Based on the movie La machine (1994) byFrançois Dupeyron
Idea: jmurdoch
Text: jmurdoch
Images: Chat GPT Sora
Videos : KlingAI
Marc was tired of pacing his hotel room. He kept wondering why his wife had put him and his daughter, Jenna, up in this room. He knew his work had recently involved studying the behavior of a female serial killer. From what he understood, this murderer had recently escaped from the institute where his wife, Claire, worked. Marc thought Claire's behavior had been rather strange these past few days; he figured it was related to the importance of her work. The case she was handling might be fascinating, but he still found it dangerous.
Marc watched his daughter, Jenna. She was a 17-year-old who didn't seem at all bothered by the circumstances. In fact, she didn't seem worried about her mother at all. He did find it odd, however, that since they'd arrived at the hotel, Jenna hadn't been on her cell phone much. Usually, Jenna spent her life glued to her smartphone.
Marc sat down in the living room armchair in their bedroom. Jenna joined him and sat down right next to him.
"You don't seem worried about your mother at all!" Marc remarked.
"Yes, I am. Marc... I mean Dad," Jenna replied.
The word "Dad" seemed to amuse Jenna at first. Marc poured himself a cup of coffee and offered one to his daughter as well. Eventually, his desire for coffee passed. He was already quite agitated. His daughter continued to stare at him. This unsettled him slightly. Her gaze seemed different than usual, more intense. Jenna played with a strand of her hair and moved closer to Marc.
"Are you really worried about... Mom?"
"Yes, she's been gone for hours, and I can't get hold of her."
Jenna looked at the coffee cup on the table and remarked:
"Your coffee looks awfully dark! I'll make some more, a little less strong."
Jenna got up and headed towards the small kitchenette in the room..
Jenna looked around the small kitchen. It seemed well-equipped: a refrigerator, induction cooktop, an oven, a microwave... and an electric coffee maker. She placed her cup on the machine and started the program for a long coffee. While the machine was brewing, she absentmindedly rummaged through the drawers. She came across a drawer containing cutlery of various sizes. She was suddenly drawn to a beautiful long knife, which she immediately grabbed.
"Are you going out with the coffee? Need a hand?" her father asked.
"No. No, everything's fine, I found what I need!" Jenna replied.
Jenna joined her father in the living room; she had kept the knife with her. She hid it behind her back. Her father didn't notice. Marc had decided to try his luck again by calling his wife, Claire. Jenna approached him quietly while he was on the phone, without showing him the weapon.
Eight months earlier, we were at the Lacroix family home. It was breakfast time. It hadn't been a real family moment for a long time. The day had barely begun before everyone was off doing their own thing.
Marc Lacroix was an accountant at a telecommunications company. He had regular office hours. For him, breakfast time was sacred; he wanted to have long, pleasant conversations with his wife, Claire, or his daughter, Jenna.
But Jenna, from morning till night, was glued to her darn cell phone. What could possibly be important enough to keep up with at that hour? Marc realized from the slight whir of Jenna's phone that she was playing a game. It saddened him a little to think that this game had become more important than this family time. But it reassured him that at this hour, she wasn't already chatting with a boy. Jenna was a beautiful and pretty 17-year-old girl. He had already noticed that the way the boys around her looked at her had changed, but not for the better. He therefore had to keep an eye on her.
Marc was proud to be Claire's husband. Claire was a beautiful, intelligent, funny, and cultured 45-year-old woman. But for some time now, she had been obsessed with her work. Claire was a surgeon by training, and over time, a renowned brain specialist. She was fascinated by the brain and how it worked. She had spent her life chasing this dream. She had to understand how the mind took shape in the brain, how it became matter, how the mind formed, how thoughts, memory, and recollections were organized. Claire also played the role of a psychiatrist for murderers, for monsters. She needed contact with this monstrosity. She wanted to understand how the brain shaped the perception of good and evil. She studied female criminals, interrogated them, and subjected them to all sorts of tests and scans. Her hypothesis was that if she could identify, even isolate, the "may," she might be able to reduce it, or even destroy it.
Claire had isolated the entire basement of their immense villa, turning it into an office, or rather a research workshop. Marc was absolutely forbidden from entering. He imagined the room almost as a laboratory, as Claire had brought in a great deal of electronic equipment, chairs, components of a large computer, and various scanners. What could she possibly be doing there? She spent hours in it. After her shifts in the operating room, she would make visits to the prison, and then, upon her return, spend long hours in the basement. It was simple: Marc only saw her during the brief breakfast break and when they went to bed. They hadn't made love in ages.
Marc was still very much in love with his wife. But he wondered if, sometimes, she didn't love her work more than her family. This didn't seem to bother Jenna, given that she was still going through her teenage phase. Marc sometimes wondered if Claire was cheating on him. At the beginning of their relationship, before Jenna was born and his work began to take over his life, Marc and Claire made love often. He missed it terribly. Despite the presence of attractive colleagues at work, and even knowing he was attractive, Marc never gave in to temptation. He remained deeply in love with Claire.
As breakfast was about to end, and to save time, Claire asked her daughter Jenna to help clear the table. Jenna didn't pay attention to her mother's request, which she had to repeat.
"Can you put down that phone, please, for 30 seconds, and help me clear the table?" her mother insisted.
"Yeah, wait..." Jenna replied.
"There's no wait, Jenna. I'm going to be late for work. And you're going to be late for school!"
"Yeah, yeah..."
Claire snatched the phone roughly from Jenna's hands.
"Are you crazy? I was just texting Alex..."
"Don't talk to me like that. You'll have plenty of time on the way to school to play with your phone. And will it hurt you to add 'Mom' to your sentences?"
"Yeah, you know your own name, right?"
"Don't be insolent..."
Claire stared at the kitchen clock. Marc had already left, and she didn't have time to continue this conversation with her daughter.
"We'll talk about it again tonight..."
"If you'd be so kind as to spare a little of your precious time. You end up spending more time with these psychopaths and lunatics than with your own family!"
With that, Jenna left the kitchen and headed to her room to get her things for school. Claire was speechless for a moment, still reeling from her daughter's last remark.
Claire finally arrived at work on time. She was obsessed with her favorite subject: the workings of the brain. She saw the evil that could emanate from a person as a disease. She wanted to understand how evil was born, to understand how a man or woman could become a criminal. How could a person take pleasure in committing murder? Where could this impulse originate?
Claire divided her professional life between her two activities. She continued to perform fairly complex brain surgeries, in which she was a renowned specialist.
Claire's assistant was a young doctor named Chris. Given the amount of time she spent in the operating room with him, Claire and Chris had become very close. Initially, it was a strictly professional relationship, but over time, it became more personal. Chris was single and, paradoxically, very shy around women, despite his attractive appearance. Claire found him to be a very talented assistant. They quickly learned to understand each other, to anticipate each other's reactions, becoming very efficient in the operating room.
One day, after a particularly exhausting procedure, Claire suggested to Chris that they go for a drink to unwind. One thing led to another, and they felt a growing sexual tension between them. And as fate would have it, they found themselves at a hotel shortly afterward. They became lovers. Claire quickly felt embarrassed and ashamed. She still loved her husband. But she realized that she was spending more time with Chris than with Marc and his daughter Jenna.
