CHAPTER FIVE
Dr Scholes strode into Kim's room with her chart in his hand. Kim thinks he's English, though his accent doesn't say that much, but his name does. But she never know the hidden fact that Dr Scholes had just finished speaking with Mr Owen Craig who pleaded with him to hold Kim for an extra hour before discharging her so that he can catch up with her at the hospital. Dr Scholes hoped the lawyer could make it on time because he had earlier on signed her discharge papers.
Kim was sitting up on her bed looking quiet traumatized. Her hair was all rumpled up, it made her looked like she's in an asylum, or there about.
"How're you feeling today, Miss Otis?" Dr Scholes adjusted his glasses and focused at the chart.
"Ok; I guess." Kim didn't look at him.
"I have some good news for you. Your CT scans are good, no internal injuries; your bones are all intact except for that sprain on your ankle which will heal soon. So you are ok and good to go." Kim didn't say a word. "Well, that's it. So I’ll go and have your discharge papers ready."
"Any word from my grandmother yet? I gave you the number right?"
"Yeah you did. I left a message." He walked out.
Kim knew she's never going to get a prompt response from Grandma Maggie. It's been two years since she last saw the old woman; she never called her even though she had the number all that long. Maybe Maggie still holds a grudge for the hell Kim had put her through when her mother sent her to Maggie in Carson City for the spring break.
Loneliness had never been a problem for Kim since she left LA. But she met Jason and he changed that; he made her understood that everyone, at some point in life, needs some solace; someone to look after him even if that person mustn’t necessary tell him what to do. That was the moment she realized she needed him. But now Jason is dead, and worse of all, she's responsible for it!
She shook her head vigorously, trying to shake off the prickly feeling that befalls her nerves every time she thinks of that. She hated herself and will be glad if someone could show her some hate too. She could use some; she wants to be punished for what she has done. Earlier, she contemplated suicide but thought that's not enough. She deserves the kind of death that's slow and painful; she needs to feel the pain Jason went through before he died. And she'll do it. But before then she’ll continue to remain in bitterness.
So she cried and cried until her head ached. She slept for a moment, woke up and kept on crying.
"What in Lord's name is wrong with you poor beautiful child?"
Kim glanced at the door and saw an elderly black woman standing there in a blue dress and black skirt. The eyes blinked behind large framed glasses. Kim didn't say a word, she just kept on crying. The woman looked around the room and back to Kim.
"Why are you crying like that? Baby you've been crying far too much. I saw you like that yesterday when I passed by, and you're still crying. Do you think crying will solve your problems?" She walked up to Kim and sat on the bed. Kim turned her head away from the woman.
"Listen child; I don't know what happened to you and what drama you're in, but whatever it is, it ain’t no good. The devil has got hold of your heart, he's nagging in it tell you, you're in deep shit. He wants to break you down and make you do some nasty things to destroy yourself, your dreams and all those beautiful things you've built. No honey, the devil is a damn liar. You got to stop crying and stand up!"
Kim cried more the lady looked around the room and back at Kim. "I can see that you're all alone in this. It's sad. Someone's got to be here witchu. But that ain’t no problem either, coz what you need now is not someone; what you need now is Jesus. You need to be free of that devil in your heart. You need to bring in Jesus to whoop the devil right on the butt and free you from his evil hold. All you got to do is call onto Him and you shall be free."
The lady reached for Kim’s face and brought it five inches to hers. Kim resisted but the woman maintained a strong hold on it that Kim had no option but to look right into the lady’s eyes.
"What's your name?"
"Kim." She said in tears.
"Praise the Lord. Kim, you are free. Call on to His name, now! Say 'Jesus save me'; say it in whatever language, he'll hear you and will act on it. Say it!"
".. Jesus..."
"I can't hear you; com’on, your mama never takes you to church before?"
"Jesus!"
"Oh praise the lord." She pulled Kim and hugged her tightly. Kim clings to the lady's plumpness and sobbed.
"Oh praise Jesus." The lady waved in air with the right hand. "Oh Lord; hear your child and bless her. Take away her pain and sorrow and replace it with happiness. Show her the light in your path and let her see the way. Be with her now and forever more. Amen."
