“Uncomfortable.”
“Why do you feel uncomfortable?”
“The wraps.”
“Any other reasons?”
“I don’t like this place.”
“This office?”
“Yes.”
“Why is that?”
“It reminds me. . . It reminds me of being in a hospital and it reminds me of Joyce,” I replied, as grogginess overtook me and the words rolled off my tongue.
“What about those things make you feel uncomfortable?”
“I was always in the hospital. All the time. Every time I was there, something bad had happened.”
“What kinds of bad things?”
“I hurt baby Alex — I mean, Gabriel. I hurt my mom, I killed Abel. I was on a bus, we got hit. and I died- but I really didn’t die.”
“You were in an accident on a bus?”
“Yes.”
“Who were you with?”
“I was with . . .” my mind tried to go back to that moment, but it kept fast-forwarding to waking up in the hospital, “I don’t know who I was with.”
“Okay. Tell me, Danielle, why did you hurt the baby?”
“I didn’t mean to. I broke one of the rules,” my eyelids weighed heavy and the reflection in the mirror and brick wall began to transfigure into vivid memories of my past.
“What happened to Abel?”
“I killed him.”
“Why did you do this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Something’s not right,” I heard a whisper cross the room.
“Keep trying,” came Franklin’s voice just as quietly.
“Danielle, tell me what happened to your mother. How did you hurt her?”
“I made her kill herself.”
“Did you do that intentionally?”
“No.”
“Why did she kill herself?”
“Guilt. She felt guilty that I knew about what happened to her. What he did to my brother.”
“What who did?”
“Christian.”
As the words escaped me, blood began to run down the walls and my body began to shake. My heart began to pound and sweat trickled down the back of my neck.
“Did Christian hurt your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Did he hit him?”
“No.”
“Did he touch him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he touch him sexually?”
“Yes.”
“Did he touch your mother sexually?”
“Yes,” I felt my teeth begin to grate together and small fragments come loose. My wrists were rubbing together and began to burn as the flesh ground against the restraints. My body began to contort in an attempt to escape.
“All right, Danielle, tell me, what did you do to Christian?”
“I tried to hurt him, but he’s a parasite. I couldn’t do it, I could not hurt him, but I wanted to. I wanted to be the one to do it, but I couldn’t.”
“Okay. So tell me about your brot —”
“But I found a way,” I said, as a grin overtook me, and my composure immediately calmed.
“You, you —” he stammered.
“Found a way to hurt him.”
“How did you do it?”
“I went to his house and I knocked on the door. He opened it. The look on his face-he was so terrified. . . .”
“Dani?”
“The fear on your face is well placed. Nothing gives me more joy than to be the person who invokes such a response, Christian.”
He stumbled back from the doorway a couple steps, “Dani, what are you doing here? I didn’t know you were —”
“Out of the loony bin?”
He nodded his head, speechless.
“Yeah, I’m finally out,” I said, taking a step into the entryway.
“You can’t come in my house,” he said with a hint of fear in his voice.
“Try to fuckin’ make me leave,” I said, staring him down. He took several more steps back.
“I’m calling the police!” he said, grabbing his cell phone off the counter.
“I wish you would. I’m sure they’d just love to have a talk with you and find out what exactly you’ve done. I know I’d like to know.”
He set the phone back down on the counter.
“Sit down,” I commanded.
He sat on the couch in the living room.
“Let me just get a chair too,” I walked to the kitchen, keeping an eye on him, and noticed he continuously checked his watch. I opened a drawer and pulled out a long serrated knife to accompany me. I plopped the chair down in front of Christian.
“What do you want?” he said, looking around.
“Are you waiting for something?” I asked.
“No. . .” he said, nervously.
“Good, because I’ve been waiting for this for a very long time and I’d hate for you to have to be somewhere. They might wonder where you are and why you never showed up.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Oh, I’m not going to do anything, you are.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“First, I want to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“About Nathan.”
“Look, I am so sorry —” he began, but was interrupted by a rattling at the door.
“Oh, you lie! You have visitors,” I said with a smile, “Let me just go greet them. Don’t you dare move.”
“Don’t, Dani. Please don’t!”
“Say another word and I will murder whoever walks through that fuckin’ door,” I whispered to him, threateningly.
I stood in the doorway as the unidentified figures made their way in. As soon as they passed the threshold, I kicked the door shut and grabbed one from behind, putting the knife to their throat. She froze. I noticed that she was holding a young boy’s hand. He couldn’t have been more than a few years old.
“Christian!” she shouted. When I heard her voice, I immediately recognized it.
“Shhh, shhh, Cindy. It’s just me,” I whispered in her ear.
“No, no, no, no, please no,” her voice shook, “Dani.”
“That’s right. Now walk with me into the living room,” I said, nudging her forward.
“Aden, go upstairs,” she said, letting go of the little boy’s hand. He remained unmoved, too scared to leave.
“No, Aden, you stay with us,” I said, releasing Cindy, “Take him with you.”
“Dani, if you fuckin’ touch him, I will kill you myself,” Christian said, enraged.
“Why? Because touching young kids is your job?” I said, walking behind him, “And you, why the fuck are you here? I should’ve known you’d stay with him.”
“I’m not with him!” Cindy shouted, “We broke up, but we have split custody.”
“Oh, that’s fuckin’ amazing! Wow, congrats, Cindy, looks like you can have children after all- and be just what Christian always wanted. A victim-making machine.”
“I don’t touch him!” Christian