Over time, Claire realized she was becoming obsessed with her work. While her love life with Chris was fulfilling, she was making love less frequently with her husband. In the evenings, she continued working in bed on her computer, focusing on her notes. This regularly provoked her husband's anger. She no longer desired sex because she and Chris had developed a habit of meeting intimately at a hotel after work. She feared Marc would quickly suspect her infidelity. Work was an excellent and effective excuse.
Tensions rose at the prison entrance. They were about to receive a recently arrested criminal. After years of searching, the police had finally apprehended the serial killer, a repeat offender, Béatrice Zyto. Better known in the press as "Béa," she had made headlines. Guilty of murdering six men between the ages of 40 and 50, no one could understand her motives. Her childhood was unhappy; she had been abused by her father. After killing her first boyfriend, she developed a habit of seducing men, sleeping with them, and then murdering them. The press claimed she killed based on the sexual satisfaction she derived from them.
Béa was a very beautiful, dark-haired woman in her forties. She had no trouble seducing men. The murders were extremely violent. She used bladed weapons, often long kitchen knives. Bea was extremely violent by nature. She could easily switch from one state to another: from being an angel, calm and peaceful, to a fury, unleashed and filled with rage. She had fiercely defended herself during her arrest. The police officers still bore numerous marks of the encounter. She herself arrived at the prison covered in bruises and contusions. The staff remained silent as she passed, admiring her beauty but disconcerted by the signs of violence. She was forcibly taken to her cell to await sentencing. There was no doubt she faced a life sentence.
Claire was working in secret in the basement of her villa, which she had converted into a combination operating room and technical room. She had designed a machine. This machine was meant to allow her to connect two minds. She even thought she could use it to transmit a part of her personality—her peaceful, understanding, and altruistic side—to a patient. This could be the basis for a new way, a new method of "curing" this affliction. She had been working on it for months and had only spoken about it to Chris. Strangely, she didn't want to share her research with him. Chris respected this choice. He knew her to be stubborn and determined. He simply asked her never to use the machine without him. Claire had made him a half-promise.
Claire was waiting for the right candidate, the right patient. Béa seemed to be the ideal candidate. If Claire could understand the depths of Béa's soul, she would revolutionize the psychological approach to serial killers.
Claire had no trouble getting a first date with Béa. Only a few days had passed since her arrest. Béa had calmed down in the meantime, becoming a model prisoner, a far cry from the image of a violent woman she had always projected. Her colleagues' initial findings suggested she would mention temporary bouts of madness, which would land her in a psychiatric hospital for monitoring. Claire immediately suspected she was faking it. Claire was sure Béa was very intelligent, calculating.
The first meeting took place in the prison visiting room. Claire was still a little excited to meet her; she had a lot of questions to ask. Claire found Béa very beautiful. No wonder men were easily charmed. Béa, however, had a slightly sad look in her eyes.
"Hello, Ms. Zyto, I'm Dr. Claire Lacroix."
"Pleased to meet you, Doctor. You can call me Bea."
"In that case, call me Claire. How are you?"
"Well, I'm fine. This is a damn good hotel. The food isn't half bad. And the bed is more comfortable than in my last place."
Claire was a little shocked by this mild vulgarity. But she wondered if she was doing it on purpose. As if she were playing a role.
"Glad to hear it. I've been very interested in your case for a long time."
"Yeah, like most of the shrinks and doctors I've met. They always have this habit of labeling cases like mine. They all claim they can cure me, treat me with tests or pills..."
"I'm not like those other doctors. I'm a surgeon by training, who became a brain specialist."
"Wow. You must be rolling in dough. I presume you're the well-behaved, middle-class type, married with one or two kids... maybe even a lover..."
That last sentence made Claire blush slightly, even unsettled her. She shouldn't have reversed the roles. But Béa had been almost right.
"Yes, I'm married to a charming man, and I have a teenage daughter. But let's get back to you."
"You didn't react to the lover," Béa said, smiling.
Claire didn't reply and bent down to pick up a file from her satchel on the floor. Béa stared at Claire with a small, knowing smile. Béa had this little habit, maybe an OCD, of playing with her hair.
A few days later, Claire had already met Béa several times. She remained fascinated by Béa. Claire asked to meet with the prison director.
"Hello Claire, how are you?" asked Georges.
"Hello Georges, very well, and you?" replied Claire.
"Very well, thank you. I understand you're spending a lot of time with Béatrice Zyto. She seems to interest you greatly. In fact, I'm still surprised that she hasn't caused us any problems so far. She's a model prisoner for the moment. But the facts are there; she is indeed guilty of numerous, extremely violent murders. In my career, I've never seen so much hatred and violence in these murders. Yet, when you see her..."
"Yes, Georges, she's fascinating. She's an ideal subject for my project."
"What does it involve?"
"Well, I think I can make a difference to her. I'd like to analyze her and understand the evil within her. I'd like your permission to conduct a small experiment at my home. Under close supervision, of course..."
"I don't know... I'm skeptical. You know, I suspect she's faking it. Her friends describe her as a violent person. I think she has perfect control over her impulses. Which makes her always very dangerous. What is this operation?"
"It's just a kind of scan. A new kind of in-depth scan of her brain. The scan will analyze several brain regions between two people. I will be a reference."
"It sounds like you're trying to find the area of the brain where the evil resides?"
"Yes, absolutely. The more contrasting the subjects are, the more revealing the analysis will be. I couldn't find anyone more extreme than Béatrice Zyto."
"Give me a few days to think about your request."
"Thank you Georges, for taking the time to listen to me."
Two days after the meeting with the warden, Georges had indicated that he accepted Claire's request. Claire was overjoyed, but now she had to explain and convince Béatrice to participate in this experiment.
Claire met Béa in the prison courtyard. Claire wanted the interview to be more informal, less closely monitored. The project was still somewhat secret. To foster a climate of trust, Claire was open to every question Béa asked about her private life: her relationship with her husband, Marc, or her daughter, Claire. Without realizing it, Claire was gradually revealing more of herself. It was almost as if Béa knew more about Claire than Claire knew about Béa.
"So, you think you can help me... with this machine?" Béa asked, playing with a lock of her hair.
"Yes. You could revolutionize brain research. We could predict behavior through advanced analyses, prevent women... like you... from acting on their impulses."
"Would it take place at your home?"
"Yes, but don't get your hopes up. You'll be under close surveillance!"
"I figured as much. But your machine won't damage my brain, will it? I'm quite attached to my neurons."
"There's no risk. I'd be connected to this machine too, as I told you. It requires two subjects, one healthy and one..."
Claire couldn't find the right word without offending or hurting Béa.
"Sick? Disturbed? Crazy? Is that what you were going to say?" Béa replied sharply.
"I'm here to help you, Béa. I think you can use the informal 'tu' with me now."
"Yeah, I trust you, doc."
"Hello Béa, how are you?"
"I'm doing great, Doc. That little walk did me good. Your place is lovely. I've always dreamed of having a house like yours."
