Chapter 8 Katarina #2
I lay on my bed and waited until all the lights had gone out in the hallway and everything was quiet.
When the director visited, it was one of the rare nights that they bothered to lock us in.
However, earlier today, I’d managed to sneak Alonso’s key off his key ring.
I’d use that to get out of my room and find the director.
When it felt like the whole place was sleeping, I got up, threw on a hoodie over my nightshirt, and pulled socks on. The tile floors were wickedly cold at night.
Then I headed to the door. I slid the key into the lock, turning it slowly so as not to be heard.
Adrenaline surged through me as the door was suddenly yanked out of my gentle grip.
It wrenched open, banging against the wall, and then Vargas was there, pushing into the room. He had two orderlies with him. I stared at them in shock.
“Going somewhere, Katarina? Looking for new ways to embarrass me?”
He sneered at me, staring me up and down and seeming to find me pathetic, standing there in my socks, my arms up defensively, like I could protect myself against these men.
“Bring her,” Vargas snapped, and spun on his heel.
I opened my mouth to scream for help, whom from, I had no idea.
Strangely, the image of my own personal Lucifer filled my head for a moment before the orderlies grabbed me.
One brought his wrist too close to my mouth, and I sank my teeth into his skin, hanging on doggedly.
He growled and tried to shake me off. Hot copper filled my mouth, but I hung on, right until the other guy sank a syringe into my neck.
Then, it was lights out.
I came to slowly, the pain in my neck dragging me from my chemical slumber.
I blinked a few times, trying to clear my head.
I was in a room . . . more like an apartment.
There was a TV in the corner, and a sofa, as well as a dining room table, and doorways leading off toward a bathroom and bedroom.
I could see it all from my vantage point on the floor.
“Finally decided to join us?” The smell of cigar smoke drifted to me.
I moved my head to see Father Vargas sitting in a wingback leather chair, a phone in one hand, the cigar in the other.
“Take your time, clear your head. I’d rather you were of sound mind for the lesson I’m about to teach you.”
Dread filled me. I’d never been alone with this man. I was one of the lucky ones, unlike the stories I heard sometimes from other patients. Unlike Mira’s stories.
I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to close my eyes and pretend this was all a dream.
When I tried that, though, I opened my eyes again straight away, too afraid not to watch and see what Vargas was doing.
“Why am I here?”
Vargas clamped his cigar between his teeth and listed reasons off on his fingers. “Let’s see, because you embarrassed me? Or maybe because you’re the only crazy bitch in this whole place I can’t touch? Or you’re the thorn in my side that I’m stuck with because of that whore, Mira?”
“Don’t say her name,” I said, panting and sat up. “Don’t you ever say her name.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Mira. Mira, the whore . . . just like you, except you weren’t really a whore, were you?
” He smirked. “When my nephew, Ivan, first told me about you, I thought you were just another faceless baby machine who would disappear inside these walls and do something productive for the institute . . . I had no idea who you really were. Then I realized who you were, and I knew . . . Ivan had good taste.”
“What are you talking about?” I muttered, swaying on the floor. Fuck, I was dizzy.
“Nothing.” Vargas sighed. “Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”
He stood and strolled over to me. I fought a flinch. I wouldn’t flinch from this man. His rosary clinked softly when he crouched before me.
“You know, you are so much more lovely than anyone else in here. You tempt a man to sin, Katarina, and I’m tired of being a saint around you.”
The snort left me before I could stop it. “Saint? I’ve never met such a foul-hearted, filthy sinner in my life,” I said venomously.
“Are you referring to your friend Mira? Everyone should be useful to the institute. Her heart paid for the new carpet in my office, and her eyes paid for that TV.”
I lunged at him, but he was ready. He stepped back, and I fell flat.
It had been a pathetic attempt, but I had to do something.
He laughed and pulled his foot back, then let it fly at my abdomen, kicking me hard once, then twice.
My ribs groaned, the muscles around them taking the hit, bruising and tearing.
I felt like I could hear the sound, but Vargas’s laughter had drowned everything out. It had to be my imagination.
He kicked me until I was quiet. I spat a mouthful of blood onto the carpet and fought for breath.
Vargas crouched over me again.
“I’m sick and tired of not being able to touch you, Katarina, not for discipline or anything else.
But, you see, Benedict believes we’ve finally found the cocktail that’ll keep you and whatever other whores come through here quiet.
No voice, no memories . . . and soon enough, no mind.
The only downside is that it triggers psychosis in some people .
. . but it’s a small price to pay. So now, no one has to know what happens to you, off-limits or not, because soon there won’t be any of you left.
You should thank Benedict. I was favoring lobotomy before he hit upon the ideal cocktail of drugs. ”
“The baby—” I said.
“What?”
“I just want to know what happened to Mira’s baby,” I pleaded.
Vargas sank back, perplexed. “You don’t know? I thought you saw everything . . . sneaking around and spying.”
“What happened to the baby? Please, I just want to know.”
Why I was begging this man I had no idea. He had no mercy, no humanity at all. But Mira had cared about her child, and the least I could do was find out what they’d done with the baby.
Vargas considered my words and then sighed. “It died. Stillborn. That’s what the death certificate says.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not right. I heard it crying.”
Vargas sighed. “Did the psychosis really start already?”
“It wasn’t dead,” I repeated on a wheeze, growing hysterical at the thought.
“Prove it,” Vargas goaded, and smirked at me with a look that told me he was lying.
God, I wanted to kill this man more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. More than I wanted to escape Hallow Hall, I wanted to kill this man. I wanted to bathe in his blood, and Pavol’s, and Benedict’s, too. I wanted to stick their heads on spikes around the gates of this place as a warning.
Vargas laughed at my expression. Why wouldn’t he? I was weak and powerless. I couldn’t do anything except imagine their gruesome deaths. I was never going to get my justice. A tear fell from my eye and plopped onto the carpet.
He moved his foot closer to me, aiming for my hand, and stomped his heel down, grinding it hard.
“Come on and scream for me, Katarina.”
I bit my lip, holding the sound inside, determined not to give him the satisfaction. I felt the scream building, though, higher and higher, undeniable.
Then, shattering my concentration, a loud knock sounded at the door.
“Christ,” Vargas muttered, and stood.
I dragged my hurt hand across the floor toward me and cradled it.
“Who’s there at this hour?” Vargas called.
A muffled response that I couldn’t make out.
He swore again and turned to me.
“What am I going to do with you?” he muttered, and then pulled his satin fascia off, tying it around my head like a gag. He picked me up and dragged me toward a large wardrobe in the corner.
He stuffed me inside, banging my head off the side for good measure. Once I was sagging down in the bottom, he reached into a pocket and drew out a rope, quickly tying my hands together. He was good at it. He’d clearly had practice.
“Not a sound, or when that fucker leaves, you’re dead, and your mother is, too. Don’t test me.”
He shut the doors, and his thudding footfalls drifted away toward the door to his apartment. We had to still be in Hallow Hall. I knew that Benedict, Pavol, and Vargas all kept rooms on the top floor; that had to be where we were. Was it the director?
I strained to see, leaning forward despite my aching ribs to peek through the empty keyhole. I could just about make out a patch of the room.
Deep voices spoke, muffled and far away. Dark figures slipped past where I could see. My head ached where Vargas had banged it off the side of the wardrobe, and the drowsiness of the sedative from before hung over me, slowly lowering back over my head like a cloud. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
The soft murmur of male voices floated to me, but it was too late.
I lost the battle and fell into darkness.