Chapter Forty-Four
Declan
“Iunderstand,” says Daphne as the recording begins. “What must I do?”
There is a long moment of silence followed by the sounds of metal scraping against a stone-like surface. Wherever this is happening, the room must be either massive or extremely dense, perhaps solid concrete walls, like a bunker, as even the echo is caught by the microphone.
“Wait,” says Daphne, finally. “Where are you?” There’s another silent pause. “Oh–okay.” The sound of frantic tears under restraint ring clear to those listening. Then there’s more scratching and metal scraping.
“Why can’t you just get it over with?” Daphne asks, almost choking on the words.
The moments of silence between each sentence I hear suggest Daphne is listening to someone else speak to her, yet there’s nothing at all on the recording.
Who is she talking to?
A quick distinct sound bounds out, but I have no clue what it could be. Daphne coughs freely before those that follow come across as muffled.
She has a free hand.
“You want me to do what?” she asks with the utmost clarity. “I can’t possibly–” Then nothing, not even the faintest breath follows for half a minute.
“Okay. Fine. I’ve picked it up. Are you happy now?” she speaks again, this time with more umph.
What is going on? She’s all over the place.
“You keep saying I’ll never fail you again,” she insists. “How is it that I’ve ever failed you to begin with? How is it even possible?”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A series of identical noises pierce my eardrums.
What was that?
“What the hell are you?” Daphne screams. “Why won’t you leave me alone?” Soon after, I can tell she’s choking, followed by a scream that fades away from the recording. The squishing impact of skin and bone colliding with a blunt object, maybe a wall, thuds through the speakers overhead.
“What’s going on, doc?” I ask. “What just happened?”
“Patience,” the doctor replies. “That’s not the end.”
A loud, strained cough shakes the speakers above, accompanied by a subtle wheezing.
“Just kill me,” Daphne says weakly. “Do it.” I recognize her footsteps, faint but noticeable, and the sound of her collapsing onto some sort of seat or bed.
“Happy now? Is this where you want me?”
What is happening to her?
“I’ve known today was coming,” she confesses.
“I know I tried to ignore it for the longest time, but I always knew. It’s why the doctors could never help me.
Because you’re not in my head. You’re not a fucking nightmare.
Well, not in that sense.” I can feel the struggle behind her words as she fights back tears and nerves. “You’re evil incarnate.”
“Doc,” I interrupt. “Who is she talking to?”
“Go. To. Hell,” Daphne says.
BANG!
Something metal clanks against the floor. And then the recording stops.
Dr. Campos stands next to the glass divider between us, grimacing.
“That,” he says through clenched teeth, “is the last known record of Daphne Brooks. Nobody knows where it took place or what actually happened. The authorities have identified the four separate loud bursts of noise as gunshots, but they can’t make out what, if anything, was hit by three of the fired rounds.
The last shot, however, sounds as though it was pressed against something. ”
“It can’t be,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Doc, I need you to play the recording one more time.”
“And why is that Declan?” the doctor asks.
“Patience Doc,” I say snidely. “Remember? Patience.”