Hillary_Tail of the Dog (21 page)

“
Aww.
..are you uncomfortable?” Hillary asked facetiously, tauntingly.

Dr. Morrison tilted his head all the way up and shifted his remaining eye up to see Hillary standing behind the bed. His lips trembled. His bladder let loose its warm, wet inhabitant. It looked like he was trying to say something but couldn’t quite form the words. He struggled fruitlessly to free his limbs from the ropes. Hillary knew he wouldn’t succeed. She had reinforced each rope with the duct tape, particularly the one that had been pieced together. Dr. Morrison was not escaping on his own accord.

Hillary was wearing one of Monica’s dresses. Dr. Morrison recognized it right away. It was the white dress he had bought her during their last vacation together last spring. The thought of Monica saddened him. He would never see her again. Depression quickly gave way to terror as he heard Hillary’s voice again.

“Relax, doc,” she said, as she walked around the bed to stand in front of him. “I’m not ready for you yet.”

She winked at him and ran her fingers from the top of his thigh to his ankle, careful to avoid the urine-soaked bed sheet underneath him. Her touch gave him the creeps. It made the hairs at the back of his neck stand as goose bumps carpeted his flesh.

“Wuh...wuh...what are you g-going to do to me?” he asked, shaking so badly that it looked as though he was having a seizure.

“Nothing yet,” Hillary assured him. “I have to wait for Jake to wake up. You were out a lot longer than I expected. I was afraid I’d killed you.”

“I...I’m sorry...I...I....I was just d-doing my job.”

Hillary lifted her eyebrows, clearly amused.

“Really?” she said. “Is that so? So I guess it was part of your job to rape me, huh?”

“I...I was d-drunk. I’m so, so s-sorry.”

“Not yet,” Hillary chuckled, “but you will be.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

Dr. Morrison’s heart hammered away in his chest. He felt hot and cold all at once. He feared he might suffer a heart attack, but after greater deliberation, actually hoped death would visit him so easily. Contemplating his impending mortality made him queasy, especially with Hillary’s savage eyes staring down at him, just waiting for the opportunity to torture him.

Dr. Morrison felt his chest tighten. Pangs of pain shot through his body with each heavy heave of his chest. It grew harder to breathe. Sweat formed along his head, slowly dripping down the side of face. He grew pale and sickly.

“You don’t look so good,” Hillary commented to him.

“I think,” he said slowly, gasping for air, “I think I-I’m having a heart attack.”

“Well let’s hope not,” she said calmly. “Where’s Monica? When is she getting back?”

“I...I don’t know,” he replied truthfully.

“Liar!” she accused, “I guess you want to do things the hard way.”

Dr. Morrison shook his head frantically.

“No, I’m telling you the truth, r-really.”

“God, can you stop stuh, stuh, stuttering already,” she mocked. She flashed an object in front of his face. Dr. Morrison recognized it as his cell phone.

“I’m going to call Monica,” Hillary said slowly, “you’re going to tell her that she needs to get back here now.”

Dr. Morrison shook his head. Even though he had been angry with her, he would never endanger her. He would never let Hillary hurt her.

“S-she’s mad at me, she won’t come,” he said, unsuccessfully trying to control his stutter by speaking extra slowly.

“Bullshit!” Hillary shouted, becoming angry.

“Ruh-ruh-ruh-really,” he stammered nervously through his quivering lips.

“Well we’ll just see about that,” Hillary said, flipping open his phone and scrolling through his contact list. She found Monica’s name and pushed the send button. The call went through.

“Be convincing,” Hillary warned, as she held the phone up to Dr. Morrison’s ear. She listened in closely.

To her dismay, the call went to her voicemail.

Dr. Morrison looked relieved.

“I’m sure she’ll return sooner or later,” Hillary said, “hopefully sooner. But just to be sure....”

Hillary quickly typed in a text message and sent it off to Monica. It read simply, “
there’s been an emergency, please come home immediately.
”

She smiled as Dr. Morrison grimaced, not knowing what she had written. He prayed that Monica’s anger and typical steadfastness would keep her away. It was the only chance she had.

Hillary walked over to place the phone on the rolling bedside table that was pushed across to the other side of the room. She stretched then turned to look at Dr. Bentley. He was still completely unconscious.

