Chapter Five: The Blue House
Copyright © by J. Faith Kenney
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission.
Ever since I read the mystery note and found out that Lily had the final say, I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. Like no matter how hard I try, I can’t get a full breath of air. It feels like the world is suffocating me. Like I am going in circles, fast but then slow, afraid of what is going to happen next.
Sleep is irrelevant. The only thing I can do at night is stare at the ceiling, jumping at every little sound. Not a single thought can stay in my mind for long before jumping to the possibility that someone is watching me. Or at any given second someone will take me to place me under an owner, or kill me. Stacy and Tom, the Neuroners who were caught, keep popping up in my mind. They feed into my nightmare of fear, even without sleep.
I finish a round of checkups before heading to the assessment board to pick up my patients’ charts and finish up my notes. Beep, beep. My pager goes off with a code from Carrie: MEET ME IN MY OFFICE.
My veins fill with anxiety with each step I make to Carrie’s office. Politely, I knock and open the door a little for her to see me. She looks up from her laptop and smiles warmly, an expression that is never wiped clean from her face, as she invites me in.
“Thela, please come in and take a seat.”
Anxiously, I take a seat, with her smiling the whole time. As soon as my butt hits the seat, she moves closer to her desk, putting her elbows on the desk.
“What is it, Carrie?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Thela, I know we usually don’t do this for the Shelter and for the hospital, but there is a family who needs our help. They used to live here at the Shelter but moved a couple of years ago. They are not doing so well, and they need a medical professional.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I ask, my voice steady because of my sudden interest in the much needed distraction from my own horror.
“What I am asking from you is that you go to the family and help them. Save them, really, from dying. You’re the best Caretender I have, and great with the medical side of things.”
“Why doesn’t a Caretender for Medical help them out?”
“Truth is, those bastard snobs don’t want anything to do with this family, all because they are homeless. They are lower than them, and they refuse to treat anyone who is lower. They are afraid they won’t get paid. Those Caretenders don’t care for the patients they are treating, but only for the paycheck.”
“Are you joking? I knew it was bad, but not that bad.”
“Sadly, I am not. What is really sad is how they are ‘respected’ as Caretenders, and we are not. We’re the ones who actually take care of things no matter what. In the beginning when I first started almost forty-five years ago, things were different. It wasn’t as bad, but as time goes on it has gotten worse.”
“That’s horrible, but I know it is the truth.” Remembering the reasons why I took this job as a Caretender for Poor instead of a Caretender for Medical.
“The truth indeed,” she says with a sad sigh before continuing on. “Thela, you are excellent at what you do, and you are a real Caretender for Medical, even if it isn’t your official title. Your new assessment is fieldwork; all the information you need is in this file.” She pulls out a file from her drawer and slides it across the table to me. “This family really needs your help, Thela.”
Nodding, I pick up the file and flip through the couple of pages quickly. The information is very little, not even old medical records. It is simple and only about five pages, with spots that are not filled in.
“Thank you, Carrie.” It is an honor that I—a Caretender for Poor—am doing fieldwork to help a family in need.
“No, thank you for not leaving the Shelter for higher pay and ‘respect’ from those snobs. Thanks for staying here and making a real impact.” Her smile is a mother’s smile, one who is truly proud of her kid.
She pulls out a little black bag from under her desk and places it on the table, sliding it to me. “This is a bag filled with the basics that may or may not help you. In ten minutes or so, there will be a Protecttender here to take you to the spot. He will help you out if there are any problems, because we don’t know if there will be somebody there trying to harm you or him. You guys are now partners. But, Thela, don’t think you will go out in the field all the time. You still have your own patients and responsibilities here at the hospital.”
“I know, Carrie, and I promise I will stay here and not transfer somewhere else.” Picking up the bag. “This is where I work, and this is where I belong.”
“I know you won’t. If you were going to leave, you would have already left by now. That is partly why I gave you this assessment.”
Nodding, I get up and head to the door. “Thank you again, Carrie. Who is the Protecttender I will be working with?”
“Zac Taylor. He actually picked you for this assignment, and I couldn’t have agreed more,” Carrie states with a smile.
I smile back to her with a little nod before heading to the main entrance to wait for Zac.
He pulls in to the Shelter on the dot after ten minutes. I get inside his car and slap him lightly on the arm before buckling my seat belt.
“What was that for?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Why did you ask for me on this assessment?” I ask angrily.
Zac laughs, seeing right through the fake anger as he begins to drive. “You are a good Caretender, Thela, and I knew you would come to help. Besides, you get to do fieldwork, which has its ups and downs.”
