As Daniel A. Radcliff climbs out of the backseat of a police car, he tests the strength of the handcuffs holding his hands behind his back. His lawyer has already told him that he will likely be put into a straight jacket immediately upon entering Lakeview Home, and he does not intend to go without a fight. He watches his lawyer climb out of a separate car, the only other vehicle in the small parking lot, and when the lawyer meets his gaze, Daniel gives him a scathing look which plainly says, I’m going to kill you. He has the immense satisfaction of watching the lawyer go visibly pale, and he knows that this time, he will not be underestimated.
Daniel takes a deep breath, and then screams. “I’m not going back in there! I’m. Not. Crazy! I’m not! I’m NOT! I’m NOOOOOT!” He makes the last note a siren call and wishes that there was a tree nearby which birds could fly out of, startled, like in the movies. A tree would be better, he thinks: anything would be better than this.
The lawyer hastens over to where Daniel is standing, a Deputy Sherriff on either side. The lawyer’s palms are sweaty and raised helplessly toward his client. Sweat and empty promises: that is what Daniel always receives from this lawyer. He is an expensive attorney, and many of the men that Daniel met in prison assured him that he would get off. Daniel is a killer, convicted many times over, with a large enough inheritance to buy his way out of a prison cell and into a padded room. The inheritance is from Daniel’s parents, who he killed almost three years before.
“No one said you were crazy, Mr. Radcliff,” says the lawyer. Daniel is not looking at him when he says this; he is looking at the Deputy Sherriff on his right, a short, bald man with the beginnings of a potbelly who is rolling his eyes at his partner. Daniel A. Radcliff cannot decide whether he wants to kill the Deputy Sherriff or the lawyer first, but he does not move because he knows he is helpless with his hands behind his back. His hands are tingling; he is imagining what it would be like to wrap his hands around the Deputy Sherriff’s thick neck and squeeze. Or maybe he would dig his fingers into the man’s neck like a drill, until his artery burst; he wonders if he can puncture the skin.
There is a bright, painful sound that snaps through the otherwise still air. Daniel lithely turns his neck, ever the lion, and watches a nurse walk out of the starchy white building, a wheelchair in tow. Her white uniform glints unforgivably in the white sun, and Daniel eyes the wheelchair with disdain.
“Never said I was crazy? Are you crazy? Are you stupid? Are you blind? What about what you told the jury? What about that?” Daniel says all of this in a low, sharp voice to the lawyer, and he feels like cursing. He tests the handcuffs behind him again; there is so much rage boiling through his blood, and he needs to hit something, to cut, to bite, to make bleed. He considers slamming his body into the Deputy Sherriff, but knows that he, Daniel, would be the one to end up on the ground.
He directs his rage instead at the building, and the nurse walking toward him. He pours his anger into his glare and hopes that it causes her pain. What a stupid name, he thinks of the psychiatric institution. The four-storied building sits in the middle of a cornfield of a small town in Iowa, and there is no lake in sight. Daniel A. Radcliff mentally runs through all the different ways that he can burn Lakeview Home to the ground. I’ll kill them all and walk right back through the front doors, he thinks. The lawyer told him once that it would be safest to plead insanity; this is his lawyer’s fault. Daniel will kill the lawyer, in time. He is not crazy, not crazy, and he knows it.
A soft breeze stirs the stale air around them, but Daniel holds his breath against the fresh air. The aggravating bright voice of the nurse is carried toward him again; she is slowing down, stopping in front of him.
