inside. He had only set it for a couple minutes. It shouldn’t have caught on fire…

    He wanted Emma to stay behind him but she quickly went to work to dispel the smoke, now billowing out of the tiny space. She grabbed the fire extinguisher and aimed it at the microwave.     “What happened to the back door?” Emma asked as she doused the little fire. 

    He was already heading into the rest of the house to make sure it was safe. He couldn’t focus on answering her, not until he had checked each room. He ran upstairs and found their bedrooms empty. He quickly returned to the kitchen to help Emma, satisfied that they were alone. 

    “What’s going on, Dad?” 

    He looked into her scared eyes and felt intense shame. There was so much he hadn’t told her…

    The doorbell rang and Joshua ran to answer it. Two uniformed cops stood behind his supervisor. All three had their guns drawn. 

    Stan Monroe looked just as relieved as Joshua felt as he answered the door. “A neighbor called in some suspicious activity. Naturally I was alerted. Everything okay?”

    Joshua just shook his head as he stepped aside and let them enter. He left them and popped his head into the kitchen. Emma was busy sweeping up the broken glass. 

    Stan stood next to him. “What is it, Josh?”

    “It’s him…” He whispered. “The Mind Reaper.”

    “Are you sure?” Stan’s face went white.

    “He left his calling card on my side gate.” he shook his head, not wanting to believe it. “I thought he was inside.”

    “You two double check the house.” Stan ordered and the two officers went to secure the house. Stan placed a hand on Josh’s forearm which made him notice the tremor in his hands.     “It’s okay now.” Stan reassured. 

    “Dad?”

    Joshua looked up as Emma hesitantly entered the living room. Her arms were wrapped around herself. He returned his gun to the holster and pulled her into a hug. 

    “What’s going on?”

    “I’ll explain everything soon. I promise.”

    “Josh, I think we should send you both to a safe house for a couple days so we can do a thorough sweep of the house and neighborhood. We have had our plans in place for this scenario. There’s nothing to worry about.” 

    Joshua nodded and turned toward Emma. “I need you to go get a bag packed for the weekend.” 

    Emma nodded and ran upstairs. 

    Stan placed a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “We’ll catch him, Josh.”

    “That’s what we said last time. He’s been running free for twelve years.” 

    “And one of these days he’s going to slip up and we’ll be there to catch him when he does.” 

    “Yeah but how much longer will that take? Emma and I got lucky with ten years of peace. Other than that little incident when she was six, we’ve not had any idea that the Reaper was even looking for us. But she’s getting older. She needs a normal life. Not one with all these lies and secrets.” Josh collapsed on the chair and buried his head in his hands. “I’m afraid I can’t always protect her.” 

    “Josh, look at me. You have protected her better than anyone else. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty for her. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

    “I never told her.”

    “Good. She didn’t need to bear that burden as a child.” 

    “Yeah but how do I tell her now, Stan?”

    “You just tell her. She’s mature for her age. She’s ready to handle the truth.”

    “I’m not sure I am.”

    “Of course you are. Don’t tell me my best agent is going soft. Now pull yourself together and grab your Go Bag. A car will be here in ten minutes to take you to the safe house.”

    Joshua nodded and went upstairs. He pulled his go bag out of the closet. He left his room and walked down the hallway to check on Emma. her backpack was open and half filled with clothes. More clothes and toiletries were strewn about the bed. “Almost ready?” He asked gently. He could see the tears in her eyes. 

    “I’m not sure what to pack.” Her voice broke as her body wracked with sobs. 

    He dropped the bag by the door and sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her. “Shh, it’s going to be okay. We’ll just be gone a couple days. There’s a cabin where we can go camping for the weekend. It will be fun.” 

    “I just don’t understand.”

    “I know. I promise I’ll explain.”

    “No, not about that.” 

    “Then what?”

    “Why I’m crying. I trust you and Uncle Stan. I’m not afraid. I had a bad dream last night. I guess I just can’t shake it.”

    The sinking feeling in his stomach returned and he held her tighter. “It’s okay.” But he didn’t feel the assurance he was trying to convey. He was starting to piece together the facts and it scared him. 

    “Car’s here!” Stan called from downstairs. 

    “We gotta go.” Joshua stood and helped her throw the last of her things into the backpack.         He carried both packs as they went downstairs and Emma went to the closet to retrieve her coat. 

    “Stan…” Joshua leaned closer to whisper. “I think I might know what’s going on. Those dreams she had as a little girl, I think we were right. It was him. I’ll know more when I talk to her later. What makes this guy like to mess with people’s minds?”

    Stan shook his head. “The sooner we find out the better. I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon and we can talk then. Get a good night's sleep.”

    Emma handed him his coat and they headed out to the car. Joshua stopped by the table by the door to grab his wallet and keys and stuffed them in his pockets. He touched the empty bowl. Something wasn’t right.

    “What is it?” Stan asked.

    “I’m not sure.” 

    “Get going then.”

    The two left the house. The street was mostly quiet other than the officers outside their patrol cars. Red and blue lights flashed across the street as they got into the car and drove down the street. 