“When do you think he’ll wake up?” Hillary asked Dr. Morrison, growing bored and eager to begin the fun.

Dr. Morrison sighed. He was in no rush for Jake to regain consciousness. He had hoped that his heart would give out and that he would die long before then, but, of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

“I don’t know,” he said without his stutter, sounding much calmer, annoyed even.

“What’s this? The great Dr. Morrison doesn’t know anything all of a sudden. No worries, I have ways of making you talk,” she joked.

Dr. Morrison didn’t find it very funny. He wished she would just get it over with already. Waiting for the pain, the horrors that were sure to come was itself torturous. He knew Hillary thrived on his fear. That’s why he had decided to be strong. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He had already made enough of a fool of himself, crying out and wetting himself like a weak child. He was going to die with whatever dignity he had left intact.

“Well I guess I’ll make the best of my time,” Hillary said, “I have a lot to plan for.”

Dr. Morrison did not respond. He turned his head away from her and stared at Dr. Bentley. He wondered how Hillary had managed to escape. Surely Jake had something to do with it. Jake and his self-righteous attitude. Look where it had gotten them.

Consumed by resentful thoughts, Dr. Morrison failed to notice Hillary leave the room. Not that it made a difference one way or another. Between the knots and the duct tape, there was no way for him to break free on his own. His range of movement was even more restricted than Hillary’s had been. Hillary was confident that she could accomplish her tasks in sufficient time before Dr. Bentley awoke. The only possible snag in her plan was her uncertainty as to when Monica would return.

Hillary was on a gathering mission. A short while back, when she was searching for more rope, she had found the duct tape in a utility closet. There was a large tool box filled with plenty of great tools she could work with. She had stored them in Monica’s room. She walked from room to room searching for items that might come in handy.

After twenty minutes, Hillary thought she had a decent collection. Not bad, at least, given the fact that she didn’t have the time or resources to get the items she would normally enjoy using. She would just have to get creative.

She found a large shopping bag in one of the kitchen cabinets and placed the items in it one by one as she collected them: a wire hanger, an empty can of vegetables that she had opened and drained into the kitchen sink (she just needed the can—or rather, it sharp, jagged lid), several knives of various lengths and blades, a small grater, a corkscrew, a straw, a small container of toothpicks, a bottle of peroxide, blunt-tipped tweezers and a canister of salt. She carried the bag to Monica’s room and added the other items she had found earlier—several screwdrivers, a pair of scissors and a pack of light bulbs. She smiled happily as she walked back to her former room, shopping bag over her shoulder, the third syringe clutched carefully in her right hand.

Hillary was pleased to see everything in order just as she had left it. Dr. Bentley was still unconscious. Dr. Morrison looked grim lying there on the bed staring straight up at the ceiling. She wondered what he was thinking about. A lengthy list of regrets, perhaps? Was he imagining what she might do to him? No...that couldn’t be it. For one thing, he was far too calm. For another, there was no way in the world he could imagine what Hillary had in mind for him. She could hardly wait.

“
I’m baa-ack!
” she sang merrily, prompting Dr. Morrison to jump, a startled expression filled his worried face.

Hillary placed the bag on the floor by the foot of the bed.

“So, did your phone ring? Did Monica call or text back?” Hillary asked as she made her way over to the rolling table to retrieve Dr. Morrison’s phone. She placed the syringe on the table as she picked up the phone.

Not surprisingly, Dr. Morrison did not reply.

Hillary examined the phone. Her smile widened when she read the “1 missed text” message. She quickly viewed it. Her smile faded.

Deal with it yourself,
the message read. Apparently, Dr. Morrison had not been lying. Monica would not be joining the party.

“Shit!” Hillary yelled. She thought about sending another text but changed her mind. She had an even better idea. She walked over to Dr. Bentley’s inanimate body. She could see his cell phone in his shirt pocket. She pulled it out and turned it on. Monica might be angry at Dr. Morrison but it was unlikely that she’d be angry with Dr. Bentley too.

Backing away from Dr. Bentley, Hillary searched the contact list on his phone. Monica’s name was not on the list.
No problem
, she thought, as she created a new contact entry and added Monica’s number from Dr. Morrison’s phone. She then dropped Dr. Morrison’s phone and prepared a text to Monica:

There’s a problem with Hillary, can you please return home ASAP? Thanks, Jake.

