The Radcliffe Asylum
W hile Tom discusses Constance’s situation, she is about to crawl into the hole, and I am still glued to the TV.
Scanning all the channels, I’m hoping they’d cover the situation with the limousine explosion. But the Queen’s death is taking priority. The Assassination of the Century they’re calling it now.
The conspiracy theorist channels, however, are making fun of the death. They’re vowing to print shirts with a smoking gun on the front and the words The People of England Have Something to Say on the back.
Still, Jack’s situation isn’t talked about.
“Forget about it for now,” the March says to me, trying to be as gentle as possible. “If Jack’s dead, there is nothing you can do about it.”
“Of course there is.” I fist my grip again. “I should have shot the killer in the chest when he was here.”
“Then you’d better focus with us on trying to monitor Constance as she crawls through the hole.”
I nod and step up to see what’s going on. In the Pillar’s cell, Tom is standing alone.
“Where is Constance?”
“She is inside,” Tom says. “She’s a brave girl. I gave a her a walkie-talkie and a tiny flashlight.”
I take the walkie-talkie from him. “Constance. Can you hear me?”
“I’m here Alice,” the poor girl coughs back.
“You should have told me you were going before you entered.”
“We only have three hours. It’s okay. I can do it. I’ve been trapped in a similarly tight place by the Cheshire, remember?”
This paints a smile on my face, but puts a dagger in my heart as well. Constance was my first mission. My first love. The first hug I’d had after so many years in the asylum. Guilt is eating me up for letting her go into the hole.
“I remember.”
“You saved me that day,” Constance says. “Now it’s my turn to save you.”
The March is about to cry behind me. Tom is just tapping an impatient foot on the floor.
“I’m sure you will,” I tell her. “Is the hole getting tighter or anything? You should crawl back if that’s the case.”
“It’s not, but there is no crawling back now, unless I manage to crawl backwards, which I can’t do.”
“Are you breathing well?”
“Not really, but that’s not what bothers me.”
“Then what bothers you, Constance? Tell me, please.”
“The shit.”
“What?” Her vulgar language startles me at first, but then I remember she isn’t a regular seven-year-old.
“The tunnel is turning into some sort of sewer tube. I can smell it in the distance. I see floating shit.”
“My God.” I grit my teeth and close my eyes. “Constance. Come back. That’s an order. I don’t care if you have to crawl backwards.”
“And then what?”
“Just do as I say!”
Tom interferes as usual. I need to put him on a leash or something. “Why not turn off the flashlight? That way you won’t see the shit.”
“Tom,” Constance says. “You’re stupid.”
The March laughs heartily at Tom.
“Talk to me, Constance,” I demand. “Tell me you’re coming back.”
“No, I’m not. Instead of wasting time with me, I think you should listen to the March. He told me he found new things about Patient 14.”
My gaze shifts toward him. I tilt my head. He nods, and I am curious what he found out.
“Are you going to be all right, Constance?”
“I will,” she says with confidence. “It’s either shit or dead.”