The Trial of Portraits

It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same.

Jennifer stared at the only house on the street as she sat in the car. A gun lay in the front passenger seat beside her. She grabbed it, and immediately, the house groaned. The ground trembled, vibrating the car. The windows, as well as Jennifer’s teeth, rattled slightly. Vines burst out of the ground and threw themselves at the house, encompassing the building as though they were wrapping a present. 

The once lovely building suddenly looked several years older. It now stood with a shrug, like it was going to give in and crumble to its side any time soon. 

A figure stood in the doorway. The door was opened, and there was blinding light pouring out of it, so Jennifer could only see a dark silhouette. But she realized what it was telling her when it raised its arm and beckoned. 

Jennifer knew she wasn't supposed to go inside. The White Woman had told her not to. But she went inside, anyway, leaving her gun in the car, wondering if it was a mistake. 

The figure placed a hand on her back and gently ushered her into the blinding white light. Jennifer's eyes stung for a moment, and light was all she could see. 

Someone said, “Open your eyes, Jen.” 

She hadn't even realized that her eyes had been closed. Her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself in a corridor so long that she couldn't see the end of it. Yellow light shone from several bulbs that hung on thin wires from the ceiling, but most of the bulbs were flickering and threatened to die every second. 

On either side of the corridor were rows and rows of picture frames, but there weren’t any pictures in them. Someone had gone through the trouble of hanging these frames perfectly and had just slipped what looked like white sheets of paper in them.

“Do you remember this place?” 

Jennifer glanced at her companion. She still couldn't really see the figure’s face, but she could tell it was a woman from the voice and because of the stray cornrows that peeped out of the hood of her heavy jacket. They were both the same height, but the woman seemed to hunch when she stood, and so looked slightly shorter. 

“No,” Jennifer said. “I knew whose house it was when I was outside, but now that I'm here, I can't remember.” 

“What?” 

Jennifer repeated her words, and still the hooded figure did not catch them. She frowned, wondering if she was speaking to a deaf person. 

She shook her head.

She had wanted to add that it was the White Woman who had suggested that she entered the house. Otherwise, she never would have done it. But she held her words, not because her escort didn't seem to understand her, but because she didn't want to sound crazy, because she didn't know who the White Woman was. She just knew there was a White Woman somewhere and that it was somehow probably important that she knew it. 

The figure nodded. “Well, you made the decision to come here, but now you have to get out.”

“What? Then why did you beckon me here in the first place?” 

The figure ignored her words, probably because she couldn't understand or hear them. 

“You will not exit through the front door, but the back. There’s a trap door somewhere in the house. I do not know where, but once you find it, I want you to run out of the house to safety. 

“Safety from what?” 

Again, the figure did not respond. “Let’s go find the key to the backdoor.” 

The figure started to walk forwards, and Jennifer would never have followed, but when she’d looked behind her, she found that the front door she’d come in had now been replaced by a wooden wall. 

So she followed her escort. 

There was a strong scent in the corridor that Jennifer found repulsive. It smelled of vinegar or onions. Or both. There were no windows so the air was uncomfortably musty and warm. Jennifer looked at the hooded woman in front of her, wondering how hot and sweaty it must be in the jacket.

The floors creaked and groaned under their weight, and, occasionally, they’d hear clicks and soft thuds from somewhere in the house. But it didn't scare Jennifer. She knew that old houses did this, especially ones that seemed to be made entirely of wood. 

She thought of making a conversation with her escort. She tried asking for a name, but the woman said, a bit apologetically, “I do not understand you.” 

Finally, the woman led her into one of the rooms. A rush of fresh air hit Jennifer, and she inhaled it hungrily, not realizing how starved of oxygen she'd been. 

The room was small but neat. A soft red carpet covered the entire floor. A bed stood at one corner, immaculately laid with different multicoloured sheets. A table stood in another, carrying a big radio. And, most importantly, there was a window that allowed sunlight to wash over the room. 

Jennifer looked out of it, and could only see the asphalt road. Beyond that were green bushes that stretched all the way to the horizon, where they tickled the underside of the orange sun. 

Another woman was standing by the window, also gazing outside. She turned when they entered and smiled widely at both of them. Her lips were thin and cracked and her skin was wrinkled. Her hair, tied into a ponytail, had several splashes of white in them. 

“Oh, I've been waiting for so long!” She said. “What kept you?” 

Jennifer’s escort glanced at her before saying, “Jen was late. I suspect she had second thoughts about coming inside.” 

The old woman chuckled. “Of course. These things are hard, and very especially for Jennifer.” 

She looked at Jennifer with the warmest of smiles and the kindest, softest eyes. 

