by Kim Harrison
Gasping, she tried to yank the pendent off, almost panicking when it took two tugs to break the chain. With a cry of frustration, she threw it into a corner of the stairwell. Shoving the door open, she raced down to the sidewalk and into the dusky twilight. She had changed to please Haley, but she had changed.
Can you see them? Can you see them, yet? echoed in her mind, and she stifled a tiny shriek, hands waving as she ran through a spider filament stretching across the sidewalk. Moths were fluttering about the streetlights, and Meg ran to her car. There was a warning in the frog song coming from the nearby lake.
Dr. Jillium would know.
Eighteen
She’d known what was real before Dr. Jillium increased her meds. Of that Meg was certain. Beyond that, nothing was sure.
The campus’s cramped roads had become black with night, and the sudden right angles made her headlights almost useless as she drove to the hospital. What Haley said couldn’t be true. Meg hadn’t done those things. How could she? It had been Austin.
Confusion-born tears started, and the car threatened to stall as she took a corner too tight.
Austin had been there. Haley was lying. She was a mean, spiteful bitch who’d pretended to like her for her own sadistic mind games. Meg should’ve known it was too good to be true that Haley actually liked her. People as perfect as Haley didn’t make friends with basket cases like her. Rorry was even worse, pretending to protect her from Austin when all Rorry was doing was protecting Haley’s “investment.”
“I’m a plaything to them. A toy.” Wiping her eyes, she bounced over the road bumps, struggling not to cry from the heartache of being used. “I can’t believe I painted a picture for him. Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch!”
The canvas was beside her where Austin once sat, its lines lost in the darkness. Throwing it away wasn’t an option. It was her best work, the beginning of something totally new, and now, she’d think of him every time she looked at it.
“Damn him. Damn them both,” she whispered. Frustrated, Meg hit the dash, and her hand began to bleed again through the bandage. Meg stared at the slick sheen leaking out, her panic rising anew. Was it really bleeding or just an illusion? Had she cut her hand or burned it?
“I hate this car,” she said softly, and then louder, when she realized she’d missed the turn and was headed into the nearby park, “I hate this car! Why am I even driving this car!”
Suddenly her headlights gleamed on the ragged silhouette of a man in the road, waving at her to stop. It was Christopher, and gasping, Meg spun the wheel to avoid him. That damned little dog of his jerked his lead free and ran away, but Christopher froze in fear. Panicking, Meg hit the gas instead of the brake.
With a sickening lurch, the car angled off the road and onto the open grass toward the trees. Meg shrieked, paralyzed as the memory of her accident rose up, thick and smothering. The impact of the curb bounced her head into the wheel, and dazed, she could do nothing but cross her arms over her face as the trees flashed past bright with light. With a jaw-snapping thud, the car ran into a tree and stalled.
For three seconds, Meg didn’t move, her breath a harsh rasp as she remembered where she was. There’d been no airbag to cushion her this time, and the taste of blood slicked her teeth. Dazed, she looked at the empty seat beside her, relief pushing out the fear. It wasn’t one of her nightmares. It was real and she was okay. Austin wasn’t here, his hand mangled and his leg nearly severed at the hip by a metal fence support. There was only a canvas lying on the floor, one that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
“I hate this car,” she whispered, wishing she’d gotten the airbag replaced along with the passenger side door. But it hadn’t seemed to matter if she wasn’t going to drive the thing.
Then Christopher banged on the window, and she jumped, shrieking.
“You have to kill them!” he shouted through the window, and Meg scrambled to the other side of the car and got out in a panic.
“Stay away from me!” she exclaimed as she reached back in for her purse, backing away from him as he came around the car. “You’re crazy. Crazy!”
“Like hell I am,” he growled, and she gasped as he grabbed her arm. “It’s not too late. Come with me to the fountain. They need moving water. That’s how they get here. They haven’t left. Help me. We have to kill them both or you’ll never know what’s real again. Don’t let them take you. Perfection isn’t real. They aren’t real!”
