Monica sat in the fancy waiting room with Jacob by her side. She stared at the fishtank. Her mind raced as she thought about what the doctor might say. Almost as if he could read her thoughts, Jacob slid his hand over hers and gave a small, reassuring squeeze.
It’s okay.
It’s okay that Zach found you stabbing the floor in his bedroom with one of my shaving razors.
It’s okay that you’re insane.
Across the lobby Monica could see some kids playing in the field next to the office. She thought of Zach, how she had chased him through the house holding that razor after he’d found her.
How she’d been laughing.
At least that’s what they told her. She didn’t remember any of it. Well, bits and pieces, really. Enough to scare even her. She hadn’t put up a fight when Jacob insisted they find a local psychiatrist. She even agreed with him, went willingly—the thought of hurting their son scared her to her core.
“Mrs. Dresden?” called a pretty, young woman holding a clipboard.
Monica and Jacob stood and followed her through the doors and into an office down the hall.
“Take a seat, make yourselves comfortable,” she said. “Doctor Morris will be with you shortly.”
They each thanked the woman as she closed the door. Monica tried to think of something to say, some unimportant nonsense to pass the time while they waited to talk to the shrink. “Do you think Zach is okay by himself?” she asked.
“He’s fine,” Jacob replied. “The Braves are playing a doubleheader against the Phillies. I’m sure he won’t move from the couch.”
He’s much safer with you gone.
Monica nodded. She knew he would be fine, but there was something she was unsure of. “Will we be okay?”
“Monica. . .”
Before she could insist Jacob answer her, there came a knock at the door. “Morning, folks,” the doctor said, coming through the doorway. “I’m Doctor Morris, but around here people call me Greg.” He reached to shake hands with Jacob, then Monica.
“I’m Jacob.”
“Monica.”
Doctor Morris smiled. “Yes, of course, Monica. I’ve been reading up on you. Did you know that your previous doc is a good friend of mine?”
“Doctor Vickers? Really?”
“That’s right, went to school together up in Atlanta for a few years.”
“How about that,” Jacob said. “So have you and Doctor Vickers had a chance to discuss Monica’s. . . situation?”
Monica’s attention had drifted again to the window looking outside.
“We have,” she heard Doctor Morris say, before his and her husband’s voices blended together in a distant cacophony of mumbled nonsense.
He’s standing at the window, waving at me.
He wants me to come outside to play.
“This is exactly what I was talking about,” Jacob said.
“Excuse me?” Monica asked, suddenly realizing she was backed into the corner of the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest.
“Monica,” Doctor Morris said, “what happened just now, exactly? It’s not something to be ashamed of, but your honesty is needed in order to help you.”
“I saw. . .” she sighed. “It’s stupid.” She lowered her feet to the floor and crossed her arms. “I saw The Tall Man.”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, I read about. . . him—The Tall Man , in your file. And how long has this been going on—err, this time, I mean?”
Monica’s eyes darted over to Jacob, who’s face seemed to say, just tell the truth, I won’t be mad. “Well, I guess I don’t know what you mean by ‘this time’,” she said. “I’ve been seeing him on and off all of my life. Sometimes it’s worse than others.”
“I see,” said the doc, who took a few notes on a clipboard.
Monica jumped suddenly and made a small crying sound. She had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes.
Jacob moved closer to her and put his arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes drifted back to the window.
“Would you like me to draw the shades down, Monica?” the doctor asked.
Tell him no.
I want to watch.
“Please,” she nearly shouted. And then, after a deep breath, she said, “It’s just so hard to concentrate with all of that blood on the glass.”
—
The problem with living in such a small town is that you can’t even go to the supermarket without everybody wondering who the new family is, wondering why they had never seen them out and about.
Monica was still trying to cope with the fact that she wasn’t getting any better anytime soon, in fact the news had been pretty bad. They had upped her medicine, she knew Jacob thought she was crazy even if he would never admit it, these were all the reasons she didn’t want to tell him about seeing The Tall Man.
It was somewhere between the eggs and the peanut butter that Monica realized she was being followed. Only this time, it wasn’t The Tall Man. It was a woman in her late thirties wearing a beige pant-suit and an ‘I voted’ sticker.
Monica turned to face the woman. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I guess I do come off as a bit strange now, don’t I?” The woman said with a frown. She stuck out her hand and said, “I’m Sydney Rawlings.”
Monica reluctantly stuck out her hand. “I’m Monica. Monica Dresden.”
“Oh? I hadn’t heard of any new families moving in, so you must understand my curiosity when I saw you in the store today. We don’t get a lot of out-of-towners, so to speak.”
Jacob rounded the corner of an aisle holding cheese crackers in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other.
“Jacob, this here is Sydney Rawlings.” Monica said, wide-eyed.
