SWNOVELS Chapter Twenty-three
Charles was lounging back in the black leather recliner in the den, in his own personal space, enjoying a rare moment of privacy and peace. Which had been exceptionally rarer than usual this past month. Ever since Diane had walked into the house to find a girl clinging in his arms, a girl that was his daughter, but yet couldn't be. From then on out she had made a point of sticking close to the house whenever he was home, offering the support and guidance he needed, in the trying times he faced. That all of them did.
He couldn't be more thankful for the woman who had come into his life, grateful for the tenderness and affection, but there were just times when he wanted to be alone. Like today. Charles was thankful that Diane had come to terms with this on her own, taking her and Niyota into the city for a weekend of pampering and socializing. It'd give him the opportunity to have all the peace and privacy that he could possibly need, to relax, to do whatever it was that he wished to. Thank you, he breathed.
But as he leaned back in his recliner, listening to the music of his favorite opera singer on the stereo, his mind began to wander of its own accord. Try as he might to fight against it, his mind took him right back to the one place that he didn't want to visit, everything that had been happening. Charles sighed wearily, knowing fighting was a lost cause. This last month had been crazier than normal. And crazy was definitely putting it mildly. There were no words to put on the reality that there were two teenage girl's perfectly mirror each other in his life, both claiming to be his daughter.
He moaned in frustration at the reminder. A month ago he'd been confident Jane Doe-what they'd been calling the one in police custody-was lying, some past trauma had given her a mental lapse. But now, in the face of everything that had happened, the brief visits of Detective Gerald, Charles wasn't entirely certain anymore. It was just too confusing. Jane Doe had intimate knowledge of their lives, knew things that no one else could possibly ever know. Memories of their lives before they ever moved to town. It had come as a huge shock when Detective Gerald had informed him of everything, all the information he'd managed to divulge from the girl. The death of her brother. Her mother's murder. There was no way she could've known any of that. Yet, she had.
Was he wrong?
Could she be telling the truth?
At thoughts of the girl filtering through his mind, the reason for his silent contemplation, Charles was thrown into the past of Detective Gerald's most recent visit.
"Yeah, come on in," Charles instantly invited him, bringing open the door wider and stepping off to the side, to allow the detective the room to walk inside the house. When the man had walked over the threshold, he immediately shut and locked the door, something that he'd made a habit of here lately.
In the living room, sitting down on the recliner chair across from the detective he'd perched on the far edge of the couch, Charles stared at him. "Is something wrong, detective?" Bobbing his head in ascent, folding hands in the middle of his lap, Detective Gerald stared at him. "Yes, I'm afraid that something is." "What?" he asked anxiously.
"Jane Doe escaped."
He shot straight to his feet at that. "What do you mean she escaped? You told me that we didn't have any reason to worry about her anymore. That she was in Greenwood. You promised there was no way she could've escaped."
"I'm sorry," the detective apologized, instantly remorseful for what had happened. "It hadn't been my intention to lie to you, nor had I. When I contacted Greenwood on behalf of the captain, the director assured me that the facility was perfectly secure. No one has escaped the facility, until her."
"How?" he demanded. That was all that seemed to matter to him at the time being, to get down to the bottom of this and find out how any of this could be possible. Charles's mind was completely boggled at the realization she'd managed to escape, when no one else had ever accomplished the feat. It should've been impossible.
"It would seem that the board of directors had decided to take a different approach with Jane Doe, when nothing else seemed to have a positive effect. Electroshock therapy had adverse effects. When they believed her unconscious, she slipped out of her restraints and escaped before anyone could stop her."
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Charles had the unsettling feeling that the man wasn't being completely honest with him, that there was a side to the story he was keeping from him. Rather than furthering his interrogation on that point with the man, which was a moot point at the moment, he focused on the most important. "Is she coming after my family? My wife and daughter are in the city for the weekend."
"No," Detective Gerald shot him down after a moment of thought. "I don't believe that she has intentions of coming after your family. Had she been planning to, then she would've already done so. She'd escaped the hospital a little after seven, nearly three hours ago. The girl is running scared and you probably won't see her again."
He was astonished by the crushing disappointment at the man's answer, at the thought that Jane Doe could completely disappear from their lives. Charles didn't fully understand his own emotions right then, but told himself that it was merely his own insecurities, not any affection he could have for the girl. He nodded. "Can you please keep me informed?"
"I will," he promised.
