Yesterday, I didn’t write anything. I worked, came home, got my house ready for a bridal shower, went to skate practice, came home and had the bridal shower. Everyone was gone by 11pm, but I was too tired. I stared at my laptop for a few minutes and decided I just needed to let it go. The wine didn’t help.
It’s amazing how a day off though can interrupt the flow. It was hard today to get back into the story. I’m posting what I wrote on the 12th and today.
Well, in the end there will be lots of rewrites anyway.
Thank you for reading.
The three women left the basement. Hannah came last. She was relieved though slightly confused that the woman were helping her. Or maybe she was helping them. Her original plan seemed so far away. Her wish to find out about her grandmother felt flimsy. It wasn’t enough to warrant this adventure.
The old woman hesitated in the middle of the hallway. “What is it?” Hannah asked the old woman.
The old woman shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Are you ever,” Hannah paused, “going to tell me your name?”
Meredith turned sharply. “I can tell you.”
The old woman held up a hand. “No.”
“I can. I know,” Meredith replied.
“You know scribbles on a piece of paper.” The old woman started walking forward again. “How many times I’d wished those scribbles would strangle you.”
Meredith stiffened. “I took care of you. I’m the perfect nurse.”
“I didn’t need a perfect nurse.” The old woman passed Meredith by. “And you say perfect as if you know what that means.”
“Please,” Hannah said. She darted after the two older women. “Let’s focus on the plan.”
The old woman and Meredith reached the office door at the same time. “Of course,” Meredith replied with a forced smile. “If she wants to reveal her name to you, she will. I’m sure she will. She likes you.”
“You and your chatter,” the old woman said. She entered the office.
Meredith and Hannah followed her. They shut the door behind them.
Nate stayed in the shadows of the nearby room. For the first time in his life he was determined to be patient.
“We should kill them,” the old woman said.
Hannah jerked back. “I’m not going to kill anyone.” Her feelings confused her. She found herself drawn to the old woman and terrified of her. The old woman possessed the confidence that Hannah wanted more of. Part of her wanted the old woman’s approval, and part of her was repulsed. “You just can’t do that.”
The old woman, now standing on the other side of the director’s desk, leaned over it, gripping its edge. “What do you think they’d do to us? Let us go?”
Hannah didn’t know what to say.
Meredith snorted. “They let no one go.”
The old woman nodded curtly. “Do you think we can lock them up forever?”
“No,” Hannah managed. The office was too warm and too silent. She picked up a paper and fanned herself.
“I can tell you stories of what they’ve done,” the old woman said. “They should autograph half the tombstones in the cemetery.”
“What cemetery? Does the Asylum have a cemetery?” Hannah stopped moving her hand. No memory of a cemetery came to her. Surely someone would’ve mentioned it. If there were a cemetery, there’d be stories about it.
“Do you think the powers that be would call the local mortician?” The old woman looked at Meredith. “Would they?”
Meredith sat in a high back leather chair near a bookcase. “Some things are still confidential.” She smiled.
“But I’d have heard if there were a cemetery. Kids would talk about it.” Teens had many stories about the local cemetery, and they had stories about the Asylum. They’d love to combine the two.
“The graves aren’t actually marked.” The old woman shrugged. “So, even if Security decided to autograph their handiwork, they’d have a hard time of it.”
Hannah’s stomach twisted and she walked over to a long narrow window. Night had well settled over the town. She couldn’t see anything out on the grounds. How big was the graveyard? And who was buried in it?