Nodding, I lean on the console with my elbow. Zac smells like pine wood with an undertone of lavender, reminding me of the orphanage, of home. Zac will always be my home. “So now we are partners, and we live together.”
“It is great. Now you can see me daily, and we can work together. You can’t get enough of me, can you?”
“You’re just lucky I like you now.” I look up at Zac with a smile, and he catches my eyes briefly with a smile of his own.
“I always knew you were going to come around sooner than later.”
. . .
In the country with houses miles apart. Trees and wild animals live in between, with a light breeze always blowing. This looks familiar, but why? The dirt road kicks up dirt behind us as we get deeper in the country, where there are no paved roads. We turn down a curve past a hill when a house appears. It’s a blue two-story house with a porch wrapping around the side and front of it.
My eyes squint in confusion, and I believe they are playing tricks on me. It can’t be. The house becomes clearer as we get closer. Flashes of the same house go through my mind, with the younger me and Lily playing in the yard as our parents watch. NO! It is not.
The house is now abandoned and falling apart as the paint chips away. On the second story is a broken window, smashed through by a rock or something equally as heavy. Brown, twisted vines crawl up the side of the house. Again the pieces of the memory go through my head, but with the house looking a lot nicer. The wooden porch is now chipping away, with different parts of the railing broken and mold or moss growing.
“No.” I shriek with horror, not meaning to be so loud.
“Are you alright?” Zac asks, now standing by my door and waiting for me to get out of the car.
I look up to him, completely forgetting why we are here or what my job is. “Yeah. Yeah I am fine.” Getting out of the car, and grabbing the little black bag off the floor.
“Okay, get behind me,” says Zac, focusing on the task at hand and looking at the house. His head turns and his eyes look deep into my eyes, making sure he has my whole attention. “I don’t know who is going to be in there, and I don’t want you to get hurt. So please, stay close behind me.”
I nod and he nods back, looking me over to make sure I am whole. He motions me to follow him, and we creep up to the house. Only the gush of wind making any noise. It rattles the trees, the grass, and the loose panels from the house as we make no sound.
Only a few feet away from the porch, Zac pulls out his gun and holds it out in front of him. His face focused, making each step have a purpose. His muscles are tight and ready to take on anything at any given second. I have never seen Zac act as a Protecttender before. It is kind of like looking at a new person. I admire his focus as he makes sure he takes precautions and moves gracefully toward the danger without any fear.
With each step Zac takes, I get closer on his heels, but don’t move as gracefully. The porch creaks as we step onto it, and Zac silently opens the door. He peeks his head in, looking around first before motioning me to follow him. Gun still in hand, he closes the door, making a slight click noise and raising my anxiety. Again he is in front of me, walking to the kitchen and motioning me to follow.
After one step, I freeze in place as I look around. Everything looks the exact same but with dust and rust covering everything. The paint is chipping off and hanging from the ceiling. Along with the feeling of it being abandoned and looking run-down brings up memories.
“Monster, monster!” Lily’s voice fills my ears as my imagination sees her perfectly clear running through the house. “She doesn’t belong to this family, not in any family. Monster! Mon-”
Zac grabs my arm, pulling me from that vision of the memory and back to reality. Shaking my head before looking up at him, I see his face filled with worries and concern.
“Thela, are you sure you are alright?” he whispers.
“Yes, I am fine,” I whisper back, not quite looking at him.
He tries looking deeper into my eyes, but my eyes look anywhere else besides his. He releases a little sigh—not of anger but worry. “I’m only asking because I care, Thela.”
Shrugging uncomfortably, I cross my arms to feel some sort of comfort. “I know that.” Looking up the stairs.
Zac nods as he turns, finishing his look around. He begins walking, making sure this time I follow behind him.
“This house hasn’t been lived in for about fifteen years,” he whispers. “Personally, I think it is part of the reason the family chooses to hide out here from whoever.”
“Why hasn’t it been lived in for so long?” My curiosity for the family I had gets the best of me.
“Not sure why, because with a little work this house would be beautiful.”
It was beautiful. They moved after they gave me up, but why?
BOOM! The noise comes from the upstairs, telling us someone is definitely in the house. Immediately, I react by grabbing on to the back of Zac’s uniform, scared something bad is going to happen. He reaches behind him, grabbing my arm and sliding his hand down to hold mine. His other hand is still pointed out with the gun ready.
