Sin (41 page)

His face was alight with
excitement and the thrill of what he was telling me. I shouldn't
have been surprised that a lunatic was in charge of the asylum, but
I had to admit I was. This was all about fame and money. His grand
scheme, his murders and manipulations were all down to celebrity.
How sad. How... anticlimactic.

"Money?" I asked. "This was down
to money?"

"Sin," he said with what sounded
like a cackle. If he'd have been green he would have been the evil
brother of the Wicked Witch of the East. "How can you make this so
simplistic? How can you make it sound so inane? Money? Is that what
you think?" I nodded. I didn't think it was that at all. It was
greed, but not just financial. "Well," he continued, "perhaps at
first. And reputation. I was getting nowhere. My dream of being
renowned was simply that, a dream. I wanted more. I wanted
prominence. Notoriety even. But then you came along. Your sister
helped. She made people like me, listen to me, but it wasn't
enough. You took it further. Made it possible. It's all thanks to
you."

My sister again. He was throwing
her into his discourse as if she were a piece of flotsam to be
tossed overboard, ignorant of how this would, and did, make me
feel. I didn't even know Joy played any part in this, and now I was
discovering she had taken my place before I knew such a place
existed. He wasn't slowing enough for me to ask, and besides, he
was in mid flow. As much as I needed to know my sister's
involvement, I still needed him to carry on. Which he did.

"You, my boy, made people
need
me. When people didn't come to me, I went out to find
them. I'd never been in a public house in my life, but needs must,
and the clientele was perfect. The right mix of the desperate and
the despised. The supermarket. The back streets of Riby Square,
where the prostitutes would try to force themselves on me night
after night. Oh, Sin. The things I had to endure! I still feel
unclean. A needle in the neck, or a drug in the drink, and then you
would do what you did so well. And there'd be one more patient to
tend to. We're on the verge of being the biggest mental home in the
country. If we keep this up, it will be the world. Eventually, Sin,
with your help, it literally will be the world! I've only used you
on a maximum of five people at a time. More would be too noticable.
But who knows what you can do? Who knows the real extent of your
power? The right push from me, and you could even turn the whole
planet into one big asylum! Think of it, Sin. Think of it. The
whole world one big slobbering mess, with only me to help them all.
Well, apart, I suppose, from a select few. I'd need some support
from staff, I suppose. But you'd keep them in line for me, of
course. But best to stay small for now. Build things up slowly, eh?
There's plenty of time for the rest."

Stunned. How else can I describe
how I felt? He wanted to make everyone in the world mad. He wanted
to be psychiatrist to billions. I didn't know what to say. All of
the despots in all of the Bond films paled into insignificance next
to Dr. Connors. His was a vision of gargantuan proportions. The
thing was, I didn't know what I could do. What if he was right?
What if I could cause everyone on Earth to suddenly become a
variation of my friend Bender Benny? It sounded preposterous, but
so did teleportation and causing a bus to drive into a post
office.

I just didn't know.

But what about Joy?

"What about Joy?" I had to ask.
I had to know. "What did you do to her?"

"I didn't, Sin." He wasn't
laughing. He wasn't smiling. He was no longer pacing or tapping. He
was standing, facing me. "You did."

"Me?" I was hoarse. My throat
probably constricted, my eyes probably wide, I didn't know. I
wasn't me anymore. I felt apart from myself, as if I couldn't bear
to be a part of what he was going to tell me.

"Yes, Sin. Don't you remember? I
can't have two of you here. That's far too dangerous, even for me.
You were more use than she. Your sister had served her
purpose."

"So you killed her?"

He smiled then. "No, Sin. You
did."

I jumped up from my seat,
pushing it backwards against the wall, moving to climb over the
desk to grab him, but he was faster. His hand was on Caroline's
throat, a syringe in his other, needle to her neck.

"I wouldn't."

I stopped. My heart was beating
in my head. I could hear it in my ears.

He was looking at me, a Cheshire
cat smile.

"Saying that," he said, and his
thumb moved to push the plunger in.

My hand went up, my mouth
uttering... something. Caroline was no longer sprawled in the chair
asleep. She was gone. The syringe fell to the seat and rolled onto
the floor. Connors gasped, then smiled again. He stood up.

"Where is she?"

I shook my head. I couldn't
speak. I knew, but I wasn't going to tell him, and I didn't trust
myself as to what I might say. Caroline was fine. She was miles
away, in bed. My bed at my parents house. She was safe. She'd wake
up in the morning and remember none of what had happened. Jersey,
Connors, the institute would be a half remembered nightmare. The
fact that she didn't know who's house she was in, nor how she had
got there, nor the past few months of her life wouldn't matter. Her
eyes would open and she would just be.

Connors bent and picked up the
syringe off the floor. It was still full. He looked at me and shook
his own head.

"Oh, Sin," he said sadly. "We
could do so much."

He was faster than me, I knew.
I'd seen. But as he leapt for the table at me, my eyes flicked to
the paperweight. It was empty. In my clenched fist, I felt
something familiar. Something comfortable. Round. Metal. Warm. His
eyes followed mine and widened as he saw the same vacant space in
the crystal cube. When he looked back at me the two pence coin was
already curving through the air. I caught in the same instant his
hand grabbed my throat and his needle touched my neck.

Re-using a hypodermic. Didn't he
know the risks?

"I wouldn't," he whispered.

But it was already too late.

Because I had.

Because I could.

Thanks to him.

* * * *

"I didn't want to be picking up
the pieces, Sin. I wanted to make sure there were no pieces to pick
up."

She stood in Dr. Connors' office
in front of his computer, she stared at it for a long moment. Her
name, in capitals was still on the screen.

JOY.

She clicked off the monitor and
walked around the desk, although she could quite easily have walked
through it. She liked to at least pretend to be normal.

She looked down at the floor,
then bent down to where the two pence coin had rolled and come to
rest.

Sin's sister straightened and
held out her hand. A tear fell as her thumb slid under the coin and
flicked.

Flip.

And...

Catch.

###

About the Author:

A writer of many prize winning
short stories and poems, Shaun Allan has written for more years
than he would perhaps care to remember. Having once run an online
poetry and prose magazine, he has appeared on Sky television to
debate, against a major literary agent, the pros and cons of
internet publishing as opposed to the more traditional method. Many
of his personal experiences and memories are woven into Sin’s point
of view and sense of humour although he can’t, at this point,
teleport.

Read other works by Shaun at
Smashwords.com:

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/singularity

Sin
has a blog, detailing
his experiences and thoughts whilst in the mental asylum and the
people and patients he meets there, at
http://singularityspoint.blogspot.com