Tranquil Heights
Despite Wilhelmina’s
suspicions, Tranquil Heights’ Christmas Eve dinner went on without a hiccup or
disruption from its three merry mistresses. She watched as the patients
wandered out of the dining room, off to their individual rooms or the common
room for the rest of the evening, and the tight knot in her stomach relaxed by
millimeters.
She conducted her nightly
checks of the medical wings, ensuring that everything was locked up and
inaccessible to the wandering rogue patient. Though many of the patients were
like Beatrice, Alice, and Natalie—women who didn’t conform to the standards of
the society outside the walls of Tranquil Heights—some of them needed proper
care for legitimate mental health conditions. It wouldn’t do for the medical equipment
or medications to be easily accessible to those who might use them to hurt
themselves.
Wilhelmina tugged on the doors
of the locked medication cabinets and paused when she heard a faint hissing
sound from down the hallway. She strained her ears, waiting for the sound to
happen again. This time, she heard a slight squeak, as though the toe of a shoe
had caught on the gleaming tile floors. It wasn’t uncommon for patients to be
up past ten p.m., but they rarely fretted about making noise, and Wilhelmina
got the distinct feeling that whoever was making the noise intended to sneak.
Wilhelmina moved into the
hallway cautiously, a cool sweat breaking out across her body. There was a
flickering light coming from under the door at the end of the hall. Wilhelmina’s
shoulders sagged, and she let out a shaky breath as she shook her head at her
own silliness. The door at the end of the hallway was the service entrance to
the common room where patients could use the television set, listen to the
radio, or play games. Wilhelmina wiped her clammy hands on her skirt as she
walked down the hallway, intent to check on the person in the common room.
Three sets of eyes greeted her
when she opened the door. One set, the color of a dark honey in the sun,
belonged to Beatrice. Another, a medium brown flecked with green like newly
growing flower beds, belonged to Alice. The last pair, a blue so pale and
bright it looked like ice, is what stopped Wilhelmina in her tracks. It was
almost painful for Wilhelmina to tear her gaze away from Natalie’s.
Beatrice, Alice, and Natalie
were sitting in a close circle, hands held palm up, three candles flickering on
a plate on the floor between them. The air in the room seemed thick, like a
summer day when the humidity was high and it felt as though you were pushing
through a weighty curtain with every move.
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