Chapter 2
Chapter 2
“Assistance is req-” Joan’s voice cracked and she coughed and sputtered as she choked on another lung-full of thick smoke. She gasped and looked down at the bundle she had been carrying as she leaned against the unforgiving bars that separated her escape from the fire that was hungrily devouring everything behind her. The baby she had forgotten she was holding had suddenly gone very quiet and very still in her arms.
“Shane..” Joan whimpered , gathering him closer to her breast. “ I’m so sorry…I failed you again..” she cried as she slid her back down the bars, cradling Jianna’s son to her chest. She sobbed as the flames licked closer and closer to them…
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“No…”
Vera’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Joan’s low moan. It had been barely audible but Vera had startled just the same ; it had been so quiet in the tiny white room of the psychiatric ward that Vera realized she had dozed briefly while Joan had nodded off again in a drug-induced slumber. Before Joan had lost the battle and sleep had claimed her, she had recognized Vera through her haze. After Vera had promised Joan that everything would be fine, she had watched with a sense of fascination as her words had seemed to relax Joan, and as she slipped into her doze, she had murmured “Vera…” and Vera had felt her chest tighten and tears prick the corners of her eyes. And she couldn’t explain why.
Vera sat up in the stiff waiting chair and appraised Joan now- her former boss was tossing lightly in a fitful sleep, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. Sweat glistened on her body and the white hospital-issue gown clung to her damp skin. Her gnarled black hair matted against her cheeks. Her brow was furrowed and a pained expression painted over her pale face. She moved her head back and forth on the pillow slowly, moaning. Occasionally an arm would jerk against the restraints binding her wrists.
“Help… me” Vera heard Joan say as she watched one hand open and close, as if trying to grasp something.
Vera suddenly felt a bolt of compassion surge through her, causing a lump to rise in her throat. A very human need to ease another’s suffering drove Vera to stand automatically and stoop next to Joan’s bed, sliding her fingers into Joan’s damp hand when it opened again. She felt Joan weakly grip her fingers in response.
“Please…I have to…Shane…” Joan’s breathing had quickened and she seemed to struggle with renewed strength; Vera even noticed her eyes flutter open momentarily.
Shane? Vera briefly considered the name Joan had said. She hadn’t heard it before.
“Shh…its ok Joan. Settle, lay back.” Vera placed a hand to Joan’s forehead, gently coaxing her head back down to the pillow.
“No..the fire is..I ca-“ but words failed her again, and her eyelids closed lazily, her mouth opened slightly and Vera realized that Joan had drifted away again, as quickly as she had come.
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“joan.”
She heard her name whispered in the darkness, it was so faint, and it crept upon her like a soft breeze gently moving through tall grass. It was so soothing, so tender the way it sounded to her. She even felt the corner of her mouth twitch, as if it were trying to pull itself into a half-smile.
“Joan.”
The softness was gone this time, Joan felt her brow furrow in response and her stomach knotted.
“WAKE UP!”
Her eyes snapped open and she quickly surveyed her surroundings. With alarm, she realized she was bound to a chair in the middle of her fencing studio.
How? She thought to herself, her muddled brain trying to reason, as she struggled in vain to free her wrists from the ropes that held them fast to the arms of the chair.
“How? That’s your first question?” a voice scoffed at her. Startled, Joan turned her head and cast her gaze into the shadows in the corner of the room. She knew that voice.
A slight figure stepped out of the dark and into the dim, hazy yellow light of the studio.
“Feels sort of redundant to tell you ‘how’ this is happening, when you already know how, Joan.”
Joan knew who the person in the room with her was in an instant. How could she not?
Her face cracked into a lopsided smile and she felt her eyes fill with tears.
“Jianna.” She breathed.”I’ve- I’ve missed you so-“
“Stop. Just- don’t. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie.” Jianna snapped, walking closer to where Joan sat on the chair. Joan immediately felt the elation of seeing her former lover dissipate, replaced by an eerie, sickening feeling of despair. Jianna’s deep brown eyes, which once had a spark; a pleasant glint to them, were pale; narrowed and accusing as they burned into Joans. Where she once had found solace and comfort, Joan saw nothing but hatred and disgust glaring back at her now.
“That’s not true Jiann-“ she began weakly, her mouth was so dry she could barely speak.
“I SAID STOP!” Jianna yelled so loudly and so suddenly that Joan jumped a little. Joan could do nothing but stare at the approaching woman dumbly. Joan blinked and Jianna was instantaneously almost face-to-face with her, as if someone had pressed a fast-forward button on this terrible encounter.
