Page 9 of Fragile Wicked Things
We stood in the corridor together. Mrs. Temple clasped her hands around mine, stared straight ahead, and whispered a prayer. I determined to do the same—to pray a powerful prayer so full of emotion, honesty, and purity that it would be answered.
"Dear God," I began, "please don't take her from me."
A moment later, the smell of disinfectant violated my nostrils again, scattering my thoughts of Helen. The sounds were endless—the click-clack of a woman's heels echoed somewhere down the corridor, a tray dropped to the floor, and a telephone rang.
"How is she?" I heard Mrs. Temple ask Dr. Bates when he had come to us.
"We've given her some penicillin. Her symptoms appear to be related to meningitis, but we're unsure if it's bacterial or viral. Time will tell if the medication is working."
"May we see her?" I blurted.
"One at a time."
Mrs. Temple went in first, sat by Helen's bedside, and held her hand, her lips moving to a rhythmic prayer. I settled into a chair, and a warmth overtook me, calming me and reassuring me that my friend would be fine. I closed my eyes for a moment and awoke when Mrs. Temple placed a blanket around me.
"Her fever is breaking. You're tired. I shouldn't have brought you here."
"I'd rather be with Helen. Can I see her now?"
Mrs. Temple shook her head and smiled. "Be quick."
Helen was propped up on pillows. Color had returned to her face, and her breathing sounded better, although not quite normal. The floor creaked when I approached her, but the sound didn't wake her. My powerful prayer worked, overcoming me with joy. I caressed her hand before placing mine into hers, the warmth of it waking her from her sleep. Her eyes flickered and stared at me, and I could tell by her smile that she recognized me.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"What time is it?"
"Past midnight. Oh, Helen, you scared me." I threw my arms around her, pressed my cheek against her face, and kissed her forehead countless times. Then I pulled back and knelt in the chair by her bed. "I thought I had lost you."
"I heard the angels call my name, and I was close to the gate of happiness and peace, but now I'm back."
"Mrs. Temple called you. I’m sure it was her voice you heard."
"I'm tired, Jane. Stay with me while I sleep?"
Without hesitation, I sprang from the chair and slid onto the bed near her, placing an arm around my dear, sweet Helen. "As long as you promise to be with me. I can't lose you, too," I said before exhaustion overtook us both, and we slumbered.
I awoke in a jolt and found myself back in the chair out in the corridor. It was the middle of the night with no one about, not even behind the nurse's station. All appeared quiet. The wall clock's second hand ticked loudly; the overhead lights flickered; the sound of an electrical wire somewhere far off whirred. Again, the smell of disinfectant hit my senses, and finally, down some ways, I saw the backside of a cleaner as he strained a mop in a bucket and wiped the floor, leaving behind bloody streaks.
I turned to Helen's room and saw Mrs. Temple leaning over her, making some horrible sound. Was she crying? Could Helen be dead? I stood up and darted inside. A slurping sound, strangely familiar, echoed in the room. The silhouette hunched over Helen was not tall and slim like Mrs. Temple but relatively short and wore darker clothing, with a putrid smell emanating from him.
"Hello?" I whispered.
His back tensed, and he lifted his head at the sound of my voice.
"Is she all right?"
Stepping closer, I still couldn't see much in the dimmed room. He didn't answer, his body motionless. He turned—the creature from my nightmares at Lowood had followed me here. I had never seen his face before—his sharp, protruding teeth, blackened eyes, pale skin and blood dripping down his chin. He lashed out and grabbed me. Blood splattered on my shirt—Helen's blood.
I screamed. I awoke to find Mrs. Temple holding my arm, tears welling in her eyes as she pulled me from Helen's bed. The people in white coats had come back, moving about Helen, speaking in rapid sentences.
"It's 105, doctor," a nurse said.
Mrs. Temple held me tight. I didn't understand what had happened. I had been speaking to Helen only moments earlier. Her fever had come down. Now, doctors worked on her in a frenzied state until their movements slowed, the intensity lost. Helen must be safe again and responding to the medicine. Convinced that my friend was well, I smiled at Mrs. Temple, but her crumpled look made me question my assessment. A nurse placed a blanket over Helen's face; the image would remain indelibly in my mind.
I shouldn't have given her that cursed black-eyed Susan.
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