Chapter 31: Salvation

The dwarfish clown danced and capered over Sarah’s prone naked body. After the scalpel had sliced into her kidney, she fell to the floor silently screaming as the sliding glass doors opened and shut repeatedly near her hair, ticking like a doomsday clock. The other occupants in the long corridor – nurses, doctors, patients – completely ignored her and her assailant. The clown sang hymns as the scalpel sliced her skin over and over, her arms, her throat, her breasts, her ribs, her thighs, her calves. Agony enveloped her entire being. Blood dripped from every pore. The clown closely resembled Brady’s face, but the mouth reminded her of Uncle Patrick.

She attempted to curl up into a ball, but even that couldn’t help her escape.

Ammonia acridly burned her nasal passages. With a start, Sarah cried out, opening her eyes. The dwarf continued to dance and caper in the fading fog. She could still hear the snicking of the glass doors. She couldn’t move her body, and agony wracked her head, her nose, and every muscle between her throat and her toes.

A pretty face with kind blue eyes, freckles, high strong cheekbones, full red lips and flowing crimson hair hovered dimly in Sarah’s vision. To Sarah, the face might have belonged to an angel.

“She’s awake,” the woman called, turning to the side. A faraway response floated back, but Sarah couldn’t understand the muffled words. The woman removed a capsule from beneath Sarah’s nose. Her nasal passages remained on fire. Sarah allowed her eyes to close again. Blessed darkness promised her solace. “Can you hear me, Sarah?” Sarah felt a knuckle press sharply between her bare breasts. Sarah gasped at the additional pain, her eyes instinctively open again. She forced herself to nod her head weakly to make the woman stop. The harsh knuckle withdrew.

“Good,” the woman said. “I’m Claire. I’m a paramedic. I’m going to help you. Do you know where you are?”

Hell.

Sarah nodded again, before the knuckle returned. Moving her head hurt like holy hell.

The faraway voice floated into the living room from the hallway.

“It’s like a goddamn slaughter in here,” a man’s voice called.

“Is it safe?” the redhead called.

“Yeah. Male early thirties. GSW to the upper thorax. Second male, early thirties, GSW to brain stem and upper thorax. Both long gone.”

“Shit,” the woman breathed. “Another one here. Male late twenties, GSW to the heart. Dead before he hit the ground. But both women are alive. I need crash scissors in here.”

Janet’s voice appeared, surprisingly calm and strong. “Please. Check on Becky.”

The woman kneeling beside Sarah looked up sharply at the still bound naked woman in the chair.

“Who the heck is Becky?”

“My daughter,” Janet breathed. “Please. Before you do anything else. She’s in the nursery.”

Claire yelled to her partner. “Check the bedrooms. May be an infant.” She returned her gaze to Sarah who was beginning to close her eyes again. “Stay with me. Do you know what you took?”

S. It’s always been S.

Even though her body felt only agony, Sarah wanted that little white pill more than anything else. She craved it with every ounce of her being.

Janet spoke up, her voice steady. “It’s not what she took, it’s what she didn’t take. She’s been on a drug called S, it’s a combination of amphetamine, Norethindrone, opioid, and probably estrogen as far as I know. It heightens sex drive and awareness. She stopped taking it, probably three days ago. Withdrawal is a bitch. Trust me.”

“I can see that. Her breathing is shallow and her pulse thready.”

“She’ll die if you don’t get her on blockers. I think they gave me Buprenorphine to counteract the opioid side of things, but it’ll only keep her alive. She’ll wish she were dead.”