"Yes, it's a villa my husband inherited. It suits us perfectly. The rest will take place in the basement."
Bea seemed to be analyzing Claire's behavior, and she continued to scrutinize every corner of the villa. Claire approached the two police officers.
"Gentlemen, I'm going to ask you to stay here while I analyze the subject in the basement."
"Madam, we have orders not to leave her sight."
"Rest assured, there are no weapons here, no dangerous instruments. I'll let you inspect the basement, but I'll ask you to leave this laboratory afterward. You'll see there's no other exit than this door leading to the basement. No other door or window leading outside."
"You're going to be alone with her?"
Claire turned to Bea.
"I trust her. Everything will be fine. Won't it, Bea?"
"Of course, Doc. I'll behave myself."
Bea followed Claire down a corridor that ended in a rather dark door. The door opened onto a staircase leading to the basement. Another door appeared before them. Bea managed to see the code to open the door as Claire began to enter it. Bea kept the information in mind, thinking it might be useful someday.
Claire and Bea entered a huge room, quite dark overall. The room seemed to be a combination of several rooms. On one side, there was something resembling an operating room on the left. And on the right, in the most prominent area, there was an impressive machine composed of several screens and two seats. Above the seats hung what looked like round scanners. The seats had a bluish, almost electric chair-like appearance that initially disturbed Bea.
Claire gestured for Bea to take the seat on the right. She could see that Bea didn't seem comfortable.
"Don't worry. Nothing will happen to you," Claire said.
"What exactly will happen?" Bea asked.
"Well, I see I can map your brain. The scanners in these two seats will synchronize and compare every part of our brains. I'll serve as a reference. A small piece of me will help you better distinguish between right and wrong."
"I hope you don't mess up my brain any more than it already is!"
Claire then took her seat in the other chair. A touchscreen was located next to Claire's seat. She began typing various instructions on the screen. The machine emitted a kind of whirring sound. The more Claire tapped the screen, the louder the noise became. Bea watched Claire's every move. She had absolutely no idea what Claire was doing, but Beatrice, thanks to her excellent memory, remembered the procedure.
Claire seemed to have finished the setup. She then settled more comfortably in her chair and said:
"You should close your eyes. You're going to feel a slight jolt in your head. It's perfectly normal and painless. Just relax. I'll tell you when it's over."
Beatrice obeyed and closed her eyes. Claire did the same. They both then experienced slight twitches, little spasms. Beatrice and Claire felt as if they were floating, numb. Then, suddenly, the machine beeped several times, but Claire and Beatrice paid no attention. The screen displayed several messages in red. There was then a small flash, followed by an electric shock from Claire and Beatrice, and then they fainted.
Bea and Claire opened their eyes at the same time. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Claire seemed astonished, surprised, while Beatrice seemed shocked. Bea immediately looked at the screen and ordered:
"Press the big icon on the screen."
"What happened?"
"It's fine, it's just a glitch, press that icon, damn it!"
"But, it looks like..."
"Stay seated, and press that damn icon!"
Claire smiled and stood up, approaching Beatrice, who remained frightened and angry.
"What are you doing?" Beatrice asked.
"The operation is over, Doc. Time to go!"
"What's wrong with you?"
"Come on, Beatrice. Let me escort you back to prison!" "But you're crazy! No one will believe you're Claire Lacroix!"
So Claire and Béatrice had switched bodies. The machine, for some obscure reason, had swapped the minds of Claire Lacroix and Béatrice Zyto. Béa, in Claire's body, adjusted her suit, having sat down awkwardly. Claire, in Béatrice's body, seemed disoriented. Béa then began to play with a lock of Claire's hair.
"Who's going to believe this crazy story!"
With these words, Béa called the two police officers who had stayed upstairs. Recognizing the doctor's voice, they came down as quickly as possible. Without trying to figure out where they were, they went straight to Claire, who was in Béatrice's body. Claire was about to lunge at Béatrice, force her to sit down again, and restart the machine. Beatrice, her voice filled with fear as she addressed the police officers, said:
"I don't know what's gotten into her. She says she's me, that she's Dr. Claire Lacroix. I'm afraid she's lost her mind... Arrest her immediately!"
Claire realized she was trapped inside Beatrice's body. Before she could say a word, the two police officers grabbed her.
"But it's me! I am Claire Lacroix! She stole my body. My machine malfunctioned."
The two police officers forcibly brought her back upstairs. Claire was beside herself; she felt a different kind of force, a violence she had never experienced before. Seeing that she was struggling more and more fiercely, one of the officers struck her violently in the stomach, brutally knocking the wind out of her. Claire was in pain and went to her knees. The other officer put her hands behind her back and re-cuffed her. The first officer then struck her on the head with a kind of small baton. This completely stunned Claire. Béatrice watched the scene with amusement. The two officers didn't notice the slightly sadistic look in Béatrice's eyes; she was clearly enjoying the spectacle. She should have asked them to be less violent. It was her body, after all.
The two officers left the villa, dragging Claire, almost unconscious, into Béa's body. Béatrice apologized to the officers for the incident. She gave them a huge, knowing smile.
"We're going to take her back to her cell," said one of the policemen.
"But... it's me... I'm Claire La..." Claire said, making a final effort, before completely fainting.
Beatrice waved goodbye to the police car, which was driving away from the villa. Free, she was free. Rid of those cops, she said it was time to take stock of the situation. What would be the prospects of this new body, this new identity?
Bea felt different, considering herself lucky that this doctor was roughly the same age as her. She took her time exploring the different rooms of the villa. She began to memorize most of the photos and framed pictures that decorated the house. She finally found Claire's office. She immediately rummaged through all the papers. Claire had taken extensive notes on her interviews with the various patients; she even found a complete report of her sessions. Bea was amused to read her conclusions, which she sometimes found accurate. But she was delighted to discover that Claire had fallen for it several times, that her lies had been taken at face value. Bea had outsmarted Claire and, in the end, all the prison staff. She had been right to play the calm and collected inmate, even though she was seething inside. This patience had finally paid off. As fate would have it, she had become Claire Lacroix, an unusual escape, and the starting point of a new life.
Bea decided it was time to discover her new face. After finishing her search of her office and memorizing the notes concerning the machine, Bea found a bathroom. She approached the mirror quietly, leaning forward to admire her face more closely. She noticed a few tiny wrinkles. But it was a small price to pay for regaining her freedom. Bea found herself beautiful in Dr. Lacroix's body. She imagined continuing her "works" with this new identity. Her former body seemed to please many men, and even women. Bea planned to make a few minor adjustments before leaving town, but she decided to have a little fun first.
After the bathroom, she headed to the wardrobe. Beatrice had never had a wardrobe because she never stayed in one place for long. Having limited means, it was often men who gave her clothes, but she never kept them for long, neither the clothes nor the men, for that matter. She found rather austere outfits, nothing truly glamorous except for an evening gown that looked as if it hadn't been worn in years. There was nothing whimsical about the clothes. But finally, she found a black leather skirt that she immediately liked, paired with the softness of a white satin shirt. Bea had never worn satin before; she appreciated the feel of the fabric against her new skin.
