Page 42 of The Flame

It was Julian who’d sat across the supper table from me, laughing and joking with Daniel about their fishing trip, full of adoration and praise for his son, his own flesh and blood, while I reeled from the impact of what I would never have, whilemy insides hurt as if an unborn babe had been ripped from my womb, and while his wife, Miriam, ate placidly and stared vacantly, no longer knowing how to love or even engage with her son.

They were almost upon us now.

The nurse opened the door to reception and, before the doctor ushered him through the doorway, Julian’s gaze lifted.

“Morning, ladies,” he said. “Georga, how are you?”

He knew who I was, but there was no spark of recognition. His eyes weren’t cold and flat with ruthless intent or blazing with anger or filled with humor that creased into the corners. His voice was familiar, but his tone didn’t prick and his words didn’t cut.

The usual injection ofJulianwas missing.

He was a shell of what he’d once been.

“Are you being released?” I asked.

Julian looked to the doctor for confirmation, who gave a shallow nod. “We should be going, Mr. Edgar. The car is waiting.”

“Yes, we should be going,” Julian said to me and, with a polite smile, he allowed the doctor to usher him through the doorway.

Did he know that he no longer lived in Parklands?

Would he even care?

I stared after him, walking at that slow shuffle, allowing himself to be led, until the door swung shut in my face.

“She was never her old self again, but it does improve,” Belinda said, her voice soft and comforting.

I didn’t need to be comforted.

Whatever they’d done to Julian—the procedure, the laser lobotomy—was no more or less than what he’d subjected his own wife to. Julian Edgar had been erased. It was justice. Exactly what he deserved.

So why did I feel sick to my stomach?

Belinda started walking again and I followed, but stopped when we reached the staff lounge.

“I’ll see you in the ward,” I told her. “I’m just going to get a glass of water. And take a minute to myself, if you don’t mind.”

She paused to look at me, then just squeezed my arm and continued on.

I stood in the doorway of the lounge, watching until she disappeared between the swing doors of Ward Y. Then I bounced out and swiped my card through the scanner on the opposite wall to Ward X.

There were two nurses on each ward during the day. Marlowe had only rotated onto the day shift yesterday, but I’d gotten to know Kyle a bit from my time on Ward X. He was a generation older than me and not really chatty, but I could handle him.

When I swept inside, I was disappointed to see Marlowe behind the nurse’s station. Still, I smiled brightly. “Hi, Marlowe. Is Kyle around?”

Marlowe jabbed a finger at the door beside him. “He’s doing the morning medicine round.”

Every patient had been on some cocktail of drugs in this place and, while that had mostly stopped, Kyle had explained why they had to be weaned off certain medications. The heirs weren’t like the women we’d transitioned out of this ward, though. They were getting the full treatment, and that put the fear of God into me.

“Thank you.” I beamed a smile at him and crossed toward the door with conviction.

Marlowe stepped out from behind the counter to block me. He was a larger man with thinning hair and a wide girth. If he didn’t want to move, there was no way I could make him.

He folded his arms, barricading the door from me. “Now there, I’m not sure you’re cleared for the new intake.”

“The council heirs, right?” I tried to look both confident and confused at the same time. “I was told they’re in Ward X. Has there been a change?”

He rolled his lips, looking at me, undecided. “You’re working with the new patients?”

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