"Now that's a good prayer ma'am."
Both ladies froze at the voice. They turned and saw a man in a black suit, dark hair and a bushy moustache. The lady looked at him suspiciously.
"Pardon me ladies. I'm detective Jerry Parker. I came to talk to Miss Kimberly Otis about the accident."
"I knew you're a cop" The lady shook her head, releasing her hold on Kim. "Damn; you smell like one." She looked at Kim "Don't worry sweetheart, you already have the divine intervention you need. You'll be just fine." The lady left, tipping a weird glance at the cop on the way out.
"I'm Kimberly. What do you want to know?"
The detective strode closer, fished a small note pad out of his breast pocket and cleared his throat.
"Miss Kimberly I'm deeply sorry for your loss, but I need to clear a few things. Can you recall what happened in the truck before the accident?"
Like hell I can. I caused it.
"We... we lost control."
"You lost control; how? Your truck was moving on a straight road, but you suddenly took a sharp swerve at ninety degrees and crossed to the opposite lane?"
Yeah, I was the one that grabbed the wheel and force the car off the lane.
"I don't know. Everything happened in a split second."
Kim had never had problems with the police before, but she’s familiar with the kind of look detectives wear when something sounds like bullshit. Parker wore that kind of look.
"Miss Kimberly, we are dealing with a serious matter that involves death and destruction of property. Lying will make this a lot worse so I implore you to tell the truth."
"I'm telling you the truth." she flashed him a daring stare.
"Were you drinking in the car?"
"No"
The detective gave her another unconvincing stare. "A bottle of Sean Don was found in the wreckage by Mr. Jason Curtis's seat and you told me you were not drinking."
Shit!
"We were going for a dinner at a friend’s house. Jason bought the bottle as a present."
"Miss Kimberly, you know we can do this down town if you want."
"There won’t be need for that!"
It's another voice. They both turned to the door and saw a strange fellow walking in.
"Who the hell are you?" Jerry Parker looked at the stranger from head to toe. Kim wanted to ask the same question but saw no need; Jerry has done that
"Owen Craig, Kimberly Otis's attorney."
Kim didn’t understand what's going on. It looks like some joke.
"Attorney?" Jerry was faster than Kim for the question.
Kim has never been confused in her life. Her mouth hung open on the puzzle. She got a priest two minutes before, then a snoopy cop and now, someone just surfaced out of the blues claiming to be her lawyer.
So much for Divine intervention!
■■■■
Nicole was at Maggie's again. The night before was not that smooth for her as she spent a better part of it thinking about 'Pablo' and the 'Ps'. She didn't tell Joe about the letter marks on Maggie's cardigan and tattoo. He looked and sounded scared so telling him could make him bolt off.
When she came to the house, she went straight to the bedroom and stood before the drawer in which she found the black diary. She took a
deep breath, opened it gently and brought the diary out. Then she sat on the bed and opened it.
The diary was indeed old fashioned, she observed. It has no dates, days, weeks, months or year pre-printed on the pages. Each page was originally blank and Maggie had entered the dates of each entry manually with a pen. She had also numbered each page for easy reference. The first three pages were all blank. The fourth page however had a two versed poem written at the centre of the page. She read aloud;
Oh! Those songs of the night,
So sweet; so bitter; so dark
Life; what happiness, what plight,
What living has no pain, nor lark?
"Great."
Nicole has not been a fan of poetry. Since kindergarten, she had found most nursery rhymes a bit silly. But she loves music and that's all; nothing more. Never had she sought to look for the lyrics of any song and she never wrote one. But that's not the point at the moment. The point is, what the hell does that supposed to mean.
Having not been able to understand what the poem meant, she flipped on to the next page which was blank; then she went on to the next page and that's where it all began. It started in 1944, September 15th; and to Nicole's dismay, the event was also written poetically.
Confused to the bone, she flipped through the pages hoping to find a plain entry; but there’s none. She closed the book and flung it on the bed.
This has gotten worse!
Her frustration gauge was red and that's for hitting another deadlock. First, it was the password; now this?