“Welcome to Lakeview Home!” says the nurse. She has brown hair that is braided carelessly down her back, and squinting brown eyes which remind Daniel of a mouse, and of his mother. He wonders, because she looks so similar, if the nurse would scream as loudly before her death as his mother had. He imagines holding her throat in his right hand, and using a pillow to smother her with his left. He wonders if she is weak like his mother had been, and how long she would struggle before her heart stops-
“-Checked in, and then we can meet your new roommate!” This is what the nurse is saying that draws Daniel back into the conversation like an electric shock. All of his money; the stupid, insipid lawyer with his judges and his ethics and his words; all of these things have not prepared him for this. They would dare give me a roommate? Daniel thinks this to himself, and it makes him laugh out loud. His laugh is maniacal and makes him sound crazed; it is the sole reason that his lawyer would not allow him to plead “Not guilty.” Even if Daniel A Radcliff had not been guilty of the thirteen murders he had committed in the last four years, he could convince no one of his innocence, with a laugh like that. Daniel knows that the roommate is doomed; he is already imagining the funeral of a stranger that will not survive the night.
The lawyer is ignoring Daniel’s laughter; he is indignant, enraged as only a well-paid lawyer can be. “Excuse me?” The lawyer says with great affront. His eyes are bulging with haughty incredulity. His whole body is poised, as if to attack, and it reeks of disdain. “My client will have a personal room.” The look of him at that exact moment makes him worth every penny that Daniel A. Radcliff has paid. Perhaps he will not kill the lawyer after all. In Daniel’s eyes, the lawyer has a great many flaws, is pathetic and sometimes weak- but that look of disgust for the nurse, for Lakeview Home, for the whole of the situation! If a picture is worth a thousand words, the real-life image of the lawyer’s wrath is priceless.
“Oh now, it won’t be so bad,” the nurse says placatingly. She is nervous; she is fighting the urge to wring her hands, he can tell. Lakeview Home is a private institution which prides itself on personal customer care; the nurse knows the difference between a mental patient and a customer. She does not know what to say, and so she tries to smile at Daniel, as if she is his friend. “Wouldn’t you like to meet some new friends?”
“You look like my mother,” is all Daniel says, and he laughs again. The nurse shrugs- she does not understand- and the vein in the lawyer’s forehead looks ready to burst. The Deputy Sheriffs fidget, finger their gun-less holsters. Neither man has ever met Daniel in person before, but they have read the stories in the newspapers. They know how Daniel suffocated his mother, and how the police found him trying to cut out his dead father’s heart with a knife. They were chosen specifically for this assignment; they are ready for anything.
The lawyer is huffily explaining to the nurse complicated legal obligations and financial arrangements. He is careful to make only subtle, borderline threats that will not get him in trouble with the Bar Association, or with the law. Daniel A. Radcliff loses interest in the conversation; he rattles the metal of the handcuffs again, and then looks meaningfully, almost longingly at the straight jacket that is sitting so unobtrusively in the wheelchair. He is intrigued, even excited to meet his new roommate, his next kill.
“Can’t we just get this over with?” Daniel says, and rattles the handcuffs again. His words are interrupting everyone, invading private thoughts and agendas. The Deputy Sheriffs look at the nurse and shrug; they are ready to assist her, and the taller, black-haired officer has even done this before.
“Now Mr. Radcliff,” the lawyer warns. “I would advise you to comply with all instructions.” He should not have to say it: Daniel A. Radcliff is by no means a child, but he wants to go on record before it is too late. Daniel does not respond to the lawyer, but looks meaningfully toward the straight jacket again, rattling his handcuffs.
Everyone is tense, but the switch goes according to plan. Daniel immediately tests the restraint system of the jacket; he complains it is too tight, that it is cutting off his circulation. The nurse loosens the jacket a very small amount; Daniel is testing it again, and thinking that it will be just loose enough. He will have to wait until he is alone, but he is fairly certain that, with a little effort, he will be able to break free.
The Deputy Sheriffs leave Daniel at the door, but he is never left alone. First there is paperwork, which one of his hands is freed to sign, and thumbprints must be taken, and a tour of the facilities, too. There is a small cafeteria on the first floor where everyone takes their meals, and a small lounge with couches where the residents can watch TV. The nurse is explaining these things, and the lawyer puts himself between her and Daniel, as if afraid that his client might suddenly burst from the straightjacket to attack. Daniel is intrigued by the lawyer’s fear; it reminds him of his father on the night that he died.