“You wanna know how this happened?” Jianna seethed, “Because of YOU, Joan! You lost control! You let your emotions interfere again, and now here you sit, with so much blood on your hands that all the washing in the world will never see them clean again! You care for no one but your sick, disgusting self. You are NOTHING. An embarrassment.” Jianna hissed into her ear, the words trickling into Joan and filling her with shame and fear. Her pulse quickened and she heard her heart pounding in her ears.
“I cared…so much about you and Shane, I-“
“YOU NEVER CARED!” Jianna roared, grabbing the sides of Joan’s face with both of her hands. Joan squeezed her eyes shut and willed this to end, this couldn’t be real, Jianna would never speak to her like that.
“No. Open your eyes. OPEN THEM! Look at what you did!” Jianna cried, and Joan reluctantly opened her eyes again. Jianna had turned her head upwards, exposing her neck. A thick, deep purple and red stripe snaked across her throat from one side to the other, its colors angry and stark against Jianna’s skin. Joan gasped and started to sob. Her beautiful Jianna. The ligature marks stared back at Joan, taunting her, a blatant depiction of her failure.
Tears streaming down her face, she shook her head back and forth vehemently.
“Yes.” Jianna said plainly.”Yes, Joan.”
“You failed me..” Jianna’s voice had grown soft,defeated.”They did this to me because of YOU.”
Joan looked up at Jianna, her eyes pleading. She wanted to say so much, but her mind wouldn’t fire fast enough. She wanted to reach out and hold Jianna close to her forever, convince her that she did indeed care and had never meant for her to die, but her wrists were duly bound.
So Joan sat in a stunned silence, her eyes swimming as she cast her gaze downwards, defeated.
“I lov- I…I..”Joan stuttered, her voice hitching on a quiet sob. She heard a scoff above her.
“You what? You ‘loved’ me? Is that what you’re trying to say? You loved me?”
Once again, she looked up at the woman she had fallen in love with so long ago, this young woman whose life was ripped away from her far too soon.
“If you loved me, you would have protected me and Shane. You would have been there to make good on your promise to protect us when they came for me, rope in hand.”
Jianna leaned down so she was eye-level with Joan.
“You are nothing,” she smiled vacantly at Joan’s distressed expression, then moved her lips to Joan’s ear, “but a FREAK.”
Joan felt her mind flood with thousands of thoughts and tiny whispers and suddenly the room was spinning. She closed her eyes briefly to stop it and when she opened them, Jianna’s back was to her and she was walking slowly back toward the shadows in the corner of the room.
“No, Jianna! Wait!” Joan was shocked at the hoarseness in her voice, she sounded very old and afraid.
The figure did not turn, did not stop.
“Come back!” Joan tried to yell but her voice cracked, and the wail that came from the depths of her being sounded inhuman.
She screamed and thrashed furiously in the chair, trying to get up to stop Jianna before she disappeared, but it was too late. Jianna had slipped away again into the darkness.
“Don’t leave me.” Joan whimpered to the empty room.
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“Please!”
Joan had been thrashing and crying out again but this particular cry startled Vera and she jumped a little. She noticed Joan’s eyes were open again, and she was staring at the wall in the corner of the room.
“What do you need, Joan?” Vera asked softly, stepping closer to her, wiping away the tears that were spilling down her cheeks with her own hand, gently. She took Joan’s hand again, more-so to get her attention than anything else.
Joan’s eyes lazily met Vera’s and her mouth worked to say something but nothing came out at first. She took a shuddery breath in and wailed “Stop her!” and she gestured weakly at the corner of the room. She was still struggling against her restraints and trying to get up from the bed.
Stop who? Vera looked to where Joan was gazing, even though she knew no one would be there. She looked back at Joan. Maybe she had been dreaming about Warner and the fire again.
The fire. There were still so many questions surrounding the fire that had nearly destroyed a portion of the prison, claiming the life of inmate Jessica Warner. Something had happened down there that night, a mystery thus far, considering that out of the three witnesses to the start of the fire, one was dead, one was alive but an infant, and the other was Joan, who was currently suffering a mental breakdown and heavily sedated. She had not yet been able to make a credible statement, the only thing she had insisted on before the sedatives took her mind over completely, was that Warner had kidnapped Anderson’s baby with the intent to kill him, Joan had found them after the inmate had started the fire and was able to get the baby away from Warner and escape to a hall, while Warner burned to death in the other room.
There were still so many variables, so many missing pieces to this puzzle. Vera didn’t know what to believe at this point. Everything was a giant mess, literally and figuratively. Inmates were displaced as the prison was being gutted and remodeled. Officers were dislocated and relocated and discombobulated and some didn’t even have a job to go to right now. Scheduling was a nightmare.