Anger began to crawl inside her. She stormed out the room, leaving the book on the bed. She needed a drink.
She stood on the balcony. There's nothing much of the view that she haven't seen before. The houses were all there, so were the sidewalks, curbs, lawns, mailboxes, the roofs and the little garden at the far end of the street. But the air was good though; cold and refreshing.
She closed her eyes and sniffed; in the actual sense, she needed to relieve herself off her anger. She needed the drink, but on second thought, she chose the air instead.
She needs to be focused and get her thoughts together to be able to come out with the next line of action. But the more she thinks, the angrier she gets.
Anger is an emotional feeling instigated when pressure builds up within the mind. It's usually experienced when things didn't go according to one's mind. The pressure builds up naturally and could continue to an extent that a reaction —violent or otherwise— may be exhibited by the individual. Anger clouds the mind and makes someone lose focus. She read that in med school. The last thing she wants now is to lose focus.
I can beat you. I will beat you. I will win.
That's herself motivational words. Her father taught her to say it over and over whenever she had difficulty with her math.
"Math could be your enemy if it proves difficult to you. So you must battle it; you must go hard on it, it's only then that you can beat it. You will beat it and you will win" He used to say and she learnt to say the words ever since. She took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to deflate the pressure bloating inside her. She shifted her concentration to the view before her. She had once read a journal on a Japanese Sumo Psyche drill where the mind can be psychologically separated completely from the body; that even if the body is been tortured, one feels no pain. She could do that with her anger; taking it far away from her mind.
Just when the 'therapy' began to take effect, a woman opened the back door of the house adjacent to Maggie's. The lady was holding a plastic bag; a kid followed her with a smaller bag and she dumped hers in the trash and did the same with the kid's.
"Good job honey. You did great; it's time you take a break."
"I'm not tired."
"Michael, the cellar is dark and clumsy and I won't let you in there. It's dangerous."
"But mom I’m not tired." He whined
"I know pumpkin. Now don't stand there in the cold; come on inside; Chop chop!" The kid got in; mom patted his butt.
Nicole watched as the woman shot the door. Some silence returned again and she couldn’t help but smile at the familiar tender show-down between mother and child. Kind of reminded her of her mother and how she always warned her not to get into dangerous places like the coop and the cellar...
The cellar! She hurried back into the house.
For once, Nicole didn't know where the cellar was, so she had to look for it down stairs. The garage was the first place she went to. It was small; and what made it more beautiful was Maggie's black Honda Accord sitting calmly in it. Maggie loved the car; she didn't drive in it much; she liked taking care of it more. There was a brown, rusty iron door adjacent to the garage from the inside. It has a round knob with a keyhole in the middle.
This looks more like it.
She opened it and stood in the door way for a second; the peculiar smell of damp dust hit her nose; she felt like sneezing. It was dark; she stepped inside and looked for the switch which she found with some difficulty and at the oddest place— a little above the ground, to the left. The light was dim but enough to illuminate the darkness.
With the lights on, she saw before her, a steep stair case that goes down in a curve; she couldn't see its end. She must admit, that's the weirdest kind of cellar she had seen. The walls were painted in dark colours, like brown or something like that. There were some odd looking paintings on the wall by the right.
Naturally, she'd have walked down without stopping to observe the paintings; but she realized there's something strange about them. They were three of in number, about 24 by 36 inches in size, framed and placed horizontally on the wall abreast one other. All were abstractions.
The first one portrayed distorted figures of a man and a woman. The woman seemed to be looking at the man, who was looking at something high up; it had brilliant colours— mostly white, purple, red, blue and black. The second painting had no human figures in it but just shapes— cubes, squares, spheres— arranged in disarray but coloured lightly and harmoniously with blue colours dominant. The third painting portrayed a distorted image of a woman looking out the window; the background was dark except for the illumination coming from the window, brightening a part her face.
Nicole observed the paintings closely for a minute. Even though it's difficult to tell what they meant, they seemed connected in some way; maybe through the colours, she thought. It felt like they were telling a story.
What the hell.
