Dark Short Stories

Death to the Void

     Evangeline kicked the blanket from her legs and sat up in the dark. Her dark red hair was matted with sweat against her forehead while she felt her sheets were soaked with sweat as well. She breathed deeply, in and out, and in and out. The young girl's heart was pumping ever so quickly. It was another nightmare, the kind that you don't forget, the kind that keeps you awake for the rest of the night.

     Standing, she flipped on the light switch and immediately felt better. All she wanted was to feel better. That's all she ever asked for. Eve sighed and knelt down to scoop up her Siamese cat, Dolly, into her arms. She snuggled her face into the animal's soft fur and felt her own heart began to calm. She decided she would talk to her therapist about this; it was what she normally did anyway. 

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     The very next day, a cold fog had settled upon the town Fayport, somewhere in the state of Washington. Eve stepped out of her apartment, shooing Dolly back inside with her high-heeled foot. Usually, Eve didn't care much about her appearance. Except on Wednesdays, and the occasional Friday. Those were the days she visited her therapist, Michael Cranford. 

     Once a renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Cranford had since lost his credibility after his extreme faulty theories and ideas he had published. Well, not only that, but he also lost much respect after it finally rose to the press and the public that there had been some kind of stint with a minor he was allegedly treating. Wanting to fully start over, he believed this was the perfect little nowhere town to do so. As small as this town was, he has a long and steady stream of patients, and he was beginning to understand all the ways in which the people in this town were connected. What secrets of Mrs. Klint and all about her book club does he know? All of them. What about pure and innocent Ms. Peeler, the second grade schoolteacher? Oh, Cranford knew all about her affair with the married Mr. Truslow down the street. Cranford liked to believe he knew all there was to know about each and every character in Fayport. 

     Well, all except Evangeline Bollinger, the young woman with the wavy red hair, those piercing emerald eyes, and that slight accent of somewhere he couldn't quite place. Maybe somewhere on the East Coast was possible. She was difficult to understand, with her twisted possibly made-up stories about her past and seemingly unbelievable descriptions of her father and mother. According to Eve, as she liked to be called, she had no friends here and was quite likely on the verge of suicide at least once or twice a week. 

     Little did Cranford know, he was about to learn much more than he would've liked.

     At exactly half past three, just like every Wednesday for the past six weeks, Eve energetically pranced into Cranford's private office, which he ran completely by himself. She would stay for exactly one hour, just like every other week. 

     Cranford looked up from his notebook, already prepared. He knew she was notably consistent with her times and appointments. He took in her appearance, scanning her with his dark eyes. Today was no different than the rest: slightly smeared red lipstick, distinctly uneven eyeliner, and a loose black dress that she always paired with mauve high-heeled boots. No, she was a pretty girl, beautiful even, but he wondered why she chose this outfit every time. He had seen her around town, wearing what you could call normal clothing and very minimal makeup. Cranford was curious as to whether she dressed this way simply for more attention, for him to think she was more mentally unstable than she actually was. 

     There was some truth in his analysis. Yes, Eve wanted attention, but not the kind he was thinking. She strode confidently forward, grabbing his hand with both of hers and shaking it roughly, her petite body moving with the motion. She stepped back and smiled at him brightly, displaying one of her only physical flaws, her very crooked teeth. Which, actually, she had claimed had been punched every direction when she was mugged by some thug in Taiwan three years ago. Was that believable to you? No, it wasn't to Dr. Cranford either, and this is why he struggled to get through to the girl. All of her fantasies seemed to be realities to her. 

     Despite all his doubts about Eve, he leaned back, asking, "And where would you like to sit today? We should get started."

     Eve glanced around the small space, and chose her regular chair in the corner, just like Cranford had anticipated. He didn't really know why he had even asked. 

     "So...what would you like to talk about today? You told me last week you were having issues with people from work, is that correct?" Cranford inquired. But in fact, the  girl had no job at all in reality. She claimed she worked at the bank in town, but that was neither here nor there.

     "Yes, yes that is correct," Eve confirmed, her blurred red lips beginning to pout slightly. "Just a few days ago, they tried to torment me with their threats to my sweet little Dolly." She stared at the floor, avoiding his gaze.

     Cranford decided to allow this conversation, as he was sure he was able to remain in control of it. Evangeline was prone to outbursts of sadness or sometimes anger when she told him a story she really did believe. But this had happened enough times that the doctor had learned when Eve needed a break, or even if something should not be discussed at all.

     "Would you like to tell me about it?" he ventured, sure that she would. She was predictable, always had been. 

     Tearful, Eve nodded. She began mumbling another wild story, and Cranford was half zoned out until he heard her raised voice and the mention of his name. His mind snapped to attention and he watched as she leaned forward in her seat, pounding the armrests of it with her fists, her eyes dripping with salty tears. What was happening? This was never supposed to happen; her fits had never before escalated this quickly and Cranford struggled to keep up with the fragments he heard of her shrieking. 

     Before he realized what was happening, Eve lunged at him. Her long nails clawed deep marks in his flesh, and crimson blood rapidly flowed from his face. Her fists hammered his chest, and her words were no longer words, but loud angry screeches.

     "Eve, no, stop. You need to calm down. You have to stop this!" Cranford cried out over and over to no avail. He attempted to grab at the girl's wrist but she twisted away, her light body easily dodging his slow but frantic efforts to control her. For a second, Eve pulled away, only to grab something to cause more damage. Cranford took this opportunity to stand, as he knew he towered over the petite Eve. He thought this would lower her confidence and give him an advantage. 

     Unfortunately, as soon as he got to his feet, Eve turned back around, swinging her arm upward to turn with her. In her hand was a heavy marble book end. The marble collided with the man's head with a sharp crack, and he dropped to the floor, blood already seeping into the carpet. Eve stood over him, clubbing him with the solid weapon, until she saw no more movement. 

     Finally, Eve was satisfied. Finally, she felt better. This was all she had ever wanted, wasn't it?