The escort said, “We’ll take the key now.” 

“Of course!” The old woman squealed, then pointed. “On the table, right beside the radio.” 

The escort moved towards the table at the corner of the room, and Jennifer’s eyes moved to the bed, mesmerized by the many colours it had. 

There was a jingle of keys, followed by a sharp cry. 

Jennifer’s head snapped around. The old woman was standing next to the escort, and for a moment, it looked like they were whispering to each other, then Jennifer looked down and saw the escort’s hand pinned to the table with a pair of scissors. Blood ran down into the carpet, and the woman’s hand was holding the scissors firmly in place. 

“You want the key, eh?!” The old woman said in a voice that did not match her frail physicality. 

Her grey eyes moved to Jennifer, who had frozen, struck by the sudden cascade of events. 

“Never!” The woman continued. “You do not deserve to be happy. And you never will!” 

The old woman lifted the scissors, causing the escort to cry out. Before Jennifer could step in, the old woman had sunk the scissors into both of the escort’s eyes. The escort fell, shouting at Jennifer to get the keys and ran, as blood poured out of her punctured eyes. 

Jennifer made a move towards the key, and the old woman nodded aggressively, wielding the scissors in front of her. She grabbed the keys and dropped it into her breasts. 

 “Come.” She said. “Come and get the keys, Jennifer! Don't you want to feel safe and happy again?” 

She jumped at Jennifer, who struck her leg out, in hopes of throwing her back, but the old woman sidestepped, grabbed Jennifer’s leg and opened several red holes in her jeans. 

Jennifer screamed, blinded by pain and horror. She managed to wrestle her leg away, stumbled backwards and fell. The old woman climbed on top of her and sunk her perfect white teeth into Jennnifer’s forehead. Jennifer felt saliva run down her face. 

She balled a fist and slammed it into the old woman’s temple. She heard a sharp crack, and for a second, she thought she’d killed her. Then slowly, the old woman’s head turned away from Jennifer at an impossible 360 angle, her neck bones crunching, until Jennifer found herself looking at the old woman’s ponytail, right where a face should have been. 

“Jennifer,” she heard the woman say. “Look at me.”

Jennifer screamed, shoved the old woman aside and bolted out of the room.  

She ran into the corridor as fast as her trembling legs could take her. After a few seconds, she heard a crash, and when she turned she saw the old woman in the corridor. Her head had still been turned around, but she walked forwards perfectly, as though she could see what was in front of her - or rather, what was now behind her - perfectly clearly. 

“Jennifer!” 

The corridor turned to the right, and Jennifer dashed into the curve. The current corridor looked like the previous one; the same empty white portraits, the same doors, even the same smell. 

The fear and the realization that she was locked in the house, the only key to escape held in the hands of a psychopathic woman, drove Jennifer almost to madness. She screamed her throat raw for help. 

Her thigh had started to ache where the old woman had stabbed her. She glanced at the wounds, which had now formed several red tears on her blue jeans. She didn't need to look behind to check. She could hear the old woman’s quick feet coming closer and closer. 

Jennifer ran into another look-alike corridor. This one was slightly different, in that it had a square-shaped trap door in the middle of its ceiling. Jennifer was sure it led to an attic. 

The old woman's footsteps were getting louder. Jennifer needed to act quickly. She opened one of the rooms but didn’t enter, then she jumped for the attic door. She missed it the first time. And the second. When she’d finally grabbed it, moved aside the piece of P.O.P that had been blocking the entrance and raised herself inside, she heard the old woman’s footsteps burst into the corridor. 

Quietly, she slid the P.O.P back in place and stood. 

Her heart leapt in joy. In the darkness of the big, cobweb-infested attic, she could see a trapdoor. She ran to it and tried to force it open, kicking it and pounding on it, but it never gave. 

Finally, her chest heaving and her breath hot and heavy, she stood staring at the door.

“Jennifer!” She heard the old lady scream downstairs. A crashing sound of glass and wood followed. “Jennifer, do you not want your key? Hm, Jennifer!?” 

Jennifer wiped her forehead off the old woman’s saliva and took a deep breath. She walked back to the attic entrance and pushed the P.O.P away. 

“I’m here!” She screamed.  

She saw the old woman walk out of the room she’d opened as a decoy. The back of the woman’s head angled upwards as if it was seeing her, then, as agile as a panther, she launched herself at the attic hole. 

At the same moment, Jennifer jumped down the hole. Her feet met the woman mid-air and sent her hurtling back to the ground. 

