Deadly Treatment (18 page)

S
hannon woke up early and felt like hell. She’d had a fitful sleep with dreams and nightmares flooding her mind throughout the night; it had been exhausting. As she lay in bed and sparked up a cigarette, her thoughts started to play back the moment she’d first found out about DC.

‘It’s okay, you’re fine.’ The nurse was standing over her, holding her hand.

She was shaking violently and covered in sweat. ‘Where am I? What’s happening to me?’ Shannon asked, her voice trembling.

‘You’re safe; you’re in a hospital,’ the nurse comforted.

‘Hospital? What do you mean hospital? Why am I here? What are you doing to me?’

‘It’s alright … calm down. You’ve overdosed, but we’re going get you through this. I’m right here for you.’

‘Where’s DC? I want to see DC!’ She was raising her voice between shakes.

‘DC?’ The nurse asked.

‘Daniel, my husband, Daniel. Where is he?’

‘I’m sorry,’ the nurse answered solemnly, ‘he wasn’t as lucky as you two. I’m afraid he’s dead.’

‘Dead? He, he can’t be.’ Shannon was beginning to cry uncontrollably.

The nurse gripped her hand tightly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated as she let her sob. Slowly the crying began to ease.

‘Two?’ Shannon asked.

‘What?’ the nurse asked.

‘You, you said two.’ Shannon said again.

‘Oh — I thought you knew… You’re pregnant.’

The whole medical team at San Francisco Memorial Hospital had been amazing. They’d managed to bring her and her baby back from the brink of death, stabilized her, and then recommended she be transferred to a rehabilitation clinic and put into a methadone program. Later, she was moved on to a woman’s refuge institute in Belmont, South San Francisco. With such a traumatic start to its life, the baby had been regularly monitored and tested throughout the pregnancy, and seven months later, against less than favorable odds, a slightly premature but healthy boy was born. He was immediately named Daniel.

Shannon knew she wasn’t going to get back to sleep so she got up and shuffled towards the bathroom; she stopped to look in on Daniel, who to her surprise, was already awake.

‘Can’t sleep either?’ she asked him.

He smiled and shook his head.

‘You put the coffee on while I go and freshen up.’

Daniel jumped out of bed and stepped over to the kitchen while Shannon continued on to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, carrying a freshly brewed cup of coffee and a cigarette, she joined Daniel in the living room so they could continue their chat.

‘Where is DC now?’ Daniel asked.

‘He’s not with us anymore,’ Shannon replied sadly.

Shocked, all Daniel could say was, ‘What happened?’

Shannon looked down at her coffee as she thought back.

In less than a year, her life had changed dramatically. She’d gone from living a relatively lavish lifestyle of fine dining, expensive clothes, and first-class travel and accommodation to living in a hostel and rearing a child — alone. There was only one person she blamed for her reduced state, one person who had made her life crumble all around her — Old fucking Ginger.

She thought back to the night he’d burst into their home. The triumphant look on his face as he explained how he’d fooled them into believing he was a weak and easy prey. How easy it had been to follow them. Then his look had turned to anger. ‘Not only did you take money from me once, but then you came back for more. Thought you were pretty clever with the Gingerbread house drop-off point too, didn’t you?’ His face was so close to theirs as he spoke, his spit made them blink. ‘Trying to ruin my life — and all for what? Just to get fucking high. Well, I’ll tell you what — you want to get high, then let’s get you high.’ He nodded over to his friend who had found their stash of drugs.

DC started to speak, ‘We didn’t mean anything by…’

‘Shut it!’ Ginger screamed. ‘Your time for speaking is over.’ DC tried to get up, but the man with the black evil eyes pinned him down with his knee as he prepared the needle. Fear filled Shannon; her whole body went weak as she watched the man grab DC’s arm near the bicep. His vice-like grip making the veins in DC’s arm jump out to meet the needle that he held in his other hand. Unable to look away, she stared helplessly as he jabbed the needle into DC’s arm and discharged the entire contents. Instantly, DC’s eyes dilated, and then rolled back. Both men then turned their attention on her.

Maybe they used too much of the smack on DC, maybe they didn’t hit the right vein, or maybe the ambulance got there too fast — whatever the reason was, she’d survived. Then — as she thought of all that old Ginger had taken from her — all she wanted was revenge.

‘Are you okay?’ Daniel asked bringing her back to Vegas.

‘Yeah,’ she smiled. ‘What did you ask me again?’

‘I asked you what happened to DC.’

Shannon paused a beat and then said, ‘A man with evil eyes took him from me.’

‘Evil eyes? A man with evil eyes took him?’ Daniel repeated as he thought back to what the school principal in San Francisco had said.

Shannon nodded her head.

‘He came to the orphanage! He tried to take me,’ Daniel blurted out.

‘How did you… Who told you that?’ Shannon snapped, shocked that Daniel knew about him.

Daniel recoiled, ‘The Director of Schools told me about him a few days ago. Who is he?’

‘He’s not important. He was just a guy doing a job for someone even worse than him.’

Shaking, Shannon stood up and went to the bathroom to collect herself. Standing in front of the mirror, images of what she’d done to Ginger filled her mind.

Over the first few months following the birth of her son, her mood swings had increased. Daniel filled her with joy, but because he reminded her so much of his father, DC, he also plunged her into fits of depression. The drab-colored walls and disjointed furnishings of the hostel were a constant and stark reminder of what her life had become and how much she hated it. The only thing that was guaranteed to put a smile on her face — however sadistic — was when she thought of the things she wanted to do to Old Ginger.