We move around the corner, making our way to the stairs and up to the noise. Sure, let’s go toward the noise, because that’s how most people die in horror movies. Letting the panicky fear take over.
At the top of the stairs, Zac slows but doesn’t stop, both of his hands ready. One of the bedroom doors is open, and a man stands in the door with his back to us. He’s talking in a harsh whisper to someone, but I can’t see them. With two silent steps, Zac stands behind the man with me against the wall. The man doesn’t notice us, and Zac raises his gun to the back of the man’s skull.
“Step away, and turn around slowly. Drop any weapons you may have,” Zac says, his voice calm but firm.
The house is dead silent with not even the birds making any sound. The only thing I can hear is my heart pulsing in my ears. Slowly, with every movement precise, the man turns around with a sick little grin flashing yellow, black stained teeth. He laughs like an insane person, which he probably is.
“You think I am afraid of a gun or being shot?” asks the man threateningly. He pulls out a knife and holds it up toward Zac.
Zac doesn’t even flinch. He keeps his stone face and holds the gun steady. “I don’t want to shoot you. We can do this easily or the hard way, it is your choice.”
The man takes a moment to think before answering. “Fine, then take me,” he spits out.
What? You are going to surrender that easy.
The man turns around, placing his hands behind his back for the arrest. Zac takes a little step forward, about to get his cuffs out. One more step closer and the stranger’s elbow goes into Zac’s stomach, pushing him out of the way as he falls to the ground. Zac coughs to regain his breath, and the man comes out of the room in a hurry.
As soon as he sees me, he stands still, his grin vanishing momentarily, just to reappear. My stomach turns at the sight, but I try not to let it show. He sticks out his knife with one hand, and in the other, grabs my arm. Everything happens so quickly that my heart couldn’t even beat again. He starts to drag me down the stairs with a tight hold on my arm. The hold is so tight that I feel like any more pressure will snap the bone right in half.
He takes the first step for the stairs, and I drag my feet on the floor. He tries pulling me, but I pull back, trying to get free. He raises his knife, trying to pull me down, but I pull back, screaming without realizing it.
The knife goes down, heading straight for my skin, but Zac takes the cut. He gets my hand free with one swift movement, and in a swifter movement, he has the man on the ground with the cuffs on him. Zac pins down the stranger’s back with his knee before looking up at me.
“The family is in there, and one has a bad cut that I saw,” Zac says. “I will call for an ambulance from the Shelter and call someone for this douchebag.”
I nod remembering why we are here in the first place. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. Before entering the room, I pick up the black bag I dropped. The family in the room is crowded in the corner and shaking with fear. A mother with dirt caking her face holds two daughters no older than ten. The one on her left has blood and dirt running down her arm. The mother pulls both her kids closer, fearing I will hurt them.
“It is okay, I am not here to hurt you.” My voice soft. “My name is Thela Brown, and I am a Caretender for The Helping Care Shelter.” I show the mother my work badge. “I am here to help you.”
The mother slowly releases the child on the left, showing her dirt caked, bloody face. “Please help her first,” she begs in a whisper.
Nodding, I take a step forward and sit down on my knees next to the little girl. She shakes and turns to her mother with fear, and I don’t blame her. The mother whispers something into her ear, and she turns cautiously back to me. I open up the small bag and put on a pair of gloves. With careful hands, I hold her arm while she holds her mother’s hand with the other.
“I am going to clean it out. It may sting a little.”
After I use the rubbing alcohol pad, her skin finally looks clean from all the dirt and blood. She cries out with pain, turning to her mother and tightening her grip on her mother’s hand. I almost lose my grip, but the mother kisses her child’s forehead, whispering everything will be alright.
“All done, sweetie. All I need to do now is wrap it up, and when you get to the hospital someone will stitch it up for you.”
Zac comes into the room and nods to me when I look up. I place gauze over the girl’s cut before wrapping it tightly in an elastic bandage around her arm. As I put on the piece of tape to hold it in place, the other Caretenders from the Shelter comes in and takes the three of them to the ambulance. I tell the other Caretenders to stitch her and give her some antibiotics for the small bacterial infection the young girl has, while checking the others for any infection they may have.
Zac waits for me outside by the passenger side of his car.
“Sorry you got cut.” I say.
“It’s okay. I will take a cut for you any day.”
He opens the car door for me with a satisfied smile before getting in on the other side and driving off.
. . .
The new patients get sent off to surgery, to cleaning, or just to their rooms for sleep. Zac is still at the Shelter after someone cleans out his cut. He waits for me at the main counter with a smile as I approach him.
