Blood Day (12 page)

“It would look like roses if we didn't know what it was,” said Sia.

Hauser looked at her, put a hand on her arm, but Sia ignored her and took a step back.
 

“You know, you can't just walk into my room any more,” Sia said, sitting gingerly on the side of the bed. “I'm not your patient any longer.”

“But I am still your nurse,” said Hauser, pulling a roll of gauze out of her pocket. She unwound it without meeting Sia's eyes. “I can still help you, Sia.”

“I don't want any more tranquilizers,” said Sia.

“Are you sure?” said the nurse, swabbing Sia's hand with a pad that stung with alcohol. Sia felt the nurse's eyes on her face and forced herself not to flinch. “They can help you. I know you don't sleep.”

“How would you know that?” said Sia, finally looking at the old woman. It seemed she had aged in the past days. Her eyes, once so steely and cold when they looked upon her, had gone so soft and red-rimmed that they looked almost rheumy.
 

“Sia,” said Hauser, wrapping her knuckles in gauze. “I can be a friend to you.”

Sia laughed. “We are not friends, Evelyn,” she said. “I do not wish everything I say to be reported to someone. I wish to know the truth. Always. And do you know who the only one I trust is?”

Hauser nodded as she taped the gauze. “You're right,” she said, her voice heavy. “You are right to only trust yourself, Sia. But please listen to this, girl,” she said, letting go of her hand and looking at her with a bit of her old toughness. “If you don't trust me, at least promise me that you won't trust them either.”

“That's treason,” said Sia. “I should report you.”

“Fine,” said Hauser. “Report me. Report everyone. But don't trust anyone. Do you understand?”

Sia looked at her for a long time before nodding. The nurse stood up and walked to the door before stopping, her hand on the doorknob.

“It's a shame the floor was slippery in here. They really should get some rugs so you don't injure yourself.”

“Yes,” said Sia. “They really should.”

“Sia?”

“Yes, Evelyn?”

“If you don't see me again, I'd like you to know how sorry I am.” There was something hollow in Hauser's voice that made Sia turn to look at her. She had her back to Sia and was staring right at the door.

“I don’t forgive you, Evelyn,” said Sia.

“Not for you, Sia,” said Hauser. “I'm sorry for...other things.”

“What sorts of things?” said Sia.

Hauser was silent for a long moment. Sia could see her taking breaths deep into her lungs. When she spoke again, her voice cracked.

“If one were to gain access to Z-block, they might be able to help someone.” She twisted the knob, but stopped again. “Or at the very least, put them out of their misery.”

“What?” said Sia. “What's in Z-block?”

But the nurse opened the door and left Sia alone. When she looked out the window an hour later, the body was gone, along with the bloody snow that had looked like roses.
 

Sia managed to sleep a few hours, after tiring herself out pacing back and forth. She glanced at her new door half a hundred times. It wasn't the painted cold metal of her hospital room. It was carved wood and the only lock on it was on her side. She could just walk out. No one would stop her.
 

But they claimed they were going to let her go if she survived. No more running.

Sia dozed, still wearing the dark green tailored dress that Mathilde had given her. She had given her a corset too, which Sia had left on the reclining chair near the window. As she dozed she had a short, feverish dream of a figure made of shadows who bent low to kiss her. He came away and vanished like smoke, leaving a rich and metallic taste on her lips, sweeter than honey. She touched her lips and her hand came away red and she found herself uttering a name as she bolted awake:
Joshua.
Feeling shaken after a dream so vivid, Sia pushed herself off the bed, sweaty and bleary. She made her way to the window and flung open the drapes. Daytime poured in, large flakes of snow floating down from the sky. The fresh snowfall covered the courtyard and looked as pretty and pristine as when she looked upon the grounds with Mathilde.
 

Sia blinked in the light, frowning as she looked down on what had been a scene of extreme violence the night before. Someone was in the courtyard. A man dressed in black stood motionless in a group of trees. For a moment Sia thought he was part of the foliage, until he raised a hand in a wave. He seemed to be looking right at her. She gave a little gasp, startled. She backed away from the window, hiding behind the drapes. She looked back a moment later and the man was gone. Probably just someone who worked in the hospital, she told herself. A stranger. But there had been something overly familiar in the way he waved to her.