If they aren’t real, then why do you want to kill them? she thought, but there was no logic to crazy. “Get away from me!” Meg wedged his hand off her. Shoving him back, she began to run to the hospital. She had to talk to Dr. Jillium, stand in front of her and find out what was real and what wasn’t, because if Perfection wasn’t an illusion, than what she’d done wasn’t either.
Breathless, Meg reached the outskirts of the parking lot, turning to look behind her at the shadows as she found herself under the brighter lights. Christopher wasn’t following, and she forced herself to slow, tugging her skirt straight and clutching her purse as she paced between the cars, trying to hide her limp as she angled for the main entrance. Her hand throbbed, and she held it to her middle, hiding it. It was after visiting hours, but if she could slip past the lobby desk, she should be fine.
The flash of headlights from a slow-moving car arched toward her, and she ducked down behind a parked truck, not sure why except that Haley seemed to think she’d set fire to Dr. Jillium’s office, and fear and uncertainty had begun to gnaw at her. Unmoving, she watched Daniel park his black sedan, the door echoing as he slammed it shut and headed for the entrance.
Meg’s pulse raced. He was going to talk to Dr. Jillium. Why else would he be here? Hunched and hurting, Meg stood to follow. Her lip was swollen, and an instinctive lick brought her up short at the unexpected taste of blood. She froze and looked down at herself. She was a mess.
Exhaling, Meg forced herself to ease her death-grip on her purse. She used her sleeve to wipe the streaks of tears from her face, then fingercombed her hair and slapped the dirt from her dress. Squaring her shoulders, she risked a quick look behind her to make sure Christopher was gone before slipping in through the wide glass doors to follow Daniel.
“Third floor,” the receptionist was saying to the confident man flashing his badge, and Meg ducked out of sight. Stomach cramping, she watched Daniel give the woman a pleasant, flirtatious salute before heading for the elevator, his hands in his pockets and his steps jaunty. Drawing back, Meg headed to the stairs.
The door was heavy, and she pushed it aside just enough to slip past. Knees watery, she took the stairs fast, her hip throbbing and her breath heavy by the time she reached the third floor. Breath rasping, she cautiously looked out of the long, narrow window onto the hallway, bright under the fluorescent lights.
Meg’s shoulders eased. A floor polisher hummed, the operator wearing ear buds, his back to her as he moved his machine in time with unheard music. The woman manning the desk was busy with work, but she looked up when the elevator dinged and Daniel stepped out, all smiles as he draped himself over the high counter and charmed Dr. Jillium’s room number from her with a flash of smiling teeth and his badge.
The woman pointed down the hall toward Meg, and she drew back from the window, pulse hammering. She waited, her back to the wall, until Daniel’s steps passed her. Haley knew too much to not be working with Dr. Jillium, but why? Why would she say such things?
Unless it was true.…
Meg wiped her palms on her pants. The nurse had her head down and the floor cleaner was dancing his machine the other way. Purse held tight, she eased into the hallway, glancing at the desk before following Daniel once down the night-emptied corridor. She breathed easier after turning the corner, just in time to see the furl of Daniel’s suit coat slip past a closing door.
Meg ran to catch up, wedging her fingers between the heavy door and the frame before it shut.
“Daniel,” Dr. Jillium said, her vo
ice both anxious and relieved. “Tell me you found her.”
“She’s not at her apartment.” Daniel’s low voice was harder to hear, and Meg pressed closer.
“Did you check her old one?” Dr. Jillium asked.
“I looked at both. There’s no sign of Chris, either. Are you going to eat that?”
“Be my guest.” Dr. Jillium’s tone was sour, and Meg heard the faint clink of a spoon. “I really messed this up. She was doing so well. The Fitrecepon was working. It was working, Daniel. She wasn’t hurting anyone, and she was making more progress there in her fantasy than she would with any amount of truth in a facility.”
Fantasy? Meg thought, confusion spilling through her. Maybe Christopher was right. Maybe Haley and Rorry were the delusions, lying to her about Austin. Can you see them? Can you see them yet? Head down, Meg looked in her purse, pushing past her phone and diary to the smoke-stained vials of Fitrecepon. How could she be having a bad reaction if she was better?
