Page 1 of Claiming Sarah

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BUZZING

ZAIDEN

Buzzing, nearly loud enough to drown out screams, bounce off the hollow walls. Dr. Moore struggles against his restraints, to no avail. Leather bites into his wrists, skin scraped raw from his frantic movements. Dried blood stains the black bands of the handcuffs. Cocking my head, I briefly consider investing in metal cuffs over leather. Maybe they wouldn’t agitate the skin as much.

“It doesn’t matter. He knows.”

“Break him. Crack him open.”

“I want to see his insides.”

“You are so fucked. He knows nothing. You’ll be alone forever.”

Darkness descends as I close my eyes on the voices, phantom fingers trailing down my neck. But I know there’s no one here. Daniels’ Manor always held ghosts, but not of the supernatural variety.

It’s all in your head, Zaiden, I remind myself, shaking my head. The buzzing doesn’t let up. The agitated nest of bees continues swarming against their glass enclosure in mygrip. My gloved hands clutch the glass jar tighter. Setting the jug down carefully on a tray near the examination table Dr. Moore stretches out on, I turn my curious eyes on the clinician.

“P-p-please. Don’t do this. I told you everything I know about Dr. Bell. I don’t know anything else!” His passionate wail provides a chorus to the buzzing and whispers in my head.

“Release them. Let them fly free.”

“They want to be free, Zaiden.”

“You won’t find your brothers if you don’t free them.”

Shadows race across the walls of the room, taking the shape of an oversized bee, mandibles opening and closing, snapping at the shadow of Dr. Moore’s head. It turns red eyes on me, malice oozing from its shadowy body. Nodding, I run quick hands over myself, ensuring my gear is in place.

“Please! Somebody help me!” Dr. Moore continues his screams for help.

“Please, somebody help me,” I whimper, curling into a fetal position on the thin cot beneath me. A threadbare blanket does nothing to keep the chill out. Tremors crawl over me, vibrating the bed. My mouth opens, screams and gnarled hands crawling out, ripping me open.

“No,” I whisper at no one, curling my fingers into fists. I am free. Before I could change my mind, quick as a breeze, I snatch the lid off the bee enclosure, stepping back, letting the swarm fly free.

Dr. Moore’s struggles intensify, and so do his screams. It reminds me of my mother, screaming at open doorways, cradling me to her chest. Little Brother would watch us with wary eyes, huddled in a separate corner. The past clutches at me, threatening to suction me into the abyss, where the jagged lines of reality blur, bleeding into a distorted puddle.

Puddle. Puddle. My head jerks. I need to get away from Dr Moore and the bees. Stiff legs carry me away, boots pounding into the tiled flooring. The rusted green door creaks open, the sound competing with Dr. Moore’s high-pitched screams.

I could glance back, but I already know what I’d find. The poor doctor has a lethal bee allergy. If the numerous stings don’t cause his throat to swell to the point of asphyxiation, then the venom should kill him. Once his flesh is nice and swollen, I’ll peel it open to harvest the organs. They possess an exorbitant amount of nutritional value.

The door slams shut behind me, echoing through the barren walls of Daniels’ Manor.

SARAH

“Lauren, you are ruining your life!” I snap at my stubborn child. My fingers tighten on the phone clutched in my hands, eyes squeezed shut, praying for patience. Patience. If my sister, Natalia, overheard me asking for patience, she’d laugh. Phantom aches twinge through my fingers. I lost count of how many raps on the knuckles I received as a child for rushing through my schoolwork, mind moving faster than my body.

“Mom, what do you expect me to do? Go back to work and pretend nothing ever happened? This can be a fresh start for me. Please, I’m only asking for you to not speak to the police, to not make things worse. However, I am not asking for your permission.” Lauren’s tone hardens over the phone, a neon sign waving at me, signaling her heels have dug in, and resistance is futile.

I let out a curse, ignoring the snicker on the other line from my single-minded child. But she’s not a child anymore, is she? Exhaustion rests on my back, amplifying the force of gravity.

Voices whisper back and forth in the small space of the break room in Mercy Hospital. A news reporter drones on about the weather, the muted sound from the television speakers never reaching me, too lost in wondering where I went wrong with Lauren.

“I do not agree with this.” My voice wavers slightly, but I straighten my back, forcing steel into my tone, pulling on years of dealing with unruly patients and a temperamental child, masking my emotions.

“I will make up my own mind on what I’ll do should I cross that bridge. I won’t make any promises.” I rub a hand over weary eyes, sliding the skin of my eyelids to scrape across the round surface of my eyeballs. It does nothing to stall the headache aiming for me from the terse conversation with Lauren.

“Just be safe. Call me when you’re somewhere safe,” I plead in a soft voice, heart aching, yearning to stretch across the distance separating us and pull her into my arms.

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