Baby Daniel had been up all night crying again and she had no idea why. Diaper was clean, he’d been fed, burped, and watered; he wasn’t too hot or too cold — she was at a loss. Tired, depressed, and at her wit’s end — Shannon began to cry too.

‘Are you okay?’ Jackie, a neighbor from a room across the hall had poked her head around the door.

‘I just can’t take it anymore,’ she said as she dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.

‘Do you mind?’ Jackie asked as she picked Daniel up in her arms and walked around the room. Daniel’s crying quieted and then stopped.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Jackie asked as she continued to step and bounce, step and bounce.

Shannon took a moment to settle herself before offloading some of her frustrations. When she finished, Jackie spoke.

‘Wow, I didn’t know you were holding in so much —you poor thing.’ With Daniel pacified and sleeping peacefully, Jackie and Shannon continued to talk. At the end of the conversation, Jackie made a suggestion that left Shannon lost in thought.

‘A while back, I had a friend who was going through similar struggles to what you are now, particularly when it came to bringing up her child. She had no support network, and just wasn’t mentally ready; she’d get more and more annoyed at her child, resenting it for — how did she put it… ruining her life. Anyway, she found out about a place in the city — a place that took in kids with no questions asked.’

‘Oh, I could never,’ Shannon quickly said.

‘I’m not saying you could, or would. I’m just saying that regardless of how you feel, you still have control of your life — you still have choices.’

They finished talking, and Jackie left the room.

Days turned into weeks and weeks slipped into mundane months; Shannon couldn’t stop thinking about what Jackie had said. Even the fun they had at Daniel’s first birthday party with the cakes, streamers, and happy poses for photos did little to quell the feeling that without him she would be able to get on with her life. The very next day, she went to talk to Jackie and tell her of her plan.

With Daniel safely housed in the orphanage, the first thing Shannon wanted to do with her new-found freedom was ruin the life of someone else – namely, Old Ginger. Exactly what she wanted to do to this man was deeply ingrained in her mind; after all, there had been times over the past eighteen months when she’d thought of little else. With this as her goal, she packed her few meager belongings and moved to a tiny bedsit in the city.

Minimum wage work was, of course, easy to find; getting into the
right
minimum wage job was slightly harder. Shannon hated cleaning at the best of times, and to clean up other people’s mess in a low-paying job was borderline ridiculous. But it was all part of the plan, the plan to get as close as she could to Old Ginger without him knowing until it was too late.

His office was a lot different than what she’d expected; it was modern and minimalist, quite impressive in fact rather than grotesquely large and ostentatious. She moved around the office with what looked like a rocket pack on her back, vacuuming under
low, leather, European couches and around the frosted-glass-topped desk. When she was sure her work colleagues were out of the immediate area, she started to snoop around. She was looking for one thing in particular — his personal diary with all his daily and weekly appointments and schedules — and with luck, his home address.

Working as many hours as she could, and living frugally — even on a minimum wage, she managed to accumulate a fair amount of cash, and soon it was time to move on to the next stage. She hired a car from a small independent agency and drove to Ginger’s house for a basic recon mission. As she expected, the house was impressive. Not mansion-size huge, but certainly large enough to warrant a second look by anyone passing by. A short bush-lined drive led to a double garage that Shannon assumed had an automatic opener. She drove past twice as she let a plan form in her mind; it was basic and simple, but she wasn’t planning on taking this up as a career, so it would do. Then, it was off to the local Mall to pick up supplies. With everything she needed safely stored in the trunk of her rental car and the sun beginning to set, she took a slow drive back to Old Ginger’s house.

Not sure of when he was due to return, she emptied the equipment from the trunk and relocated it to the passenger side foot-well. Happy that all she needed was close at hand, she reclined the seat back slightly and poured herself a coffee from a newly purchased flask before she unwrapped a chicken sub sandwich she’d picked up on the way. Time ticked by slowly, but she didn’t care; this moment had been a long time coming; there was no need to rush it; she wanted to enjoy the journey as well as the main event. Slowly and methodically she changed into the new dark clothes she’d bought: black running shoes, pants, and a sweater all topped off with a ski mask that she left rolled up on her head like a hat. Each article increased her heart rate and released tiny amounts of adrenaline into her blood stream — she felt good.

It was just after one A.M. when the lights of Ginger’s Cadillac filled her rear window and then turned into his driveway. She responded instantly, pulling the ski mask down over her face, grabbing her bag of tricks off the seat, and rapidly leaving the car. Ginger’s Cadillac drove slowly towards the garage and the door burst awake from its slumber, its mouth yawning open before the lights inside flicked on. Shannon crept up behind the car, slipping unseen between the hedges, closer and closer to the garage entrance. With the door fully open, Ginger drove his car inside and put his car into park As the door changed direction and began to close, Shannon crouched down and snuck up to the car’s trunk, unzipped her bag and pulled out the crowbar. She waited for Ginger to exit the car and walk towards the internal door before she struck. More by luck than judgment, she hit Ginger with the perfect amount of force — enough to knock him to the ground and daze him, but not enough to render him unconscious or dead. From her pack, she pulled out a roll of duct tape and a rope. Quickly, she turned him on his side and secured his arms, then tore off a strip of tape and covered his mouth. Ginger looked like he was starting to focus, so Shannon swung the bar and connected with his right knee, smashing the bone. Ginger’s eyes flew open wide and his face contorted; she knew he was screaming in pain as she smiled happily then smashed the bar down on his other knee. Ginger was writhing in pain, but unable to go anywhere, she then moved her attention onto his arms. With all limbs broken, she bent down to his face.