Chapter 2 #2
My smile is satisfied as I go inside and quietly shut it.
I make sure that his blinds are closed in case anyone walks by, so no one sees the light.
As I turn on the small desk lamp, I look around, opening drawers and finding a pack of cigarettes…
Stoke's little vice…and a lighter. I'm tempted to pocket it, but if I'm caught with an incendiary device, I'll be in very very big trouble.
I peruse his old-fashioned paper calendar, going back to the day that I think I was returned to The Heath. There are no names, but his time is blocked out with a meeting that simply says ‘JGB’.
Joseph Banderville, perhaps.
I turn to the filing cabinet behind the desk and open it. I find my file first. It's thick, thicker than the others, which I find odd because there's no way that I'm the worst behaved resident who's come through these doors.
I go through it, page by page, finding all of the police reports from Richmond when I was a kid, all the evidence that Stoke used to keep me here.
I read his comments about me, darkly amused at how he underestimates me, how stupid he thinks I am and all the ways I’ve ‘come along’ because of him.
But there's nothing really of note, nothing I didn't already know.
Just as I'm about to put it back, I notice some pages at the end. They detail all the times that I've been corrected and all the punishments I have received. Like William when I first came here, there were many. Every day. Sometimes multiple times in a twenty-four-hour period. I'm surprised that everything is cataloged so neatly, meticulously. It even says who administered the correction. Crewes’ name pops up a lot, and Sue’s. There are others who don’t work here anymore.
A name I don’t see is Douglas and I realize that despite his threats, he never did zap me, never even gave me a demerit.
I take the page out of the file, biting my lip a little as I wonder if I dare do what I’m thinking of doing. I carry it through the other door that leads into the reception area.
There's a photocopier in here.
I glance at the hatch window that opens into the foyer to the main doors of the building. It's closed but the blind is open.
Do I risk it?
If the machine is too loud, the Blanks will hear.
I go to the blinds, and, very slowly, I let them go down, closing them so that no one can see into the room if they do happen to patrol this way.
Next, I pick up the phone, but when I try to dial a number, I get a beep. I look around the desk and see a note to dial ‘9’ for an external call along with the country codes. I find the one for the USA and try Shade, glad I memorized his number even though it was programmed into my phone.
It goes straight to voicemail.
‘It’s me,’ I whisper. ‘Daisy. I’m in…The Heath.’ My voice breaks and I force myself to carry on. ‘I’m going to try to escape. I love you guys and I miss you. I’ll call again if I can.’
I hang up the phone and close my eyes, fighting a sob. But I get it together and I put the paper I took from my file on the glass of the photocopier. Holding my breath, I listen for sounds of the Blanks. When all stays silent for several seconds, I press the print button.
It's a new machine, I realize when it scans so quietly. In the darkness, I grin down at it and then I go into the files of all of the other residents who have been here over the years, systematically taking each of these final punishment pages out, and making copies of every single one.
Some of them are quite detailed in their descriptions of the correction, almost as if the Blanks enjoy inflicting the pain and humiliation they do. This isn’t a surprise. Some of them love the little taste of power lording over us gives them.
I recognize Douglas's writing here and there, but it looks like he rarely corrected anyone. It's too bad he's not here anymore. I might have been able to get him to help me. He may have been an actual ally in this place.
When I'm finished, I have a stack of about fifty pages—residents who are here, some who no longer are. But where can I put them where they won’t be found?
I make sure that the reception area is left exactly as I found it before I leave, twist the blinds back to exactly where they were and pull them up slightly. Then I go into Stoke's office and position his chair back under his desk and close the file cabinet drawers completely.
I slip out into the hallway, thinking about where I'd be able to hide this stack of incriminating paperwork safely. My room is off limits. They ransack it every couple of days, looking for contraband. Where they think I'd get any is beyond me.
The art room.
I sprint upstairs to the second floor of the old Victorian building. The art room only has bare floorboards, and I found out during my many years here that it is possible to pull up the ones in the corner, as long as one is careful.
I do just that, tiptoeing to the back corner, moving a couple of easels, and tugging up one of the floorboards with my fingers.
The nails are rusted and worn, so they no longer grip the wood underneath.
I slip the papers under the floor and reposition everything so that no one knows I was ever here.
I'll have to see what else I can find because I need evidence to build a case against The Heath. I'm taking this place down. I promise myself and everyone else who has suffered here that I’m going to make sure Stoke and his minions go to prison.
Mav
‘You have Joe Banderville’s phone?’ Blake regards me in surprise.
