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Chapter Twenty-Eight
Grace
Ileft my third and final hearing in a state of shock.I should have known.It was never going to be a fair fight.It is what it is, so I’d best be thinking about my next move.Which I spend a lot of time doing.
There are only two people I know of who possess the power to stop this procedure, myself notwithstanding.Problem is, one of them is presumed dead and the other wishes she were.
I know I should be thankful she’s not, and I would be, if only she hadn’t gotten me into this mess, at least partially.The games Elizabeth plays have an effect on all of us.Dr.Branson is right about that much.It doesn’t help my predicament any that she’s sunk to a new low.I have no idea what’s happened, only that she isn’t talking.Not really, anyway.One thing I do know is, every time Elizabeth goes quiet, it means she’s up to something.She’s not so different from my children in that way.
I just pray, this latest thing she’s come up with…I pray it’s not a trap.Before the enemy attacks harder, it gives its opponent something invisible but powerful.It is called hope.
I read that in that book of hers.The one she’s always reading.
Making a pact with her was the last thing I wanted to do.I’ve seen the kind of damage she can do.Last night as I lay awake in the dark, she leaned over my bed and whispered:He’s going to use a long, ice pick-like device inserted above the eye through the thin layer of bone, penetrating into the brain's frontal lobe.And this is what you want?
She hummed a tune, and later she said:It’s your call.Just say the word.
She was wrong, however.She spoke of the new method of performing the procedure, and Dr.Branson is old school.Not a point worth arguing, but, well, when she put it like that, I realized,what choice do I have?
Later, I did say the word.It sounded a lot like crying uncle, which pleased her greatly.I suppose we all like to win.It’s nice to have the upper hand.Elizabeth spoke of her escape plan.She told me how she has coerced Bradley, the kid who works in the cafeteria, to leave all the right doors unlocked for her.Oh, and by the way, she asked, do I want to come?
Of course I did.I do.She said he was going to leave two knives, along with a map and some cash.A pistol, if he could get his hands on it.
“What’s the gun for?”I asked.
She gave me a look that told me not to be dense.“There are people out there, Grace.People that are looking for me.”
“For what?”
She rolled her eyes so loud I could hear it in the dark.“Because I steal things, okay?”
“You steal things…”
“Yeah, you could say heists are my thing.”
“What do you steal?”
“Art.Money.Hearts.You name it.”
“You seem like the opposite of a good escape partner,” I said.
“We might have to kill people, Grace.That can’t be ruled out.”
She could not be serious.“Kill who?”
“It’swhom.And I don’t know.Just be prepared.It’s like the president’s always saying, freedom isn’t free, ya know?”
It took nearly all night, but I really thought through what she was telling me.The choice between the end of life as I know it, and becoming an actual, bona fide murderer, is not really a choice at all.It’s a matter of self- preservation.My husband is looking forme.He lovesme.He is expectingmeto walk out of this place.
“I don’t want this,” I said to Dr.Branson with his perfect smile and his tired excuses.“I do not consent.”
He leaned forward and patted my knee gently.“Soon, you will see.It was for your own good.”
The moment he put his hand on me, I realized Elizabeth was right.I know exactly what I have to do.Her plan is not a good one, not by a long shot.But it’s all I’ve got.
I am not a bad person, and I am not crazy.Even if the decision I’m about to make is a little of both.
The patients are running the asylum.My husband often said that when he arrived home after a long day at the office.The kids would be running amok, me in the kitchen tap-dancing around the chaos, trying to get dinner on the table.It seems sort of foretelling now, but I realize it’s just an expression.My love will understand why I had to do what I did.God, please, let him understand.