She took the few steps down; at the end of the curve, she saw another door, metallic and locked. She turned the knob and pushed hard but it didn't open. She looked around and saw a key pad on the wall by right; that's when it downed on her that she needs a combination code.
Damn it!
She sighed and held her forehead in frustration. Her hand smelt dusty but she didn’t seem to give a damn. Nothing was more irritating; and the thought of not having the key combination was not only frustrating, but demoralizing as well. Again it's another deadlock; three in a row.
Anger began to flow back again. In a moment, Nicole felt like screaming. She also became a little angry with Maggie for the all difficulties she put her through. Nicole wondered how on earth could she fulfil Maggie's last wish if she keeps on hitting dead ends every time she has a clue?
Damn!
You can beat this; you will beat this; you will win.
This time, Nicole tried forcing the quiet voice out of her head; it had come to one of the few moments where the motivation didn't seem to make any impact. Leaning on the dusty wall, her eyes fell on the security key pad. She tried to think of something but nothing came to her mind.
You can beat it, you'll beat it; you will win... Slowly, something began to surface.
The numbers on the keypad are similar to those on a cell phone except that the former has letters in addition. She could try converting the letters in PABLO to numbers, maybe she could get something.
Let's see; P A B L O; that's 7 2 2 5 6, great. She never fe
lt so hopeful.
Just when she's about to take the two steps forward to enter the numbers, she heard the most unbelievable noise from the top: someone had opened the first door!
The dim lighting of the stair case brightened more when the door was opened. To Nicole's horror, heavy footsteps began to descend the stairs; then a by a huge male shadow came to view. Her heart nearly stopped.
There's no hiding place. The caller is designed in such a way that the only way to entrance and exit is only through the first door above the stairs where the man is coming from. The only place she could hide was inside the room behind the metal door, which to her disadvantage, she doesn't have the combination to open it. Nicole never felt fear in such enormity before; and the worse part of it is she had reached the point of acceptance that whatever is going to happen, will happen; no matter what.
She watched in horror as the shadow approached; the footsteps sounding louder and the shadow closing in. And when the figure was just about to come into view, it stopped.
Nicole's palms were on her mouth— a reflex action partly due to the grip of fear and partly to block the scream that's threatening to come out of it. Life itself stood still; her breath, the shadow and even the dust-smelling air seemed to be stilled by the horror of the moment. Coupled with the fact that there's no way to escape made the whole thing dead scary.
The figure moved a little. She tightened her hold on the mouth. It moved again, this time retreating back up the stairs.
What's going on?
She watched as the shadow slowly disappeared and she hoped he’d opened the door and be out. But instead, she heard a little click of the switch; the lights went off. She started to pray.
Then the lights came back on. A short squeal escaped from Nicole's mouth and she tightened her hold on the mouth. She felt as if the person had heard her because a chilly silence reigned between them for a moment.
Oh God; who are this? What does he want?
Nicole felt the silence took ages and she thought she has to do something; if not, whoever is up there may kill or harm her. The problem is, she had no idea what exactly she'd do considering the implication of doing a wrong thing. She's not armed and there's nothing around that she could use as a weapon. She wished she could get hold of that pitchfork she and Maggie once used in the garden.
First all, Nicole summoned all the courage she could gather, swallowed hard and did the only thing she could think of:
"Who's there?" Her voice trembled a little. She could feel the man froze instantly. She waited for the worse. Her heart was inside her mouth; and her body trembled like a wet chicken.
"Who's there?" her voice a bit clearer this time
He didn't move a muscle; like he wasn't there at all. Nicole closed her eyes and swallowed again, and then she slowly began to ascend the stairs. She took the first step then the second and just when she's about to take the third, she heard the little click of the switch and the light went off again. She let out a little scream of fear.
Nicole heard some movements, like footsteps ascending the stairs instead of descending them. Then she heard the door opened sending bright rays of natural illumination into the dark corridor. She kept on ascending the stairs until she reached the door. There's no one was on sight.
The door hung wide open. Cold air wafted through and hit her face. Nicole reached and stepped out of it without moving further. The person in the house was nowhere on sight but she could feel his presence somewhere in the house; somewhere close. She's sure of it.
