Twenty-Six

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Mrs. Summers vanished out in thin air by approximately 9:54, leaving Dr. Cowen in a very slight frozen state. He'd already captured that brown chocolate skin with dark permed hair before it blew away. Cowen remembered exactly whom he had just set his eyes on. She looked older. Much older than he last remembered her.

It had been years too. Finally, he had a "normal" old patient to think about. No more living in the world of Emma Woodburn for the meantime. He walked briskly into the diner, took off his glasses to wipe with his handkerchief before grabbing a seat beside the group of loud-mouthed old ladies who were making ear-splitting noises. Unfortunately, it had been the only empty table in the joint as of now. He searched both side and back pocket and realized he'd left his journal.

The only brown, leather journal containing record dates of sessions with Emma, and all the other old patients he took on lovely dates. Maybe Cowen's technique in stalking his patients with a camera and photographing them when they were alone was for a specific reason. Maybe. Just maybe, Cowen fell in love with his patients in secret. Just maybe, behind the backs of his wife Thembi and recalcitrant daughter, Cowen fantasized about Emma, Spider-Woman, Eye-Sore and the rest of the patients he'd spent half of his life with.

Maybe there was intimacy between him and the criminally, mentally insane Emma Woodburn for the past years. If Cowen loved Emma and wanted a concealed relationship within their therapies together, had it been passionate? Or either way, what if Emma fell in love with Cowen and those seductive eyes, she had been giving him during sessions were genuine?

Then all this would turn to one fantastic, psychological scary love story where the ending would have Emma and Cowen killing and spending the rest of their lives together. Cowen would end up killing Thembi and his daughter, then marry Emma Woodburn and start a new family with her. Then Emma would suddenly snap and slaughter Cowen and their kids again. Then get sentenced to the asylum, get a new psychiatrist and break free.

And then this whole escapade would repeat itself again and again in an endless loop.

"What can I get you, Dr. Cowen?", said the voice of the waitress.

Betsy. Betsy Cudmore, a smirking red long-haired bimbo about the age of thirty clouded her shadow before Cowen with the big smile, pen and paper, already forgetting the ugly zit on her cheek.

"I'll have the usual, Betsy," Cowen replied.

"The steak and black coffee with cream, no sugar," Betsy guessed correctly while writing it down, "Got it. How's Thembi?"

"Doing well," he replied blankly," How's my daughter doing, Betsy? She ever talks about coming back home or how much she's missed me?"

"No. To be honest with you, Cowen," Betsy went on, "I don't think she misses you or Thembi at all."

"Oh," Cowen replied in disappointment, "Well that's sad."

"Well, I could still watch her if you want me to."

"I think you've done enough work, Betsy. I've got the message loud and clear."

"Don't be sad, Cowen," Betsy tried comforting, "They'll come crawling back. Gradually, I know they will. You can't fix everyone in the world. But you know this is exactly how my marriage with Bentley felt like? We split up, pretended like we didn't need each other anymore, and then for the next two weeks, my husband came knocking. You'll live."

"Hey. I actually saw one of my old patients just minutes ago," Cowen added, "Weird right? She was my least troublesome. I remember her when she was about fifteen. After her mother was sent to Baltimore, she was the only one that came to me. Her name was...."

Just when he was yet to mention Mrs. Summers' first name, the blind beggar from the outdoor birthday party appeared behind the glass door and bolted in. His presence wasn't acknowledged by any of the customers but Betsy snapped and hushed him out immediately.

"Scoot! Scoot! Get outta here before I call the manager!", the red-haired bimbo yelled harshly and yet none of the customers paid any attention. The blind man didn't react violently. Just walked away in an uncanny manner.

"Dumb bastards," Betsy muttered to Cowen, "Always coming here and stealing stuff." He looked behind Betsy and to his bewilderment, the blind man stood there watching him. He turned to see if there was anyone else beside him, but the blind man's eyes were directed to him alone. For about three minutes later, the man walked away.

Betsy switched the TV on to the KN.News and what Cowen, and everyone else present watched and listened to disturbed them. Kimberly was walking in the midst of paramedics and lifeless, writhing bodies of children, as well as old lady Everton, her wife and Madison Ivy. Every single one of them OD'd from the drugged soda they took. But it wasn't ordinary. The kids had their noses, eyes and mouth gushing out blood. Not a single one lived. Other members who got the invitation to dead Madison's birthday party were Detective Towers and Inspector Cuddling.

Cowen left the diner as quickly as he could. His felt his heart skipping beats, because it had been long since he watched Kimberly report a live, grotesque murder. He rushed towards his BMW but behind him a voice called.

"Dr. Cowen..."

Turning around, it was the same blind beggar, creeping towards him in the uncanny manner. He was white-haired, scruffy from top to bottom, tattered jacket and burnt top underneath, unbuckled belt, tattered jeans with large, man-cave boots and a metal stick in his right hand. The scent of him was like he had lived all his life smoking pot.

"How do you know my name?", Cowen shot back. A sudden feeling of fear rising within his system. Finally, he knew what it felt to stalk someone. He had never seen him in his life.

"I know you are a psychiatrist, doctor," the blind stranger continued weirdly. His voice so deep, it gave Cowen chills.

"Have you been following me?", he asked.

"I saw someone today, doctor," the blind man went on, "I know this sounds very peculiar, doctor. But I saw someone. A lady. Beautiful she was. Fearless. Brave. Amazing. She sounded like an angel. But I saw her inside, doctor Cowen. Inside was a fiend. An evil. I saw the Devil today, doctor Cowen. I saw the Devil. And she wore a WHITE dress.

I may be a blind, ol' penniless fool, doctor, but I saw the Devil today. And she wore a WHITE dress. She spoke to me. And I spoke to her. She may not look like it. She may not sound like it. But when you see her inside, you'll know. She's pure evil, doctor. And right now, she walks the streets. She walks amongst us.

When you see the Devil in a WHITE dress, do not be fooled. She may look like us. She may sound like us. But she don't think like us. She walks and moves like the Serpent. Silently. She's so damn silent, you don't get to see her coming.

Warn others, doctor. Warn them. Tell them when they see the Devil in a WHITE dress. When she knocks at their door, tell them to run. You tell them to run, doctor. Run for their dear lives. They can fight her if they wish, but tell them they won't stand a chance against her. She's fast. So very fast.

Only you can stop her, doctor. No one, but you. Only you can stop her. Find her and stop her, or else we're all gonna die."

The blind man slowly turns his heel and walked the opposite direction. Walking in the same uncanny manner. Cowan, again, had never felt so disturbed.

"Warn them about who?!", he voiced out, confused, "Who is she?! What the fuck are you talking about?! Answer me!"

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