Bea found a bundle of jewelry. Her first instinct was to pack everything into a bag and run away. But that was foolish. This jewelry belonged to the body she inhabited. She tried on several pieces. Some must have been worth a fortune. The more time Béa spent in Claire's body, the more she understood the benefits. It remained to be seen whether it would be easy to impersonate her, at least for a while...
An hour later, Claire arrived at the prison in Bea's body. She had remained almost completely unconscious for most of the journey. The blows from the police had completely stunned her. She remembered repeating in a very clear voice that she wasn't Bea, and that the officers escorting her paid no attention.
She was taken to a cell, and very quickly found herself alone. Bea, being a notorious criminal, was isolated in a high-security wing. Her cell didn't offer the luxury of being able to talk with other inmates. Even though Claire thought she was coming to, she felt like she was in a nightmare. She felt nauseous, then looked at her hands and heard herself shouting again that she wasn't Bea. It wasn't her voice either. She lay down on the bed in her cell and finally fell asleep, hoping to wake up from this nightmare...
A few hours later, Bea emerged from the closet after approving her new look. She heard a noise in the kitchen and decided to go in. It was time to start acting. She found a stunning young brunette and recognized her immediately. She was in the family portrait in Claire's office. She instantly remembered her name: Jenna.
"Hi, Jenna, how are you?" Bea asked in her stern tone.
"Uh, fine... You know we already saw each other this morning," Jenna replied, sounding a little surprised.
"I know. Nothing's stopping me from worrying about my darling little teenager," Bea said, amused.
"Do you want to pick up where we left off?"
Bea felt a slight surge of tension. What was it about? What had Claire and Jenna discussed that warranted further discussion? Bea chose a basic answer:
"No, no need. I was wrong. After all, do what you like, I don't care."
Bea turned her back on Jenna, picked up a small pocket mirror, and looked at herself again. Jenna remained surprised by her mother's behavior.
"Are you sure? You look weird!"
"Yeah, you've got the new Claire in front of you. And you like it, screw you!"
Jenna then seemed to be talking to herself, and Bea paid no further attention. Jenna was surprised to see her mother spending so much time in front of the mirror. She wasn't usually that narcissistic, nor that vain. Jenna had never seen her mother in such a... sexy outfit. It wasn't like her; she chalked it up to a midlife crisis.
The next step was to convince Marc, Claire's husband. Béa had received a message from Marc inviting her to meet him on a nearby street for lunch. Luckily, Claire's cell phone could be unlocked with facial recognition. This allowed Béa to gather even more information about her. Béa grabbed the jacket hanging on the coat rack in the entryway, then her purse. Béa amused herself by innocently rummaging through the contents of the bag. The wallet was well-stocked with cash. The various credit cards could come in handy with the contactless payment system.
Béa knew the neighborhood well. She had no trouble finding the meeting place. Just like with Jenna, she recognized Marc from the photo. She found him handsome, to her liking. Attractive with his salt-and-pepper hair. Dressed very smartly, the kind of man Béa never associated with. Her partners were often the thug type, the rebel. Bea thought she could savor this kind of relationship like one savors caviar.
"Hi, darling, how's your day going?" Marc asked.
Bea was taken aback by the term "darling." It amused her, but she stopped herself from laughing or smiling.
"Very well, my love. I'm doing wonderfully."
"Yes, you seem... different..."
Marc began to look her up and down. He finally understood what he saw as different about her. She smiled more, but above all, he had never seen her dressed like this. Claire rarely wore dresses or skirts. And even less so tights. He was completely unaware of her outfit until he discovered it.
Bea noticed that Marc was intrigued by her. She had to act quickly, distract him. They stopped walking, and Béa surprised him by embracing him and kissing him passionately. She added:
"Let's go home, we have some catching up to do, I imagine. I have lots of games in mind."
Béa felt a bulge under Marc's belt and deduced that she still had her effect. Overcome with excitement, Marc nodded. They resumed their walk to the villa.
Marc and Béa quickened their pace to get back to the villa as fast as possible. They hurried to the bedroom. Béa asked Marc to undress and wait for her in bed while she got ready, then she went to the wardrobe. Béa wanted to feel more at ease by changing into something more familiar. She found a pair of denim shorts and a black t-shirt. The outfit looked like it belonged to her daughter. Perhaps Claire had taken it from her. Béa changed and joined Marc, who was already naked in bed. She jumped onto the bed like a panther and kissed him passionately. Marc had never made love to Claire so wildly. The next moment was incredibly intense. Marc was clearly a good lover. Béa discovered new sensations with her new body. Admittedly slightly older, but still brimming with energy. And attractive, Marc regularly repeated how beautiful and desirable he found her.
Later, Marc got up to take a shower. Béa took the opportunity to light a cigarette. She had never smoked before, so she concluded that she had brand-new lungs that she could clog up again, which amused her.
Meanwhile, Claire gradually regained consciousness and awareness of her dire situation. She was in Béatrice Zyto's body. No one would believe her. She screamed at the top of her lungs from behind the bars of her cell, searching for the words, the right intention, to reveal that she was the real Dr. Claire Lacroix. Alas, she was in solitary confinement, where there were fewer inmates, and the few guards who passed by paid her no attention. She tried shouting personal details, mentioning her family, her colleagues, the machine. But everything sounded surreal when she heard herself. Besides, few people knew about her work.
Claire, tired of her repeated shouting, finally calmed down and went to sit on the floor, against the entire wall, to think. She began to feel a little depressed, her thoughts clouding. She was about to cry when she heard her cell door open. She looked up and felt as if she were in a nightmare again. She saw herself standing in front of her, wearing her doctor's coat, holding a file in her arms. This made Claire feel even more depressed; Béa had managed to convince everyone for the moment.
"Hi Doc, how are you?" Béa said in a syrupy voice.
Claire didn't answer, which didn't bother Béa, who continued talking to herself, twirling a lock of her hair.
"You've got a nice life, Doc. It's a little lacking in excitement. But I'm having a blast. Thanks again for the gift. Your daughter seems like a real brat, but I don't care. On the other hand, your husband, Marc, turns out to be... "
Bea leaned towards Claire and added, laughing,
"...an exceptional lover. I made him come twice earlier. That keeps her from wondering about your new behavior."
"That won't last. Sooner or later, they'll find out that..."
"What? That I'm Bea... You're going to try to snitch? And who would believe you, Doc?"
"I thought..."
"You'd better shut your mouth, Doc! Otherwise, if you only knew what I'm capable of! Your husband may be a good lay, but he's still a boring guy. And to keep my freedom, I might just as easily take a keen interest in your daughter... Do you understand?"
"...Yes... Please don't hurt them."
"Now that I think about it... Nobody knows about your machine? I understand that Jenna and Marc never go down to the basement of your house."
"No... It was a personal project..."
"Good, and it'll stay that way... until I decide what to do next..."
Bea left the cell, flashing the guard a huge smile. Getting out of a cell so easily almost made her laugh.
"See you later, Beatrice Zyto. Enjoy your stay," Bea called out as she walked away.
