The Saving Hand Kills

Thud. Thud. Thud.  Pain. That was the only thing that existed She did not want to open her eyes, she did not even notice that she could open her eyes. The pounding continued against her aching skull. She knew she was only feeling the dull, persistent throb, but she felt as though she heard the actual thud of pain inside her brain.

“She should be waking up within the next forty-five minutes. She’ll probably be very confused. She might not know where she is or even, possibly, who she is.”

It was a soothing voice. The words it spoke were not sugarcoated, they were simple and straight and true, very true. Where was she? Who was she? And, somehow more importantly, who was he? The man with the soothing tone and simple words, she had heard him before. But she didn’t even recognize herself, how could she recognize him?

Suddenly she had more than ears, more than dull thuds and sultry tones. Pain intensified from dull and persistent to sharp and searing as brightness enveloped her. Mere light all around. Slowly, it took form as the pain melted back to the dullness which now felt like more of a background rather than the only thing in existence since there were objects in view to interest her. A white, uneven surface was spinning above her, but when she blinked, it became still. She noticed the tangle of wires floating beside her and the rail on the side of her bed. A bed. She was in a bed, and the pillow under her head was soft. The wall at her feet was bedecked with a silver faucet dripping into a white sink beside a rack holding a couple of boxes of grey latex gloves. On the right side of her bed, there was a small table strewn with two empty large paper coffee cups, a small orange bottle of pills, and a large purse tipped over spilling its contents. Now that she was trying to distinguish these and the other various objects in the room, she noticed that it was not at all bright and actually quite dim. She wanted to see more. Where was she?

Then, she noticed the people. This was the most startling aspect of the room. Her heart picked up a few beats. She felt the their presence which made the whole surreal circumstance feel real. She hadn’t registered the two silhouettes slightly stirring in the corner of her vision before, nor had she felt alone, but in this instant she knew that without them she would be lonely. She felt the muscles in her neck straining to turn her still aching head toward them. That was a mistake. Knives shot up the back of her neck and into her head where they turned to burning icicles driving into her brain. Now she couldn’t breathe or see or hear anymore…

“Sarah…Sarah,” breathed a tender voice somewhere in her head. Something cool and smooth touched her cheek. This voice was not the soothing, certain tones of the man she heard the first time. It was a soft and affectionate voice and could have been warm and comforting but for the rattle of worry undermining these tender qualities. Sarah’s eyelids lifted yet again, she was very conscious of it this time. A dark round shape blurred into view this time. It was a face. Her sister’s face. Yes, she had a sister.

“Margaret!” Sarah smiled half of the word, but dropped it with immediate exhaustion so all that came out was a breathy, “margh…” But that was all Margaret needed it seemed, for a teary smile instantly broke out on her face as she continued to pet Sarah’s cheek and hair more vigorously.

“The doctor said you might not even remember your own name!” Margaret whispered, not so much to stay quiet, but more because that was all the volume her mingled emotions would allow. Two slow tears were making shining tracks down her cheeks as she smiled irrepressibly.

“I’ll just leave you two together for a moment now.” Said a hurried voice. Now that was the strange voice she recognized. Somehow, despite its tender smoothness and peaceful certainty, this voice aroused in her a seething hatred for which she could find no cause. It was just a natural part of her existence, like the fact that she had a sister named Margaret that she knew and recognized before she even knew herself. But this natural loathing was not a beautiful and caring relationship, intent on healing her and raising her from the bed, but an ugly and abhorrent reality that promised nothing but to tear her apart from the inside out for as long as she continued to breathe, in bed or out of it. Who was this person whom she hated so much?

“Margaret, who was that?” she said weakly. Her curiosity was the strength behind the words more than her voice.

“That’s the doctor, Sarah. He saved your life.”

Saved her life? This man whose very existence promised to tear her life apart and make it unlivable, had saved it?  Although her incredulity made her already weak body yet more breathless, curiosity still won out allowing her to speak despite the ineptitude of her body.

“Saved my life? Him? Margaret, where am I? What did he do? What happened to me?” Sarah closed her eyes and breathed heavily, painfully, with the exertion of these questions.

