Audrey's Door - By Sarah Langan Page 0,80

nice…”

Another pause, and then, the moment they’d both been waiting for, that let Audrey know this was her boss and not her concerned buddy. “I know the storm outside is bad, but do you feel up to coming in to the office?”

Audrey’s face crumpled. She didn’t breathe, because she knew it would sound ragged, and she’d start crying. They’d stare at her in the office. They’d know she’d lost her marbles, just like Betty. Or worse, maybe they’d pretend not to see her, because over this last month, she’d become a walking sick house, with a skull nailed to her chest.

“Audrey?”

She reached into her pocket for reassurance. The ring. But instead, out came three Valium and a lithium. She dry-swallowed them as she talked. The bigger one didn’t go down, so she chewed it into bitter little pieces that dissolved on her tongue. “I was sleepwalking last night,” she repeated, as if to prove it to herself. Only, she remembered little bits, didn’t she? The fabric shears that she’d used to cut the clothes. And the music. And the boxes. She’d worked on the door again, too, hadn’t she? And when she’d finished, she’d put it back in the closet like a secret from herself, because something about it was very bad. Something to do with killing what you love.

Her face went pale as the blood drained, and the thing in her stomach began to slither. She punched it to keep it still and covered the phone, so Jill didn’t hear the sound as she gagged. Had she been sleeping last night, or possessed?

“I can take you out for lunch if that works better,” Jill said. In her mind, Audrey folded the room upon itself. Made it a box that got smaller and smaller. Put herself inside it, where she was safe from the world. Where the world was safe from her, too.

“Audrey? You’re on the East Side, right? I’ll meet you halfway. How about Smith and Wollensky? The company’s treat, obviously.”

She pictured a knife through Jill Sidenschwandt’s head. Ear to ear. Perfectly symmetrical. If she did it right, the point would line up with her eyeteeth and temporal lobes. She’d keep talking for a few minutes before she bled to death. The brain has no sensation. No pain. It would be interesting to see which faculties she lost and which remained the same. “I’m not hungry.”

“Okay, the office? I hate to do this, but you were gone all last week. I saw the work you gave to Simon and David. They’re not as quick as you. Besides…It might be good for you to get out. You don’t sound yourself.”

Audrey grinned the way the children in her dream had grinned: bitterly. Sure. She’d come down and lend a hand. She’d cut off this bitch’s head. “I’ll be right there,” she said, and snapped the phone shut.

Her shower was quick. She didn’t see her own reflection in the mirror, only black. At times the water was pink. Pretty color, she had to admit. Especially the way the red diluted in ribbons. She’d cut up her clothes, but in the master bedroom’s built-in bureau, she found a blue sweat suit, extra large. She remembered it from the New York Post photo she’d seen of the DeLea family. The monster in black glasses had worn it. She pulled it on and cinched the drawstring waist very tight. The soft lining felt like a hug.

At the back of the drawer were a pair of glasses. Her head still throbbed like someone had shoved an ice pick through both temples. She put on the oversized black glasses, Jackie Kennedy, only prescription. The headache immediately abated. “Thank you, Breve,” she whispered. The worm writhed as if in acknowledgment, and she headed out the door.

Outside of 14B, she found a present wrapped in shiny silver paper. She tore it open. Pulled out a ceramic lamp with a Hawaiian hula-girl base. Her skirt and shade were decorated with drawings of banana bunches. The note read:

Dear Addy,

Bananas, for bananas ladies, like us! Feel better.

Your friend,

Jayne

Gratitude penetrated her haze. She smiled. Sweet, meek Jayne and her dyed red hair. May she inherit the earth. Then she turned it over, and thought about the note. In her mind, she heard the children from her dream, laughing.

Did Jayne think she was crazy, too?

Through the glasses, everything seemed a shade darker. The squirming thing fed on her insides with sharp teeth. Gnawing, gnawing.

She dropped the hula girl. Black hair and lithe body. A

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