One hour later..........
Inside of an old house found a good thirty minutes outside of town, one of the original homesteads when the town was first founded. Back in the early eighteenth century. The one place Niyota had a chance in hell of going unnoticed. People rarely came this far outside of town anymore. The roads didn't go this far either, forcing people to stop to park their car and walk the fifteen minutes into the woods in order to get to the house. And should anyone decide to come to the house to look for her, she would notice them before they ever got within a hundred yards of the house, giving her plenty of time to split before they reached the door.
The perfect hideout.
Stretched out on a lumpy cot that someone had spread out to one side of the living room-plainly she wasn't the first squatter in the house. Although she was aware that she should close her eyes and catch some sleep while she still had the chance, Niyota didn't bother trying. She'd tried once already. The moment that she had reached the house in the deepest neck of the woods, aware in time she'd have to move on, she'd laid down to sleep. Sleep that she was going to be in need of, if she intended to keep one step ahead of the police hot on her tail. For the next twenty minutes, Niyota lay there on the cot, allowing the noises of the woods to gently lull her to sleep, with no such luck. Finally she'd given up all hope of sleeping and stopped trying.
As a gentle whirring sound came to her eyes, a whistling almost-like that of a rope being swung around really fast she rolled over in bed. Her eyes immediately dropped to the bundle lying on the floor next to the bed, the cloth she had removed from her waistband when she'd laid down. It grew louder, though still gentle. Head cocked off to the side, wondering what could be going on now, a hand immediately reached out for the knife on the floor. Lying it on the mattress padding next to her, Niyota unfolded the brown cloth she'd used to wrap it up, staring down at the strange metal knife. Compelled beyond reason, an urge that came from somewhere deep inside of her, a hand reached out and took the dagger up into her hand. The second that her fingers grasped onto the handle, bubbling came from in the clear handle and wide eyes watched as light came to the blade. Whoa.
That hadn't happened last time. In fact, the last time she had held the knife in her hand-the night she escaped-the handle had felt cold and heavy to the touch. Tonight, as she held it clasped within the palm of her hand, a warmth flooded from the crystal, that filtered throughout the entire blade, straight into her hand. Niyota watched as the light grew ever brighter, sparks of electricity shot out of it and coursed up along the length of the blade, but strangely the currents failed to harm her. Almost like it was a part of her. What the.......?
Unsettling by the realization of what this could mean, not wanting to speculate on the thought, it was placed back into the cloth and put away. Lying back down on the lumpy cot, she promptly closed her eyes, deciding that she'd once again try to catch a couple hours of sleep. Niyota lurched forward in the bed as a fierce pain struck her right in the midsection, hands clutching onto her stomach. As the pain slowly receded again, telling herself it was simply hunger getting the best of her, she started to lay back down on the bed. It came again. Harder than before. Crying out in agony as it felt like something stabbed her straight through the stomach, Niyota had no doubt that these weren't hunger pains. No. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The pain vanished, but the discomfort remained. Climbing out of bed when she failed to find a comfortable position on the thin cot, Niyota slowly walked to the other side of the living room. Lurching forward when they came back in full force, a hand grabbed onto the mahogany mantel of the fireplace to keep from collapsing to the ground. Tears blurring her vision, her free hand pressed into her stomach, in the vain hopes of forestalling the pain buried deep in her midsection. It came again and she cried. The fourth time, feeling as if someone was trying to rip her from the inside out, Niyota lost all of her body strength and collapsed to the floor. Lying flat on her stomach against the cold wooden floor of the living room, face turned off to the side to give her room to breathe, she cried as it came again and again.
Niyota cried out for help, begging god that somehow, someway someone would hear and come to assist her, but no one came. She was out in the woods, all alone, no one to offer the help that she needed. Screaming louder as another pain came, this time it felt like a first was trying to punch out through her chest and the blood in her veins was lit on fire. It was the worst torture imaginable. Worse than when she'd been electrocuted. Tossing her head to head back as the fire traveled up to the back of her neck, hands grabbed a hold of her throat, trying to clear a suddenly blocked airway. Only there was no way to help, nothing was clogging her throat. Thrown into uncontrollable convulsions, Niyota watched in horror as a strange light glowed from the palm of her hands, traveling up the length of her body. She released a heart-wrenching, ear-splitting scream as the glow came up to her face and shot straight out through her eyes, feeling like hot pokers burned out her retinas.