Taming the Demon - Book 1 (Completed)

Chapter 10 - Jane

Tapping my pen on the blank pad in front of me, I’m struggling to come up with a person to research for my assignment. I’ve managed to catch up and even get ahead in my other class, but for some reason this one is really causing me problems. I could just pick whoever, but I wouldn’t feel right handing in something that I didn’t try my hardest in. I just need to find someone who inspires me. How hard can that be? I have been sitting here forever with no idea what to write. The blank paper seems to mock me.

My mind wanders to my date with Michael tonight. I look over to my closet and try to imagine what I should wear. Sighing in defeat, I finally give up on doing anymore of my schoolwork today and fling the closet door open. I don’t have much in the way of ‘nice’ clothing. I’m a tee shirt and jeans type of person, with the odd pretty top thrown in. Dismissing any of my typical clothes, I reach for the few dresses I own. Grabbing the one pair of heels I own, I spread out the 4 outfits on the bed. Opening my end table, I pull out my jewelry box and blow the dust off the top of it. Then panic as the dust heads towards the bed.

Luckily most of the dust misses the clothes and I manage to shake the rest off. God! I’m so clumsy! Head Mistress Bohl always referred to me as scatter-brained. I was forever in my own thoughts, bumping into things or people, dropping stuff, or losing things. It became the running joke of the group home. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t seem to get organized. My mind was always on to the next thing.

Focus Jane!

Looking at my pathetic excuse for a wardrobe, I choose the least worn dress. It’s a pale yellow sundress that has an elastic bodice and drapes down to mid-calf. Yellow is my favorite color, and I like to wear it on special occasions. I think this could be one such occasion. Opening the jewelry box, I take out a dainty silver necklace with a daisy pendant. I’m not sure where I got it from, but I feel a connection to it. Laying it on the bed next to the dress, I put the others away and decide to go visit Bea before I get ready for my date.

I head down the hall and knock on her door. My mind starts to wander again. Michael really surprised me. When I said yes to lunch with him I didn’t think that it would go anywhere, but during lunch he really seemed to shine. He was attentive, funny, and charming. The clincher was after when we had gotten back to the library. It was like I suddenly saw him in a completely new light. While he was always attractive, suddenly he seemed irresistible. It was baffling.

What about, Kadis?

Kadis, the guy who looked like he stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. Should I call him? I really, really want to, but I’m scared that he is just taking pity on me. Or that he won’t answer, or is busy and won’t want to go out. That would be so embarrassing. But he did give me his number. What if he really meant it. He really did seem to be interested. And he did ask me out before giving me his number. But if I go out on a date with him, what about Michael? This is so confusing.

And what was up between Kadis and Michael. What was with the looks between them?  Did they already know each other? It seemed like it and it seemed like they didn’t like each other.

I hear a door slam on the floor above, and realize that I’ve been in the hall for quite a long time daydreaming. Where was Bea? She said she wasn’t going anywhere today and that I should pop in for tea. Where is she? Knocking louder, I call out loudly.

“Bea? Bea!?”

Maybe she left! Running to the end of the hall I smoosh my face against the window. I can just see Bea’s parking spot. Her little burgundy car is still there! Running back to her door, I practically pound down the door. Mr. Johnson, who lives next to Bea, looks out his door at me brought out by the noise.

“Jane! What’s going on?”

“Bea’s not answering! I need to get in!” A feeling of dread starts to come over me. Running past Mr. Johnson, I fly down the stairs and pound on the maintenance guy’s door.

“Yes?” A wizened face stares out at me

“Please! I’m really sorry, but I need to get into 134. Beatrice Weston, she’s not answering.” 

“Settle down child. Is she even home?”

“What? What do you mean!?” I can hear my voice bordering on the edge of hysteria, but I am unable to control it. 

“Is she home? What if she has gone somewhere. Appointment? Shopping? Think, I can’t just go letting anyone into other people’s homes whenever they want. You get me? Take a deep breath and think.”

Gulping air like I’m drowning, I force my panic down. “Her car is still here!”

“Maybe she went with friends?”

Before I can even answer, he grabs his keys and a clipboard and steps into the hall.

“I can see you’re upset and Bea is a goodly sort, so what I can do is do a door check for you. I need you to sign a waiver first stating that you requested a check.”

Handing me the clipboard, I can barely write my information in. This is taking too long, but the maintenance guy won’t budge until I’m done.

“Mr. Johnson, I see you hovering up there. I need you to come down and witness this.”

Mr. Johnson comes down the stairs meekly and signs the form.

I clench my jaw in frustration and try to not yell at either of them. They are moving way too slow! We finally make it to Bea’s apartment, but the maintenance guy just stands there looking at the door.

My patience finally breaks, “What are you waiting for?” I screech.

“Miss Quinn, I need you to be quiet. I am going to do this properly, but you need to stand back and let me.”