‘Yeah,’ I say, shifting in my seat as the plane shakes a little.
‘Sauvage had his guys look at it for info on where Daisy might be, but he said they didn’t find anything. I asked for it back. I thought you might want to see for yourself, in case there was something useful on it that his people didn’t know to look for.’
Blake holds out his hand, and I reach across the aisle to where he’s sitting at a table, letting him take the phone from my hand.
He opens his laptop and doesn’t say anything else.
I watch as he hooks the phone up to the cable, and I glance over at Shade.
He looks tired. Exhausted. I guess we all do.
None of us have really slept properly since we lost her.
‘How many hours to go?’ I mutter.
He side-eyes me. ‘Four. You might want to get some sleep.’
‘You look like you need it more than me,’ I snort, mostly to be a dick.
I rub my tired eyes and look around the fuselage.
I’ve never been on an airplane before. I don’t mind it. If the circumstances were different, I’d probably even enjoy it. But I don’t enjoy anything right now, not without her. The whole world seems darker without her by our sides.
God, I hope she’s okay.
I stand up and walk around the cabin, trying to escape my thoughts.
The lone flight attendant who has been getting us drinks and food, who introduced herself as Sheryl when we got on board, seems to be on her break. She’s mostly left us alone, probably used to sudden trips because she hasn’t batted an eye over this impromptu flight overseas.
The pilot and co-pilot, we haven’t seen since take-off.
‘There’s a lot missing,’ Blake says absently, not looking away from his laptop screen.
‘Like he deleted a bunch of stuff?’ I ask.
Blake shrugs. ‘Or this wasn’t his primary phone.’
I pace up and down the carriage for a few minutes, feeling a little like Shade, to be honest.
A little while later, I hear Blake mutter, ‘Jesus’.
I glance over at him. He has his hand over his mouth. I can’t see the screen from here, but my stomach drops at the look on his face, the pure unadulterated rage diluted by devastation.
‘What is it?’
‘I found something in his messages,’ he answers, his voice muffled by his hand. ‘I think this was a secondary cell.’
He looks away from the laptop, his eyes closing for a second as he swallows hard.
My limbs are leaden because I know from his face that this has something to do with our girl. I half-lurch across the plane and swivel the laptop around to find a video of Daisy in the shower.
I frown at the screen. She’s naked.
‘What the fuck is this?’ I snarl.
I turn on the sound, and Nasty Nurse’s cackle fills my ears. She’s filming Daisy, who’s shivering violently under the water.
‘Clean yourself up, you dirty little bed-wetter,’ she snarls. ‘Use the soap. How anyone thought you could live without twenty-four-hour supervision is beyond me. Next time you see Joe, I want you to tell him how lucky you are and thank him. Got it?’
‘Yes, Nurse Smith.’ Daisy’s voice is monotone, completely devoid of expression. She doesn’t look at the nurse.
‘What else?’ the nurse snaps.
‘Thank you, Nurse Smith,’ Daisy says after a moment.
I grind my teeth. I don’t want to watch this, or listen to it, but I have to. Daisy lived this. The least we can do is witness it.
‘If that bitch wasn’t already dead, I’d kill her myself,’ Shade grates out next to me.
‘You and me both,’ I agree.
‘There’s more,’ Blake says very quietly.
‘Show us,’ Shade commands.
The next video appears. It’s a clip of Daisy being shocked in a hallway I recognize as the Novelle house. Her body shudders with electricity and she drops to the floor with a loud thump that’s audible over the speaker.
The next one is of her asleep in bed. It’s dark.
The light snaps on and she wakes with a squeal, her body jumping as the nurse zaps her again.
The bitch’s giggle makes me crazy with a need for vengeance that will never be realized.
There’s no way either she or Joe will ever really pay for what they did.
‘His death was too quick,’ I hear Blake say.
‘His death was too quick,’ I echo.
Next to me, Shade nods. ‘There are pictures too.’
I nod at Blake, and a photo appears on the screen—Daisy naked again, looking away from the camera, her eyes blank. It’s in a text message thread.
How much more weight do u want the chunk to lose?
the nasty nurse’s message reads.
Joe responds:
Five more pounds at least. Why are her nips so red?
Pinched them a little for U
Naughty nurse
Thats y u love me
I feel sick.
Then there’s another photo. Joe, in Daisy’s room, she’s on the bed, her eyes closed, and his fingers are inside her.
‘What the fuck!’ I snarl.
