Writing Prompts:
1. "It's in your blood. You can't escape this. You won't escape us."
2. "You get accustomed to the smell."
3. It began with a whisper, and more whispers joined it until it was a deafening wave of sound.
"You get accustomed to the smell."
Dr. Thomas Reed led Detectives Dominic Marshall and Becky Nobel through the steel gray corridor. The gloomy decor would drive anyone mad with depression. The only white was in the cells. Clean, sterile white rooms with thick glass walls. The patients within like rats trapped in a lab waiting for the next needle of drugs to test.
"Some of the drugs we're given make the patients sick," the doctor explained. "One patient puked right on my shoes during a session."
"Never a dull moment here huh, doc?" asked Marshall holding his sleeve over his nose. They turned a corner to see Magdalena St. Pierre sitting in her glass cell looking up at the window at the patch of blue sky, the only splash of color in this sterile void.
"Usually Magda's pretty calm. Very well behaved. More than most of the other patients," said Dr. Reed. "Actually the most cooperative patient here so we sometimes let her out for a walk." So well behaved that the doctor called Magdalena by her nickname Marshall realized.
"Not sure that's within house rules here," Becky pointed out sourly.
"The state doesn't pay much attention to us," Reed shrugged. "We have our own rules here." It wasn't like the detectives would report on this or anything. Who would listen to 2 lowly detectives? Magdalena lay on her cot in her white room in the light of window. Before Dr. Reed said anything Magdalena said, "Detectives. I assume you've come to take me to get some lethal injection."
Magdalena turned her head and faced the grim detectives with a sardonic smile, "Or have you come to kill me yourself?" She actually sounded hopeful.
"We're here about a case," Becky spoke first.
"New partner, Marshall?" Magdalena sat up interested now. "She's pretty. Super model even. She's too good for you."
"You sound like my old man," Marshall joked drily. Becky shot her partner a harsh look. They needed to stay on task.
"So," Magdalena stood up and walked towards the glass. "What can I help you with?" Magdalena was pale with long ebony hair woven into a long braid that draped over her shoulder like a sash. She had an oval face like some of those romantic paintings such as William-Adolphe. Marshall's mother loved that artist. Despite a few years in captivity her pasty skin was clear and flawless. Magdalena's lips were dry and pale and Marshall noticed the little bags under her eyes. Yes her eyes were the real marvel. She always had such pretty eyes though tragedy seemed to lurk behind them. Birdlike ash gray eyes that missed nothing fringed with long lashes underneath dark yet trim eyebrows. The press liked to focus on her looks during the trial. A real life Medusa that stopped any man in his tracks. Despite a few years in captivity Magdalena looked well or at least on the surface.
Becky took out a file and pressed a picture of Mannix's shredded body to the glass. Magdalena stared at the picture, her face unreadable. She looked like a statue sitting on top a tomb stone.
"You recognize this man?" Marshall asked.
Magdalena stood silent. Her ash gray eyes like two grave stones.
"We looked into the victim and he seemed pretty hard core into the occult," Becky placed the gruesome photo back into the file, Marshall kept his keen eye on Magdalena. Becky pulled out another picture of a symbol on Mannix's ring. It was of ouroboros; the serpent eating it's own tail.
"And since I'm into the occult I'd know exactly who that guy is," Magdalena spoke drily. "Contrary to what normal people think not everyone in the occult community knows each other. We all don't frequent the same chat rooms on the deep web."
"He was killed the same way a few others were murdered a few years back," Marshall interjected.
"Well obviously it's a copy cat," Magdalena's sharp tone cut the air. "I'm not gonna do your job for you." There was silence. Then Magdalena jerked her head cricking her neck. Her eye began to twitch and she paused as if hearing another voice in a conversation. She bit her lip and closed her eyes trying to sort out the voices in her head.
"Miss St. Pierre? Are you alright?" Dr. Reed asked concerned.
"I think there's something you're not telling us, St. Pierre," Becky insisted.
"I told you I don't know anything," Magdalena spoke a bit roughly, her eyes still closed. Her hands pressed against the glass to support herself. She took deep breaths to calm herself. To those on the other side of the glass it was like watching a wild animal in captivity grow restless. On some days it's calm but others it despises the cage it's living in and would tear a part anyone within it's reach.
Becky pressed the photo of Mannix's body to the glass again.
"There's something you're not telling us," Becky accused.
"Detectives, I think we should pick this up tomorrow," Dr. Reed suggested.
Marshall noticed Magdalena's usually pure skin begin to actually crawl as if something alive was scurrying beneath her skin. Then he saw arcane symbols in a language he recognized fly across her flesh like fresh ink on paper.
It began with a whisper, and more whispers joined it until it was a deafening wave of sound. Magdalena tried to keep her cool but the detectives' annoying voices seemed be drowned out by the malevolent whispers in her head. Magdalena looked at the photo of Mannix and noticed a symbol glowing on his flesh within the photo. It looked like an eye, an eye Magdalena unfortunately recognized. The female detective kept pestering her.
"What did you do?" Magdalena growled. Her head sank between her shoulders, her hands still held in place, the only thing keeping her up.
"Do? We didn't do anything. You know something," Becky kept going on. "Tell us."
"I don't know...," Magdalena's skin felt like it was on fire. "You need to leave." She could feel the ancient words creeping all over her flesh as if her veins were on the outside. Not now. Please not now. The ancient whispers wouldn't shut up. Just when Magdalena thought she would implode or worse, Dr. Reed saved the say.
"That's enough!" the doctor cried. He buzzed in a nurse and a few orderlies. "Please give Miss St. Pierre a sedative. She's having another fit."
"We're not done here," Becky protested.
"Yes you are," Dr. Reed's furrowed brow only conveyed his descision to the disappointed detectives. "Please leave." Orderlies whizzed passed the put out detectives to hold down the wild Magdalena who watched after them. There was one voice in her head. It was familiar. It was him. He said something that made Magdalena's blood run cold, "It's in your blood. You can't escape this. You won't escape us."
Marshall managed to look back and notice Magdalena's eyes go black, as black as a puddle of ink but it was pure evil there in those little pools.
"She knows something," Becky muttered. "She's either involved or covering for someone. What do you think?"
Marshall was silent trying to work out what he saw.
"Dom," Becky tugged on Marshall's sleeve. "You with me?"
"Huh? Yeah there's... definitely something wrong here," he said cryptically.
"We'll keep digging," Becky assured him.
"Maybe I should come back tomorrow," Marshall suggested.
"You sure?" Becky sounded unsure. Hopes of repairing the apparent rift between them relied on staying together but Marshall's steadfast gaze told her that he wasn't bugding.
"Your ways are too... rough," Marshall tried to put it delicately. "I know her. St. Pierre responds better to light pressure."
"Isn't that how she fooled you before?" Becky asked somewhat acidly. Marshall's eyes became frosty, his whole body going rigid. Becky sighed, "Fine. I'll look into your old case file and see if I can find anything that can help us." Becky walked away leaving Marshall to follow behind, his mind returning to the case out of instinct.
* * * *
If you would like to know what happens next please comment below.
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