Don't Scream (Original)

Chapter 2

         The hospital was huge, if the entryway was any indication. Through the double doors we walked into a large, open lobby. The floors were a hideous tan laminate and the walls were an aging cream color. Two plastic benches flanked the entryway, and straight ahead was an office with large panes of window on all four sides. In the office sat two men who were busy watching several monitors and two large doors to the right of the office. As Dr. Sprite lead us down a hallway that veered left just as we reached the office, I glanced at the double doors and noticed a key entry pad with a card slot above it.
        The only sound I heard as we walked down the hall were our echoing footsteps. Occasionally, a nurse or someone else in a lab coat would dart out from a room with a folder in hand, nod curtly to Dr. Sprite, and then hurry on their way. After passing what seemed like a hundred doors, Dr. Sprite stopped at one nondescriptly labeled '23' and ushered us inside. The office was small, with only enough chairs for the four of us. Dr. Sprite seated herself behind a large oak desk and picked up a beige file folder that was placed neatly in the center of it. I glanced around the room, and it seemed to be a normal enough office. Bookshelves with guides on health conditions, framed certificates on the wall, and file cabinets all contributed to the professional clutter of the little room.
"So..." Dr. Sprite began, glancing at my parents and I over her designer glasses with a cheeky smirk. "I have received and reviewed Abigail's case file, but I'd really like to hear your side of the story, and why Abigail is with us here today."
I shifted uncomfortably in the small, green, plastic chair as Dr. Sprite gave us the once over again, and then proceeded.
"Mister and Mrs. Turner, you can go first, and when you speak I would like to hear it straight through, with no interruptions." She winked at me. "You'll get your turn, sweetheart. So please, do begin." She smiled angelically and flipped open the file in front of her. Exchanging nervous glances, my parents shifted in their seats and my father cleared his throat.
"Well, I guess the best place to begin would be when Abigail was eleven." My father paused, swallowed, and then continued. "She and her twin, Andrew, were coming home from a friend's house one evening."
Dr. Sprite was scribbling away on a large note pad as my dad looked on warily.
"It was August, and they had spent the whole day at their friends, just enjoying the last days of their vacation." My father stopped and looked at his lap while wiping his moist hands on his khakis.
"And do you remember what day, precisely, this was in August?" Dr. Sprite interjected coolly. My parents exchanged looks as my father spoke up.
"It was the 25th. Anyways, their friend only lived two blocks away, and we thought we lived in a safe neighborhood." My father's voice caught and my mother blew her nose loudly on a handkerchief.
"Abby was walking a few feet ahead of him. They weren't really talking, and when she turned around to ask him something, all that was left was his shoe a little ways back." My father wiped an errant tear from his eye and glanced at me. "We searched for weeks. Not a trace was found until a month later. A piece of his t-shirt stained with his blood was found in the woods a few minutes away from our house."
The room was silent, save for the scratching of Dr. Sprite's pen on the paper.
"So they were close?" She asked, all traces of concern gone from her voice.
"Very." My mother answered quietly. Dr. Sprite dropped her pen and fixed my parents with a bored gaze.
"Yes, well, twins usually are very closely bonded."
I glowered at her from under my lashes. She had no idea how close Andrew and I were. No one did.
"Well, please continue." She said shortly. Both my parental units looked uncomfortable, and I couldn't blame them. I mean, how often do you get interrogated by a doctor at a nut house? My father coughed.
"Well... She took his death hard, but she's dealt with it, as we all have for seven years."
"How old is she now?" Dr. Sprite interrupted.
"Um, Eighteen." My father said quietly. I repressed the urge to smack him. How could he be intimidated by this woman? I mean, he had a good thirty years on her! It was disconcerting to say the least to watch a smug, young twit talk down to someone so much older than her. I could tell that her bedside manner would leave something to be desired.
"And until recently, everything's been fine." My father said incredulously. I snickered, which earned me three glares. How would he know if I was fine? My whole life, I'd hidden things from everybody, save for my trusty confidante Andrew. Even Jennifer didn't know the extent of my disturbing dreams.
"But this October, something changed."
Dr. Sprite raised her eyebrow at my dad's words, but kept writing.
"We began hearing her yelling, crying, whimpering, and talking in her sleep. Most of it pertained to Andrew, and it seemed as if she was actually talking to him."
I sank lower into my chair and crossed my arms indignantly.
"Interesting..." Dr. Sprite breathed as she scribbled on her pad furiously.
