Page 55 of Our Sadie
Yet, it’s not robbers or even vandals eager to damage private property. It’s Sadie.
And she’s ripping all those Christmas decorations down.
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JEROME, DOM, AND I screech to a halt to scan the utter devastation. It’s so bad a tornado might’ve roared through here. Worse, Sadie is continuing to wreak havoc by dragging her arm through the most visible limbs of the first-floor tree as if trying to tear all the needles off with her bare hands.
It’s amazing what she can do considering only one of those hands is even functional.
When the violence of her motions causes an ornament to jiggle free above her and crash onto her skull, we all surge toward her. Crimson dribbles from the wound and down her forehead, and the sight of her blood spurs me into action. I grasp her waist and tug her backwards even as she fights me, kicking and screaming. Dom and Jerome leap into the fray, and it takes all three of us to subdue her.
She flings herself around so furiously that she scratches Jerome’s chin, bruises Dom’s shoulder, and connects her foot to my shin hard enough that I tumble onto my side. I don’t let go of her, though.
None of us do.
“Get away from me,” she screeches at the top of her lungs, her nostrils flared, and her pupils constricted to miniature points. Her frame is trembling from top to bottom not in terror but from anger. This is an example of pure rage. “No! Get away from me. It has to come down. It has to come down now.”
Thank God for Maxine. Because it’s her presence that finally does the trick. And she does it without laying a finger on her.
“You will cease this nonsense this very instant,” the house manager tells Sadie with a terseness I’m afraid might set her off again, but it doesn’t.
“I can’t look at it... I can’t... It has to come down. It has to.”
“Sadie Caroline, look at me,” Maxine orders her, and I’m so grateful when Sadie actually does it. “This ends right here and right now. Do you understand?”
That’s when Sadie releases a howling cry so loud that I’m surprised more ornaments don’t disintegrate right where they hang. It goes on and on, and by the time it stops, our client is face down on the carpet. At Maxine’s fierce gesturing to back off, we do, giving Sadie some time and space to breathe.
She speaks to Sadie in low tones, turning her over and soothing her by pushing her bangs back from her temples. They both remain on the floor, and I don’t know what to do. The house manager’s form is blocking me from seeing Sadie’s face, but blood is oozing onto the neckline of her nightgown, creating an ever-growing stain.
Are we going to have to call an ambulance? Does Sadie need to go to the hospital?
My heart is pounding through my veins so hard I swear everyone must be able to hear it, yet something I can’t hear is whatever Sadie says to Maxine.
“Well, it’d be better for you to tell them that, don’t you think?” the house manager responds.
When Maxine shifts, Sadie glances past her and over to us, streaks of blood spiderwebbing down from above her hairline and into her right eye. The contrast of all that bright red against her pale, pale skin makes the effect even more terrifying. It reminds me of a scene from a medical show. Or maybe even a slasher flick.
Fucking hell.
“I’m sorry,” Sadie whispers, barely audible. “I’m not normally like this.”
“Zachary,” Maxine’s mention of my name is as crisp and businesslike as always. “Do be helpful and fetch a first aid kit for me? The best outfitted one is beneath the kitchen sink.”
I zip there and back as fast as I can, assisting the house manager like a nurse might a doctor. Soon, Sadie’s cleaned up, and though the cut she suffered was only a half-inch long, it bleeds like a wound three times that size.
I glimpse over at Dom and Jerome, both of whom have blanched. I probably have, too.
“The skin of the scalp always bleeds a great deal,” Maxine tells no one in particular before propelling Sadie into a standing position. “Up you get.”
Ushering her toward the stairs, the house manager sets a foot on that first tread and beckons to us from behind Sadie’s back.
We obediently follow in their wake.
Situating Sadie back between her sheets, Maxine sits beside her on the mattress.
“It’d be best if someone stays with her. I rather not leave her to her own devices. I’ll take the first watch. Will one of you take the next one?”
We all speak up in stereo, each saying the same thing.