The trip was a short one. The clinic wasn't far from the library, but Elta made a conscious effort to draw it out. She wasn't exactly excited to be forced into spending the first Friday of her vacation at the clinic. Elta's mood worsened as she thought of all her plans that had been completely ruined. Things had managed to go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes.
When she finally arrived in the clinic's parking lot, she took a moment to sit in her idling car and savour her last shred of solitude that she was about to be deprived of. Then another moment was taken, to master her rising temper; if she didn't get her anger under control before she went in, the boredom would send her over the edge.
Eventually she turned off the car and begrudgingly slid out of the front seat, slamming the door behind her, much harder than was necessary. She made her way to the clinic's door and was annoyed to find her mother already waiting in front of the receptionist's desk. She was pacing anxiously, her white nurse's shoes squeaking on the linoleum as she turned.
She looked up when she heard the automatic doors slide open, and Elta watched as the tension that knotted her mother's brow eased away immediately.
"You made it," she said with a sigh of relief that made Elta's own brow twitch into a momentary frown. What she was so worried about? she wondered. It wasn't like she was going to drop dead en route; it wasn't exactly a strenuous journey.
"Duh. Well, now that I'm here—" Elta said, holding out her arms, "—you can see I'm fine. I'll go home now."
Her mother wasn't listening, she was staring intently at her daughter's face; Elta wondered if any evidence of the panic was still present in her features. She kicked herself for not thinking to look into the mirror before coming inside.
Suddenly, her mother reached out to touch her face; Elta flinched and pulled away, escaping the contact as her face fell into a scowl. She was now sure that all the world must be conspiring to make her day as annoying as possible.
Her mother did not look pleased with her reaction. "No way. Mrs. Cape wouldn't have called if it was nothing," she huffed. "You're staying here until I'm done my shift, then we'll go home together."
Elta's scowl deepened. Though she had known all along that this was going to happen, that her mother would make her stay at the clinic, that didn't make the outcome any less unpleasant. It drove her nuts when her mother got like this, so crazily over-protective, but it was no use in arguing. Her mother wasn't going to take no for an answer; she hadn't all a thousand times before, it was unlikely she'd start now.
"It's only an hour till the clinic closes for the day," her mother added, taking notice of the intensifying displeasure on her daughter's face.
Elta glanced ruefully at the clock above the reception desk. "An hour and a half," she corrected, her temper rearing its ugly head at last.
"I'm sure you'll survive that extra half an hour."
Elta grunted in bitter resignation. Yes, it was only an hour and a half until the clinic closed, but her mother usually had to stay afterwards to help as they were always short on staff, so she knew they'd probably be here much longer than her mother's estimation.
Her mother surveyed her one last time, searching Elta's angry face for something. Elta repressed the urge to roll her eyes, knowing her mother would never find what she was looking for; she had learned to guard her secrets well. After a moment that seemed to last for hours, her mother gave up, turned, and headed down the hall. Elta followed.
They made no sound but the squeaking of sneakers on the hard, shiny linoleum as they followed the narrow corridors to the back of the clinic. Elta dragged her feet like she was a prisoner being led to her cell. Truthfully, the clinic wasn't a terrible place—it was small, dated, but well cared for—but Elta hated it. It had the typical hospital-like feel, sanitized and bleak, and Elta couldn't stand hospitals. No memories she had of hospitals were good ones.
They passed by the large open area lined with reclining chairs, each accompanied by a small machine at its side. They were all empty, aside from the one on the end. There sat a very large, blond man, sipping at a juice box, as blood flowed from the tube attached to him down to the bag that bobbed back and forth on the machine.
The man's face lit up when he spotted Elta and her mother. Elta thought he was smiling, but she couldn't be sure; his large red beard obscured most of his mouth, but his eyes were crinkled and sparkling.
"Gladys!" he bellowed, waving frantically at them like he was trying to get her attention in a crowd rather than a near-empty clinic. His nurse shook his head and warned him to take it easy, but his advice was ignored.
"Good evening, Mr. Thorsen," Elta's mother responded sweetly. She was patient with everyone except her daughter. "How're you?"
"Fine, fine... Just here, doing my good deed." He pointed towards the tube jutting out of his arm. "I have to say, I was a bit disappointed you weren't working donations today! There's been no good conversation without you..."
In the background, Elta noticed his nurse looked annoyed.
"You should stay and chat!" he added.
"Well, I'd love to, but I have some other things to take care of," her mother said, motioning behind her, at her daughter.
Mr. Thorsen's eyes slid from her mother's face onto Elta. He looked utterly surprised to see her standing there as if she had suddenly popped into existence. "Elta! How are you?" he thundered, quickly recovering.
"Fine," Elta mumbled.
Mr. Thorsen blinked at her like it was difficult to comprehend her weak one-word response. Her mother turned towards her—angling herself so her face couldn't be seen by Mr. Thorsen—and gave her a sharp look of reprimand. When she looked back at Mr. Thorsen, she was all smiles again. "She must be tired," she said; she was used to making up excuses for her daughter's poor behaviour. "I'm taking her to the break room, so I should get going."
"Alright, if you must," Mr. Thorsen moaned, hamming up his disappointment. "But if you get a spare minute, feel free to stop by for a chat."
"I will if I can. It is lovely to see you again, Mr. Thorsen. And thank you again for your donation."
"My pleasure," he said, puffing his barrel chest out with pride.
With that, Elta's mother gave a wave and continued down the hall. The walk to the break room wasn't long; the clinic was small, as the small town had no need for large, elaborate facilities. Having the large regional hospital down the street was enough; in fact, the clinic only survived solely because it was also the only blood bank for the region.