Maggie's car stood breathlessly while it's black colour shone in the lights; but she wasn't too sure whether or not it's empty. So she walked slowly around it; her heart beating fast with fear and anxiety. But nothing; it's still empty. She became more confused and scared. Where could he be?
Just when she was about to check around the car again, strong hands gripped her from behind. She screamed and began struggling to get free, but the strength of the grip had made freedom seemed far from attainment.
She tried to scream again but this time, no voice came out. She kept on struggling. The grip was very strong and firm that she felt her shoulders and chest were about get crush by the squeeze. The man dragged her back into the cellar and down the steps.
His right palm was strapped over her mouth while his left hand held firm against her chest. The cellar was dark; a perfect scene for a quiet murder. She felt what he was thinking: he intends to silence her forever.
For the first time in her 34-year lifetime, Nicole saw death starring at her in the face, flexing its knuckles just about to get to work on her. She'd swear she caught glimpses of her parents and Maggie standing there; watching. His hold on her mouth was so strong that she began to suffocate. It was then that the real struggle began. She kicked and kicked but he maintained his grip and the dragging down the stairs.
Her lucky moment came before he finished descending the steps. Nicole got her two feet on the edge of a step and pushed back with all her energy. She just did that without actually knowing what's going to happen. Something did happen: he missed a step; and that was a disaster.
Nicole's push was hard enough to send them both falling back. To his disadvantage, he fell first on the hard concrete floor just before the door. A groan of pain escaped from his mouth as they fell; and his hands lost the grip on her.
She struggled up to her feet and climbed up the stairs, but she felt a kick on her butt, making her fell face down on the stairs. She screamed in pain as her knee hit the edge of one of the steps. Yet, she struggled up again and dragged herself to ascend the stairs. When she was half way, he grabbed her left foot; she gave another scream; it was the leg with the bad knee. Nicole turned round with her foot still in his grip and kicked him with the right foot.
It was at that moment that she saw her captor; a huge man in black t-shirt and a mask. He's also tall. She sat on a step and kicked him again on the face with the other foot. He seemed not to be feeling her baby kicks but she kept on kicking until he let go of her foot. She scrambled to the door.
Even though she had a killer on her, it felt relieving to be free in the open. She ran out of the cellar with a limp. She needn't her sixth sense to tell her the guy was right behind her; and her momentary freedom was still far from celebration. The first place she had to get to was the kitchen, then the living room and finally the door; and with her bad knee, it's a very long way.
She got to the kitchen alright; but he grabbed her before she reached the living room.
"Somebody help me!" she screamed and hoped someone could hear. "Heeelp..."
"Shut up bitch." he said and hit her on the face. She went sprawling on the floor; crying and screaming. She tried to scramble to her feet again; he seized her by the hair and pushed her to the wall.
"You are dead bitch! You are dead."
"No please. Please let me go."
"Too late for that" he said and brought out a knife.
Before he strikes, Nicole pushed at the wall and both of them staggered backwards. She turned in a flash and kicked him on the groin; he gave a short deep groan, holding his balls. She ran out of the kitchen into the living room, he followed her but it was too late for him as she had already opened the front door, screaming for help.
"Shit!" He cursed.
He knew the battle was over and there's no way he can follow her outside.
"Fuck!!"
Nicole fell down when she got to the street; people have already started rushing to her rescue.
"Are you alright?" A young man asked her as he helped her to her feet.
"He's in there. A thief; he tried to kill me" she said, crying.
"Somebody call 911, please. I’ll go check it out." said another man.
Another man had already dialled the number and was speaking on the phone.
"Call the ambulance too. This woman needs a doctor" A woman yelled.
Nicole was still crying. It was that moment that she felt the pain proper. Her head was bleeding an
d her knee was stabbing like hell. A small crowd had gathered around. Some looked at her with pitiful faces while others stared with hard faces; angry at whoever put her into this situation.
"He got away. There's no one in the house." The young man said as he jogged back to the rest.
That was the last thing Nicole heard before she passed out.