And then there was the giant issue that was Joan Ferguson. Vera had been appointed acting Governor, and one of her first duties had been to come to psych admissions and see what information, if any, she could get out of Joan.
She knew as soon as she had arrived and was ushered into Joan’s nearly- empty, white, holding room and saw Joan in her state of disorient, that she would not get any information or statement from the former governor just yet. Tied down to the bed, fighting her inner demons that had emerged seemingly fast to Vera and without abandon, the once neat, proper, intimidating presence that had been Governor Ferguson was now a disheveled, heavily-sedated, chaotic mess.
What the hell happened down there?
But Vera knew that right now, her questions would not be answered. Right now, her former mentor was suffering and she needed to help in any way she could. Joan was sick at the moment, Vera needed her to get well so uncertainties could be resolved, and justices could be doled out. It was Vera’s job as the newly-appointed governor to fix this disorder.
Vera shook her head dismissively at the reminder that very soon, she would have to reveal to Joan that she, Vera, now held Joan’s former title. The very thought of this disclosure and the subsequent reaction caused a wave of panic to grip Vera’s chest. No. Not now. She internally scolded her anxiety.
“Joan, you have GOT to settle down.” Vera swallowed heavily, returning her attention to the uncharacteristically helpless woman writhing around in the bed. She placed her hand on Joan’s forehead again, feeling how hot and sticky it was to the touch. Vera stood and detatched her hand from Joan’s. She walked over to a tiny sink that sat in the corner of the room. Grabbing a cloth, she wet it with cool water and rang it out.
She walked back over to Joan, folding the damp cloth.
“There, that’s bound to feel a little better…” Vera whispered to Joan, gently rubbing the cool cloth over her face and across her forehead, trying to coax her to calm back down. Joan raised her eyebrows slightly as the rag traced her face gently, and seemed to relax a bit. Her clenched jaw unset and the pained look on her face slightly disappeared as Vera continued to run the damp cloth over her brow, up to her hairline and even over her neck and the top of her chest that lay uncovered by the thin white gown that had been shifted during Joan’s struggles.
“It’s ok.” Vera whispered, even though it wasn’t.
Vera felt the tightness return to her chest as she realized that this was the reason she still stood vigil at Joan’s bedside, even knowing that she wouldn’t be granted a morsel of knowledge relevant to the fire.
There was a sense of duty she still held for her former mentor, and it surpassed the understanding that Joan had not always treated Vera with the same regard. She had even been downright cruel to Vera. Yet here Vera stood, just as she had when Fletcher had been in his accident. Although things had soured between her and Fletch prior, she had still been compelled to help him, care for him even.
“Vera you’re here… are you really here?” Joan murmured, and Vera heard the pained doubt in her fragile voice.
Vera blinked and looked at Joan, whom was now actually looking directly at Vera, recognition and confusion both was glimmering simultaneously in her deep brown eyes.
The medication must be wearing off, thought Vera as she leaned closer to Joan, taking her hand.
“Yes. I’m here.” She smiled softly; reassuringly, down at Joan. “And I’m going to help you. I’m going to find you the best doctor I can and we’re going to fix this.”
She felt Joan grip her hand.
Suddenly, Vera heard a sharp knock on the open door behind her and she turned to see an orderly standing in the doorway.
“Hey, sorry to disturb, but visiting hours are over.” The stocky man said blandly.
“Alright.” Vera nodded curtly as he walked away, once again returning her attention to Joan.
“I’ve got to go now.” Vera whispered to her, squeezing her hand. She felt Joan tighten her grip on her at her words.
“No.. please.” Joan whimpered hoarsely. The pained expression washed back over her face and imploring eyes slowly rolled to meet Vera’s.
“It’s ok.” Vera soothed, trying to sound confident as she finally wriggled her hand free from Joan’s. She moved a wayward stand of hair out of Joan’s eyes and smoothed it gently for a moment before starting for the doorway , wanting to leave quickly, counting on the remaining effects of the sedatives to curb Joan’s lamenting.
“Don’t leave…” Vera heard Joan almost whisper behind her.
She had barely heard it, but Vera stopped, still facing the door. Something in Joan’s voice had stalled her descent.
“They always leave.”
At this, Vera turned back around to face Joan, perplexed. “Who?” she asked.
“Everyone.” Joan moaned, her head slowly moving back and forth against the pillow again in agony, her hand still open, wanting Vera’s.
“They always leave me.”
Vera felt as if all the air had suddenly been knocked out of her. She was suddenly overcome by such a feeling of sorrow for the woman lying in the bed. Before she realized it, she was already walking back over to her, as if drawn in by some magnetic force.
She took Joan’s hand once more.