After Bea left, Claire brooded in her cell. What should she do? Her family was in danger, and it was all her fault. She realized she wouldn't be able to convince anyone. This situation was completely insane. She could only think of one person who could help her: the only person who knew about her work. But she had to get out of prison as soon as possible. God knew what Bea would be capable of. In her body, she could kill again. And if Claire were to get her body back, she would be accused of all her crimes.
It was mealtime, and Claire had no choice. Since she had no visiting rights, she had to escape by any means necessary! Luckily, she knew the prison like the back of her hand, having worked there for a long time as a psychiatrist. The guard brought her a meal tray. The guard lowered his guard for a moment, and Claire took advantage of this, driven by a strength and violence she hadn't suspected she possessed, to throw the contents of the tray onto the floor, which surprised the guard. He turned his back on her for a few seconds, and with his strength, knocked him unconscious with the tray. Claire knew where to strike; she knew where she could render someone unconscious. She knew every area of the brain, and by extension, the skull. The guard collapsed to the floor. Claire took the keys from him and locked the door behind her. She chose the right years, the right corridors, and managed to find herself outside. She was free.
The police immediately alerted Dr. Lacroix to Béatrice Zyto's escape. Béa was furious to learn the news. How had she managed it? In the end, Béa realized Claire was resourceful. But what did she hope for? She would be on the run. She knew Claire would take her threats seriously.
Béa decided to hide Claire's family. She explained to Marc that one of her patients, the most dangerous one, had just escaped. And since this criminal was fixated on her, she and her family felt threatened! She suggested to Marc that he and Jenna stay in a three-star hotel, far from their villa. Marc agreed. They arrived at the hotel in the mid-afternoon. Claire had only been gone for two hours.
"Hello, we called to make a reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Saint Martin," said Béa.
"Yes, a room with two double beds. You can fill out the form, please," said the receptionist.
"Sure."
Bea made up all the information. The receptionist gave her the key. She handed it to Marc.
"Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to make a few calls to see how their search is going. We won't be staying long in this hotel, I promise you. It's my fault if this Bea has it in for me. She's using a false identity. It happens often."
"Be careful," Marc told her after kissing her.
Claire wandered the streets for a long time after her escape. She seemed lost, disoriented. Never had she felt so helpless. She began to think of a plan to reclaim her body, her identity, her life. Returning home or contacting her husband would be too dangerous. Bea must already know about her escape, since she was her assigned psychiatrist. She hoped her escape wouldn't endanger her family. Calling Marc or Jenna was also risky, and what if Bea was there during the call? Or worse, what if Bea answered?
Claire had only one option left: contact Chris. He was the only one she had confided in and the only one who would believe this crazy story. Claire found a phone booth on a deserted street. She was tired because she had been constantly walking and running since her escape. She needed somewhere to rest. She called Chris.
"Hello Chris! It's me!"
"Hello, who's calling?"
"Chris, it's me, Claire Lacroix. Please don't hang up!"
"But who are you? Claire? I don't recognize your voice..."
"Yes, it's me. This is crazy... You have to... You have to help me. You're the only one who can help me."
"You must be that criminal... that recently escaped prisoner who's after Claire."
"No, Chris, it's really me... Claire... We... we've been lovers for several months, we've been working together even longer... I... I told you I loved working with you. We're meeting at the hotel."
"This is unbelievable! It can't be you. I doubt Claire would have told you this!"
“I beg you. You have to believe me… The machine… I finished it and used it with Béatrice Zyto… We… We… God only knows how… We swapped bodies. Remember, when I described my work to you, you told me there would be a risk in moving fragments of ourselves. And I… And I promised you I wouldn’t try anything without you… I’m… I’m sorry.”
At his last words, Claire began to cry. Chris, on the other end of the phone, didn’t know what to think. It seemed so improbable, yet so believable given Claire’s experiments.
“Okay, come to my apartment. I’ll help you.”
Twenty minutes later, Claire waited a little while in front of Chris's building. She decided to go in unnoticed. She waited for someone to enter the building, then slipped in behind them discreetly before the door closed. She then climbed the three flights of stairs and rang his apartment doorbell. Chris opened the door and found an unknown young brunette woman standing before him.
"Claire?... Is that you?" Chris asked.
"Yes, Chris... it's me."
She walked towards him and hugged him. At first, Chris seemed shocked and took a step back, which saddened Claire.
"Thank you, Chris. You're the only one who can help me!"
"Claire, but how did this happen?"
"The machine. It overheated during the scanning process. Our memories, our identities, were switched. We swapped bodies."
"That explains Claire's strange behavior."
"It wasn't me. It was Béatrice Zyto."
"She seemed distant the last time I saw her."
"You... You didn't say anything to her? Didn't do anything?"
"No, I was too busy. I thought she wanted us to be more discreet."
Chris ushered Claire inside. Claire had just caught a downpour and was soaked to the bone. She was drenched from head to toe.
"Come inside. You need to change. I think I still have some of my ex-wife's clothes in a box. They should fit you. Quick, before you catch a cold."
Chris gave Claire several items of clothing and let her go into the bathroom. Claire removed her wet prison outfit and tossed it on the floor. Then, she looked for something wearable that would allow her to remain discreet. She found a black t-shirt and black leather leggings that fit her.
Once dressed, Claire looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn't yet had a chance to see the full extent of the damage. She was inwardly terrified to discover Beatrice Zyto's face in place of her own. Her reflection was no longer hers. She thought she was having a nightmare, but no. Every movement she made was perfectly mimicked by the reflection of that criminal. She was indeed in Bea's body. She wasn't dreaming. She touched her face and no longer recognized her features. She consoled herself with the thought of being a few years younger, Bea being slightly younger than her. Then she thought back to the many lovers Bea had had in her life, and felt defiled. Then she looked at her hands. Her hands, stained countless times with the blood of her many victims. She immediately thought of Marc, of Jenna.
Claire left the bathroom and joined Chris in the living room, where he was waiting for her, sitting on the sofa.
"Did you find what you needed?" Chris asked.
"Yes, thank you."
Claire saw Chris staring at her, looking her up and down.
"Yes, Chris. It's me. Claire. You have to help me get my body back."
"But how?"
"First of all, you have to help me get Marc and Jenna away from Béa. You need to call Marc and ask to speak to him urgently. In the meantime, I'm going back to the villa to see if Béa is there. I absolutely have to reread my notes on the machine, to see if I can repeat the experiment in reverse."
"But what do you want me to tell Marc?"
"Try the truth! Tell him the truth!"
"But I'd have to talk about... us?"
"It doesn't matter! I want my life back."
Chris took out his cell phone and dialed Marc's number. They arranged to meet at a café.
The café wasn't too far from the hotel where Marc and Jenna were staying. Marc left Jenna in her room, still busy with her cell phone. He was intrigued by Chris's phone call. Marc found the tone of his voice strange. He'd long suspected him of being Claire's lover. Which wouldn't be surprising, given how much time they spent together.
Chris was in sweats, waiting at a table on the terrace. They nodded to each other, and Marc joined him.
"Would you like something?"
"Yes, a coffee."
Chris signaled to the waiter to bring a second coffee.
