Dawn of Eve, MJ Howson [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

Bellows, and a pen. Dr. Cole walked over to the chair that Dawn always sat in and turned it to face the couch, placing him a few feet away. He sat down and lowered his glasses.

The radiator beneath the windows began to hiss and clank. Dr. Cole struggled to sort through the folders and papers in his hands. Dawn studied his drab outfit. The doctor’s gray wool slacks and uninspired gray striped button-down shirt made her think of Caretaker’s dull gray robe. There was, at least, one pop of color.

“I like your cufflinks,” Dawn said. “Turquoise is your birthstone.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, it is.” Dr. Cole glanced at his cufflinks. Luna’s continuous scratching at the door distracted him. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”

“The timing of your call was perfect. I was planning to see you anyway.”

“Really?” Dr. Cole smiled and flipped through his notes. A few of the papers fell to the floor. He groaned as he leaned down to collect them. “I made some interesting discoveries recently.”

“About?”

“It has to do with your diary.”

“My diary?” A mix of fear and concern filled Dawn. She slid her other hand into her pocket and let it rest on the dagger. The inlaid turquoise and nickel felt calming against her thumb. She allowed her body to relax as she scooted closer toward the doctor. Dawn smiled and asked, “Have you been spying on me?”

“Spying? No. The doll. The diary. Your mother’s past.” Dr. Cole clasped his hands and asked, “Are . . . are you okay?”

“I’ve never felt better.”

Dr. Cole scratched his beard and asked, “How’s Eve?”

“The doll?” Dawn smiled as the doctor nodded. “Gone.”

“Really?”

“You can thank Jacob for that.” Dawn reached up and slid her fingers around the locket around her neck. Her thumb methodically rubbed the engraved W on the front. “He told me it was best for me. He was right.”

“I . . . I see.” Dr. Cole’s eyes widened as he looked at the locket. He turned his attention back to his notes from his meeting with Jeffrey. His hands shook as he feverishly scanned through his poor penmanship. His finger settled on the entry about the locket used in the sacrificial killings. Dr. Cole glanced up at Dawn and said, “I’m . . . I’m concerned about your mental state.”

“You needn’t be.” Dawn ran her red-painted fingernails through her freshly cropped hair. She grinned and slid to the end of the couch directly across from Dr. Cole. “As you can see, I’m a changed woman. I’ve never felt freer.”

The wall clock ticked through several seconds as Dawn and the doctor stared at one another. Dr. Cole sighed and clicked his pen. He grabbed the blank notepad and said, “We never got to talk about your mother. And her diagnosis.”

“What about it?”

“Well, to be blunt, it can be hereditary.”

Dawn leaned forward. She looked around the room as if to confirm they were alone. In a hushed tone, she said, “Can I tell you a secret?”

Dr. Cole lowered his pen and leaned closer. He smiled and, with a reassuring and calm tone, said, “Always.”

“I’m not my mother.”

Dawn pulled the dagger from her pocket and thrust her arm forward, sending the blade deep between the doctor’s ribs and into his heart. Dr. Cole clutched his chest, sending his notes and papers flying. He attempted to cry out, but Dawn quickly covered his mouth with her hand. Dawn found little interest in the terror and fear radiating from his eyes. She stood up and removed the dagger from his chest. As the doctor lunged from his chair, she stepped to the side and watched him fall to the ground. Dawn dropped to her knees and pressed Dr. Cole’s face into the papers scattered on the floor.

“And I never will be,” Dawn said.

In one swift move, she reached around the doctor and used the dagger to slit his throat. Blood soon erupted from Dr. Cole’s neck and began to pool across the faded Persian carpet. One by one, each of the papers containing the doctor’s session notes melted into the rug, soaked by his blood. The handwritten details slowly faded away. Dawn wiped the blade against the doctor’s shirt and returned the dagger to its sheath.

The old Panasonic recorder sat on the corner of Dr. Cole’s desk. Dawn stood up, glared at the recorder, and yanked the power cord from the outlet. As she reached for the tape deck, Luna’s endless scratching on the office door stopped. A shadow appeared beneath the doorway’s lower edge. After a few soft knocks, the door opened, and Flo stepped inside. Dawn turned and looked at Flo and smiled.

“Where’s Winston?” Flo asked. She walked into the room, looking around somewhat confused. As she approached the couch, she saw her husband lying on the floor. “Winston!” Flo rushed toward him and stopped beside the chair. Her eyes widened when she saw the expanding pool of blood. She dropped to her knees and began to shake his body. As tears formed in her eyes, she asked, “What happened?”

Dawn grabbed the tape deck and slowly walked up behind Flo. She said, “Bad men must be punished.” Before Flo could say or do anything, Dawn smashed the recorder into her skull. The plastic case shattered and cracked, slicing her head open. Flo fell silent as her body collapsed next to her husband’s.

Luna stood in the doorway, watching, purring, but not moving. Dawn flung the broken recorder beside the two bodies and smiled. She grabbed some tissues from the box on the doctor’s desk and wondered how many times she’d used these to wipe away tears. Dawn cleaned droplets of blood from her hands and then tossed the tissues into the trash.

The Trust plaque caught Dawn’s eye. She picked it up and dropped it on Dr. Cole’s lifeless body. Dawn knelt down and inspected the scattered papers that weren’t yet soaked in blood. Her anger rose as she read through the information about her mother’s trial and detention. She looked at the doctor and