Jacob looked from his wife to Sydney and then to the floor. He knew how much his wife didn’t particularly enjoy meeting strangers. “Oh? Well, it’s nice to meet you miss Rawlings.”
“It is so nice to meet the both of you,” Sydney said. “I was just telling your wife here—“ she started to say, but then, “I’m so sorry. Are you two married?”
“Don’t be sorry,” Jacob said with a laugh. “And yes, we are.”
“Well,” Sydney said, “I wouldn’t want you thinking that I would think any less of you if you weren’t. I just didn’t want to assume anything. You know what they say about that!” She laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m so crude. Anyway, I was telling your wife that I had seen a face that I’ve never seen before around town, and it was driving me crazy. I know you must think I’m just the nosiest thing, but the Rawlings family has a pretty big history in politics around here. I’m running for mayor, myself.”
Monica wasn’t sure what to think of this woman. She was too. . . happy, or something. Also, she knew what Jacob always liked to say about politicians.
Don’t trust them as far as you can fuck them.
Monica had told Jacob one night that the joke didn’t make any sense at all, and he had simply shrugged and said, “I guess that’s the point.”
“Well, that sounds pretty exciting,” Monica said.
“Oh it is. It’s very exciting. We always win, but that’s not what it’s about for me. For me, I just want to make a big change in the world even if it’s just in a small place like this.”
Jacob smiled. “I think that’s pretty admirable of you.”
“Well, I won't keep you any longer,” Sydney said with a smile.
“You're not bothering us at all,” Jacob said. “We're just getting a few things before we head back home.”
Sydney fished around in her purse for a moment and then pulled out a small rectangular paper card. “My phone number is on here,” she said. “Call me if you ever want a tour of the town so to speak. I’ve lived here my whole life, so I could tell you a thing or two about the area.“She looked at Monica. “I mean it,” she said. “Call me.”
Monica felt a strange sensation at the back of her neck, it reminded her of—
Him .
— the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach when she almost missed a step on the stairs. But she smiled anyway, saying, “Thank you, Sydney. That’s very kind of you.”
—
Once they were safely in their car, Jacob and Monica found it easier to be themselves again. They each took turns talking in a high-pitched nasally voice in a mock imitation of Sydney Rawlings. It was something they liked to do, a sort of pastime. Making fun of others, nobody liked to admit how fun it was.
“We always win,” Monica said, rolling her eyes.
“I don't know,” Jacob said. “She didn't seem too bad, really. Maybe a little high strung, but it might be good for you to make some friends around here.”
“I know.” Monica looked out the window, seemingly lost in thought.
“Hey, I just. . . I just want to say that I don't think you're crazy. I think you have a condition that millions of people have, and there's nothing you can do about it. I don't know if that makes you feel any better, but I wanted you to know that I still love you. I wanted you to know that I'll do whatever I can to help you.”
Monica didn't know what to say. It was almost as if Jacob had read her mind, almost as if he knew that her mental condition is all she can think about anymore, not to mention the safety of her own son. She felt the bag between her fingers, the samples the doctor had given them. The only thing that was going to keep her from harming anyone.
She hoped.
“Thank you, I love you too.” She didn't know why Jacob would want to stay with her, but that was kind of how her mind worked, she never knew why anybody would want to be around her at all.
—
They arrived back at the house around three o'clock. There was something oppressive about the house now in the shadow of the afternoon—something that made Monica feel uneasy. It was a beautiful house, but there was an emptiness to it, a lone soldier standing against the formidable woods beyond.
Jacob used his key on the front door and immediately Monica entered the house and called for Zach.
No answer.
“Hey, come on bud, this isn't funny,” Jacob said after a few moments.
“He could be sleeping,” Monica said. “He told me he wasn't feeling that well.”
“Okay, I'll check his room, you check the backyard. Maybe he wanted to go play with the goats.”
Monica felt silly. Zach wasn't a little kid anymore, but they had left him alone, and she hadn't felt good about it to begin with. As Jacob made his way upstairs, she headed for the back door.
“Zach? Zachary?” Monica was frantic now, her mind suddenly filled with the notion that he had run off. To get away from her.
It's probably exactly what happened. Are you surprised?
She noticed that all of the goats were gathered at the back of the pen, staring back to the woods, their bleating sounds were unmistakable.
Fear.
Monica's blood seemed to run cold. She called her son’s name again and again, each time it dug into her brain like some awful, clawed thing.
Okay, okay. This isn't really happening. You know that, right? You know you should never have let Jacob split up from you. You’re too crazy. Just like your mother always said.
And then she heard it—her son screaming from somewhere in the dark of the woods. She knew she needed to go get Jacob, but she didn't have time. She heard more shouting.
Monica took off running in a frenzy, right past the chicken houses and the goat houses, there were small animal sounds cheering her on. She called for her son again, but there was no answer.