His father had screamed loud- louder than his mother, even. Such a weak man, and a fool if he thought he could buy Daniel’s love. “It’s not about the money!” Daniel had screamed this while he plunged the knife into his father’s chest for the first time, and then he had ripped the checkbook out of his father’s hand and thrown it across the floor. The knife was what he cared about now; how interesting that it could slip so easily through his father’s skin. “You’re not listening!” Daniel had screamed this and plunged the knife in again; he would still be screaming it when the police found him three hours later, plunging the knife deeper and deeper into the shreds of his father’s heart.
Daniel slips back into himself and out of thought and memory and dream with enough time to speak with the lawyer before he leaves. A private room will not be available for three days- this is what Daniel learns from his lawyer. There is an elderly man who will be moving out; his family is moving him into one of those low-cost retirement homes – not that it matters, the lawyer says. The lawyer is efficient: he answers questions that Daniel A. Radcliff has not yet asked. No, there really isn’t any way he could be moved sooner. Yes, there is still a place for all of Daniel’s things.
When the lawyer leaves, Daniel thinks about shouting “I’ll see you soon!” after him out the door. But he thinks the lawyer will be better off not knowing what is to come. The nurse, whose name is Nancy, takes Daniel to the cafeteria and feeds him, since he still cannot use his arms. They still do not trust him; Daniel is honored to be so revered.
After he has eaten, Nancy tries to introduce Daniel to another resident: a boy around his own age who stares forlornly out the window while the nurse tries to catch his attention. It is only after the nurse goes over to another resident who has peed himself that the boy looks over to Daniel, appraising him; Daniel does not like the way this other boy looks at him, and Daniel grins.
Daniel A. Radcliff’s grin is very much like that of the Cheshire Cat: knowingly cruel, smiling at your expense, and not for your own goodwill. His lawyer calls it a “psychotic” smile; the psycho-therapist had used the term “manic” at his trial. Daniel knows that his smile is part of the reason he is being put away: it scares people, he can see it in their faces when he looks at them. He sees it now, in the boy’s face, which is frozen with hesitancy; Daniel hopes the boy will see that he is not to be taken lightly, not to be befriended, trusted, engaged. The boy stares at Daniel for several long moments, and Daniel holds the smile in place as if posing for an artist.
“Your smile’s all red,” the boy says finally. “It makes me hurt, just to see it. It makes me wonder….” He pauses, lost in his own train of thought, and then shakes his head. “At least it isn’t white,” he says at last. “White is a terrible thing. You’ll see.”
Daniel is indignant at these remarks; he hopes this boy is his roommate, who he still intends to kill. If not, Daniel thinks, there will be a second killing tonight. The grin does not waver from his face, but a blur rushes past the table and steals away his thoughts. All Daniel has time to see is the shocking blue of her eyes, and then without a word, the boy gets up from the table and runs after her; Daniel is not sad to see him go.
Several hours later, Daniel has feigned sufficient exhaustion to be led by a new nurse, a wiry old man named Peter, at long last up to his room. The elevator ride is maddening; he is on the third floor, but the elevator moves slowly and by the time the ride is over, Daniel is nearly blind with rage. The elevator is small and there is a lingering smell of body odor, which might be from the nurse. Daniel tells Peter that he would smell better if he were dead, and though Peter says nothing in response, he does turn a sickening, pasty white.
Peter leads Daniel down a long, windowless hall with closed doors and open doors and bright white walls. When he finally stops, it is in front of a door marked “23B”, and there is a plate of uneaten food next to the door. Peter motions for Daniel to be quiet: “Jeremiah will probably be asleep by now,” he whispers cautiously. “We have to be quiet.” Peter also removes the straight jacket, freeing Daniel’s hands to use the restroom, brush his teeth, and change into a pair of cotton shorts and t-shirt before bed. Daniel is careful, obedient while Peter watches him, and when they enter the room, he does his best to make no noise.
