Saturday

Two days later, I was led into the conference room of ward 5B and introduced to a man simply known as John. Dr. Jones asked if I minded if John sat in that day's session. Call me psychic if you like, but I reckon John drives a Ford. Dr. Jones seemed very excited when I used my normal voice to ask where my legal guardian, Jane, was today. He told me she'd been excused as my guardian. To me, that could only mean she'd been arrested.

The good doctor asked me if I could explain my nightmare. I told the full story of the lead up to the party and the suspicion that I'd been drugged and restrained. The doctor and the detective exchanged nods at that point. I explained that the exact details of what happened next were still hazy but I acknowledged that I'd done some violent things to some people that had attacked me. I knew it was common for anyone in a crisis to be unsure of exact details.

After I'd finished, John confirmed with Dr. Jones that I wasn't under the influence of any medication and asked me some gentle follow up questions. Was I aware that I'd damaged Anna's genitals with my teeth? Yes, but I was being smothered at the time, with my arms helpless behind my back and unable to breathe through my mouth. After that answer, I turned pleading eyes to Dr. Jones and asked him if he thought my nightmare was actually true. He replied that he was afraid it might well be. John resumed his questioning. Was I aware that Chrissy was hanging onto me and my chair? Yes, I was trying to shake her off to get to my wife in the other room. Why did I want to get to Jane? I'm not sure. I think I just wanted reassurance that she still loved me. Why had I attacked Todd? I saw him stepping towards me threateningly. Why Bill? What would you do if someone was trying to bash your head in with a heavy lamp base?

As this point, from their point of view, I got very agitated as I came to the realization that my nightmare was actually a memory. Dr. Jones immediately gave me a sedative. Damn, I'd have to go back to faking that monotone voice again. He also told John his questions would have to stop. I asked what was going to happen to me. John said that new information had come to light that I'd been drugged by person or persons unknown, and appeared to have wreaked carnage while under the influence and wholly in self-defense. The murder charges had been dropped. I did look surprised at that, I thought I'd only neutralized Bill. It turns out that my chair had also ruptured Chrissy's diaphragm and esophagus; she'd drowned in her own blood and bile. Both Todd's testes were ruptured and inoperable, and Anna would never again enjoy humiliating people for sexual pleasure, or enjoy any other form of sexual pleasure, come to think of it.

The police were searching for the surviving pair, to help with their enquiries, but they'd disappeared the day before. I do like it when people do what they're told. Jane had been arrested and charged with, well, everything really. Charges of drugging me and unlawful restraint were unlikely to stick. They had an even chance of getting her on attempted murder with the tranquilizers. That, I could help with when I suddenly remembered I'd seen her retrieving something from under a set of drawers in my room, and a search revealed one stray pill. I wonder where that came from? The obstruction of justice charge was a slam dump. I could rely on the police pursuing that with alacrity. She'd committed the worse moral crime against them imaginable; made them look silly.

The interview was over and Dr. Jones was busy scribbling in his notes. John was only human; the question of how the two cameras had suddenly appeared must be eating him up. He turned to me and gave me the most searching look I'd ever been subjected to. I had just sensed he was about to break eye contact when I winked. It was a wink that said, "Yes, I wouldn't have been able to break out of a jail cell as easily as a psych ward, would I?" A grateful smile suffused his face, with maybe a touch of admiration. He stood to go, asking Dr. Jones when the last time the hospital had conducted a review of the effectiveness of the door locks. Dr. Jones took the question seriously, saying he would make enquiries.

I was declared sane three days later, and released. Two nights later, Matthew had a visitor at 3AM, one he didn't enjoy. Given a choice of stopping supporting his daughter with legal help or becoming the third fatality in the Dave/Jane affair, the moral coward chose the predictable option. Jane was on her own, and his punishment for choosing the wrong moral path, when he knew the true story, was to witness the destruction of his only child. Why destroy Jane? A clever lawyer would beat the charges, leaving her only with her reputation in tatters. That wasn't enough punishment for her greatest crime. She was the first person I'd trusted, from age 12 to now. She'd abused that trust and I may never regain it. Still, I struggled with what I called my conscience. It's smaller, harder and redder than the one you probably have. The clincher, was the memory of the practiced ease with which she dropped to the sheepskin in that lounge and presented herself to Todd and Bill. That wasn't the action of someone trying something for the first time. That was the action of someone who wanted to include me in an established lifestyle, and was willing to create a make or break situation to force the issue. That, told me that the lifestyle was more important to her than the significant chance our marriage was over. Forget Jane. It's a characteristic of people like me that we make a decision, act on it, then stop dwelling on the consequences. Ask any psychopath.

I rang the Denver number that 25 minutes' research had pinpointed. A middle-aged female voice answered. "Penney residence, Paula speaking."

"Can I speak to Anna please?"

"She's out at... Anna doesn't live here anymore." Why do daughters in distress always run to their mothers? Ah well, they tell me Colorado is lovely at this time of year. Todd was soon to have an appointment with a wimp he'd seriously misjudged.

Then, a change of identity. I'd like to be a David again. It made me feel so... normal.

Epilogue

A loving husband and wife are sharing a couch. The wife is lying down, with her head in her husband's lap. She is reading a magazine, held in one hand, while the other is rubbing her swollen fertile belly. Her husband is reading the newspaper.

"Hey, Lana. What was Chrissy and Bill's surname, you know, the Chrissy you used to work with?"

"Smith, why, Jason?"

Jason couldn't help chuckling, but forced a reply.

"You're not going to believe what I've just read in the paper. Do we have any spare 'thank you' cards?"

The end

*****

Once again, many thanks to GeorgeAnderson for lending me his characters. I know you're supposed to return borrowed things in the same condition they were lent. Sorry George, I broke them.

Now lighten up. The following is for you old dudes out there who may be feeling unappreciated in the labor market.

A 55 year old technician is retrenched. Two weeks later, a machine breaks and no one can fix it. The whole factory grinds to a halt. They bring the technician back as a consultant. He opens the front of the machine, drags a chair up and stares at the innards of the machine all day. At the end of the day, he pulls a piece of chalk out of his pocket, chalks an X on one component and says, "Replace that." They do and the machine works. The technician puts in an unitemized invoice for $50,000. The accounts payable department refuses to pay an unitemized bill, so the technician sends them a second one.

'One chalk mark, $1. Knowing where to put chalk mark, $49,999.'