A World Divided Read online

  They passed a room on the right and another a few feet forward to the left. She thought he was taking her to the large, gilded door at the end of the hallway, but he stopped short and opened a less impressive oak door on her right. Beyond it a single light illuminated the room.

  A queen-sized bed commanded the center of the room. It stood on a wooden bedframe. The wood had been stained a unique mixture of dark and light browns, lending a salvaged-wood appearance that was probably manufactured in a modern facility. The huge headboard beyond it mirrored the same distressed feeling of the bedframe. The bed itself was covered in a lavender bedspread.

  Caitlin shivered as she recalled telling Arthur that her favorite color was lavender. It reminded her of the fragrant blooms of the same name. Scented candles were perched on the nightstands and one whiff let her know they continued the lavender theme.

  “Arthur…” Caitlin said, not sure where she was going with that sentence. Her mind spun, hunting for solutions.

  “Yes, my dear?” Arthur still had her slung over his shoulder. She was dismayed at how easily he held up her one-hundred-and-sixty-pound frame.

  “Umm… I…. Uh…. I have to use the bathroom. All of that tea just ran right through me. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy your surprise with a full bladder.” Nice Caitlin… Let the psycho chew on that piece of information.

  The tendrils had retreated within her, replaced by a pulsating rage. Anger was probably irrational. She should be frightened out of her mind, but she was furious she’d gotten herself into this situation in the first place. Seriously, her dad had taught her not to get into cars with strangers when she was four years old. How easy it was to forget in twenty-five years.

  Arthur put her down and looked her over, as if inspecting her for some sort of deception. After a long moment he nodded. “Of course, what was I thinking? I’ll show you to the restroom.”

  As she turned to follow him, she noticed silver eye screws embedded into the head board. The fear she had banished rushed back. She could only begin to imagine what he would need those for.

  Arthur led her back down the hallway to the door on the opposite side. “I’ll wait for you right here.”

  Caitlin found the light switch to her right. The incandescent lightbulbs above the vanity lit up. The room was small, with a white pedestal sink below the vanity, a toilet, and a small window. With despair, she saw there was no conceivable way she could fit through the window. It was barely large enough to allow a sliver of light through during the day.

  She hadn’t been lying when she said that she needed to use the facilities; her bladder bouncing on his shoulder had given her the idea. As soon as she had finished, she used the pedestal sink to wash her hands. With the water running she opened the vanity doors as quietly as possible. She feverishly searched the shelves within for something she could use to her advantage. They were sparse, but she did notice a small pair of scissors in the bottom left corner, presumably used to trim nostril hairs. Or whatever else a man needed trimming. She grabbed them and stuck them down the side of her pants, between her panties and flesh. Slowly, she turned the faucet off. Before she could finish drying her hands, Arthur opened the door.

  He peered into the room. Caitlin’s heart pounded in her chest. She waited silently, tensely for him to inspect the vanity. His gaze was intense for a moment, but he turned and beckoned her back to the bedroom. He didn’t touch her this time. He just walked back to the doorway and turned to look at her. This was a test. She didn’t even try to run. He could overtake her and his charm could devolve into violence. Meekly, she walked to him.

  He gave her one of his dazzling, toothy smiles and said, “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

  Silently, she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Wait here just a moment.” Arthur looked giddy when he gave the command. He shut the door behind him, and she heard the distinctive click of a lock being turned.

  After a few seconds, Caitlin jumped up and tried turning the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge.

  She inspected the rest of the room. Another door she assumed led to a closet was also locked. She made her way over to the large window and undid the latches, opening them inward. She was dismayed to find that just beyond the windows were intricately designed wrought iron bars. To the casual observer they would appear to be an eclectic piece of art. To her, they were a beautifully designed portion of her prison cell.

  The lavender theme ran throughout the entire room. The walls were all slightly different shades of purple, with different types of flowers stenciled along the top border. The carpet was a cascading wave of purple, starting nearly black at the wall of the window and lightening to nearly white on the opposite side.

  She walked to one of the heavy nightstands and opened the top drawer. Inside it she found dozens of notes in her handwriting. I love you with all of my heart…. The sun shines twice as bright in your presence… My life means nothing without you…. It went on and on. They were all notes Arthur had asked for her to write to his “girlfriend”. Disgusted, Caitlin slammed the drawer shut.

  Before she could continue her investigation, the lock in the door turned. Her heart rate picked up as she unconsciously placed her hand on the small scissors hidden in her pants. The knob turned slowly. The door creaked ominously, displaying the face of the man who had trapped her here. In his hands, he gripped the arrangement she’d put together for him just hours earlier. He entered the room slowly, walking over to the nightstand she’d just left. He put the arrangement on the top of it and turned to look her over. “I did this for you,” he said, moving his hand to indicate the room at large. “Do you like it?”

  Caitlin’s tongue felt heavy and dry, as if she had tried to swallow a large spoonful of sand. “It’s…” She swallowed hard, trying to summon the saliva that had run so freely at the bakery. “It’s… beautiful. Thank you… for this… uh… gift.” She stammered the words out. She feared he would be upset with her response, but he gave her a large grin.