I wonder what they're going to do to you this time. What are you doing?
She didn't know. Maybe she would run right off the side of the cliff, that is, if they lived near one. But that was the thing about motherhood, you would run off every cliff in the world if it meant your baby was safe. It was the thought that counted.
Monica had reached the tree line now. She knew she was more or less in the area where she had heard Zach’s screams come from. But she wasn't sure. She needed to be sure.
Come on, do it again. Do it again so I can find you.
And he did. He was still screaming when she entered the woods.
—
Monica couldn't believe how dark it was. Only five yards beyond the tree line the darkness was nearly overwhelming.
Also, there was Zach, twenty yards away. And he wasn’t screaming, he was shouting a name.
Jasmine.
“Zach!” Monica shouted. “I've been looking everywhere for you! What's going on?”
“She ran away! She ran out the back door and all the way back here, and I can't find her.”
Monica paused. She expected to be mad, but she didn't really know what to say. She knew how much her son liked that cat, and they had never told him explicitly not to go in the woods. There was also the other thing, where she had chased him around like a maniac. She needed to make it right. “Well,” she said. “Which way did she go?”
Zach pointed deeper into the woods. “She kept going that way. I don’t understand. . . I thought she really liked me.”
“Well you know she had to come from somewhere. Maybe she's just looking for her mother.” It wasn't just something to reassure him, it was what Monica actually believed. Children usually needed their mothers.
“I guess.” Zach looked down at the ground.
“Come on,” Monica said. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, at least enough to be able to see around.
Zach eagerly followed Monica deeper into the woods, both of them calling Jasmine's name over and over.
Monica could hear Jacob calling her name now, but she couldn't stop, she had to help Zach find his cat.
“Mom?” Zach asked suddenly. “Are you real?”
Monica felt that feeling again at the nape of her neck. “What?”
She looked around for her son, but he suddenly seemed to have disappeared.
What the fuck ?
The forest grew darker and darker around her, and she had begun to hear what sounded like giggling. She wanted to call for her son again, but she seemed to have lost her voice, to have lost her will to live—to do anything.
Monica pushed on, through the brush and fallen tree limbs. She pushed deeper into the woods, ignoring her husband's calls, sending out her own calls for Zach again.
There was smoke in the air now, and a smell like barbecue filled her nose.
She could feel things crawling on her in the dark, but she ignored them as best she could.
“Zach?” she called.
She waited. After a moment she moved on, slinking ever further into the dark of the forest.
Just before she thought she might freak out and start screaming Zach's name over and over, she heard him call for her.
Mom? Mommy, please, they're hurting me. Please help me .
“Zach? Where are you? Please help me find you!”
The smell of smoke grew stronger now and she began to see a faint glow in the distance.
You'll never find your way home now, you crazy bitch .
“I'm coming, baby,” she called. “Just hang on, I'm coming to save you.”
You can't even save yourself .
She heard Zach cry out once again, and then go silent.
Then came the sound of several voices up ahead, laughing and talking amongst each other. Monica got low to the ground and continued her progression towards the fire.
Finally, the light had grown so strong, and she could see clearly into an opening. There was a large fire with a stake set in the middle, and there were a half dozen naked women holding hands, working their way around the fire in a slow circle, chanting and singing.
Monica's heart wanted to jump out of her chest, her breathing was shallow and she could feel the adrenaline tightening along her spine. She looked around for Zach, but she didn't see him anywhere.
She re-positioned her footing, causing a twig to snap in the process.
She froze.
Maybe they didn't hear .
They did.
The group of women turned. “There she is,” one of them crooned.
“We've been waiting so long,” another called.
Monica gasped, stumbled backwards and tripped, landing on her ass in the dirt. The women descended on her, clawing and scratching, working to hold her down.
“Just be still,” one of the hags said. “You're only making this harder on yourself. This has to happen.”
Monica was shrieking now. She kicked and bucked her hips, but they were on top of her, and it was futile.
One of the women walked over to the fire, digging around with her hands. She returned moments later and reached for Monica with dirty hands. Monica tried to resist, to fight the woman away—but her captors had her pinned down pretty well, and she wasn't going anywhere.
The woman lifted Monica's shirt as Monica screamed in terror. She took the ash from the fire and drew three symbols on Monica's belly.
Monica screamed as the symbols burned her skin. She saw the woman reaching for a knife which she had slung around her shoulders in a sling. She watched the woman lift the blade to her lips and kiss it, muttering what sounded like some sort of incantation.
Monica turned her head away and winced, preparing for the worst, and what she saw there she would never forget—the soles of someone's feet dangling in the air several feet above her.
Oh my God, I feel like I'm in Hell already.
“Stay still, now,” the oldest of the women whispered in her ear. “Soon you'll be right as rain.”
The knife sunk into her belly.