Decorum | ONC 2023 Shortlister

Chapter Four

Abigail slept little that night. In part this had been because of her conversation with Victor, but sleep fell even further away due to the rain that had begun to take hold somewhere around five. By the time she had finally accepted that she wouldn't be getting much sleep before morning, the rain was falling in torrents against her window. Exhausted, and slightly annoyed, Abigail squinted at the wind up clock that Hannah had placed on the nightstand.

6:42.

It was so dark outside the window it could have been night.

Mumbling, Abigail scooted herself across the bed and clicked on the bedside lamp. She stared for a moment at the wind that whistled and hurled waves upon waves of water at her window. The events of last night had disturbed her greatly, and now, with the early morning sun completely obscured behind raging rain clouds, it felt as if last night had never even ended. Abigail sat in bed, memories of last night sifting like a dense fog through the back of her mind.

After having read Dr. Whitlock's notes on the day of her arrival, Abigail had expected strange behavior from Victor. Perhaps she had not fully expected him to overturn his room or talk about beasts and bones, but even these things were in alignment with the doctor's notes. What had set her so completely at unease, however, was Victor's insistence that he was a prisoner in his own home. That psychiatrists had been forbidden and that, more disturbingly strange still, someone had told Hannah to let him die. Surely such thoughts were the fantastical makings of a troubled mind, but they offset Abigail nonetheless.

Despite knowing that she would eventually get to speak with Dr. Whitlock in person, she resolved to call him today regarding Victor's condition. Swiftly, she rose from her bed, dressed herself, and pulled her hair into the same, tightly held bun that she always wore for work. She only took one moment to glance under her bed and in the desk drawers before departing. She left the room, content in knowing that both spaces were empty save for the desk's blank stationary, two black pens, and the letter opener with the monogrammed initials E.B.

When Abigail arrived in the kitchen, she found Hannah at the island, busily chopping a pile of carrots. An uncovered bowl of onions already sat on the counter near the fridge, and a colander of scrubbed potatoes stood in the sink. Hannah looked up and smiled upon her arrival.

"You're up earlier this morning." Hannah said cheerily. "That's good. It does you good to wake up early. Well, maybe not on this morning. Do you see this weather we're having?"

Hannah shook her head, tsk tsking.

"Yes, it's quite dreary. Do you get weather like this often?"

"More often than I'd like." Hannah admitted. "Though I suppose it's a blessing. Mr. Blackwell seems to prefer the rain. I think it calms his nerves."

"He's got quite a case of nerves." Abigail said.

"Oh, I am so sorry about last night. I didn't want to scare you off when you first arrived, but Mr. Blackwell behaves like that sometimes. He's never actually hurt himself too bad, thank God, but I'm sure it gave you quite a fright."

"Yes, well, I would still like to call Dr. Whitlock to let him know." Abigail said. "Would you happen to know his number? I didn't see it written in any of the papers that Arthur gave to me."

Hannah lifted a handful of chopped carrots into a large bowl and shook her head.

"I'm afraid not, love. These storms always knock out our phones, it's a real blessing we still have power right now. But I'm sure they'll be up and running again soon. The power company normally comes by right after a storm. Everyone knows the phones in this old house are shaky."