The Clairvoyant

Chapter Nine: Mary Makes Her Escape

   She was seventeen years old now. She had suffered at the hands of the staff at the asylum for nearly a decade. She had no schooling, no social knowledge nor experience, and she still saw the things that Dr. Ellechien and the other doctors and nurses had tried to cure her of. But under their torture, her abnormalities only seemed to intensify. While her body writhed as electricity travelled in shockwaves through it, her mind saw images and her ears heard the voices of the dead, some taunting, some sympathetic, others simply crying for her or for themselves.

    Mary could not take the abuse any longer. She had no idea how it was that every other child broke, and she could only grow stronger, she did not understand why she could survive when others did not. She just knew she would be the only one to escape. She had the greatest advantage.

   She asked the ghost of a nun who had worked in the hospital nearly a hundred years before. Sister Maria claimed that God had a purpose for Mary. Mary had replied, "So He decides to take all the other children and leave me, who does not want to be left?"

    If she did have a purpose, it would not be to stay in this hell.

     Mary did unspeakable things that night. Things that would make her blood run cold for the rest of her life. She degraded herself to the point where she was no better than a felon, a criminal. Out of all the ghosts she met, these would always be the ones that haunted her. Humans are primitive creatures who instinctively had almost no self control, and when trapped un corners, did anything to get out. Mary did whatever she could to get out. She broke many commandments - Sister Maria would be ashamed and impressed.

   Human nature in general, is driven by primal hunger for sustenance, offspring, and survival. But what Sigmund Freud overlooked, in his study of the mind, Mary believed, was the final thing that also acted as a drive to do unsavory things - hatred. Hatred fueled by fear of a thing.

   Fear is fueled by airy thoughts of the mind, fear is a façade that the mind uses to create fase belief of certain feelinga towarda certain things. But fear is it's own foil. Pain in many ways, is another form a fear. All creatures dread it. All hate it. Mary was fueled by hatred that night, and it was the hatred that came from years of pain, from false fear instilled in her. Carved into her mind as transparently as the scars that were carved into her flesh, mutilating her skin.

    It was raining on the night of Mary's escape. Of course it was, how could it be an escape from an asylum without pouring rain?

    The wind howled as she climbed down the long creeper vines which easily took the weight of her underweight body. It shot the pellets of rain against her bare skin - she only had on a flimsy t-shirt over scrub pants. Each drop was an icy dagger. Mary, at that time, was in a masochistic frame of mind after the sadistic things she'd done, and she relished the feeling. It made her feel like she was real. Like her freedom was not a dream she'd repeatedly dreamed of for years. It pained her though, that her freedom was one many others would never see or feel again. But nevertheless, it was hers.

    She ran that night, unsure of where to go. A hospital would surely send her back. She had no friends or family  - that she acknowledged, for it was impossible for her to go back to her treacherous mother. Mary was ready to pass out by the time she reached a church.

   It was an old church, shabby in the little details, antique in the architectural structure. Mary decided to seek shelter there.

   She did not know or recognize the priest in training, nor did he see who the deathly pale, malnourished, black and blue girl was.

    In simple ignorance, the two crossed paths and never realized it. They wouldn't for years later.

   Mary threw herself at the wooden door before slumping to the ground. An elderly man opened it to find her, half dead but more alive than she had ever been in the last decade.

    After a meal, clean clothes, and warmth, the bloody, beaten girl vanished the next day, and was not found.

    You know the rest.

                           🌷

      Mary stirred in her sleep. Thomas glanced over at her, unsure why he found her glasses skewed across her face to be adorable and wondering if that went against his vows. Cuteness and sexual desire were two different things after all, right?

    He rolled his eyes and continued driving, white knuckled hands on the wheel. Mary's state of unrest was making him restless. What on earth had her so upset? What he'd give to be in that woman's mind for a just a moment...

    "History of anemia," she murmured. "Low blood pressure, sworn off of salt... heights bad." Thomas gasped. She was practically describing his family history. "Dr. Ellechien says... no talking..." Thank God she talked though.

   Thomas had still not figured out how to tell Mary who he was. If she found out on her own... he'd have to wake her up. She couldn't be aquiring much rest anyway with this level of nerves.

   "Mary. Mary? Mary." He repeatedly said her name in an attempt to rouse her from her tedious slumber.

     Her bright eyes snapped open, she woke up alert. "Yes? Is anything wrong, did I bother you somehow?"

   "No... I - you seemed to be having unpleasant dreams and I wouldn't mind some company, so I figured it would be alright. Is it?"

   "Yes. If people were meant to sleep, it should be during the night anyhow." She straightened and adjuste her seat so that she was sitting up. "Now, would you like you talk about this heavy secret you are hiding from me - that is about me - or would you prefer making small talk about the weather?"

  Thomas cleared his throat, blushing. "Er... I think I'll take the weather."

   A/N Just a heads up, there will be an entire chapter devoted to Mary's Unspeakable Things. It's dramatic and shocking. I promise, whatever you are thinking sweet little sassy Mary to be capable of... well, what she did is much worse. Thank you all for reading!