When Fear Has Taken Me.

Detective Gales lit a cigarette and fussed with his greasy hair just as Dr. Rangour sat down. He cleared his throst before he began the interview. "Dr. Rangour, please state your name for the record." He placed the small recording device on the battered wooden desk, waited for Dr. Rangour's nod of approval, then clicked the record button. He knew this would be an interesting add-on to the case he was working on. He knew it would be a gruesome thing to hear.

"I am Dr. Rangour of 6437 Walden Place, in Salem, Massachusetts. I care for the psychiatric and physical care of Raye Boleyn Faith Ward, and I work at The Home for the Mentally Ill," She spoke clearly into the microphone of the recorder. 

"Now, if you don't mind, let's start from the top. Tell me everything you know about Raye." He had a notepad out in front of him, prepared to take notes as the good doctor told him about Raye Ward: his main blind spot in this whole investigation.

The doctor sighed, then began her long gruesome monolouge that detailed everything she knew about Raye. 

"She grew up not knowing who she was or who she was supposed to be. Raye's parents had given her to a foster home at the age of two, and they had never sought her out. Of course, she hadn't sought them out either, but she didn't want to know them, they were the ones who left her. Maybe that's why she is where she is today: The Home for the Mentally Ill." She stopped to take a breather, she hated having to share this information, but Raye had consented to it. Maybe she wants people to know why she did what she did, does what she does. The doctor thought quietly for another moment, then continued. Gales took a long drag on his cigarette then put it in its place-holder in the ashtray. 

"Some people grew up knowing where they wanted to be, others had to find out what they wanted by trial-and-error, and others just never gave a shit. Raye is in that last category. One too many pushes and she had fallen over her edge. Three people were put in intensive care, five in another psych ward, and two were killed because Raye had snapped. Now, everyone knew who was on top, and everyone fears her. It isn't the kind of fear in grade school people may experience, the fear of some bully taking your lunch money. It's the kind of fear that makes people avoid her at all costs; go up twelve flights of stairs not to be in the same elevator as her, actually leaving the lunchroom when she enters, not just leaving the table at which they sat at. 

"She knew she had chosen this life for herself because no one else would. She knows why she's in the Home, and she refuses to change her ways. She, mentally, sees nothing wrong with her actions, and, as most mentally ill patients, she refuses therapy," She stopped. She needed another breather because she got so heated about parts of some of her cases. There was no section of Raye's background or present psych evaluation that could be told to a stranger and be widely accepted, but Dr. Rangour still believed in Raye and at moments like these, she sought to protect her patients. Gales scribbled notes on his pad that Rangour couldn't see.

He looked up at the doctor. "Take your time, doctor. Do you need a glass of water?" Gales became antsy when Rangour's face began to pale. He had dropped his pen and gotten up to get her something to calm herself. She shook her head, straightened herself, and proceeded with her story as she fidgeted with her fingers.

"It was only recently found out that three of her previous foster fathers had raped her, and all three are in your custody, as you have shown me previously," She said coolly. Detective Gales gave a sharp nod, signalling her to continue. "All three, before the light of recent events, went into private protections, and were otherwise "off-the-grid". One mention of Raye, and they'll all cower. Do you want to know why?" She asked him, a horrid look crossed his face as he nodded slowly. "They all knew each other, worked together, and they passed her around like a damn joint. Raye told me once that "they know I'll come for them". She threatened them, and then, supposedly, from your other resources, carved the word "rapist" on their thighs." And this hasn't even begun yet.  She thought with dread. Detective Gales nearly dropped his cigarette. What kind of case did I pick?He picked the cigarette up out of its holder and took another long drag before replacing it.

Rangour pushed her personal feelings aside. "The first foster home she was raped at was Mr. Smith's, that was in 2006. She was nine years old. She stayed for a year, then went to Mr. Derk's; she was raped again at eleven. She stayed two years there, then went to Mr. Claude's; she was raped, finally, at fourteen. A year later, she was in my care at the Home." Her last sentence was a matter-of-fact statement, but inside, her heart broke for Raye. This was the first time Raye had consented to something this, and it felt awkward reliving things as if she were Raye.

Dr. Rangour had a good life, she had an amazing husband, and two little twin girls that had her brown hair and blue eyes. She couldn't bare the thought of leaving them or of one of her little girls to be defiled in such a way. That was the most accurate word she had ever thought of that described Raye: defiled. Broken. Shattered. Maimed. Scarred. Tainted. Defiled matched them all equally, and out-ranked them in many ways. Broken implied that something could be fixed. Shattered meant something was irreparable. Maimed implied great pain, deep scars and slow healing. Scarred meant that that something had been fixed. Tainted meant she was only filled with darkness, but Dr. Rangour had seen otherwise; she knew she was one of the few who had seen the light in this girl. But defiled, it meant that something was wrong, that it was forever in a broken state, that it was corrupted in some way, that it was, to a point, unclean. Raye was defiled, and possibly all of the other things Dr. Rangour had thought of before. There was never a perfect word to describe a case. 

The silence that enveloped the small office was screaming with stories, and it was crying to be set free. Detective Gales mentally collected himself, which took several minutes, before he could ask the next question. He adjusted his black tie when he asked, "What else do you know about Raye?" 

"I know that she is hated by many of the outside world. I know that the previous accident, with the three in ICU, five in another psych and the two deaths, were sabotaged, that Raye is being framed for this. I know she didn't do any of that, that she isn't responsible for what happened. I know that Raye has never killed before, and I know that she wouldn't, despite her contradictory evaulations. I know that she is in isolation, until this whole ordeal blows over, and she will remain so unless I have a court order in my hand. I also know that you have three suspects in the next room. I know they are all powerful. I know they have hurt Raye and some may want her dead. And I also know who did it." 

The Detective clicked off the record button. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Rangour."

****

Raye knew where Dr. Rangour was. She knew she was off with the detective who was investigating her case. She knew that the doctor was telling her story. Raye had consented to it. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, wrapped  her arms around them and clenched her hands into fists until she was white-knuckled. Her dark brown hair hung in her pale face. Help me, help me figure this out, Doctor. Raye knew Dr. Rangour was the only one smart enough to help her, to solve this madness, to fix the problems that lie ahead. Her last thought before she closed her ever-green eyes was: Maybe she can fix me.. Then darkness took her.