    Ten minutes later they were nearing the edge of town. Joshua glanced at Emma who was fiddling with her fingers and staring out the window. He reached and took hold of her hand in his and offered her a reassuring smile. She smiled back but he could tell she wasn’t convinced. 

The car was stopping. Joshua looked forward, expecting to see the red light or stop sign. Instead he watched the driver turn and fire a taser. Joshua felt the electricity flood his body.

    Emma screamed. 

    Through the pain he tried opening his eyes. The driver was reaching back and covered Emma’s mouth. She slumped over next to him. The driver turned and Joshua felt his own mouth get covered before he drifted off to unconsciousness. 




Part Two


    Something stung his cheek but his eyes felt too heavy.

    “Wake up.” The command was stern and cold. Another sting hit his cheek. 

    He pulled himself out of the deep fog and opened his eyes. The lights were dim but what he could tell by the floor and the dank smell he was in a cellar. A man stood in front of him, his hands rested on Joshua’s wrists which were zip tied to the chair’s arms. His feet were zip tied to the legs.

    “That’s more like it. It’s time to get started.” Joshua didn’t recognize the man in front of him but he for sure recognized Emma’ who was strapped down to a chair across the room from him. Her eyes were wide and tears fell down her face. A strip of duct tape covered her mouth. He noticed there was duct tape over his own mouth.

    He couldn’t help but yell out a slur of curses towards their captor even though he knew the man wouldn’t understand. 

    “You talk too much, Mr. Stillman. Or should I say Miller? It’s been a long time since the field office in Dallas. Yet you still can’t leave your first love with the FBI. You had to have known I’d find you. There’s no where you could have run where I would not find you, Henry Miller. You haven’t heard that name in awhile, have you?”

    His eyes flickered to Emma who only looked sad and confused. He wanted to tear off the tape and explain it all to her but that chance was lost. No doubt this monster would do it for him. 

    “Not even the FBI can hide one of their own forever. He pulled something out of his pocket and turned it over a few times in his hand before he showed Henry. 

    Henry felt sick. So he had been right. This monster had been inside his home. 

    “Name changes and locked doors won’t stop me and my mission in this life.”  He tossed Henry’s badge to the floor and walked up to a table in the middle. He picked up a small bottle with clear liquid and a syringe. Henry shuddered, not wanting to know the contents. He fought against his restraints to no use. 

    Emma whimpered.

    “Have you heard of Haloperidol, Agent Miller?”

    Henry’s breathing quickened as he breathed through his nose. 

    “It’s typically an antipsychotic drug used to treat a variety of illnesses but for you it will do the trick to keep you nice and uncomfortable during your stay. I’m optimistic that you’ll experience any number of the following…” He filled the syringe with the drudge and continued speaking as he walked over to Henry and injected the contents into his arm. “Motor restlessness, spasms or muscle contractions, muscle rigidity, hypotension, blurred vision, dry mouth, headache, and the like. I’m doubling your dose to ensure it.” 

    Emma cried out through her restraints. He wanted so desperately to put her at ease. He could handle the pain and discomfort. What he couldn’t handle was anything happening to her. 

    “And for you, Emma…” He walked over to her and stroked her cheek. 

    Henry pulled against his restraints.

    “While we let daddy get uncomfortable you and I are going to have a little chat.” 

    “I’m sure your father has told you that he isn’t your real father.”

    Henry’s mouth went dry and he knew it wasn’t from the drugs yet. No, it was the look of utter confusion and betrayal in Emma’s eyes as she searched his for truth. A tear ran down his cheek. 

    “Oh, he didn’t? I’m not sorry. Your mother died when you were four and it was after that you went into Mr.Miller’s guilt ridden care. He only took you in because he failed your mother and thought he could use you to get to me.”

    Henry fought with all his might. The lies spewing from the man’s mouth were agonizing to listen to and not be able to deny. 

    “And dear old Aunt Martha is just another Agent to keep tabs on you when Miller is off playing games with the FBI.” He walked back over to the table and lifted an already filled syringe and without delay or explanation he injected it into Emma’s arm.

Emma cried and Henry yelled through the tape. 

    “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt you but it will help me. Just a little something I whipped up years ago when I worked in a lab. Now I’ll leave you two to get used to the drugs. I’ll be back in a bit and we can get to the true work.” The man put down the syringe and left the room.

     Emma cried as she pulled against her restraints. 

    Henry tried calling her but she refused to look up. He was getting tired as time wore on, maybe half an hour passed and he felt the first spasm run through his left leg. The restless aches that followed were torturous. A splitting headache formed quickly and his vision was blurring. Overall he felt terrible. 

    The door opened and the man stepped back into the room. “How are we feeling, Mr.Miller.” He didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction of knowing the drugs were working but another powerful spasm radiated through his spine causing him to arch his back and groan. “Good. And what about you darling?”

    Emma lashed forward and the man chuckled. “Excellent.” 

