Chapter 13
1081words
"She needs to disappear." My voice was terrifyingly calm. "Not death, but complete... disappearance."
Julian leaned against the desk, his slender fingers lightly stroking his chin. He wasn't shocked, didn't try to dissuade me, he was just considering the feasibility.
"Mental institution," he finally said. "If she's deemed mentally unstable, she can be forcibly committed."
I looked up at him. "You have a way to arrange that?"
"I know the chief physician at the state mental hospital." Julian's eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam, "But we need sufficient 'evidence' to prove she truly has mental problems."
I put down my wine glass and slowly walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window. The city lights twinkled in the darkness.
"Then let's make her go mad."
Over the next two weeks, I began the most cold-blooded performance of my life. I actively contacted Linda, telling her that I "regretted" everything and wanted to "make amends."
When I appeared at that dilapidated motel room, Linda's eyes lit up.
"Ella? You really came?" She drunkenly embraced me, the alcohol on her breath nearly suffocating me.
"Yes, Mom." I gently stroked her graying hair, while harboring only cold calculations in my heart, "I want to give you some money. So you can start over."
I took out a check for fifty thousand dollars from my bag. Linda's eyes instantly widened, and she took the check with trembling hands, as if she were holding a baby.
"Is...is this real?"
"Of course. But there's one condition." I sat on that dirty bed, watching her greedy expression, "You must leave this city. Go to Las Vegas, or Atlantic City. Go enjoy the life you want."
Linda nodded frantically, "Of course, of course! I'll leave right away!"
I knew that for an alcoholic and gambler, Las Vegas was the gateway to hell.
Three days later, Julian told me that Linda had already lost thirty thousand dollars at a casino in Las Vegas, and spent the rest of the money on alcohol and drugs.
A week later, she attacked a staff member in a hotel lobby while drunk.
Two weeks later, she was found attempting to set fire to an apartment building.
"Perfect." Julian told me on the phone, "Interstate crime, mental instability, violent tendencies. My friend Dr. Blake has already prepared the evaluation report."
When the police brought Linda to the psychiatric hospital for mandatory evaluation, Julian and I were already there waiting. Dr. Blake was a man in his fifties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, looking authoritative and professional.
"Ms. Vance." He shook my hand, "Julian told me about your situation. I'm sorry you have to go through this."
Through the one-way glass, I saw Linda being brought into the evaluation room. She was filthy all over, her hair a bird's nest, her eyes unfocused. Alcohol withdrawal symptoms made her tremble constantly, occasionally bursting into shouting.
"Has she ever committed arson?" Dr. Blake asked.
"Yes." I answered calmly, "It started when I was a child. She always engaged in dangerous behaviors when she was drunk."
"Violent tendencies?"
"She hit me countless times." This wasn't a lie.
"Delusional symptoms?"
"She often claimed someone was trying to harm her, or said she saw people who didn't exist." This wasn't entirely a lie either.
Dr. Blake made notes on his assessment form. An hour later, he came out of the evaluation room.
"Severe alcohol dependency, antisocial personality disorder, with violent tendencies and pyromania." He announced, "I recommend long-term mandatory treatment."
Julian gently rubbed my back, "This is the best outcome. She'll get the treatment she needs."
I nodded, but felt nothing inside.
Linda was placed in the intensive care unit of the state psychiatric hospital, with metal doors and windows, 24-hour surveillance, white walls and harsh fluorescent lights. She wore a hospital gown and was strapped to the bed.
A month later, I visited her for the first time.
The glass in the visiting room was thick, and we could only talk through phones. Linda looked even more haggard, the medication had made her eyes dull. When she saw me, confusion flashed in her eyes.
"Ella? Are you... are you real?"
I sat across the glass, looking at the woman who once gave me life. She now looked so small, so broken.
"Mom," I said softly.
"They say I'm crazy," her voice came through the phone, sounding distant and hollow, "They make me take pills, lots of pills. I feel like I'm in the clouds... can you take me home?"
I looked at her quietly, feeling no pity, no pain, nothing at all in my heart.
"No," I said, "This is your home now."
Linda's face contorted, and she began to hit the glass, "You can't do this to me! I'm your mother! I gave birth to you!"
"Yes." I stood up. "You gave birth to me, then you ruined my childhood, humiliated my present, and threatened my future."
I picked up my bag and took one last look at her.
"Now, we're even."
Linda was still pounding on the glass, still screaming, but I had already turned to leave. Her voice, blocked by thick glass and steel, became a distant echo.
When I walked out of the mental hospital gates, the sunlight was blinding. Julian was waiting for me in the car. Seeing me come out, he immediately got out and opened the door for me.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
I sat in the car, fastened my seatbelt, and watched the mental hospital building growing smaller in the rearview mirror.
"Free," I said. "Finally free."
Julian started the engine, and the car drove toward downtown. I knew that from now on, no one could ever threaten me with my past again. The shackles of blood ties were completely severed, and my vulnerability no longer existed.
Seraphina Sterling thought she had found my weakness, but she didn't know that she actually helped me cut off my final restraints.
My phone vibrated. It was an urgent message from Maria:
"Miss Vance, terrible news! Something happened at the Braxton house! Miss Evelynn fainted at school and was taken to the hospital. The doctor says... she was poisoned. Mrs. Sterling is accusing Mr. Braxton like a madwoman, saying he did it. The police are already investigating."
I stared at the screen, holding my breath.
No. This wasn't part of my plan.