Someone knocked on the door. Sia stared at it for a moment, not comprehending what she was supposed to do. Finally she blinked and stammered, “C-come in.”

A man with a crewcut and wearing blue scrubs wheeled in a wooden cart. Sia stared at him as he stood and smiled at her.

“What's this?” she said.

“Your breakfast,” he said, shrugging. “Can I get you anything else?”

“What?” said Sia.

“Do you want anything?” He was still smiling, but seemed confused by her reaction.

“I was in a hospital,” she said.

“Yes ma'am. You still are.”

“No, I mean, I wasn't –” she looked at him. He seemed to want very much to leave. Sia narrowed her eyes. “Please send someone to replace my window,” she said, surprised how much like Evelyn Hauser she sounded. “I slipped last night and hurt my hand very badly.”

“I'm so sorry,” said the man, seeming genuinely appalled at the news. Sia resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“And I'd like some rugs in here. These shoes are slippery and I don't think Mathilde wants to hear of me hurting myself again.”

“Of course,” said the man, irritating in his earnestness. His demeanor had changed completely from wanting to leave to wanting to please her. Sia realized he was afraid. He was practically crying. “Can I bring you something for your hand? You poor thing. Of course Madame Briar must be notified immediately. Please tell me what I can do to help you, ma'am. Would you like some ice? Perhaps some painkillers?”

“Jesus, no,” said Sia. “Just fix the window.”

“I'm so sorry,” he said.

“You can go now,” said Sia.

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yes,” said Sia with a sigh. “Just go away.” She couldn't trust anyone. She couldn't forget that. Especially not these people. She couldn't let anything slip to this man or anyone like him. She could not afford to show weakness to anyone, especially Mathilde. Sia very much disliked the feeling of her inner thoughts tumbling out of her when she had spoken to the woman. Something about her voice just made her secrets spill over.
 

Her breakfast was a croissant, warm and buttery, good hot coffee and some cantaloupe. She barely nibbled at it, so baffled was she by the sudden change in her circumstances. The day before she'd been strapped to a bed, her only possession a hospital gown. Today she wore a silk slip and slept on velvet. She had agreed to help Mathilde with Joshua Flynn, but she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do. She didn't see how she could be of any use. Even if they'd once met, even if they knew each other well, surely she wasn't the right person for a job. He was a monster, if Mathilde could be believed. Sia snorted. She would never trust Mathilde in a million years, but was she telling the truth about Joshua?

Sia froze in her pacing. She had thought of Joshua Flynn purely by his first name. It was familiar, as though she'd used it dozens of times. Joshua.
Why couldn't she remember?
 

Mid-morning, an elderly worker in dirty jeans and a sweat-stained blue shirt came to replace Sia's window. He smiled kindly at her.

“You may want to go somewhere else while I do this, ma'am. It's going to get pretty loud. And it's cold as hell out there. Been out yet today? We're supposed to get some kind of blizzard. Read it in the paper.”

“No,” said Sia. “I haven't been out.” She glanced toward the window and blinked at the brightness of the snow.

Two other men came in, carrying a large cardboard flat; the new window, Sia assumed. She sidestepped to get out of their way. They were much younger than the old man, and one dimpled a smile at her. She blinked at him and looked at the old man again. She glanced toward the open door.

“It's okay,” the old man said gently. “We won't bother your things, I promise.”

Sia nodded, taking a step toward the door. She poked her head out into the hall and looked around. It was a nicer-looking part of the hospital, though she supposed it was part of the same ward. The walls were dark with carved wood accents. A small table held a vase of fresh flowers. Sia looked back at the men, who watched her curiously.

“Boys, let's get to work,” said the old man. “So we can be out of the lady's hair.”

Sia took a shaky step out of the door, her heel sliding a little on a bit of melted snow one of the workers had tracked in. She caught herself. No one came rushing down the hall to shoot her full of sedatives or to chain her down. She carefully moved her other foot out of the room. She was now completely in the hall. She looked back into her room. The old man looked up from the electric saw that he was taking out of its case, and smiled sadly at her.