But to Daniel’s dismay, Peter does not leave the room once Daniel has settled onto his bed; he pulls up a chair, seemingly out of nowhere, and settles in with an apologetic smile. “Just want to make sure the first night goes well,” he whispers to Daniel. It takes everything Daniel has not to lunge at him, right there. Slowly, Daniel A. Radcliff lowers himself onto his pillow; he lies there, seething with anger, and stares at the white ceiling, the white walls. He imagines what it would be like to paint the walls red.
Daniel is unnerved by the fact that Peter, even knowing of the bad things that Daniel has done, chooses to set his chair closer to Daniel than to the sleeping boy. Daniel also notices that Peter does not turn his back to the boy, not even at an angle, not even slightly. Daniel knows fear well, and he recognizes it in the male nurse. This thought keeps him awake long into the night, but he pretends to be asleep.
It is late when Daniel stirs, awakens; he had unwittingly drifted off to sleep. Raising his head, he sees that the nurse is no longer there. The timing is perfect, the entire place is silent, and Daniel is careful as he climbs out of bed. Once he is barefoot on the cold floor, he stands completely still and listens intently, studying the breathing of the boy across the room. Flat and even; perfect, for what Daniel has in mind. He moves his left leg forward, tests his weight, studies the sound that the floor makes. Silence. Daniel puts one foot in front of the other, silently creeping across the room.
The boy’s eyes are wide and staring; Daniel is startled when he realizes it. He quickly draws his hand around the boy’s throat, before he has time to move. The boy doesn’t make a sound; he lies completely still and stares into Daniel’s eyes with a solemn gaze. Daniel tightens his hold around the boy’s throat, squeezing enough that the boy’s face starts to turn red. And still, the boy does not make a sound. Daniel squeezes harder; the boy’s face turns bluer, and he continues to stare directly up at Daniel, his face an emotionless mask.
It is too disconcerting: Daniel draws his hand away. He is breathing heavily, almost without realizing it, and he finds that he cannot move his legs, cannot retreat to the safety of his own bed. Daniel A. Radcliff is a killer, convicted many times over, and this boy acts as though he is meant to die.
Reaching out again, Daniel touches the soft skin of the boy’s neck; the boy does not move: he lets Daniel grasp him, waits patiently for Daniel to squeeze. Daniel wants to- he wants to kill this boy, who is so obviously willing to die, but Daniel feels as though everything has been strangely suspended, and for the first time in his life, Daniel questions what he feels.
“Once upon a time there was a boy,” the boy in the bed whispers softly. “And the boy had parents, and the boy’s parents were afraid. They sent the boy away, sent him off alone, and then when they were less afraid, they took him back. Once upon a time, there was a boy, and he was insane, and lost, but no one knew it. And no one could help him, and he didn’t understand how to control his own rage.”
Daniel’s hand squeezes quickly, almost reflexively. He can barely breathe and it seems only fair that the boy stop breathing too. The boy’s face turns red again, then blue; he is on the brink of death when Daniel wretches his hand away. The boy still does not move; Daniel doesn’t even think that the boy blinks. He is shaking, Daniel is shaking, and he is the only one in the world who can move.
A second, five minutes, an eternity passes, and finally the boy speaks again. “Once upon a time, there was a boy, and he hated it here. But it was only here that he was safe. And he said this was his prison, but it was his sanctuary. He was safe here, and he could rest.” Finally, the boy moves; his neck slides away from Daniel’s still-outstretched hand, and the boy turns calmly to face the wall.
Daniel is still shaking, and his legs still cannot move. His hand is reaching, grasping only air; he feels suddenly, strangely empty as his thoughts, his mind begins to slip away. Daniel A. Radcliff tries to breathe, but the air escapes his lungs as easily as it escapes his hand. Daniel opens his mouth, and he screams.