  “I am so happy you like it. I kept all of your notes. I read them every day, and they make my heart sing.” Seriously? Make your heart sing? Are baby birds and mice going to start making me a dress for the ball next? Focus, Caitlin! Focus!

  “I’m so… happy you like them.” Caitlin intuited she needed to be agreeable.

  Arthur made his way the bed and sat on the edge. He looked at her with an intense longing, patted the comforter beside him, and said, “Take a seat.”

  Caitlin froze where she stood. There was absolutely no possible way she was going to take a seat next to that nutjob. Arthur’s smile faltered. He stood and grabbed her arm painfully, pulling her down beside him. “I said SIT!”

  “I’m sorry! So sorry!” Caitlin cried, feeling the soft comforter beneath her fingers. The tendrils from within reached up through her abdomen, past her chest, and clung to the inside of her throat. Terror filled every fiber of her.

  “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.” Arthur shouted. He raised his left hand and swiftly applied it to the right side of her chin.

  The slap resonated up the side of her cheek, through her right ear, and exploded in her eyes. For a moment the world was flashing white lights. As her equilibrium sorted itself out, she was able to make out the world in front of her. Arthur was pacing and muttering about it being her fault. She was afraid to speak, so she sat silently in the position she’d fallen.

  After a moment he approached her, gently removed her ponytail band, and ran his fingers through her straight, blonde hair. “You made me do that. I didn’t want to, but you made me. Promise me you won’t make me do that again.”

  “I promise! I’m sorry I made you do that. I promise I’ll be good.” It took everything within Caitlin to utter those words.

  Arthur continued to run his fingers through her hair, as if she were some sort of pet. “Good girl. You’re a very good girl.” He turned her face so she was forced to look at his. “I love you. Do you love me?”

&nbs
p; “Of course, I do,” she responded, without hesitation.

  Arthur lowered himself toward her, parting his lips. He placed them on hers and forcefully kissed her. Caitlin slowly ran her hand down her side, intending on grabbing the small scissors from their hiding place. Before her fingers found the prongs, Arthur reached his hand down, grasped hers, and pushed it up above her head. He continued kissing her passionately. He laid his body on top of hers, effectively stopping her from being able to move. Silent tears began to run down Caitlin’s cheeks.

  Arthur continued kissing and touching her until he noticed the wetness coming from her eyes. He pulled his head back and gave her an assessing look. The corners of his mouth twitched down into a frown, and in a moment, he passed from concerned to angry. “Stop that. I said, stop that!” He released her hand so that he could strike her once again. His hand was fisted this time. “If you’re going to cry, I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  The blows came in a constant wave. Caitlin couldn’t tell which part of her body hurt the worst as he took his rage out on her. Hot liquid spilled from her nose, the salty concoction reaching her lips. For several terrifying moments she was sure she was going to pass out.

  Finally, he calmed down and looked at her carefully. “You said you loved me. I wouldn’t have to do this if you didn’t lie to me. Let me get you cleaned up. You can think about your actions while I retrieve the towel.”

  Caitlin couldn’t believe how quickly he resumed his calm demeanor.

  As he turned to get off the bed, Caitlin thrust her hand into her pants and pulled the scissors out. She barely perceived the pain from the tip of the scissors scraping against her hip. Jumping onto his back, she swiftly shoved the scissors deeply into his neck three times.

  As he grasped his neck, Caitlin pushed him from her and ran to the unlocked door. She barreled through the hallway and flew down the staircase. Just before she made it to the front door, Dave walked in. He gave her a bleary look. Before he was able to fully comprehend what was happening, Caitlin thrust her knee into his groin. He fell like a load of concrete at a jobsite that was running behind. She saw Arthur’s jacket hanging from a hook by the front door. She grabbed it as she ran out, thrusting her hands into the pockets until she could find the keys to the red sports car. She jumped into the car and tore away, gravel flying in her wake.

  Somehow, she managed to make it home, parking the car partially on her front lawn

  “Henry!” She shrieked as she entered the living room.

  “Where the fu… Oh my god, Caitlin! What the hell happened?”

  She told him everything, and they immediately made a police report.

  Henry went on and on about the things he would do to Arthur. He’d always had such a gentle soul. The pure, unadulterated venom he spewed was terrifying and so out of character. She begged him to let the police handle it. She was afraid he would go off half-cocked and end up in jail or dead. It took the arrival of the police and ambulance to calm him enough for a rational discussion.

  The weeks blurred together for Caitlin. She made depositions, statements, and everything else required of her. Arthur was found hiding out at his aunt’s house and was promptly arrested. She only saw him in the courtroom after that. She chose to leave her job, because the smell of the lavender blooms was too overwhelming and interactions with her coworkers were strained. Arthur was sentenced to two years in prison for first degree assault. As far as she knew, Dave had just disappeared.

  Caitlin stared at the store. Three months, and she was still gripped with fear. It made her angry. Angrier than she could comprehend. She dropped her cigarette to the ground, snuffed it out with her shoe, and got back into her car. She needed to get over it and start looking for a new job.

