19. You Are A Risk
19
You Are A Risk
Ever
The woman beside me was beautiful in an old-money sort of way, her long blonde hair and upturned nose giving her a mysterious, maybe a little bitchy, look. Theron had called her a friend, and I had to wonder what sort of friend dropped everything to help you dispose of a body on a weekday afternoon? I could do with a friend like that.
We pulled through an ornate gate and onto a winding drive, approaching what appeared to be an old, converted mill building, with red-brick walls and large windows that seemed to be reflective rather than transparent. There were chimney stacks along the roof, only one of them burning a dull, gray smoke escaping into the grayer Massachusetts sky. Aside from the smoke, it appeared more or less abandoned. The perfect setting for whatever nefarious and highly illegal organ ring Theron was dealing in, I supposed.
I followed the woman and Theron’s lead and jumped out of the car, trailing the blonde through a carport and into the building. Stepping inside I turned and caught Theron’s eye. He gave me a small, encouraging smile. Turning back to appraise the building I was surprised to find myself in a long, finished hallway, with others branching off at intervals.
The whole scene appeared almost — mundane, and certainly not what I would have expected from the inside of a mill, converted or no. The floor was dark wood, highly polished, while the walls were the same cream color as Theron’s home. There was no art or anything else to mark this place as personal, but every few feet there was a door. The further we walked, turning right and then left down the maze of halls, the more curious I became. Why so many doors?! The building from the outside was gigantic, but looked sparse and functional. The interior, particularly if it all looked like this, was more akin to a psychiatric prison. The outside might still appear like a factory, but inside the walls were endless.
Finally, we stopped in front of what seemed to be just like any other white-painted door, with mo markings or numbers to discern it from any of the others, as far as I could tell. The woman took out a key and unlocked it, leading the way inside. Theron entered behind me, still yanking along the fully-stuffed suitcase. I’d bought that before my first stay at the in-patient hospital, and I wasn’t intending on asking for it back.
Inside, the first signs of life and personality could be seen in the magazines strewn on a nearby desk, and a discarded container of Thai take-away that looked only half-finished. It was a rather large room, with a TV on the wall that was droning on about some celebrity news or other, and leather chairs backing onto wall-to-wall bookshelves stuffed with medical journals. Theron closed the door behind us, locking it again before continuing on through another door. This next one was made of glass, with small wires woven through the window pane. It looked like many I had seen in medical offices. Come to think of it, this did resemble a doctor’s waiting room.
“Theron,” I called after him, but he didn’t stop.
When I moved to follow him the lady stepped into my path, arms crossed and brows lifted. “You won’t want to see the Theron that exists beyond that door,” was all she said by way of explanation.
I shook my head and tried to look around her, but she was much taller, and I assumed stronger, based on the way she’d nearly taken my arm off at the apartment when basically dragging me down the stairs. “What do you mean? What is Theron going to do with him?”
She pursed her lips, and in lieu of answering, nodded towards my right shoulder, and the arm I’d been gingerly cradling against my chest. It throbbed, and every movement felt like my flesh was tearing apart. Theron had said it wasn’t dislocated but fuck, something was definitely wrong.
“Let’s get you out of that bloodstained dress, and then we can chat.”
Ten minutes later I was seated on one of the couches, my eyes still trained on the door Theron had disappeared through without so much as a backwards glance in my direction. Tabitha, as she had introduced herself before handing over a fresh change of clothing, sighed loudly before falling into the chair behind the desk on the far side of the room. She’d noticed my insistent gaze, and pointed towards the door with a well-manicured finger.
“He’s told you what we do here, correct?”
I nodded, hands rubbing along the loose jogging pants Tabitha had provided. “Organ transplants,” I answered meekly.
Tabitha hummed low, and watched me with a closeness that made me feel more undressed than when Theron had his eyes on me. Whereas the good doctor had unfurled his darkness to me, Tabitha was wary. Highly untrusting of others, it seemed, and I was not to be spared her scrutiny.
“So, he’s taking that man’s organs? What if there isn’t a suitable patient for transplant?”
“Oh, he’s not harvesting today,” Tabitha said, a small smirk on her lips that made my skin crawl. “Dr. Hawthorne has informed me that this is a personal matter, and I doubt there will be anything left to use when he’s done.”
Not harvesting ? The image of Theron holding a set of lungs like a prized pumpkin at a fair made me want to vomit, but I wouldn’t allow myself to appear so squeamish in front of this woman. She was obviously close to Theron, and all of this seemed frighteningly routine for her.
“You mean he’s torturing him.” It wasn’t a question, but Tabitha nodded, confirming my suspicions.
