Her head notches back. “What the devil are you talking about now?”
“Stop.” I shake my head, hold up my hand. “Just stop, Sue.”
Sue backs up a step, her expression hesitant. “Stop what, Ellis? I didn’t do anything.”
A laugh springs free. “You’re changing all the clocks, aren’t you? You’re fucking with me, trying to make me crazy.”
She props a hand to her hip. “I think you’re doing a good job of that all on your own.” She turns to head down the stairs, and my vision pulses with red.
I am not crazy. She’s doing this—she’s doing all of this.
The moment Sue places a foot on the first step, my hands shoot out.
I push her.
There’s a startled yelp, then the sound of her body tumbling down the stairs. A thump and snap as her neck twists.
I stare down at her from the landing, waiting to see her twitch. There’s no movement.
I dust off my blazer, straighten the creases. Not as subtle or discrete as toxic beans…but it gets rid of the problem.
Dr. Leighton would be proud.
12
Cosmic Karma
Lanie
There was a window in a room at the Boston psychiatric facility that overlooked the college grounds across the street.
I stared out that window a lot.
I longed to be a part of that world so badly, I read the books the students read. I studied, I did the work, and Dr. Leighton—my confidant and mentor—assured me she’d help me get my degree.
She had made promises, and yet, it was taking too long. I put in the effort. I worked harder than any other person at the facility, and after seven years, I felt I had earned my doctorate.
Dr. Leighton came to see me. “The mind is so powerful, Lanie. Our own mind can be our enemy. The mind makes it real.”
She said things like this to me often. I thought, at times, she did so to try to placate me. To help me accept an impossibly difficult situation. I wanted—needed—change. I was becoming desperate for that change.
I knew Dr. Leighton was trying to help me achieve my goals, but after a while, I was becoming tired of trying and getting nowhere.
I researched how to start over, start fresh. Others had done so before. They had new names, new identities. All one needed was enough money.
And access to that money.
I saved up a month’s supply of my medication and put my plan into effect.
On the last day that Dr. Leighton came to visit me, I asked the most important question—the question that would cement my choice.
“Do I deserve another chance?”
She reached out and placed her hand atop mine. “Of course, you do.” She patted my hand before she pulled away. “Eventually.”
Eventually was not certain enough.
“I want it now.”