The Clairvoyant

Chapter Twelve: Mary's Unspeakable Things

      Warning: Mature Content, might be gruesome.

   The guard that night was a thirty-five year old nurse who had recently divorced his wife. Or, rather she had divorced him and taken their two kids because she found pictures on his phone that a man should never have. He had been harassing the girls recently. Mary knew he'd be an easy target.

   She slipped the fork she'd taken from her dinner tray yesterday under her shirt, along with the zipper end she'd broken off of the skirt she came there in, all those years ago.

   Mary was seventeen. She was vaguely pretty. Either way she had curves. She was a girl. He was a man who was going through troubles. He was not a bad person though. He had made mistakes, and this is what Mary would regret later. He was really innocent. Confused. Innocent. But she had to do it. She had to be selfish.

   "Nurse, won't you keep me company? I need someone. I'm lonely." She purred tragically through the slat of her cage, where her tray of food was pushed every day at noon.

   She unbuttoned a few of the top buttons of her shirt and rolled her pants legs up. "Please?"

   He smirked, drunk and crying. "Sure Mary Baby."

   His wife's middle name was Mary.

   He unlocked the door and came inside, locking it again behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. Mary stretched out on the wall, smiling wantonly. He just needed to get closer to her.

   "You've grown up, Mary." The nurse slurred. He told himself to leave her alone. His broken heart and the alcohol told him to go a head.

   His hands found her waist and slid up her ribs then back down her hips, hands curling into her bottum. She smiled as he started to leave delicate, slobbery kisses on her neck. One hand caressed his chest, the other slid under her shirt. It would look like all she was doing was unbuttoning it further. As his hips ground into hers Mary wrapped her free arm around his back, trying to hold him to her.

  And then the stabbed him in the stomach with her metal fork.

   He screamed in pain, a crimson patch quickly spreading over his white uniform. He fell back to the floor, writhing in pain as Mary stabbed him again.

  "I'm sorry," she said. He would eventually kill himself. He had been considering it for a week.

   She stabbed him in the eyes. She stabbed him in the chest. He had tried to rape someone once. But he had worked four jobs to pay for his kid's medical bills. She had had cancer.

   Mary stopped. He was dead. She crossed herself and removed the keys and liquor bottle from his pockets.

   She hated liquor. It made the electroshock nurses fry some of the children.

   She pocketed it and unlocked the door. In two minutes, she'd have a doctor and nurses chasing her.

   "Hannah!" She hissed into the darkness. A little girl, transparent, pale, a shadow, stepped into the light. Dr. Ellechien had overdosed her, which caused her internal bleeding. The doctor struck her when she complained of pain and said she would be sent to bed without food for three days. The girl died from blood and carelessness and a broken heart.

   "Please," Mary said.

   Hannah simply nodded ans approached the door that the nurses would come out of. Mary had been the only one to talk to her in nearly fifteen years. She would scare staff members anytime for Mary. Mary was helping the hospital remember kids like Hannah.

    Hannah took malicious pleasure in appearing demonic to the staff. She'd done it once before.

  Mary ran down the opposite hall and began unlocking every cell door that she could, every room that held a child. She stabbed other nurses who had fallen asleep and woke to see her, and left those who didn't see her alone. One of them woke up and didn't even try to fight. That woman would never tell. She hated what she did to the kids.

   The only issue now was Mary's own escape.

    She was bloody. It was pouring rain outside.

   She began to break the glass of a window, smashing the bottle of liquor against it, cutting herself in the process.

  "Now jus what do you think you're doing Miss Mary?" Dr. Montgomery, Ellechien's colleague, a rough, muscular man of forty grimly grinned at her, leering. He always wanted to hurt Mary. He hated her because she wasn't afraid of him like the others. However, she did know he had a penchant for drinking.

  "There's liquor in this bottle. Want it?" She knew he wouldn't except the bribe.

   "Ha. Ha ha ha. No. I want you though."

  Mary had to think fast. She had already killed four people, though. What was one more?

  "Okay then."

  Behind him was the laundry cart. He must have been getting ready to leave clothes out for the next day, for the patients.

   "You've been naughty Mary." He sneered.

  "It's about to get a whole lot worse."

    He approached her slowly. She stared around, looking for a better weapon. A metal doctor's staff, with the serpents and stick, a symbol she never understood, waa right next to her.

     Dr. Montgomery lunged for her and she brought her fork down upon his neck. He gasped as blood flowed, falling to his knees. Damn it, she'd missed his jugular. Furious he began climbing up her body, pulling her down. She grabbed the doctor's staff from the wall and beat him over the head with it. She continued to ebat him, cracking his skull, getting blood all over, dark, ruby colored, hot, sticky blood that dried into a crust. She thought she saw some if his brain. But each strike was for the children.

   Finally she stopped. She stripped her clothes and put on a baggy pair from the cart. She retrieved the bottle of liquor and stared at it. "God, I need a drink right now." She'd already sinned tonight, why not add another?

   She downed a large gulp, choking on the burning in her throat.

  Then she jumped out the window, hearing the screams of nurses and doctors.

   The pouring rain cleansed the blood from her skin. But nothing would clean the guilt from her eyes and her conscience. She was as much of a monster as they now. But she liked the feeling.

   She'd never atone for murder. Yes, she saved probably hundreds' pain. Death. Despair. But she'd bloodied herself.

   Mary ran and her little body was already overworked.

   She collapsed half an hour later, long after all the sirens had gone to that building of hell, outside some kind of church.

    She'd dye and cut her hair. Get contacts, hide. But right now, she needed to rest for a night. She'd disappear in the morning just as the lives of the people she'd killed and maimed. Some, she doubted would be recognizable. She had bashed in skulls. Stabbed hearts. Crudely slit throats.

   Mary's tears mixed with the rain drops on her face.

   They would for a very long time after.

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   Thomas woke to Mary violently screaming as if something was carving out her heart while she was still alive.

    "Mary!"

A/N

  Welp. That happened. Thoughts?