"So, Chris, tell me what's going on? You sounded strange on the phone."
"Listen, Marc, let's get this out in the open right now. I am indeed your wife's lover."
Marc's blood boiled, but he didn't have time to react or reply before Chris spoke again.
"She's in danger, Marc. Claire is in grave danger!"
"Yes, I know. She's obsessed with that criminal. That Beatrice Zyto. She's on the run, looking for Claire."
"Yes, but it's not what you think... Claire... Claire experimented on Beatrice..."
"Experiments? What experiments?"
"Claire wanted to learn more about the behavior of criminals, the depths of their souls, the evil that resides in the brain. She created a machine designed to scan and compare the brain activity of two people... The machine malfunctioned... Claire and Beatrice swapped bodies."
Marc was ready to laugh at the absurdity of that last sentence, but saw that Chris remained completely serious.
- "This is ridiculous!"
- "The person pretending to be Claire is actually Beatrice Zyto. She's dangerous, Marc. You need to get away from her as fast as you can! You and Jenna are in grave danger."
- "Yeah, right! And in that case, where's Claire? I mean Bea."
- "She... She's taken refuge at my place?"
- "You're harboring a wanted criminal?"
- "Marc, you're not listening to me. It's Claire who's in Beatrice's body."
- "This whole story is unbelievable... I... I'm mostly just angry to find out you're having an affair with my wife."
- "Listen, Marc. I... I'm sorry you're finding out this way. But you need to go find Jenna and get away from Bea." "You're crazy! We're done with this! If we keep this up, all I want to do is punch you in the face. So stay out of this! Don't see my wife again! And leave us in peace!"
Marc stood up abruptly, leaving Chris looking puzzled. Chris had failed to convince Marc. Marc headed back to the hotel.
Claire wasn't surprised to find the house empty. She'd managed to get in, but not without difficulty, since she knew a key to the back door of the villa was hidden in a fake stone nearby. She remained cautious as she moved through the corridors. She returned to the office and searched through her notes. She needed to understand how the machine could have malfunctioned.
Chris finished his coffee after watching Marc leave. He regretted having caused his friend so much pain and worry. He wasn't surprised that Marc didn't believe his story. He would have to find another strategy. But Chris was worried about Claire. He sent her a text message on the cell phone he had lent her. In the message, he indicated that he had failed to convince Marc. But Chris had noticed that Marc was playing with a hotel key during their conversation. Chris recognized the hotel logo and deduced that Marc and Jenna must be staying there. He gave the reference to Claire in the message. Claire replied a moment later that she had found the explanation for the machine's malfunction. They arranged to meet at his apartment.
Chris paid for the two coffees. He owed Marc that much, and headed to his apartment. He didn't notice he was being followed by a woman wearing dark glasses who had watched the argument on the terrace. Bea suspected Claire would try to contact her husband or daughter indirectly. After dropping Marc off at the hotel, she had waited in the lobby for Marc or Jenna to come out for some reason. She followed Marc, who rushed out.
Bea recognized the man who had arranged to meet Marc. It was Chris. He worked with Claire. Judging by the way Chris looked at Claire, Bea suspected they were having an affair. And seeing the anger in Marc's demeanor during their conversation, she concluded she was right. Bea then realized Claire had good taste in men. It remained to be seen what Chris had told Marc. Bea decided to follow Chris. Perhaps he would lead her to Claire?
Chris went for a short jog on his way home, his mind still on the current situation. His conversation with Marc had given him pause. Should he believe this woman's words? He'd listened to his heart and recognized Claire from her name. But doubt lingered. After all, during their long sessions with Bea, Claire might have let slip some indiscretions, some key information about her life. Beatrice Zyto was certainly a psychopath, but with a very high IQ.
As soon as he got back to the apartment, he texted the supposed Claire, letting her know he was home. Then, feeling sweaty, he decided to take a shower. Afterward, he changed his clothes. He was about to call Claire when the doorbell rang. He opened it and found Claire there—or rather, Bea, if he believed this story.
"Hey Chris, can I come in?" Bea asked. "Uh... Hi. Yes, you can come in," Chris replied.
Chris noticed something different about this "Claire." Her style of dress wasn't the same as usual. So focused on her work, and although Claire was still a beautiful woman, she wasn't at all flirtatious, and even less rebellious in her attitude or appearance. Chris remained suspicious.
"Are you aware of Béatrice Zyto's escape?" asked Béa.
"Yes, I am."
"Did you see her? Did she come to your house?"
"Why would she come to my house? I don't know that crazy woman."
Béa almost let out a look of anger at this insult, but managed to restrain herself and continue playing the role of Claire.
"Yes, I know. But do you know she's projecting onto me? In our last sessions, she ended up believing she was... me. Isn't that crazy?"
"Yes, I've heard of this kind of transfer before. And you think she would have come to my place? How did she know about... the two of us?"
"It's possible that to gain her trust, I opened up a little..."
"You would have put me in danger if that were true."
"Oh, Chris... I'm so sorry."
Bea moved closer to Chris. He was taken aback by Bea's closeness. Her outfit excited him, and he let his guard down. Bea brought her face close to Chris's. Chris recognized Claire's scent. Bea had the presence of mind to fully embody Claire, even going so far as to wear the same perfume she had recognized during their sessions. Chris hugged Bea.
Chris didn't understand what was happening at first. He was holding Béa in his arms. He suddenly felt sharp pains in his stomach. Pains that kept recurring. First, one, then two, then three. He looked down at his stomach and saw blood starting to seep from holes in his shirt, then his gaze shifted to Claire's face. Béa gave him a huge smile.
"You're nothing but a liar! Like all men! You had to break up a couple's marriage. Why? ... For sex?"
Chris took a step back; he could already feel himself slipping away. He looked at Béa, and then he understood his mistake. Claire had told him the truth. He had just been murdered by Béatrice Zyto. He collapsed backward onto the floor. Chris was dead.
Béa contemplated her handiwork. She began to think. She had just framed the good doctor, Claire Lacroix, for Chris's murder. Those marks on the scalpel, which she left near the body. Now, Claire is going to find out what it's like to be a wanted criminal. Beatrice thought it was time she left Claire's body. An idea crossed her mind. An idea that made her smile again.
Claire was very worried. Chris wasn't answering her texts or calls anymore. She kept getting voicemail. She knew the conversation between Marc and Chris had been fruitless. But she wasn't reassured by not knowing where Beatrice was.
Claire went back to Chris's apartment. On the way, she was almost recognized by a police officer who was handing out tickets in the neighborhood. She lowered her head but didn't quicken her pace so as not to arouse suspicion. The officer remained focused on his ticket.
Claire reached the building where Chris lived. She rushed to the stairs. Then she entered the apartment using the spare key Chris had given her.
"Chris, are you there? Why aren't you answering my messages?"
The apartment remained silent. Claire felt uneasy. She walked toward the living room and saw her lover's body lying near the sofa.
"Oh my God! Chris... No..."
