Snow gently fell down to the earth below, covering the land under a white, cold layer. The dark bark of the leafless trees standing tall besides the road were in heavy contrast with the now white surroundings. The black horses that usually stood in the pastures in the area were in their stables, most likely warmer then the man who was cycling over the now white road or the farmer who was sitting in his tractor and who was going in the direction the cyclist came from.
As the farmer passed the bicycle, he raised his hand. “Be careful on the road Ben, it sure is slippery today.”
Ben nodded his head in response to the greeting. “Will do,” he responded with an optimistic sound in his voice and continued to push the pedals of the bicycle in a calm rhythm as he ploughed through the fresh snow. His full name was Benjamin Wilkins, a man in his mid-thirties, but everyone called him Ben. The black fabric of his long, woollen coat was covered in snow on his shoulders and back, the rest of it remained mostly snow-free for now. The hands holding the handlebar were covered with black leather gloves and a grey hat, which was mostly white now, protected his straw-blond hair against the snow. A thick dark-grey scarf was wrapped around his neck.
There were only few people actually riding a bicycle in such weather, but he didn’t mind to do so, for some reason he had always preferred cycling over driving, even in weather like this. Of course Ben had to admit a heated car surely had it’s advantages right now, but his wife needed to go to work as well and she had already left. With his half-time he would be done before her as well, so there was no helping it, cycling it would be. He knew it was slippery, the warning of the farmer was unneeded, but optimistic as ever he was confident he would reach his job without falling and breaking his neck, as people seemed to fear could happen. It wasn’t the first time he rode his bicycle through these conditions and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last time either.
The front wheel hit a thick part of snow and he came to a sudden halt. He placed one foot on the ground to avoid falling down with the bicycle and then pushed off again to continue his way. A bit further down the road he glanced over his shoulder to see if there was no traffic behind him and he turned left, even though he knew he should, he didn’t put out his hand to indicate direction, in this weather he wanted to have both hands on the handlebars when possible. As he crossed the street his tires slipped over the compressed snow left behind by the tractor and the bicycle wavered over the slippery track, but Ben managed to get it in a straight course quick enough. It took certain skills to cycle over a snow-covered road, but he did have plenty of practise with that. Truthfully, he didn’t feel too confident driving a car in such weather either, a car could slip and spin out of control just as easily. With a smile on his face he thought it was too bad the waterways weren’t frozen over yet, he could have put on his ice-skates and skate to work, well skate most of the way and walk the rest of it. He had done so last year when the ice had been thick enough and he had quite enjoyed that. Here was to hoping the winter would be cold enough for that this year as well.
Ben reached one of the main roads where the salt-truck had already passed and sure enough, it made cycling a whole lot easier. He noticed how some people were walking carefully on the with snow covered side-walk, on their way to the bus-stop up ahead. Everyone was more careful with this weather, but Ben loved it and he rather enjoyed being outside now, even if it was cold and wet.
After a few turns Ben reached another fully covered road and he ploughed through the fresh snow. It certainly was harder to ride his bicycle in this weather, but with all the ice-skating and cycling he had done in his life the muscles in his legs were certainly strong enough to get through. A couple of tracks indicated a few cars had already passed here, but that was to be expected, he wasn’t the only one working at the clinic.
A car came up from behind when the front tire of Ben’s bicycle got caught in a track and he wavered over the road, his hands gripped the handlebars more tightly as he tried to keep his bicycle upright as he car passed him. When he regained his balance he let out his held breath in the form of a sigh, falling in this weather was always an option of course, but he was glad nothing had happened so far. Especially with cars driving so close by.
As he was going towards his workplace, a rehab clinic for addicts of all kinds, he thought about how he had never expected to end up there when he had decide to study for creative arts therapist, but the job was quite rewarding. He thought back to his student life and all the fun things he had done with his friends during that time. It had been a busy period filled with classes, meeting with friends, going out, hobbies, falling in love, experiencing heartbreak, having quarrels with friends and making up again. So much had happened in that period of his life and he still met with some of the old friends from his time as a student on a regular basis. That was something he was grateful about, because they were great guys to be with. Ever since he moved to the village to start his career as creative arts therapist he forged some new friendships as well, for which he was grateful too, but it wasn’t the same as the friends he knew for years and shared so much with. And of course there was his own family, his wife and the two four year-old boys. Thinking about them made always made him smile broadly. Sure, there had been tough moments in his life, but overall he was happy with it and he was looking forward to see his boys grow up and to participate in the first performance of the amateur theatre group he joined, which was scheduled for the end of the month.
When he reached the building Ben parked his bicycle in the appropriate area and he walked up to the door as he brushed off some the snow from his coat and hat. From the outside the building looked like a big house build in white-painted bricks and red roof-tiles, even if they were almost completely covered in snow now. It felt like a home rather then a clinic and that was the purpose of it. Ben retrieved his badge to swipe the lock, so he could go inside and into the warmth. The electronic lock was there to prevent the addicts from leaving the building without permission, which had happened in the past.
The first thing he did once he was inside the building was to greet the woman behind the counter and ask if there was any mail for him. This wasn’t the case and after some small talk, Ben walked towards his office down the hall. Most people that worked here had their offices in this part of the building, but none of the doors were open. Either they weren’t there or they were working, either way Ben just continued to his own office. If any of them would have been open, he’d have stopped for a chat, as he always did.
The office Ben could call his own was a small room where he could put away his coat and hat and where he kept the files of the people he treated. He glanced at the analogue clock hanging above the open door and sat down behind the desk. There was still an hour to go before he would have a group-therapy session, so that gave him plenty of time to go over some of the files.