Turning back to the door, I finally see that he is listening. Knocking on the door loudly, he announces himself.

“Mrs. Weston, are you in? This is Mr. Frenz, the building manager.” Standing quietly he waits a few minutes before knocking again. “Mrs. Weston?”

Taking a quick look back over his shoulder at me and Mr. Johnson, he takes his ring of keys out and finds 134. Knocking one final time, he unlocks the door and opens it a few inches.

“Mrs. Weston, It’s Mr. Frenz. Are you home? I’m coming in.” He loudly exclaims through the c***k. When he hears no answer, he finally opens the door fully. Continuing to call for Bea, he enters her apartment. I take a step to follow him, but he sees my movement and waves at me to stay outside.

“You can’t come in. I’ll call if I need help.”

He looks past me at Mr. Johnson, “Make sure she stays here.”

Then he turns back into the apartment and continues to yell for Bea.

I can’t stand it. I wish I could just go in, but Mr. Johnson is blocking the doorway. I can still hear Mr. Frenz calling. My jitters start to get the best of me and I start to pace back and forth. Three steps one way, and three back. I try to concentrate on my steps. One, two, three….. one, two, three… repeat. It seems like forever before Mr. Frenz comes back. He whispers something to Mr. Johnson. They both look at me and Mr. Johnson walks quickly to his apartment. Mr. Frenz approaches me slowly with his hands held out towards me. I can hear Mr. Johnson calling for his wife, but all I can see is Mr. Frenz. I know what he is going to say and I start to shake. I whip my head back and forth.

NO!

“Miss Quinn. I’ve called emergency services.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to block out his words. Arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me close.

“Shhhh, it’s okay Jane. I got you. Shhhhh”

An anguished cry escapes my throat. I can’t hold the pain in anymore as my legs let go and Mrs. Johnson gently guides me to my knees, rocking me as sobs rack my body.

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Just when I think that I can't cry anymore, more tears fall. As soon as the ambulance arrived, the gawkers came out to watch. Some tried to ask us questions but Mrs. Johnson shooed them away. Mrs. Johnson didn’t leave my side until the police were done questioning me. Holding my hand she would give it a squeeze whenever she thought I was going to break down again.

Though it wasn’t official yet, the preliminary diagnosis was a stroke. Nobody told me outright. I caught most of the information through whispered conversations between Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. They think she died during her afternoon nap. After the initial explanation of who I was and how I was related to Bea, most people left me to my grief. Mrs. Johnson would check on me every few minutes or so and Mr. Frenz came over and gave me a gruff hug before going back to his apartment to update the owners on the situation. But for the most part people just walked around me as I sat on the stairs.

A gurney is wheeled out of the apartment. On it is a ugly black bag. I struggle to my feet and force myself to stand as they wheel her by. Tears start to fall again as I watch the paramedics lift her down the stairs.

“Miss Quinn?”

I ignore the voice and continue to watch the procession. I move closer to the railing so I can watch them until they are out the doors.

“Miss Quinn. I’ve been informed that Mrs. Weston had no next of kin. We will be making sure to check this out, but if it does turn out there is no family, can we call you? Everyone we talked to has indicated you were her closest friend.”

I don’t even look at him, I can’t take another set of eyes looking at me in sympathy.

“Mrs. Quinn, I need to know if it is all right to call you about information and decisions regarding Mrs. Weston if no family is found?”

“Yes…. yes you can call me.” My voice is raw with emotion and I feel fresh tears forming. Before I start to cry again, I push my way past the officer and run to my apartment. Closing the door behind me, I brace my back against it and let my grief take over.

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My eyes hurt so much! My throat is scratchy and my face feels swollen. I wake to find myself tangled in the sheets on my bed, fully dressed. The moonlight is peaking through the blinds of my bedroom window. The world comes into focus and it hits me.

She’s gone! She’s gone! She’s gone!

It repeats over and over in my mind. My eyes fill up with tears again. Pulling the blanket over my head I try to shut out the world. I fail miserably. My tears turn into sobs and I bury my face in my pillow.

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The next time I wake up the sun gleaming in my face. I feel so sluggish. I drag myself out of bed and make some coffee. Heading back to the room to grab my phone I spot my yellow dress crumpled on the floor.

Michael! I was supposed to call him yesterday.

I should let him know I didn’t ditch him, but I don’t want to talk about yesterday. I’ll call after coffee and a shower. I could use some food as well. I also have to go to the hospital for my test. I can feel myself getting overwhelmed again. What do you do when a friend dies? Who do you talk to when you have no one to talk to? Tears threaten again as my mind swirls with thoughts of Bea. Finishing my coffee, I shower and get changed. I decide to call Michael before I go get breakfast. I’m probably going to cry again, and I don’t want to fall apart in public. Steeling myself against the inevitable flood of tears, I dial his number.