“I’m not arguing that it’s working,” Daniel said, the clink of the spoon a sharp punctuation. “But explain to me how she skipped the initial warnings and went right into overdose.”
“I don’t know.” Dr. Jillium sighed, and Meg shifted her weight to her other foot, her hip aching. “Maybe I wasn’t listening. Damn it, Daniel, she was doing better. Real progress.”
“Have you given your statement yet?” he asked, and Meg’s brow furrowed.
Dr. Jillium made a soft noise of negation. “About the fire? No. What did Meg say?”
“Worried about losing your license? You should be,” he said in a sing-song tone.
“What did she say, Daniel?”
“It’s on the news,” he said, and there was the clink of a dish being set down. “Where’s your remote? I’ll find it for you.”
“What. Did. She. Say,” Dr. Jillium intoned, and Daniel sighed.
“That Austin came in a jealous rage, knocked you out, set fire to your office to destroy Meg’s access to Fitrecepon.”
“Damn,” Dr. Jillium said softly, or maybe Meg just imagined it. Her grip on her purse began to tighten as a confusion-born anger seeped into her.
“They’re going to find out, Janice. Meg is going to find out.”
With a decisive motion, Meg stiff-armed the door open and walked in, her steps not as graceful as she wanted because of the pain. “Find out what?” she asked.
Daniel bolted to his feet from where he had been half sitting against the cupboards that lined the wall opposite the bed, his shock obvious in his wide-eyed expression. Dr. Jillium was sitting up in bed, looking odd in a paisley-blue smock. She looked older without makeup, her eyes tired but quickly losing her surprise. A deep sadness took its place, as she slumped against the headboard, her pillow lost behind her.
But her brow furrowed when Daniel reached behind himself for his cuffs. “Daniel, I swear, if you cuff another one of my clients, I will turn you in myself. Meg is not a criminal.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he settled back. “I am failing to see the difference,” he muttered.
Turn him in? For what? Meg wondered, her anger making her shoulders stiff.
“Come on in, Meg,” Dr. Jillium said with a small gesture. “I’m glad you’re here. I have a few things to talk to you about.”
Meg’s lips pressed together. “Not with him in the room,” she said, and Daniel, flipped his suit coat aside to show off his snapped holster.
“Really, Daniel?” Dr. Jillium said with a tired sigh, and he frowned at both of them.
“I’ll be right outside,” he said as he grabbed the back of a rolling chair. Meg warily sidestepped out of his way. “I’m sorry, Doctor. You know as well as I where this is going.”
Meg stiffened at the treat, saying nothing as he dragged the rolling chair out into the hall. His head was down over his phone as the door shut, and her worry deepened. But she needed answers.
“What am I going to figure out?” Meg asked again, and Dr. Jillium winced. “That Fitrecepon is dangerous? That you made me worse, not better? That like the Titanic, I’m two thousand feet in the air and sinking?” she added, flinging a hand uselessly into the air. It was the one bandaged and bloodied, and she hid it behind her. “I’m seeing things that aren’t there. I’m hearing things no one else does. I was better off living in that dark apartment.”
“That’s not true.” Dr. Jillium winced. “Look at you.”
“I am hallucinating, Dr. J,” she said, pacing. “I just had a conversation with two people I’m having serious doubts exist. They knew all about you. All about me. They were trying to get me to believe that Austin has been dead for the last three years. You can’t tell me that’s not a hallucination.”
Dr. Jillium said nothing, her sorrowful eyes fixed on Meg.
Meg felt her face go cold. “Dr. Jillium?” she questioned, no longer sure she had the right to be angry.
“I’m sorry, Meg,” the woman said softly. “I don’t know what went wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you maintain your fantasy, but you weren’t showing any sign of complications. You made so much progress in the last few days, I suppose I blinded myself to them. You even made the conscious decision to leave Austin. I was so proud of you. I thought that perhaps you were finally ready to accept what had happened and move on,” she said, her smile both sad and proud.
Breathless, Meg felt for the chair, fingers fumbling. “Accept what? What happened?”
Dr. Jillium gestured helplessly. “Austin died in that car accident three years ago.”