Unable to watch anymore, I slam the laptop shut.
‘Those fuckers. They—’ My voice breaks.
My fists clench, knuckles cracking with the force of it.
I feel Shade’s hand on my shoulder. I guess he’s trying to comfort me, but I shake my head.
‘How could they have… How— We left her there. We didn’t even— We should’ve gotten her out of that fucking house. She was with them for days and days and they were doing that shit to her.’
My first thought is to blame myself. The second is to blame Shade. I turn on him.
‘How did you not know this was happening?’
He sits down in the nearest chair, hard. He doesn’t answer.
‘I think I understand why she didn’t want to talk about it,’ Blake whispers brokenly. ‘We keep failing her. We should have protected her.’
‘I can’t believe I gave her shit for going to Sauvage,’ Shade mutters, putting his head in his hands. ‘Of course he was the better option. All that stuff…in my dad’s house and I just let it… What a blind asshole.’
‘Never again,’ I say vehemently. ‘We can never fail her like this again!’
I stalk back to my seat, slamming myself into it and looking out the window. There are tears in my eyes. My body is shaking with the force of my horror, my anger.
Four more hours.
How can I sit on this fucking plane for four more hours without punching something?
‘Here.’ I glance over to find Blake with something in his palm.
‘What is it?’
‘Kind of like Xanax. Take two and then sleep.’
‘I don’t want drugs!’ I snarl.
‘You need to sleep. Just do it.’ He thrusts them at me, and I take them, albeit reluctantly.
‘We’re no good to her if we’re all exhausted. What if we need to break her out of that fucking place?’
I grit my teeth, knowing he’s right, and take the pills, swallowing them down. I close my eyes, thinking there’s no way I’ll be able to rest…
But the next thing I know, my ears are killing me, and the captain’s muffled voice comes over the loudspeaker to say we’re beginning our descent into London.
We put our seatbelts on, and for the next half an hour my ears scream at me and throb in my skull.
The descent itself is pretty smooth, I guess, though I see Blake clutching his seat more than once when the airplane banks in the wind. We touch down with a thud and the wheels screech.
The captain and co-pilot come out of the cockpit, nodding to us and wishing us a pleasant stay in London as Sheryl opens the door.
‘There should be a car for us,’ Shade says. ‘Close to the plane.’ He looks out one of the windows. ‘Looks like it’s already here. Good.’
We grab our stuff and disembark down the steps on wheels that have been brought to the plane. The air is cold and damp. It’s cloudy and drizzling.
‘Welcome to England,’ I mutter. ‘How long until we get to The Heath?’
‘I don’t know,’ Shade replies. ‘We need to get to the town nearest the clinic. It’s called Thistlebury. Up north somewhere.’
‘How long ’til we get there?’ Blake asks, coming up behind us with his bag.
‘I just asked that,’ I say.
‘And I don’t know,’ Shade answers again with a long breath out. ‘Ask the driver.’
Blake pushes past us and goes over to the back of the black car where the driver has opened the trunk for our bags. He throws it in and exchanges a few words, coming back a moment later.
‘Three hours, he thinks. Too damn long,’ Blake mutters from behind me as we slide into the back seat.
He slams the door hard and proceeds to stare out of the tinted window with a scowl on his face.
He’s not wrong, but it’s not like we can break her out today. We need to do recon, make sure she’s actually there.
Shade takes his phone out and turns it on. He frowns at the screen.
‘I have a missed call. I don’t recognize the number.’ He taps it. ‘There’s a voicemail.’
He puts it to his ear.
‘It’s Daisy. Fuck.’
Blake practically rips the phone out of Shade’s hand, pressing it to his own ear.
‘She’s alive,’ he whispers, his eyes clenching. ‘She is here.’
‘Where?’
‘The Heath,’ Shade says. ‘I never thought I’d say this but thank God for Laurie.’
I get the phone off Blake and listen to the message myself.
‘She sounds like she’s…okay,’ I say carefully. ‘Well, not okay, but you know—’
‘Alive, at least?’ Blake supplies, looking as relieved as I feel.
‘Yeah,’ I whisper. ‘I haven’t wanted to say it but…’
‘We’ve all been thinking it,’ Shade finishes. ‘But she’s not dead and now we know for sure.’
‘What are we going to do when we get there?’ I ask. ‘How are we going to get Daisy out of that place?’
‘We’re going to need a plan,’ Blake says. ‘They’re not just going to let us walk in the front door and leave with her.’
Shade and I nod.
‘We’re going to need to break her out.’