How did I feel about this? A man who’d stalked me for weeks, who I’d let into my body just the night before, was now cutting into a man who had hurt me. I should be distraught, screaming and throwing up onto the expensive flooring of this insane office building but instead I was sitting quietly, my thoughts turning over in a rush. I hadn’t even had time to digest what I’d learned about Theron or his family last night before I was watching it first hand.
“Does that bother you?” Tabitha asked, seemingly reading my mind and dissecting the distress on my face.
“I don’t know,” I answered her honestly, and she looked surprised.
“How curious,” was all she said in reply before picking up the discarded lunch and taking a bite of the — what I assumed were now cold — noodles. “I was sure you would have run by now.”
“I don’t think Theron would allow that to happen,” I said quietly before turning back towards the door and waiting for him to step through. Would he be covered in blood, smiling like a psychopath in a slasher film? Likely he wouldn’t return until he’d cleaned himself up, making sure I wouldn’t have to see the evidence of his dark proclivities. Theron enjoyed what he did. Not just saving lives, but taking them.
“You’re probably right about that,” she said thoughtfully, the fork was lifted to her mouth but she dropped it with a curious look. “And how does that make you feel?”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you his surgical assistant or on-sight psych evaluator?”
“I’m whatever Dr. Hawthorne needs me to be,” she answered, eyes dark. It was obvious now that the working relationship between these two was well-oiled and built upon a solid respect for their craft. “And you are a risk.”
I bristled, my cheeks heating at her words like I was standing in front of a fire that I so desperately wanted to throw myself into. It was almost funny, from any other point of view. Theron would have been the walking red flag, waving from a pole of nearly a hundred other crimson sails. He was the stalker. He was the killer. And Tabitha was his assistant. But within the tiny circle of their illegal organ harvesting operation, I was the outsider. A risk , as Tabitha so gracefully put it.
“I’m not going to tell anyone about this,” I said, loosely motioning around with my hands. “Who would believe me anyway? Besides, I’m not some serial killer groupie who attached myself to Theron at the hospital. He pursued me .”
Tabitha threw down the empty container and crossed her arms over her chest, eyes still alight with distrust and maybe a bit of hatred. I was an unwelcome visitor in their world.
“Theron is not a gray’s Anatomy wet dream, Ever Knight. Men like him are attracted to pretty things, but it’s fleeting. They’ll desperately grasp the shiny new toy and then break it into pieces themselves, out of what they perceive as ‘love’. But Theron Hawthorne will never truly love you.”
My body was aflame, and I wanted nothing more than to slap her stunning, aristocratic face, but she was probably right, and if she was right then why did I care? I didn’t find myself tangled with Theron out of a false sense of love , but rather the shaky sense of safety he brought me. He was a shadow in the corner of a crowded room, drawing me towards the dark when the light burned me.
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to hold in the words I wanted to scream at her. My heart was still pounding, some innate survival sense telling me I needed to be on guard while being locked in a room with her. Theron was God knows where, doing Satan knows what with my attacker and would be gone for an undisclosed amount of time. Why should he get to disappear and dole out justice to the man who hurt me? Why shouldn’t I know, or see, what was happening?
Or make it happen myself, whispered a dark voice in the back of my mind.
I stood up suddenly. “I want to see Theron,” I declared loudly, making to move towards the glass door, but Tabitha was quick. The bitch was in front of me before I could blink with sneer on her plush lips.
“Are you deaf, or stupid? Theron is in the operating room, and he won’t appreciate the company.”
“I’m aware, and I’m not squeamish,” I argued, my chin raised defiantly. “That man was going to rape me!”
Tabitha scoffed. “You’re not watching a child be born, or a nurse pour peroxide over a bloody knee. Hawthorne is ripping that man apart, and he’ll make sure he’s awake while he does it. You don’t understand what squeamish truly means, Miss Knight .”
I bristled, trying to rein in my burning desire to claw at her face, and pointed over her head. “I understand that he’s torturing the man who assaulted me. I think I deserve to see what sort of horrors he has in store, don’t you think? Theron wouldn’t even be in there without feeling the need to avenge me. I’m not afraid to witness that man’s death.”
Tabitha arched her brow and looked ready to argue, but then closed her mouth as a dangerous calm overtook her. “You know what, you’re right,” she said, her hands in the air. “If you want to witness, then who am I to stand in your way? You’re a big girl. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.”
I closed my own mouth, trying not to appear too surprised when Tabitha stepped to the door and held her wrist to a black pad on the wall. The bracelet on her arm disarmed the lock, and she walked back over to her desk without a word, flopping back down with her eyes on the TV. I looked back to the door and took a breath — fuck if I didn’t feel like I was making a huge mistake.