  Chapter Three

  Henry

  Henry Kowalski, RN, looked down at the prior authorization form that sat unfilled in front of him for his patient’s biologic medication. Anna Carlson had been diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis the previous year and hadn’t responded well to treatments. She was a twenty-six-year-old single mother with a three-year-old son. Henry liked her a lot, so he took charge of the prior authorization to make sure it was approved through her insurance.

  Generally, Henry worked with patients who required IV infusions of medications at the rheumatology clinic. He had a line of little, old ladies who nearly swooned every time they saw him. They would bring him handmade gifts and pastries, always commenting on what a “handsome young man” he was.

  Henry had his brown hair cut very short. The curls, he decided long ago, looked adorable on his daughter but made him look like Kenny G. He used to keep it long when he had first started dating Caitlin. She had loved to run her fingers through it and pull on a curl making a “sprong” sound that would send her into fits of giggles. He missed the sound of her laughter. It had always brought a smile to his face, no matter what may have been stressing him out at the time.

  Since the incident he hadn’t heard that angelic laugh pass his wife’s lips. She retreated into herself over the last few months. Most days she smoked heavily and drank herself to sleep. It was a habit she’d formed in high school that she relapsed into when life got difficult.

  The last time was when she had to have a total hysterectomy. One of Caitlin’s previous partners had infected her with a form of HPV that developed into cervical cancer. Elise had been two at the time and Caitlin was barely twenty-three. It was devastating for them both, although Henry worked hard not to show his pain to his wife. She had gone through a dark period for a few months after the surgery but was able to snap herself out of it.

  Henry had a feeling it wouldn’t be so simple this time. Even during that dark time after the hysterectomy, she’d had moments of light, of happiness. Caitlin was so withdrawn now. She had been sleeping in the guest bedroom since she returned from the hospital. At first Henry thought it was due to his own anger. The thought of that bastard touching her, hurting her, had consumed him. Deep down, he had also been upset with her. At times it still boggled his mind just how naïve she’d been.

  He tried to push it aside, to be there for her. As the trial progressed the stab of betrayal had dimmed to dull throbbing he could usually ignore. Henry wanted to touch her again, but every time he tried, Caitlin jerked away. He could see the widening of her eyes; the tremor of her lips. She was terrified. Eventually, he just backed off and waited for her to come to him. She never did.

  “Henry?” Dr. Karen Watson’s voice called.

  “Yes, Doctor,” He responded. His work station was directly outside of Dr. Watson’s office. She worked it out so that he was easily accessible to her.

  “I’ve finished up the chart notes for Anna, so you can attach them to the PA. She also had lab work done last week. Make sure that goes, as well.”

  Henry popped his head into the office. Dr. Watson’s milk chocolate face was tinged blue by the dim light projected from her computer. She always kept the light turned off when she was working on her chart notes. She said that there were too many distractions to keep her from concentrating on her work.

  Karen was in her mid-forties now, but Henry first met her when he was a kid. She dated his much older sister for a while after his family moved to Washington state from Pennsylvania. The relationship was short, but she remained very close with the family. It was like having a second sister. If it wasn’t for her, he wasn’t sure he would have gotten his current job.

  She turned to look at him, her glasses falling partially down the bridge of her nose, a slight frown pulling down the corners of her full lips. “I feel like I’m forgetting something,” she said, staring at him. “Come on, Henry, what am I forgetting?”

  “Why would I tell you? It’s more fun to watch you puzzle it out yourself.” He gave her a bemused smile and chuckled. Her frown deepened.

  “You know, Henry, I should fire you for your insolence.”

  “Oh, come on Doc, you know you’d miss me way too much. Plus, who’d remind you a
bout the most recent imaging done on Anna that shows increased joint deterioration in the distal portion of the fifth digit on her right hand?”

  Dr. Watson grabbed a handful of paperclips and threw them at him. “Now, now, Doc, I’m your nurse, not your maid. You better get to cleaning this mess up.” She laughed and walked over to help him.

  As he deposited a handful of paperclips back into the proper receptacle, Dr. Watson said in a serious voice, “So, Henry. You and I haven’t gotten a chance to talk lately. Would you like to go grab a drink after work?”

  It wasn’t an unusual request. They would often get lunch together or grab a beer after work. He had been so worried about Caitlin lately their get-togethers had become less frequent. He thought about it for a moment and decided he deserved to blow off steam for a bit. He was constantly on edge, and it would be nice to spend some time outside the house. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll give Caitlin a call and let her know what’s going on.”

  “After you finish your paperwork, of course.” Dr. Watson smirked at him, and he smiled as he left the room. It was a long-running joke stemming from the doctor’s justified hatred of all things she had to sign by hand.

  He sat back at his desk, finished the prior authorization, and got it submitted. He made sure he got the rest of his work completed, so he could be out of the door by 4.

  Just before the end of the day, he popped his head back into Dr. Watson’s office. She was slumped over a large stack of papers, feverishly scrawling an illegible sequence of letters on each one. It was supposedly a signature of some sort, although to Henry it looked like chicken scratch. “Macgill’s?”

  Dr. Watson jumped at his voice. “Boy, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”