Sia hated being pitied. She turned away, closing the heavy door harder than needed. Still no one came. She took a step to her right, then another, her heels clicking on the tile. She looked uncertainly around one more time, before deciding to just walk until someone stopped her. She passed another room, the door open. It was empty. So was the next one. Every room was empty, without furniture, and had the heavy drapes drawn tight. But every ten feet there were small decorative tables with fresh flowers.

After passing two dozen empty rooms, Sia heard footsteps coming from the other direction; a woman, judging from the staccato sound of the clicks. Sia froze, unable to move. She wanted to dodge into the closest room and hide, but her legs wouldn't move. She thought of her last electroshock session and feared for a moment she would wet herself. Once when she struck Evelyn Hauser, there had been another ice bath. When she refused to eat, they strapped her to the wall and hosed her again, this time alternating icy cold and searing hot water. Sia began to cry, and that made her angry at the same time. But still her legs quivered like the bones had been removed and she couldn't stop the tears running down her face. When the approaching figure came into view, her vision was so blurry that she could barely make her out. But Sia would know that head-to-toe black lace anywhere.
 

The figure rushed toward her, and Sia was finally able to move her feet far enough to plunge herself against the dark wall, the force sending her to the floor, her knees banging hard against the tile.

“Sia! What happened?” said Mathilde. Her voice was concerned. Not angry at all. Sia looked up at her. She had put a tentative gloved hand on Sia's shoulder as she hugged the wall.

“Are you hurt?” said Mathilde when Sia didn't answer. “Did someone do this to you?”

“I...” Sia's voice seemed to be stuck in her throat. Her face was cold from the tears. She blinked, the panic subsiding a bit. “Y-you're not angry?”

“Why would I be angry?” said Mathilde. She crouched down next to Sia and took her hand.

“I just wanted to look around,” Sia said softly. “The man said it was all right.”

“Of course it's all right,
ma belle
. Why would it not be?” Mathilde watched her for a moment. “Oh,” she said. “I see. I'm afraid that you have not been treated very well, have you?”

“You're not going to shock me?” said Sia. “Or make me sit in ice?”

“I will never make you do anything you don't want to do, Sia,” said Mathilde. “Much less torture you. Come, now, get up. We cannot just sit here on the filthy floor.” She stood and pulled Sia up by the arm. She was much stronger than she appeared.
 

Sia stood, her whole body quivering.
 

“Oh, you poor girl,” said Mathilde. “Let us get you some tea, shall we? And then I'll give you a tour.”

“A tour of what?” said Sia.

“Why, of the hospital, of course,” said Mathilde. “I'm sure you've never seen it in its entirety. I think it is important that you see the good work we are doing here at Munson. Along with the...unfortunate necessities.”

Sia nodded. She felt out of sorts, confused, as she always did when Mathilde leaned close and spoke to her quietly. But the moment passed and Mathilde was leading Sia by her gloved hand down the hall past her room, around a corner, and then they were in a small dining room. Sia's shoes sank into a thick mauve carpet and the walls were painted a cheerful pink. There were potted plants with pink flowers spilling over shelves and pictures of gardens. A round white table with four white chairs sat in the very center of the room.

“It's excessively civilized,” said Mathilde apologetically. “Sit.”

Sia did as she was told. Mathilde picked up a nearby telephone and pressed a button.
 

“Tea for Ms. Aoki,
s'il vous plaît.
” She hung up the phone and joined Sia at the table.

“Thank you,” Sia muttered.

“My pleasure,” said Mathilde, her eyes sparkling behind the lace.

“I'm not like this,” said Sia, suddenly feeling a need to justify herself. “I've never been like this.”

“Like what?”

“Afraid,” said Sia. “I mean, I am afraid of some things. Needles. Big dogs. Heights. But I don't...do what you saw me do.”

“It's completely normal, my dear,” said Mathilde. “You've been through a trial. You were a victim of addiction. What was done to you was to combat that particular monster. I am sorry that it affected you in such a way, but in time you will recover. You may even thank the ones responsible for your rehabilitation. You are taking your first steps, really.”

“Steps toward what?” Sia said.