That ought to do the trick,
Hillary thought. She picked up Dr. Morrison’s phone and walked to the other end of the room. She placed both phones on the rolling table.

“Looks like Monica will be joining us after all,” she said jeeringly.

“You leave Monica out of this!” Dr. Morrison shouted, “she has nothing to do with this.”

Hillary raised her eyebrows, surprised by Dr. Morrison’s outburst.

“Look who’s grown his balls back,” she said, laughing.

“I’m warning you— “

“
You’re
warning
me
?” Hillary asked angrily. She didn’t take well to idle threats.

“Maybe I deserve this, yes, but Monica...she’s an innocent party.”

“No she’s not,” Hillary argued, “she saw me strapped down to the bed, naked, humiliated, unable to eat or pee on my own, she never helped me.”

“She had no say in that. She made you as comfortable as possible.”

“Bullshit!” Hillary shouted. “She didn’t even properly clean me, or brush my hair and teeth. She called me a whore. She deserves to die just as much as you do.”

“You can’t just go around killing people. Don’t you have any regrets at all?”

“I regret killing my father so quickly,” Hillary replied coldly. She glared at him angrily. “He was my first victim, you know...well, after the mutt. I hadn’t yet realized how fun and exciting it could be to hurt people, to make them suffer. What a rush!”

“I beg you, Hillary, please—”

“Save your begging for later, doc. Please let me live, please let me die...you’ll be begging soon enough.”

“Oh God, please don’t hurt her.”

“You know you’re just wasting your breath.”

One of the phones on the rolling table chimed. Hillary gleefully reached over to see which one it was. Dr. Bentley had just received a text message.

“
Oooh
, this is
gooood
,” she said, smiling.

Dr. Morrison made a soft, moaning sound.

“Your blushing bride is on her way,” Hillary announced playfully as she darted over to the shopping bag. She pulled out the biggest knife she could find, one with a long, sharp, serrated blade. She wondered how long it would take for Monica to arrive.

Hillary could feel the tension in the air. For her, it was a treat. For Dr. Morrison, it was like trying to breathe underwater. He struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving so heavily, Hillary feared he might pass out and miss out on some of the fun.

“Relax, doc,” she said softly. “Breathe slowly. It’ll be okay,”
for me
, she added to herself.

She could hear him sobbing.

“I have to get something,” she informed him, “and when I come back, we’ll have a nice little chat.”

Hillary left the room, the syringe clutched firmly in her right hand, along with one of the knives. She walked to the kitchen and with her left hand, picked up a glass of water that was on the counter. She had poured it for herself earlier, after she had showered, dressed and eaten a banana. It was warm, but felt good on her dry throat. She felt hungry and thought about eating something heavier but didn’t want to overdo it. She had work to do and she couldn’t afford to feel sick.

She left the empty glass on the counter and walked back to the room to check on Dr. Morrison. She wondered when Dr. Bentley would wake up. She hoped he would wake in time to see the look on Monica’s face when she realized what was happening.

“Did you miss me?” she asked Dr. Morrison, who was still whimpering quietly. He said nothing. Dr. Bentley was still lost in limbo. Dr. Morrison couldn’t help but envy him, at least for the time being. Once he regained consciousness, he was sure Jake’s fate would be as bleak as his own.

“I have some questions for you,” Hillary said resolutely, “and I’d appreciate your truthful responses.” She glared at him banefully, daring him to defy her. She made a point of showing him the long, sinister blade of the knife. Dr. Morrison shuddered with understanding. It was enough for Hillary. She didn’t wait for a response.

“How did I get here?” she asked. It was a question she had pondered since she began regaining her memory. She remembered just about everything that had happened but had absolutely no recollection regarding her capture and subsequent detention at the Morrison Penitentiary.

“You tortured and killed that girl from your school, what was her name? Mary? Mandy?”

“Maddie,” Hillary corrected. “Maddie Woodmere.”

Dr. Morrison noticed how calm she was as she spoke the name. She was completely devoid of remorse, of any emotion whatsoever.
Psychopath
, he thought,
you sick freak
.