The Doll And The Puppet

THE SUN WAS OUT AND yet the sky cried. The rain had settled to a soft mist by the time Venetia reached the grave. A single bouquet of red roses was laid at the base of the fresh headstone in Havencrest Cemetery, dampened by the lingering rain. On the stone it read ‘In Loving Memory Of Hugh Sampson’. She never met the man, but had the pleasure of reading some of his work. He was a genius when it came to studying the human mind, and she'd have loved to have sat down and talked to him. Maybe in another life.

Hearing the loud mush of footsteps on wet grass she turned her head slightly in time to see a man dressed in an all black suit walk up towards her and paused a few feet besides her. His umbrella was also black, almost as if he were attending a funeral. But then again they were at a graveyard. When you went to a cemetery you were there to show some respect, spit on someone's grave, or a combination of both.

“A graveyard and soft rain to set the mood? You really know how to treat a girl, Winston,” she smiled at her old friend, twirling her white lace umbrella as she observed him. He cracked a smile at her words, wrinkles under his light brown eyes showing.

They both glanced ahead at the headstone in front of them and Winston released a sigh.

“It's a tragedy he died. He tripped and fell down a set of stairs, hitting his head and was bleeding out on the floor. Unfortunately Hugh wasn't discovered until it was too late. The coroners say he also suffered from internal blood loss. We lost a great doctor,” he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a rose. He bent over and placed the flower down in addition to the other roses.

“I agree,” Venetia said, adjusting her hold on her umbrella as she observed his face. “Why'd you ask me to meet you here?” she questioned him. She didn't mean to be a mood killer but she was quite curious. It wasn't everyday she was invited to meet someone at a grave. Winston observed her brown eyes, giving her a sheepish smile before clearing his throat.

“Cordell Westwood asked if I'd come in person to offer you a job as one of the psychiatrists at Westwood Penitentiary,” he said and she couldn't help but release a scoff followed by an awkward laugh.

“You brought me here to offer me Doctor Sampson’s job? Isn't that kind of pissing on his grave?” she asked. She was flattered but felt uneasy. How had she even fallen under Cordell Westwood’s radar? He ran one of the most well known asylums known. A lot of his patients received excellent help and rehabilitation.

Winston released a chuckle in response. The cool air around Venetia caused a shiver to run down her spine.

“It's in honoring his memory that you've been requested to be hired in his place. You were always top of your class, you're bright and ambitious, and no one's won as many awards for their college essays as you've had. This job will boost your career tremendously, Venetia. Plus they really need you. That much I can tell,” Winston told her, and she twirled her umbrella in-between her fingers for a second. Leaves rustled along the ground as they spoke.

“I mean who wouldn't want to work in a penitentiary for the criminally insane. All the interesting minds to study,” she said sarcastically, staring out at the graveyards for a moment. With her free hand she ran her hand down the side of her blue plaid dress, her fingertips shaking slightly.

Winston rested a hand comfortingly on her shoulder.

“Your students don't need you as much as they did when you first met them. You can move on from them onto others who also need your help,” he said, and she nodded her head knowing he had a point.

She worked as a guidance counselor for a high school, taking a break from the hospital she used to work at, and it was one of the best decisions she ever made. Venetia couldn't imagine leaving her students.

“If I were to say yes what would happen?” That was the most important thing she needed to know.

“He honestly didn't give me a start date but he wants all your information soon, and for you to travel down,” he said and Venetia gave him a look. She was just supposed to take his word for it? She needed more than that.

“I want him to contact me personally and tell me. Why'd he send you? You're not exactly a therapist,” Venetia giggled. Winston was an ex general surgeon.

“Gwendolyn mentioned you to him. She was supposed to come but was too busy, so she asked me to come and tell you, so here I am,” he said, referencing his daughter, her best friend. Because of the distance between them Venetia hadn't been able to visit her much, but she missed her with her whole being.

“Just think about it. I gave him your email so he should've sent you some documents to fill out if you are interested in the position. I think it'll do you some good, and you'll be closer to Gwen,” he said but as she held his gaze there was no light in his eyes. It chilled her.

“Moments like these are why my few friends wondered why I wanted to major in psychology,” she chuckled, running a hand through her hair.

“You are great at what you do. This job will be perfect for you,” he said and she nodded. She knew she could do the job, but hoped it was truly in her best interest. She was at a stage in her life where she needed to make long term friends and relationships, or she'd end up alone.

Or maybe life would wait for her to truly find herself first.

“I'll keep in contact with you about what I'll do. For now I have other stuff to do today,” Venetia said, patting him on the back and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He gave her a loving smile, but there was sadness in his eyes. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but also didn't feel like carrying on a conversation she wasn't in the mood to keep.

“Love you. See you soon ,” she told him, twirling her umbrella as she turned on her heels and began to walk to the exit of the cemetery. Mud collected on the bottom of her Mary Janes but she didn't give it another thought.

“Love you too,” his voice called out to her hauntingly, and she took one last glance at him. He was now staring at the headstone, his head downturned.

She paused for a moment, then moved forward, hearing the eerie caw of a distant crow lingering in the air like a dark omen.

Later that night when Venetia made it back home after shopping for groceries, she found herself scrolling through her email and found the one from Cordell Westwood.

As she scanned through the files she began to fill them out, not because it was the right choice, but she was imagining other patients who could use her help or what she could learn while working there.

It took her about an hour and a half to complete everything, and when she was finished she curled up into a ball and fell asleep on her couch.