Afterlife - Douglas Clegg [53]
Her room, dark except for the patch of light from the hall, her door just half-shut, had been cleaned up, and overturned chairs had been righted. She listened for orderlies or nurses in the hall, but there were none.
She got out of bed and went to the window, looking out on the moon glow across the lawn and trees.
And then, she heard the voice in her head. A voice she had managed to block—that the warm fuzzies had blocked—and that she had thought would leave her alone.
But it was that woman. Julie. Coming to her. Pushing at her. Making her remember things that were best forgotten.
2
After she’d written the note, she went into the small bathroom and took off her clothes. She turned on the shower, making sure it was as hot as she could get it. She got under the water, and let it burst against her scalp, trying to wash memory from her, clean the past out.
Instead, his face came back to her, inside her mind, opening her up for other memories, breaking down doors she had let the warm fuzzies seal up.
She slammed her head against the tile of the shower stall.
Again.
And again.
Until she felt the blood dripping down along her face, down her shoulders and breasts, into the drain at her feet.
She kept it up as long as she could, bashing her head into the tile, trying to lock every door she had before someone tried to pry her open.
When she heard one of the night nurses calling out, trying to open the bathroom door, but she had jammed it so it couldn’t open, Amanda Hutchinson drew her bloodied head back and slammed it as hard as she could against the tile.
The last things she heard were a sharp crack, and the cry of the nurse as the bathroom door flew open.
Amanda sank down in the shower stall, resting her head on the cool floor by the drain. Her vision weakened, and the throbbing in her head went from burning pain to a frozen numbness.
She felt her consciousness fading. She tried as hard as she could to open one last hidden door within her mind, and let go of the flesh.
Chapter Fourteen
1
“You went to see who?” Mel nearly shrieked. “Take off the sister hat and put on the friend hat,”
Julie said.
“I’m wearing the smart hat. What in God’s name were you doing there?”
They were driving around looking at real estate listings in Forest Lake, because Mel was still thinking of buying a place nearer Julie—“but not so close that I see you every day,” Mel had said.
“Look at that one.” Julie pointed to a small house at the edge of a hillside. “Look, it must have a view of the lake in back. Write down the realtor’s number.”
“Why the hell did you go down there? What good would it do?”
“Quit yelling at me.”
“I am not yelling.”
“I didn’t think it would turn out like it did. I thought maybe…I don’t know. I thought maybe she’d know something I didn’t.”
“She’s insane, Julie. He divorced her because she tried to kill her own son. Isn’t that enough for you?”
2
She dreamed that night of Amanda Hutchinson, stunningly beautiful, dressed in one of Hut’s business suits. Julie lay on a bare mattress on the floor of some auditorium. She had the sense that people were watching her. She struggled, but her hands—though not tied down—wouldn’t move. Nor would her legs.
Julie became aware of her nakedness only when Amanda bent down and touched her foot. Amanda licked the edge of her foot and took a toe in her mouth.
Then, on all fours, Amanda climbed on top of her, bringing her face within an inch of Julie’s.
“Does he touch you like this?” she asked, her tongue flicking out and lapping at Julie’s lips. “Like he’s more alive than he’s ever been?”
In the dream, Amanda Hutchinson’s hair was no longer black, but bright red. Julie noticed that there was a chair, above her, hanging suspended from the sky as if by a wire that went all the way up to heaven.
Julie felt a hand