“The douchebag was arrested and taken to jail, and tomorrow there will probably be a trial and sentencing for punishment,” states Zac. “Either way he is not my problem anymore. You were good out there, Thela.”
“Thanks. Sorry I was a little jumpy at first. The house just… reminded me of something from my past.”
“It’s okay. We all have those days sometimes.”
I nod and the silence takes over us. A silence that tells us everything is going to be okay.
“Thela, Thela, THELA!” another Caretender cries, running toward us with worry written all over her face.
“What? What is wrong?” I spit out.
“Tess, she-”
I don’t let her finish before running to Tess’s room just to find she is gone.
“Where is Tess?” I ask—more like demand—while turning to face the Caretender, who followed Zac and I.
“We don’t know, she is gone.”
“Why didn’t anyone call to tell me Tess is missing?”
“You were already on your way back.”
I turn to Tess’s room, taking in a deep breath as I step closer to her bed. Where the hell are you, Tess? I look under the unfolded covers, hoping maybe with some strange magic she will appear. I flip the sheet down to the bottom of the bed to study it, again thinking she will appear.
“Did you check the security cameras?” I ask, my mind racing.
“Yes, but they have been cut. We have Protecttenders at every entrance to check who enters and who leaves,” states the other Caretender with a tremble to her voice.
I nod, looking at the bed over again and again. At the base of the bed is a white piece of paper matching the sheets, almost hidden. It catches my eyes and I pick it up quickly, flipping it over.
Thela, the game has begun.
My breath wavers as I stare down at the note and hold back tears. The other Caretender leaves, and I only stare, not able to look anywhere else. Zac takes a step closer to me, and I crumple the note, placing it in my pocket. I turn to him with the tears that I can no longer hold escaping. The world is lost around me with my face buried in Zac’s chest. He wraps his arms around me, holding me together while letting me sob in his arms.
. . .
Later on in the middle of the night, my knees are curled to my chest with my arms wrapped around them. I rock on the bed of the guest bedroom in Zac’s apartment. Lights from the city shine through the window, casting shadows on the wall. A bed and a side table with a lamp are the only things in the room. A bathroom is connected, the door on the same wall as the head of the bed. The opposite wall is the window, which almost covers the whole wall.
On the bed in front of me, the three notes stare up, mocking me. Why Tess? She is sick and could die without her medicine. Why not just take me instead of playing this horrible game? Looking at my watch because there is no way I am going to get some sleep tonight: 2:45 a.m.
I look out the open door to Zac’s bedroom door. A seam of light casts shadows onto the wood floor, telling me he is awake. Looking down to my watch again: 2:48 a.m. I get up, and with sluggish steps, I make my way toward his room. Knocking softly, almost too softly to hear, I wait for a response.
“Come in,” he calls.
I slide open the door and stand in the doorframe, looking to the floor before finding his eyes. I know my eyes are red and puffy from crying, and a normal person would feel ashamed to look as rough as I do, but I know he will not judge me. A half-opened book rests on his leg, and an open file balances on his lap.
“Why are you still awake?” I ask.
“Finishing up a case for tomorrow.” He looks over to his clock on the bedside table, noticing the time. He leans his head back to the tall bed frame, rolling his eyes to me. “It’s not until later in the day, so maybe I will get some sleep before I go to court. Why are you up?”
“Can’t sleep. Too much is on my mind.” He nods, understanding what I mean without questions. “I want to tell you what happened to me today,” I state slowly.
“I was there, and we don’t need to talk about it.”
“That’s not what I am talking about. I am talking about why I was so jumpy at the house—and it wasn’t because I was scared.” Taking a gulp, I look down to the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with him. “That house was my childhood house before the orphanage.” Finally, looking up to his eyes.
“I am sorry, Thela. I had no idea.”
“I know, and you have nothing to be sorry for.” Nodding to him before turning to leave.
Just needed to say it to get it off my chest. I close Zac’s door behind me, only to reopen it a few seconds later. Zac looks at me, still in the same position as before. Bags under his eyes, and they are barely open.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” I ask, like a little kid. “I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t think I should.”
Zac’s eyes have some life to them again, but he hesitates before nodding and scooting over, making room for me. He gathers his stuff, placing the file and the book on the table as I lie down facing the door. He shuts off the light, making the room dark except for the dim city lights below us, and lies down as well. As soon as he lies down, I turn, getting closer to him. I rest my head and hand on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Hesitantly, he wraps his arm around my body, holding me tightly in his arms.
I am not going to let anything bad happen to you as well.