Claire knelt down, tears welling in her eyes, and checked if she could feel Chris's pulse. Perhaps it wasn't too late. Alas, she felt neither a pulse nor a heartbeat. As a doctor, she quickly realized that the amount of blood lost was too great. Claire was devastated. While she had been looking for a friend, for help, she had brought death to Chris. She felt responsible for his death.
Bea had returned to the hotel. Marc hadn't come back yet. Bea thought the situation was getting complicated, that she was taking risks. She went to find Jenna in her room, still playing with her cell phone.
"Mom, is everything alright?" Jenna asked.
"Yes, darling. Everything's wonderfully fine!"
"Have you heard anything? Did they manage to catch that crazy woman? Will we be able to go home?"
"Not yet, no. Bea is still free."
Beatrice sat down on the king-size bed next to Jenna and began to twirl her hair.
"This must seem strange to you right now... I must seem strange, right?" Bea asked.
"Yes, it's true. You're acting strange lately. I've attributed it to your work, your research."
"Would you like to see my work?" "What? What are you up to in the villa's basement?"
"Yes, I've built a machine that might interest you..."
"No, I don't want to. And I think it would be dangerous with that crazy woman on the loose."
Bea had prepared a small handkerchief soaked in chloroform, which she had hidden in a fold of her skirt behind her. While staring at Jenna, she gave her a smile that disconcerted her. Her smile seemed malevolent. Bea immediately pressed the handkerchief under Jenna's nose. The dose was so strong that the drug took effect almost instantly.
"Too bad, it would have been so simple if you had come with me willingly to the basement. I'm going to have a terrible headache for the next few hours. But that's nothing compared to the price of freedom."
Jenna gently fell unconscious into the sheets.
"Now, we're going for a little walk."
The next moment, taking advantage of Jenna's dazed state, Béa grabbed her by the hips and led her out of the room. They took the elevator down to the parking garage. Luckily, she didn't encounter anyone. Had she done so, Claire Lacroix would have had more murders to her name.
Given that Claire Lacroix would likely be accused very soon of Chris's cold-blooded murder, it wasn't good for Béa to remain in that body. Béa and Jenna arrived at the villa. Béa shook Jenna to wake her up a little to make it easier for her to move. They headed towards the basement. Béa helped Jenna sit in the machine. Then Béa took a few minutes to recall the sequence of buttons and instructions Claire had entered on the touchscreen control panel. The machine started making the same sounds as the first time; that was a good sign. Jenna began to slowly submerge, while Béa sped up the process. She sat down in the next seat, then started the process and closed her eyes.
Béa felt the sensation of floating and numbness again. Then a kind of void, the feeling of having lost all her senses, of being detached. Then, an exquisite sensation, of feeling younger, fitter. Bea opened her eyes and saw her bare legs in denim shorts, Jenna's. The operation had been a success again. She stroked her face; it felt a little smoother, less wrinkled. Then she turned her head and saw Claire's body, unconscious. Bea stood up with an excess of energy that suited her. Bea had kept the chloroform handkerchief and placed it under Jenna's nose, Jenna now in Claire's body.
"Sorry, kiddo, you're likely to be in for a series of surprises soon. You've lost a few years, and you might be spending some time in the shadows."
Bea left the unconscious Jenna in the basement and went back upstairs to Jenna's bathroom. She rushed to the mirror. She was happy to have regained a certain youthfulness and to still possess a certain beauty. Occupying her body, she found Jenna magnificent. Perhaps she would be just as successful with men with this teenage body. Bea also felt a strange sensation, that of feeling like a virgin again, which made her laugh for a moment. She was surprised that Jenna was still a virgin at that age. Bea had experienced sex much earlier, and not under the right circumstances. Bea then amused herself by touching up her makeup. But decided to keep her clothes on.
Bea got in the car and decided to go back to the hotel. If she wanted to keep this body, she had to get rid of everyone who knew her secret or who might understand. It was time for her to rejoin her beloved "daddy."
Claire arrived at the villa determined. Her blood boiled with rage and grief following Chris's death. She barely had time to get out of the car before she saw a woman staggering out of the front door, looking drugged. Jenna had just woken up; she didn't understand where she was. She didn't recognize the basement, having never been down there before. But as she climbed the stairs, she recognized the villa, her home. Jenna felt tired and a little sore, paying no attention to her clothes or her body. When Jenna came face to face with Claire, she thought she was standing before the notorious escaped criminal, without realizing she was standing before her mother. She was terrified.
Claire found the woman's behavior strange; she thought she was Bea. Jenna backed away, looking utterly frightened.
"Please don't hurt me!" Jenna cried.
"What's wrong with you? Are you out of your mind? Are you scared? Where's your determination? Your rage? You killed Chris, I'll have to take you down right now!" Claire objected.
Jenna, slowly regaining her senses, saw that she was wearing a leather skirt and tights, nothing like the outfit she'd been wearing a short while ago. She looked at her hands, slightly older, a little more worn by time.
"What is this nonsense? I feel old! ... But... It looks like my mother's body?!" Jenna exclaimed, panicking.
"What are you talking about? Stop this nonsense!" Claire shouted.
Claire took a step toward Jenna, her gun looming ever closer. Jenna lowered her head and looked straight into Claire's eyes. Claire suddenly had a strange feeling. It wasn't the same look anymore. It seemed less harsh, gentler, more familiar.
"Jenna? Are you Jenna?" Claire asked.
"Yes... How do you know my name? Did my mother tell you?" Jenna replied.
"Oh my God! What did she do to you?... Don't worry."
At these words, Claire dropped her gun and rushed to embrace Jenna. It felt strange to hold her own body so tightly. Jenna almost struggled against this stranger, but didn't have time to react. She found herself in the arms of a stranger, but it was strangely comforting. Claire gently rested Jenna's head against her shoulder.
"Close your eyes, Jenna, and listen to me... It's me. I'm your mother. Since you're in my body, you must understand that I'm not Beatrice Zyto. It really is me, Claire," Claire said.
"But... how is that possible?" Jenna wondered.
"I'll tell you everything, but first, were you alone in the villa?"
"Yes, I woke up in the basement... I remember now... You... She... We were at the hotel talking when you... when she put a tissue under my nose with a strong smell... I remember being in the car... then at the villa... then in that basement."
"Everything will be alright, my darling! I'll fix everything."
Jenna remained in her mother's arms, her eyes closed. Despite the different voice, the tone was familiar; she was convinced it was her mother.
Claire considered where Bea might be. If she wanted to stay in Jenna's body, she could come after us. Bea didn't know where Claire was hiding. But Claire assumed Jenna would have gone back to the hotel. She presumed she also wanted to retrieve all of Jenna's identification papers. Her passport could allow her to disappear.
"Listen, Jenna, trust me. I have to go back to the hotel where you're staying."
Marc remained worried; he hadn't heard from Claire in a long time. And with that psychopath on the loose, he feared she was in grave danger. Bea savored Jenna's new body. She sat down next to her "father" and discreetly slipped the knife she'd found in the kitchen between two sofa cushions. Looking at Marc, she thought back to the torrid moments she'd shared with him in his wife's body. An idea crossed her mind: she might experience similar sensations in Jenna's body. Having been sexually abused by her father during her childhood, Bea decided to take a chance with Marc. When he explained her concerns, Bea didn't listen. At least, not attentively. Bea began to slowly unbutton his shirt. She rested her head against his shoulder. Marc was about to hug her to comfort her when he saw she had started to undress him. Shocked, he jumped up. Bea started laughing. This unsettled Marc. His daughter's behavior was strange.
