Bayou

Chapter 2 ~ Payments

Chapter 2

The hallway was all creams and whites, smooth like velvet and immaculate. Vases of fresh flowers sat upon stone pillars, and paintings of peaceful landscapes hung perfectly spaced along the walls. Hell wasn't supposed to be beautiful, but it was. It didn't stink of sulfur or death. Little air fresheners, tucked discreetly into corners, misted the atmosphere with fresh rain. Murderer wasn't sprawled in blood across the last door. Instead, a gold plate engraved in pristine script read Dr. Daniel Clyde, Head of Chemical Therapy.

Therapy. Another ridiculous word to cover up another. The world was shaded in antonyms. Hot was cold. Up was down, and therapy was purgatory. Who were they lying to? Us or themselves? Perhaps it was simply an illusion to draw the holy into the fire. Regardless, I walked the hall each week, and tonight, I walked it again, dangerously unannounced. Most people didn't know the devil required an appointment, but he did, and showing up without one was a good way to die. I knocked twice, and ignored the voice urging me to turn back.

Danny wrenched the door open, saw me standing there, and scanned the hallway. His pallor reddened, a glimpse of his true form, then he pulled me inside and shoved the door shut. "Are you insane?"

"I know."

He pivoted and strode over to the window, scanned the lot below, then twisted the blinds closed.

I stood silent, choosing my words. It had to be tonight. There was no time to wait, and I couldn't let those children die. I wasn't sure why. Things like that happened all the time, and just like everyone else, I didn't look. I stepped back, sinking deeper inside the bubble we all kept around ourselves, focusing only on the survival of myself and those closest to me. I couldn't look away this time. I'd never even seen their faces, yet they dominated my focus. I saw myself, a child without a family, begging any who would listen for love and protection. If I ignored this, ignored them, I'd become what I hated most, and that was worse than any consequence Danny could provide. "I wanted to ask for a favor."

"A favor?" He turned, posture rigid. "I just did you a favor this morning. You think it's easy to explain why I'm giving you a quarter of the dosage?"

The urge to laugh brewed, but my chest was blessedly too tight to oblige. What difference did one more lie make? Compared to all the others, this one was easy. But I didn't say that, because that would have been too honest, and honesty would have clashed with the carpet. "This isn't about treatment. The woman who was taken—"

He waved me off. "She's already gone."

He said it so casually, as if she were a bag of trash already disposed. A spark formed in the pit of my stomach and flared before I could snub it out. "I know that, Danny. I watched them drag her away."

A blanket of stone fell over his face, and his attention dropped to the cellphone on his desk. I tensed. He wouldn't make the call unless he absolutely had to. He knew, if he did, he'd risk having his own dealings questioned. 

"You aren't losing it on me, are you, Willow?" His voice was low and calm, another lie.

"No." The sunlight that filtered through the cracks in the blinds dulled, gray mixing into the gold. I was taking too long. This was taking too much time, and we hadn't even started yet. I stepped forward, closer to him, arms loose, face relaxed, pliant and obedient, just like they wanted us. "I need her address."

"Her address..." He looked me over, from my worn shoes to my plain, white T-shirt, and one corner of his mouth twitched. "You want to loot her house?"

"I want to check on her kids."

"Ah, I see." He grinned as if I'd just told a joke, and I was the punchline. "They'll be gone tonight. You know that."

"I want to get them out."