Kelly begins to cough, I’m assuming, on the blood that must be choking her throat. Before this goes too far, I release her, allowing her to eject the hot coal from her mouth. It lands in the dirt and ash, no longer sizzling as the orange heat cools to a cloudy gray.
I can’t think about the pain that must be piercing Kelly’s system.
“This too shall pass.” I move closer, inspecting her damaged form. “That’s what my mother always said. You never know what you’re made of until you walk through the fire.” I chuckle softly at my unintentional pun.
I bend, clambering to control both of her flopping arms before I shove them fully into the fiery coals. She howls and writhes against me, but she’s already in so much pain from the mouth injury she doesn't seem to have much control of herself. I don’t want to end her life. I can’t have that on my conscience. Though it might be easier on both of us if I did.
I only need to make sure she can’t explain what happened today. She must be silenced forever. No words, no fingerprints, no way to communicate. No evidence of Kelly can remain.
The skin on Kelly’s palms bubbles and blisters, the flesh raw and pink. It shines in an almost surreal way that reminds me of new-fallen snow or a sparkling morning dew. The sense of renewal and rebirth overwhelms me. Once I’m done here, we’ll both have a chance at a fresh start.
My heartbeat roars in my ears as I hold her hands to the flames. I’ve done my best to mirror her as much as possible. It hurt me to gain nearly fifty pounds over the last six months—my streak of vanity runs far deeper than Kelly’s.
“I would never be caught dead carrying that ugly old bag,” I say aloud, unable to stop the wry cackle that leaves my lips. “Hopefully you don’t have any fingerprints after this. We can’t have anything that makes you identifiable asKelly Fraser, LLP,now can we?”
I pull her palms from the hot coals, satisfied with the damage that’s been done in just a few minutes.
“But what about that face?” I work my lips back and forth as I consider how to disfigure her just enough to disguiseher true identity from the nurses. “Second-degree burns should be enough, right?”
A soft moan is my only reply before I heave her limp form up to the doorway again and then use her hand to swipe a pile of hot coals into her face. The skin on her cheeks sizzles and melts like bacon fat rendering in a skillet. I can’t look any longer; it’s an image that will take work to scrub from my brain.
“That should do the job.” I turn, dropping my hold on her and smiling when the thud of her full weight hits the ground. “Now to leave a little goodbye note.”
Digging through her dingy tote, I quickly find a pen and small pad of lined paper. Without thinking, I write out a quick suicide note.
I couldn’t stay here any longer. I’m sorry for everything. xo Mia
I tear off the lined paper and fold it once before slipping it into the pocket of the blood-splattered hospital gown Kelly is wearing.
“Sayonara,bitch.”
Chapter Forty-Four
It takes me exactly three minutes from the moment I leave Kelly at the kiln to the time I reach her small black Nissan. I’m fighting to keep my wits about me as I navigate the busy parking lot. After finding her keys in that filthy, bottomless tote, I unlock the doors and then breathe a sigh of relief when I slip behind the wheel.
The first thing I notice is an LA Dodgers baseball cap in the back seat, so I push my hair into a ponytail and then pull the cap low over my forehead. Smoothing the wrinkles in Kelly’s dress, I take a moment to really embody the energy of my friend.
I am Kelly Fraser, LLP now.
It’s important I believe this if I’m going to keep up with this new life. I’ve turned over a new leaf, and I’ve worked too hard to jeopardize it now. I’ve risked too much to turn back. I’ve come too far to only get this far. I take a few minutes to watch the small groups of protestors and workers on strike that are loitering around the entrance gates. I know that somewhere in Kelly’s bag, she’ll have her hospital-issued identification card that allows her entrance onto the grounds. I’m sure I’ll be checked on the way out of the gates, but with any luck, securitywill be too busy trying to control the chaos of the crowd to be very thorough with checking me.
I shove both hands into Kelly’s tote—correction, my tote—and dig through the junk until I find the badge and lanyard I’ll need to get off the grounds. The picture on the front doesn’t really look like me, but it doesn’t really look like my therapist either. Her blond hair is the same—layered with feathered wisps along the fringe, but her face is thinner. I’d bet anything the photo is at least two decades old—maybe when she first received her therapy license from the state. It will have to work. I don’t have a choice.
I stab the start engine button with my fingertip, relief flooding me as the car hums to life. I press my lips together, anxiety and anticipation mixing like a heady cocktail in my stomach. I take my time weaving through the groups of people, working my way closer and closer to the front gates. There are at least two dozen cars lined up along the road, some parked haphazardly in the ditch or with rear bumpers sticking into the traffic lane. It’s absolute chaos, and it’s the only way I can get away with what I’m about to do.
Shift change isn’t for another hour, so I am the only car driving toward the gates that separate me from my freedom. The small security booth the guard sits in is crowded with people passing in and out. I have to wait for what looks like a local news crew to be admitted onto the grounds. Once they’re allowed entrance, I creep the car up slowly and then idle at the open window.
I shove the lanyard with Kelly’s identification out the window like I’ve done this a thousand times.
The guard greets me and reaches for the badge just as his phone rattles off the hook. He smiles easily, lifts a finger in indication that I wait a moment, and then answers the phone. “Guard shack.”
My heart thunders as I pray it’s not hospital staff calling to alert him to an escaped patient. I’ve been through a lockdown once before, when the schizophrenic down the hall from me went missing for a few hours. She was finally discovered by kitchen staff, hiding in the walk-in pantry, but until she was located, no person was allowed to leave the premises and all patients had to wait in their rooms. It was torture, but a valuable lesson in the preparedness of this place.
I wait patiently for the security guard to get off the phone. When he finally does, I hold my breath, expecting him to tell me he can’t let me pass. Maybe I overlooked something—maybe there are security cameras posted around the grounds that I didn’t account for. Maybe someone has already found Kelly bleeding out in the dirt and the hunt is already underway.
“Been a wild day, huh?” I attempt an awkward smile.
“Sure has, Miss Fraser. Did you enjoy your visit?” He only glances at my badge and then waves it away.