    He picked up a recording device. “January 27th, 2019. Dr.Poblano reporting. Patient One is an adult male, thirty seven years of age. Given two injections of a high dose of Haloperidol thirty minutes ago. Results are muscle spasms - moving forward as expected. Patient two is an adolescent female. Sixteen years of age given my own concoction called ‘Dyprasiomalathoid’. Results are increased abbreviations. I’m pleased with the results so far. Moving onto phase two.” He placed the recorder back on the table and approached Emma. With one quick motion he ripped off her tape. She cried out and the skin around her mouth turned red. ‘I’m so sorry to have dropped the bomb on your life. I’m a man who seeks the truth unlike Mr.Miller.” 

    “Get away from me.”

    “Don’t you see, Emma? I’m here to help you! To release you to live your life with the truth!”

    “No, you're wrong!”

    “Am I?” He pulled out another recording device from his pocket. “Listen, Emma, and the truth will lead you.” He clicked play and laid it down.

    “June 17th, 2007. Agent Henry Miller please pick up where we left off yesterday regarding last week’s incident with Agent Kathryn Thompson.” 

    “I’ve told you already. She had her gun drawn on me! Either I shot her or she was going to shoot me!” 

    “So you shot her?”

    “Yes.”

    Poblarno clicked it off and the rage Henry felt overpowered the pain in his body. He returned to Emma and undid her wrist restraints. Emma looked so hurt and confused. “Kathryn was your mother, Emma. Henry admitted it himself that he shot and killed your mother.”

    “You never told me any of that. You said she died in a car accident!” 

    “That’s right, Emma. He lied to you then and he’s been lying to you ever since.”

    Henry shook his head, desperate to convey the truth to Emma but all he saw was anger in her eyes. 

    Poblarno saw it too. A wicked grin twisted his face. “Not many people have the opportunity for revenge, Emma. I want to help you.” He walked back to the table and removed a cloth that covered something. He picked it up and Henry instantly recognized his government issued sidearm. 

    Emma’s eyes went wide but she remained silent. 

    “Use this, Emma, and all your problems will disappear. No one will ever know.” He held the gun out to her and after a moment's pause she accepted it. “It’s all ready to go, Emma. just point and pull the trigger.”

    Henry pulled against the restraints but his body was tired and the zipties weren’t budging. He hated Poblarno. He hated himself. And as Emma’s eyes finally met his, he broke. He failed her mother and now he was failing her. If only he could reverse their roles! He would turn the gun on himself to spare her the betrayal. After all, it is what Kathryn had done. Yes he had shot her but only in the leg. She was still confused by the drugs Poblarno had given her and fired back. She shot him in the shoulder which sent him to the ground, his gun falling away from him. 

    Henry wept as the images replayed itself in his mind. 

    “You were never meant to save her, Henry. Either of them...only to deliver them to me.” Poblarno whispered in his ear. “They were always mine.”

    Henry remembered the pain and fear he felt as Kathryn stood over him, gun trained at his head. He begged her not to miss. He painfully watched the tears fall down her face as she warred against what was going on in her mind. Slowly she lifted the gun to her own head. 

    “I can’t do it.”

    “No, Kathryn.”

    “Take care of Emma.”

    He had dragged himself out of that warehouse bleeding but his heart hurt worse. Kathryn had been his partner for two years and he failed her. He had made it his life mission to honor her last request and take care of her little girl. And this man had undone it all.

Emma lifted a shaky hand, aiming the gun at him. He could see the fear and rage in her eyes and her lips tremble. She was still just a child and he wanted to comfort her. To tell her it was going to be okay. 

    Poblarno stood just behind him. “Go ahead, Emma. Kill him.”

    Her hand stopped shaking and her eyes turned to him, a fearsome confidence in them.

    He tried to smile to reassure her that there were no hard feelings. He didn’t blame her for succumbing to this madman’s game. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing and the erratic pace of his heart. 

    “No.”

    A shot rang out and Henry jumped. A searing pain ripped through the flesh on his head above his left ear. His ears were ringing. She did it. She actually shot him! He heard a thud and realized he was still alive and not in as much pain as he expected after being shot. He opened his eyes. 

    Emma was still pointing the gun towards him. Her eyes were wide and tears streaming down her face as she threw the gun to the floor and began scooching her chair closer to him. 

He glanced back and saw Poblarno bleeding out on the floor- dead. 

    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She repeated over and over again. Finally she reached him, tears streaming down her face. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” He could feel the blood running down the side of his head. A painful price he would gladly pay a million times over. 

He mumbled through the tape and she pulled it off quickly. He gasped, glad to be able to breathe through his mouth again. 

    “I’m so sorry, daddy.”

    “No, Emma, no it’s okay. I’m sorry. I really am so so sorry.”

    She collapsed onto his chest and hugged him tightly. “I knew you didn’t kill her. I found the case file. I know what really happened.”

    “She was my best friend, Emma.”

    “I know.”

    “And I’ve loved you as my own.”

    “I know that too. There’s no doubt.”

    “I love you, Emma.”

    “I love you too, daddy.”

    He could hear sirens in the distance and knew help was on the way. 

    This nightmare was finally over. Now he could rest.