Claire was on her way, accompanied by her daughter, Jenna, trapped in her mother's body. For a teenager, finding herself in her mother's body was a shock. Jenna felt the weight of years. So this was what aging felt like. Jenna felt stronger, and even more feminine. But all sorts of thoughts raced through her mind. She felt nauseous several times. Jenna touched her hair, looked at her hands; she thought she was having a nightmare.
Claire remained focused on the road. She knew her husband was in danger; she had to hurry. She took some risks by overtaking more often and, above all, by accelerating. But she had to be careful not to get pulled over by the police. This wasn't the time.
Claire parked on a street near the hotel and ordered Jenna to accompany her. They entered the building. Claire asked Jenna to go to the reception desk and ask for her room key. Jenna, still disoriented, obeyed. The receptionist had no problem and handed Jenna the key. Claire stayed back, as discreet as possible. Then, Claire asked Jenna to remain in the lobby and wait for her.
"But Mom, you're not going to face him alone, are you?" Jenna asked.
"You have to! I've already put you in too much danger! I have to stop him," Claire replied.
Claire took the elevator and entered the room using the key. She was immediately horrified to find Marc lying face down on the floor. She noticed a few bloodstains near his body. But not enough to believe he was dead. Perhaps it wasn't too late.
Bea came in from the kitchen, all cheerful. She had just stabbed Marc and had taken immense pleasure in it. She wasn't surprised to see Claire in the room, looking dejected, gun in hand.
"Well, Doc! There you are at last! You'll save me the trouble of looking for you!" Bea said.
"It's over, Beatrice! You've caused enough damage in my life!" Claire objected.
"Come on, Doc. You weren't shooting your daughter, were you?"
"No, just wounding you to stop you from running away. I know where to shoot to immobilize you, without Jenna having to suffer afterward. She... She'll forgive me."
Claire remained bewildered to see her daughter acting this way. All smiles, looking amused. In her mind, she should keep telling herself that it wasn't her daughter. Claire managed to get to the phone in the room and call an ambulance.
Claire waited patiently, still aiming her gun at Béatrice, the ambulance. She soon heard sirens. A few moments later, the sound of running footsteps echoed in the corridor. Two paramedics appeared in the room. Immediately, Claire cried out:
"Please! Save my husband, he's seriously injured!"
"Yes, yes! Save my dad from this crazy murderer, she's wanted by the police," Béa began to say.
Claire had no choice but to also threaten the paramedics to get them to save Marc.
"He's lost a lot of blood, but I can feel his pulse. We have to get him out."
Shortly after, Claire went downstairs with Béa and the two paramedics, who managed to help Marc to his feet. He had regained some consciousness. They all met up in front of the hotel. The two paramedics eventually stopped paying attention to the gun pointed at them and focused on Marc. Claire gestured for Bea to get in the ambulance.
Jenna had witnessed the scene. She immediately ran to her father. The paramedics were surprised.
"Do you know this man?" one of them asked.
"Yes, he's my dad!" Jenna replied.
"He's your father?" the paramedic asked, looking surprised, noting the small age difference between the two. "Don't worry! He'll be okay."
Jenna moved away and saw her mother in Bea's body, threatening her own. She was shocked to see herself, smiling despite the threat. Jenna joined them.
"Jenna, we have to go. You're going to hold that bitch at gunpoint while I drive! She's the one who stabbed your father."
"Yes, Mom. That crazy woman isn't going to get away with this."
Jenna got in the back seat with Bea, still pointing her gun at her, and Claire took the wheel.
A few hours later, in the villa's basement, Claire was able to put everything back in order. She reversed the transfer between Jenna and Beatrice. Jenna regained her body, relieved. Traumatized by the experience, it would take her time to forget. Jenna helped her mother with the final phase of the transfer, continuing to threaten Bea. Claire carried out the last exchange between herself and Beatrice. She was relieved to have her body back. The nightmare was coming to an end.
Claire took the gun from Jenna and ordered her to call the police.
"But what are you going to do, Mom?" Jenna asked.
"I'm going to keep an eye on her until the police arrive. And I'm going to destroy this infernal machine."
Jenna went back upstairs to make the phone call. Claire and Bea were left alone.
"So, Doc. Happy to be back in your comfortable bourgeois life?" "Shut up. You killed Chris. You deserve for me to shoot you like a dog."
"Oh, Doc! That's beneath you! ... You wanted to know what goes into the mind of a criminal. The urge to kill. Perhaps I left a part of myself inside you?"
Claire hesitated before pulling the trigger. A bullet to the head. She could claim that Bea had tried to escape. The idea appealed to her. But then she thought back to Bea's last remark. Had she kept that murderous impulse inside her?
"No, Bea. I'll never be like you. Murder has never been an option."
"Okay, Doc. Thank you for sparing me. But I think I'll get special treatment from now on in prison. And you're going to do everything you can to help me get my sentence reduced."
"And why would I do that after everything you've done to us ?"
"Simple. Know this, Doc. I hid the gun I used to kill your darling, Chris. Your fingerprints are on it. It would be easy for me to tell the police where the gun is. You'd be in serious trouble."
Claire was shocked. She had no choice. Claire ordered Bea to head for the stairs and go back upstairs, having heard the police siren. As she searched the room, she pushed the screens, monitors, and computers onto the floor. The computer equipment shattered into a thousand pieces. Then Claire grabbed a flammable liquid and sprayed it on the two seats. She threw her lighter on them. The fire damaged them just enough to render the equipment unusable. That was the end of the machine.
Two policewomen entered the house. Jenna greeted them and gave them a brief summary of the situation: Beatrice Zyto had managed to break into their villa and had threatened to kill her and her mother. Claire and Bea entered the room, and the two officers immediately grabbed her.
Bea began to get annoyed at Claire's apparent satisfaction.
"We'll see each other again soon, Doc. If you don't want me to reveal our little secret!"
The two officers grabbed her and put her in their car. Claire then went to her daughter. She hugged her, and they both began to cry.
A month had passed since those events. Beatrice was still in prison, but in a more "comfortable" cell. Claire had reduced her therapy sessions, but she gave instructions for stronger treatment. Beatrice had practically become a zombie in the facility.
Jenna seemed to have regained a certain zest for life. She never mentioned the whole affair again. She had grown closer to her mother. They had become even closer.
Marc was quickly released from the hospital. Claire told him the whole truth, including her affair with Chris. Marc forgave her everything, believing that the experience had left its mark on all of them and caused them immense suffering. Claire and Marc also rediscovered a lost connection. They remained genuinely in love with each other. Claire focused on her work as a surgeon. Above all, she wanted to save lives. She had become even more aware of the fragility and value of life.
THE END
Without a doubt, one of your most ambitious projects, along with The Immortalizer. Very well written, and the images and videos perfectly illustrate the story!
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