The group therapies were a part of the treatment plan in the clinic and he helped the participants explore and deal with the reasons for their addiction through art, that was the direction he had chosen as creative arts therapist and so far his sessions had good results. It was only part of the program of course, but they really did aid in helping the people get over their addiction. It was tough sometimes to deal with these people, but it gave a great feeling when people completed the program with success.
When it was time for the group therapy, Ben left his office and walked to the art-room located on the second floor. As always he used the stairs, he only took the elevator if he had no other choice. Not only was going up and down the stairs healthier, he absolutely hated being in a confined space with closed doors. As he was going up he missed one step, but he held on to the railing and nothing serious happened. With a faint smile he shook his head, if he wasn’t careful he’d end up being home for a couple of weeks with his ankle in the plaster. That was certainly something to avoid.
Once Ben reached the top of the stairs he walked to the room where eleven easels were placed in a circle. He unlocked one of the cabinets and walked around to put pieces of white cardboard on every easel. He heard footsteps and he looked up, he immediately recognized the young man with glasses on his face and neatly combed black hair. “Ah, Kevin,” he said with a friendly smile on his face. “You’re early. Come in, take a seat. I’m sure the rest of them will be here shortly.”
“Is it true you advised against me leaving this place?”
Ben frowned at that question. “That is not my decision alone to make, Sarah is your main therapist and ultimately it’s her decision. We did talk about it and I don’t believe you’re ready.”
“I am!”
“No, you’re not,” Ben stated calmly. “It’s still all you think about and the only reason you have for wanting to leave this place is so you can get your fix.” he gestured to one of the easels. “Please sit down, Kevin. You’re doing good, but you’re not there yet and we can help if you’ll let us.”
“Bastard,” Kevin grumbled, but he did sit down and Ben couldn’t hold back a sigh.
There were always some giving trouble and in some cases they even got aggressive, but thankfully that didn’t happen a lot. Memories of an event that happened two months earlier entered his mind, an addicts had put his hands around his neck and squeezed, luckily other had come to his aid and it was the only physical assault he had dealt with, so far. Verbally was a whole different subject, it happened quite often someone snapped and let go off the frustration by cursing and throwing stuff around and calling the therapists quite colourful names. That was something he could deal with, but being strangled was awful and he hoped that would never happen again.
As people were entering and taking their places, Ben talked with some of them. Just some casual conversation before the actual therapy would begin. He was in the middle of a conversation about a book he had recommended to the redheaded young woman in front of him, a book he had already read and she had now read up to chapter 3, when he heard his name.
“Mr. Wilkins?” a female voice came from the doorway.
“That’s me,” Ben said with a cheerful sound in his voice as he turned to the owner of the voice. He couldn’t say he knew the blonde woman, but he was certain introductions would follow.
“My brother died,” she informed Ben with a monotonous voice.
“My condolences,” Ben replied, “and wh-“
A gunshot sounded through the room, the redhead screamed and a thud sounded when Ben’s body hit the ground. Others started screaming as well and some just looked at the events with big eyes of disbelief, but two guys jumped up and grabbed the woman, who was shouting hysterically about her brother being released from this place and died from an overdose just days after, so it was all their fault and she’d get all of them. While the woman was held to the ground by the two men and someone else quickly went for help, one of the other female attendants of the therapy held on to the sobbing redhead so they could comfort each other and Kevin knelt down next to Ben.
Ben lay on his back, his bleu eyes were dark with pain and the fingers clawing weakly at the wound in his chest were covered in his own blood. He gasped for air as he just looked at the ceiling above him. His chest burned and the warm, sticky liquid covering his fingers continued flowing. He thought about his wife and kids and the things he had planned to do with his life, his friends with who he had made so many good memories. He continued to gasp for air, breathing became more and more difficult and the pain soared through his chest. He barely noticed Kevin sitting down next to him.
“You didn’t deserve this,” Kevin muttered as he looked at him and he quickly pulled off his shirt to press it against the wound. “You’re a decent guy.”
Ben moved his head ever so slightly, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at Kevin, as if he had trouble focussing. With his free hand he took Kevin’s arm and he opened his mouth slightly, but the fingers lost their strength and the hand fell to the ground. Kevin looked in the eyes of Ben, now staring blankly into a far distance. “H-he’s dead,” he muttered, a sentence followed by hysterical sobs coming from the two women standing close to him.
Everything happened rather quickly after that, first the medics from the clinic entered the room, but they couldn’t do anything for Ben. Then the police came and the investigation revealed Ben was the third employee who died by the hands of this woman, who was seeking revenge for the death of her brother and plotted to kill everyone who had been part of her late brothers treatment. The head of the clinic called to Ben’s wife to inform her about what happened, needles to say she was devastated by the news and broke down in tears. The news travelled through the circle of family and friends and left grief where it went.
The funeral that followed was visited by family, friends and some former addicts who had followed Ben’s therapy. The number of people present indicated how popular Ben had been, how many friends he had made throughout his short life. Several people held speeches, all saying what a good guy he had been, how he had enjoyed life and always had lived it to the fullest. How his optimistic, open-hearted and open-minded personality had helped so many people and made him so likeable. And how blessed they all felt to have known him. Ben’s wife and sister tried to comfort the two crying boys, doing their best to stay strong for them and hold back their own tears, but both felt the sorrow and pain in their hearts for losing Ben.
Snow fell down from the sky as Ben’s casket was lowered into the earth.
*** © Mariska Bekker ***