Meg sat down hard. That was it. She was crazy. Not just crazy, but bat-shit crazy.
“He can’t be dead,” Meg said, her voice breathy as she tried to make sense of it. “You told me you talked to him,” she accused. “How could he be dead if you told me you talked to him? Were you making a fool of me just to get your pills on the market?”
“No!” Dr. Jillium protested, her eyes going wide in a guilty protest. “It wasn’t like that at all. You were making more progress thinking he was real than when you knew he wasn’t, and I didn’t see the harm. Meg, I’m so sorry,” Dr. Jillium pleaded, but Meg hardly heard, her mind trying to wrap itself around the alternate truths as a crushing loss rose up, as fresh and biting as it had been three years ago. Austin was dead, and she had killed him. She had killed him trying to feel something.
“I’m so sorry to be doing this from a hospital room,” Dr. Jillium was saying. “Fitrecepon was designed to bring your emotions closer to the surface so you could deal with the grief and find closure. It seemed to be working. You’d stabilized,” she said as if trying to convince herself. “Realized his memory was holding you back. Took steps to leave him behind. That a part of you would rebel and fight to retain your delusion was unexpected.”
Breathless, Meg tried to understand. It had been her who had knocked Dr. Jillium out and set fire to the building? Dizzy, Meg looked at her bandaged hand and the blood leaking through. It was cut, not burned. How could I remember it the other way?
“I don’t blame you for any of it,” Dr. Jillium said as Meg hid her hand.
“I don’t understand,” Meg whispered. “How can Austin be dead? Who have I been having dinner with every night?” She looked up as Dr. Jillium reached for her hand. “Who has been driving me around?”
“You have,” she said as she gave Meg’s hand a squeeze. “It was easier for you to remember it as Austin being there, him driving instead of you. Meg, it’s okay,” she said when Meg groaned at the unreal travesty of it all, the fool she had been. “You’re making progress. You wouldn’t even get into a car a year ago.”
My God, everyone on campus must think I’m crazy, talking to myself for three years when I thought I was talking to Austin, Meg thought in despair, and then her jaw tightened. Dr. Jillium had let her run around campus making a fool of herself? Talking to no one? No wonder she didn’t have any real friends.
“Look at your hand, Meg,” Dr. Jillium said, mistaking her anger for disbelief
. “You told the police that you burned it, but it’s cut from breaking the glass. Look at it. Look at it! You are having an extreme reaction to the Fitrecepon. I have to take you off it, but we’ll get through this together. I promise.”
I can’t deal with this, Meg thought suddenly, her stomach knotting as her fingers felt a slick smoothness of the blood leaking out of her bandage. Haley had told her the truth, and she had just walked out on her.
And then Meg’s breath caught. If Haley wasn’t an illusion, then Perfection wasn’t either. It was real. “And my new friends?” she asked, her voice sounding as if coming from someone else.
“I’m afraid they’re new imaginary surrogates for Austin, created to cushion your psyche as you let him go,” Dr. Jillium said.
Meg stood, her arms over her middle as she turned her back on her. “I will not throw my chance at utopia away because I’m scared to believe in it.”
“I didn’t see any harm in it as you gave them a semester’s lifespan. I’m sorry, Meg,” Dr. Jillium said gently. “I’ve seen this before. I’m going to have to take you off the Fitrecepon before the changes become permanent. ”
Her back to Dr. Jillium, Meg clenched her purse closer. “Haley and Rorry are not imaginary,” she said. “We went shopping. I stayed at her apartment. I helped her pick it out and everything in it.”
“You picked it out, Meg,” Dr. Jillium insisted. “To get away from Austin’s memory. You did it, and it’s okay. You just need to do it on your own, now. I won’t press charges, and it will be almost as if it never happened. We can work this out. I won’t leave you. We can do it together.”
Meg spun back, feeling unreal and light. “Work this out?” she said, knowing that there would be no jail, but rather a nice comfortable room at the nearest mental facility. Probably right next to Christopher. “They are not imaginary,” she insisted, refusing to let Dr. Jillium take them away along with Austin. “We played putt-putt. I have the score card.”