"And ever since October, she seems to have been eating less, and becoming more detached."
There was no use arguing against my dad. Yeah, I was bothered by my eighteen-year-old twin invading my dreams at night and telling me things, especially since the last time I saw him was seven years ago. And how could I tell my parents what was going on, when the first thing to pop out of their mouths be: 'How do you know that eighteen-year-old boy is your brother? You've never seen him that old!'
"Aside from that, though, she was fine." My dad reasoned. My mother, who had been staring at the floor this whole time, decided to speak up.
"Until now. A week ago, Abby went Christmas shopping. She left the mall around nine o'clock, because I called her then. And about thirty minutes later, we heard a strange noise and looked out the window." Fresh tears clogged my mother's words and my dad laid a reassuring hand on her arm as she sobbed quietly into her handkerchief.
"Abby was laying in our front yard. We scrambled to put our boots on as fast we could, and then ran outside. She was unconscious, her bags strewn all over and her coat was torn. We brought her inside, but not before we saw the body... The paramedics and police came, and said it must have been a wolf attack. When Abby came to at the hospital, she was hysterical. She-" My dad was cut off by loud nose blowing. My mother composed her shaky voice and continued for him. Bored, I picked at one of my nails.
"She was screaming bloody murder about how vampires had attacked that woman! She swore she saw them tear her apart, and we thought she was just upset. But the next morning, it was worse!" My mother squeaked painfully. Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Dr. Sprite looked up from her pad, surprised.
"Come in!" She called, her voice once again light and airy. The door opened, and in stepped a large man. Dr. Sprite's eyes lit up as he closed the door behind him. The man was very tall, and if I had to guess, I'd say he was well over six feet.
"Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Sprite, but I have the file you requested." His voice was deep and melodious, and seemed to flow out of his mouth flawlessly. It was startling to hear it come from such a bulky man. His aqua eyes scanned the room once, then returned to the file in his hand. I almost shuddered because in addition to them being the strangest hue of blue-green, they were also the coldest eyes I'd ever seen.
"Oh, that's alright, Avery. Thank you!" She took the file from his large hands and set it aside. Try as I might, I couldn't stop studying this Avery guy. He wore light blue scrubs and had a hulking presence. Muscles of all sorts peeked through his scrubs and were painfully apparent on the parts that weren't covered. Even though he was tall, he sure wasn't gangly. His fit, wrestler-physique self was completed by a head of spiky, straw-colored hair and chiseled features. Standing right next to me, he exuded nothing but calm, and I wondered why someone who looked more at home in a movie or in a rock band would work at a nut house. Dr. Sprite suddenly closed my file and pocketed her pen.
"I know I said I would let you have a crack at telling me your story Abigail, but I've run a little short on time and really must speak to your parents about this new vampire fascination and life here at Brooks County." She smiled as she stood up, while Avery suddenly turned his gaze to me. There was something in his aqua eyes that I couldn't read as a curious expression dawned on his face, and it bothered me so I turned my attention to a more pressing emotion.
"It's not a fascination," I growled, slowly rising to my feet. "I know what I saw, and it sure as hell wasn't my imagination!" My deadly quiet voice and icy stare wiped the smile from Dr. Sprite's face as she stared at me, confused.
"Well, yes..." She stuttered. "There will be time for more chit-chat later today, sweetheart. Avery!"
He pulled his attention away from me and stared at Dr. Sprite, alert.
"Please take Miss Turner to her room and get her settled in. You can also give her a quick tour if you want."
Avery nodded and grabbed my bags. My parents, who were staring from me to Dr. Sprite and back again, suddenly stood up and rushed to my side.
"We love you, pumpkin! We'll come visit! I promise!"
I didn't move as my mother smothered me in hugs, kisses, and tears.
"You'll be okay, kid." My dad promised. I was a statue as the tearful farewell continued. After what seemed like an eternity of my mother's blithering, I yanked free. I ignored my parents' shocked faces and turned towards the door.
"Why Abby, that's not a very nice thing to do!" Dr. Sprite's shocked voice sounded more than a tad bit fake from behind me. My mother had started sobbing loudly again.
"They're obviously very worried about you!" The fake shock in the doctor's voice had been replaced with fake scolding. I scoffed.
"No, not worried. It's just that one of their children is already dead, and now the other one is gone, too." I pushed past Avery and out the door as my mother's despairing howls followed us down the halls.