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Impasse
“What exactly do you dream?” The psychologist spoke without emotion. That was his manner. He was always calm, always placid.
“What do you think?”
“I can’t imagine, I’m sure. Let me guess. Wealth? Power? You seem to have a thirst for it.”
She couldn’t argue. She had a taste for the fine things. The padded restraints on her wrists and feet cast a humbling shadow on her usual wants. She just wanted to be free. That would never happen. She took a deep breath and slowly sighed. There was no use in lying at this point. “I dream of being normal.”
“Normal? In what way?”
“Don’t kid, Dr. Avery. You know what I am. I know what you are. Don’t you dream of being something else?”
“Of course. But we’re not here to discuss my dreams.”
“What do you think you’ll discover?” Her voice betrayed her. She wanted to be hateful. She wanted to be full of venom and mystery. But Dr. Avery knew too much. His biggest problem stemmed from the fact that his peers would never believe him if he admitted the truth.
“Rowena, you’re never getting out of here. You aren’t getting out until I retire, then the next doctor will likely reverse my findings. I can protect everyone for a little while. As long as I have that power, I will use it.”
“Why do you care?” She tried to work the restraints loose so she could move. “So what if a stranger dies here and there? No big deal. Happens all the time.”
“Not because of me. If I let you go, I become your enabler, your helper—”
“God, you are a doctor.”
“You can make this difficult or easy. We know the realities without discussion. I know your hunger for people.”
“Yes, yes. And all the queen’s horses and all the queen’s men couldn’t put me back together again.”
“What’s that about?” He looked squarely at her. The light from his laptop gleamed on the lens of his glasses.
“It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell it to you sometime.”
“Why did you kill her?”
“Why not? Seemed like a good idea at the time. I was starving.”
“How often do you need to feed?”
“Depends on my last meal.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“I’ll die.”
“How unfortunate.” He almost smiled.
How unfortunate. Perhaps the most unfortunate aspect of the interview was she couldn’t feed from him. Those damned drugs had done something to her.
“So, how do you do it? Surely, you can tell me that much.”
“How do you eat? Is that a mystery? You know, you might try asking something a little more original.”
“When were you born?”
“1395.”
“Where?”
“Italy.”
“Why did you come to America?”
“It was all the rage.”
The lights in the hall outside dimmed. It was bedtime for everyone else. She knew Dr. Avery was fascinated with her. She knew Dr. Avery was fascinated with her. He was consistent, however, and unable to be manipulated. She couldn’t deny his tenacity. He was a worthy opponent.
She remembered that night. Their meeting was a chance encounter. She should’ve known a woman of that affluence wouldn’t be traveling alone at night. She hadn’t been. Dr. Avery’s wife had just entered the building first. By the time she was feasting on her life force, Avery had found them.
It was tragic in many ways. She’d never had any interest in spouses or children. She lost her husband and only son to the Black Death. She changed into a spirit eater shortly thereafter.
Dr. Avery would never admit what he knew. His status as an expert psychologist on obscure mental maladies meant she wouldn’t see freedom for a long time. He created a dozen different psychoses, neuroses, and terms she’d never imagined.
There was no movement forward or backward. He wouldn’t reassign her because she was healthy and any other doctor would see that after an examination. She was marooned in a realm as bad as Bedlam. It was a perpetual impasse.