“Sarah, darling, calm down. You’re ok. You were in a car accident, you bumped your head very badly and you hurt your neck. But you’re alright now, you might even be able to walk again. All thanks to Dr. Noir!” The emotion in her voice had been steadily rising as she pronounced this statement and completely swallowed her voice by the adulating denouement, so that her gratitude was expressed in a tearful but ecstatic whisper.

It was enough, Sarah knew; she had heard the name. She knew instantaneously, just as she had known her sister’s face when she woke up, not five minutes ago. She had not known who she was until this moment. Oh, to be back in that blissful state of unconsciousness, safe from the misery of knowing things a person should never know and feeling things beyond the capacity of human emotion. Death was going to be the only release. And he knew that didn’t he. He made her life unlivable and then deliberately kept it going to torment her. What was the point? Did he solely exist to inflict pain? And now, the revelation of his sacred profession increased the horror of the situation to unfathomable levels.

Tears cam seeping from her eyes as she entered again into the inescapable labyrinth of horrifying images. The black vision of the little girl’s beautiful face peering as a ghost from the floor of a darkened room. The shining ebony curls framing her round cheeks flecked with scarlet. The gaping hole in the middle of her smooth white forehead gushing blood between her eyes which still held the expression of innocent fear she died with. It was too much, she couldn’t bear the pain anymore. Sarah slid back to the silent abyss, out of hearing the concerned words of her sister condoning the actions of this malevolent man; the hope her sister bore in this most desperate of situations was more unbearable than all the rest.

What she thought was pain before was a heavenly luxury to what she felt now. Her body was actually strangely relaxed and comfortable as the misery of stabbing memories wrenched her aching heart. Since she had woken up again, she hadn’t had a moment’s release. Even Margaret was sleeping in peace on the couch, untouched by haunting dreams of the unforgivable past. Certainly she was hurt. A part of her had been taken away that could never be replaced, she would forever be sad. But it was just that, pure grief. Margaret would never have to be caught up in the horrible game of bitter secrets, burning hatred, black memories. Sarah had deliberately kept it that way. Margaret was never to have her grief marred by the hideous truth.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She couldn’t speak. Margaret stirred.

Click. Creak.

 His head was in the room. She saw is face and froze. That face that flashed into view the moment she opened the door. That face that had smiled its devilish smile when understanding stunned her. That face above the gun that strangled the scream in her throat. If only she’d screamed, she might be mercifully dead right now. That was the face that had put her here. She’d seen him at the stoplight, on the opposite side of the intersection and lost her mind. She’d been hunting him for years and he was utterly untraceable. But there he was, she felt there was nothing to do but slam on the gas, she wasn’t going to let him slip through her numb and grasping fingers again. The pedal was already on the floor and she flew straight at him. She didn’t care if she died, so long as he did too. But no, they were both still breathing and here she was more vulnerable than ever listening to him say:

“Hello. Good to see you’re awake.”

That voice, that smooth confident tone that taunted every bone in her body. That voice that had said so calmly, “You won’t scream. You’ll die if you do. And what would your beloved sister do without you? You know she needs you. I do like to limit my collateral damage, you know, but I’m afraid there’s no other way to silence children. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. In future, I suggest keeping a closer eye on the children left to your charge.” Here before him, in the hospital, Sarah wanted to scream more than ever. She wanted to tell him all the atrocious miseries he’d inflicted. Not because he would feel a thing, not to make him squirm, she knew he would only rejoice in her pain. It’s who he was. No, for the relief of releasing the mountain of inexpressible pain that had tortured her through the years. To say things she would never burden a pair of human ears with to a pair of monster’s. But she wouldn’t. Not if her entire body busted with the secret. For, Margaret had woken.

 She was up in an instant. All smiles and sickening gratitude.

“Sarah,” she announced joyfully, “this is Dr. Noir, the man who saved your life.”

No, this secret could torture Sarah if she lived for ninety-nine years, but Margaret would never know that her sister’s savior was her daughter’s murderer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor.” came an impossibly calm and even voice that Sarah found to be her own.