When they reached the break room, Elta's mother didn't go in. She simply stood aside, leaving the door open for her daughter. Saying nothing and dragging her feet, Elta obediently entered the room; she dropped her bag and stood stiffly in the middle of the room, signalling to her mother that she would behave. It wasn't like she had any other options.
Her mother smiled at her and turned back. "We'll come by and check in on you," she said with another sigh of relief. "I'll be back at the end of my shift. Will you be alright?"
With a sharp intake of air, Elta fought the urge to snark at her mother. Instead, she said nothing and just stared at the stark, cheerless room that was to be her prison cell for the afternoon. Most of the clinic's decor hadn't been updated for decades; putrid orange curtains hung listlessly from the room's single window, its glass marbled to provide privacy for patients who hadn't stepped foot in here for years. It contained a row of beat-up lockers for the nurses to keep their things in, a small table and a set of chairs, plus the fridges... the large, industrial fridges the clinic used to keep the blood supply cool. Since the clinic was so cramped and space was in high demand, the break room had to serve a dual purpose.
The large, glass-fronted beasts hummed ominously in the corner, but Elta barely noticed them. She was so used to this place, she had learned to tune out their noise long ago. She headed towards her usual spot, the "bed" that sat in the corner. It was actually an old examination table, bolted to the floor, that someone had never got around to removing. Its orange vinyl cover was cracked with age, but it was soft enough for her purposes. She dropped her bag on the floor next to it, and went over her limited options. She could read one of the many books she kept in her bag, but books would only serve as a reminder of the events at the library, which she certainly wasn't keen on. She would have listened to podcasts or music on her old iPod, but its battery didn't last very long anymore and it was already dead.
So that left only one thing she could do: sleep. After the short but memory staining events of this afternoon, Elta felt that a nap would probably be best. It would help her stop from rehashing today's encounter, and, as a bonus, it would also probably ease her mother's mind—and stop her from hovering—if her daughter was seen resting.
She took a few quick strides to her mother's locker and popped the lock with a few quick turns of the dial. Amongst the things stacked on the bottom shelf was her favourite lime green fleece blanket; her mother had kept her here so often that she had begun to keep a stash in there, and the blanket was a necessity; being unconscious was one of her favourite ways to pass the time here, but the fridges kept the room unnaturally cold. With all that chill it was impossible to relax, let alone sleep.
Pulling the blanket out, she headed back to the bed and crawled up on top. The worn vinyl cover squeaked beneath her as she adjusted herself. She removed her hoodie, balled it up, and placed it near the top of the bed. It would serve as her pillow as she lay back against the barely comfortable bed. She pulled the fleece blanket around her and nestled in.
As she lay there silently, she tried to push everything from today out of her mind. It was fruitless. She could picture the look on Mrs. Cape's, the annoying doting of her mother, but the memory of the fear and his face were fresh and clearest of her memories. A pang of hatred shocked through her. It was all his fault. She fought it back again; she didn't want to be thinking about him before she slept. Knowing her luck, he would just show up again in her dreams to haunt her further.
After several moments, she managed to suppress her thoughts only by concentrating on the very real, very physical sensation of cold. She violently shivered for a while before her body heat warmed her blanket, then she fell into a light sleep.
✦
Just as she predicted, her sleep was not a peaceful one. Faces swarmed in her mind, and she felt suffocated by the swirling, indecipherable images. When she awoke sometime after, it was with a jolt.
The dream left her disoriented, and the dim room didn't help. The sun had gone down early, as it does in late November, and the room was almost entirely dark... Except for a faint glow emanating from the corner of the room.
Still dazed from her dream, she vaguely wondered what the source of the light was, and she realized she felt a definite chill, more than usual. She raised her head off the bed, blinking bleary-eyed through the darkness, wondering where the icy breeze had come from.
Has someone opened the window? She wondered.
She scanned the room—or what she could see of the room from over the edge of the blanket—and saw that one of the fridges was wide open, the interior light shining. A faint rustling alerted her to the fact that there was someone else in the room. Elta wondered if her mom had finished her shift, and was putting away the last of the collected blood of the day. She raised herself to see if she could get a better view.
The person in front of the fridge didn't look familiar, but that wasn't saying they weren't; after all, the darkness made it very difficult to see. But Elta could tell that they were working very quickly, their arms moving so fast they seemed to blur.
"M-mom?" She choked out, throat still raspy from sleep. The person in front of the fridge gave a twitch and whipped around to look at her. The eyes caught the light and glinted in a strange way as they fell on her. Elta blinked away the sleep that clouded her eyes and looked again. It was then a heavy realization fell upon her.
Whoever the person was, they weren't putting the heavy sacks of blood into the fridge; they were taking them out. Their arms were piled high with sagging bags of red.
The uneasy dreams were still fresh in her mind and, still disoriented from the darkness, Elta couldn't stop her mind from leaping to a horrifying conclusion. She stuttered, gulping back air before managing an ear-splitting scream. She thrashed frantically, trying to free herself from the blanket that had tangled around her legs, but she slipped off the edge of the raised bed. Her forehead met hard linoleum and everything went dark.\
✦
I hope you're enjoying the story so far! If you want to read the rest...
The rest of the book is no longer available on Wattpad. If you want to read the rest, you can purchase it (and its sequel AT DEATH'S SIDE) on my Ko-Fi.
Ko-Fi:
https://ko-fi.com/yvetterussell
https://ko-fi.com/s/969f4caddc
(Link in comments)