Both women screamed in agony. For Jennifer, it was because she had felt the scissors cut into her calf. She doubled over and almost fell, but instead grabbed the old woman’s hands and pinned them to the ground. The woman’s head was bleeding profusely and several teeth were lying in little pools of blood around her, but she was still snarling, and her resistance was surprisingly strong. So strong that Jennifer felt she could not hold her down any longer. She dug a hand into the old woman’s breasts and pulled the key out. 

Then she grabbed the scissors and stood, ready for a fight. 

But the old woman lay dormant. 

Footsteps approached quickly, and the escort stumbled into the corridor, one hand on the walls for support. 

“Jennifer!” She said. 

“Yes!” Jennifer cried. “I - I overpowered her, she’s on the ground. And-” She stopped, remembering that nobody could understand her. 

But maybe her voice had conveyed her emotions, because the escort then said, “Go! Unlock the door and get out of here!” 

“What about you?” 

“Go! Go, now!” 

Jennifer turned, ready to jump for the attic hole again. Behind her, she heard the old woman say, more calmly this time, “Jennifer, why won't you trust me?” 

Jennifer ignored her and jumped, missed the ledge and fell back down. 

The old woman continued, “I try. I want to understand you, so I have learned the blueprint of the house. Do you not see that I navigate it so easily, because I love you?” 

Jennifer paused. 

“Look at me, Jennifer. I won't hurt you. Why would I hurt you?” 

Jennifer frowned at the old woman, then looked over at the escort, who was now sitting against the wall, clutching her injured hand, hissing in pain. 

“Why did she want to hurt me?” Jennifer said. 

The escort shook her head to indicate that she didn't understand. Jennifer went over and knelt beside her. 

“No!” She protested. “Go!” 

But Jennifer pulled her hoodie back to examine her injured eyes. She gasped. The eyes were damaged, probably beyond repair, but she could recognize that face anywhere. 

It was herself. 

“Jennifer?”

Jennifer’s eyes fluttered open. The room she was in was white and smelt faintly of disinfectant. She was lying in a bed that was angled so that she faced the woman in front of her. 

The woman was in a white lab coat, white blouse beneath it and white shoes. She had a clipboard in her arm, a pen lying on top of it. 

“Where am I?” Jennifer said. “Who are you?” 

She felt her heart rate rising, and she wanted to get up and run, or to attack the Woman in White, but when she raised her hands, velcro straps pinned her back down to the bed. 

The woman reached in and touched her legs in assurance. 

“Your name is Jennifer. I am Doctor Lukarm, your assigned psychiatrist. You are brought here because you and your mother discovered you have Paranoid Personality Disorder. Do you remember?” 

Jennifer’s breathing was hard, but she’d stopped struggling. Some memories were coming to her. They were on the edge of her mind, but she couldn't quite grasp them yet. The Doctor kept on talking, and her voice was like a bright beacon in the middle of Jennifer’s confused, muddled brain. 

“Don't worry. I've told you before, these are all symptoms of your condition. Confusion, hallucinations, dysarthria - or slurred speech. Don't panic, you’re okay. You may feel like you’re in danger, but there’s no danger, trust me.” 

Jennifer nodded. Several memories flashed into her mind. All of them contained people trying to hurt her, kill her, people who gossiped about her, who only pretended to like her. Loved ones, and yet she could see through their fake smiles. They were all liars. They were dangerous. They- 

“Be calm. Nobody is going to hurt you. It’s your special mind playing tricks on you, but we have to defeat it, right?” 

“Right.”

The Doctor held up a big picture and told Jennifer to study it, to imagine that the house was her mind.

“Let’s do this again. Leave your defences and enter your own mind. Confront the people inside and don't flee. Don't be tempted to give in to the part of you that wants to protect and grow this disorder.”

In the picture stood a single pretty house in the middle of nowhere, and there was a small car parked in front of it. The rest of the picture was just green bushes. 

Jennifer felt drawn to the picture. She could almost feel the breeze in the bushes at her neck. Just before her mind dissolved into it, she said something. 

“Speak clearly, Jennifer,” The Doctor said. “Slowly and clearly, so that I may hear you.” 

“I said. Can - I - speak - to - my - mother?” 

The Doctor’s eyes widened in surprise. “Of course! Are you sure you’re ready to talk to her now?” 

Jennifer nodded, remembering her mother’s smile, her ponytail that was starting to whiten with age. 

 “She doesn't want to hurt me. Why would she hurt me?” 

The Doctor had her mom on the phone and put it on loudspeaker. When her mom’s voice broke out, Jennifer started to cry. 

She was confused. She felt all alone. She felt like her mind wanted to destroy her from inside. But at least she could hear her mother’s voice, and that was all that mattered.