by Leo King
She’d been sick every morning. Food she usually loved made her sick. She fell back, eyes widening, as the realization sank in. She and Richie had made love so many times, and not once with protection. How could it not happen?
I’ve been so screwed up that I hadn’t noticed my period never came.
Then she touched her stomach. Within seconds, she felt a small but powerful spark moving through her fingers. Once more, the world around her became muted, but instead of her senses traveling outward, they traveled in. And deep within her womb, she felt it.
A pair of heartbeats.
“Oh, my God! I’m pregnant!”
It didn’t take long to test Sam for pregnancy. Of course the test came back positive, and when the ultrasound revealed two sets of embryos attached to two different placentas, it confirmed what she had suspected—that she had twins. Despite knowing that she was holding the products of incest, she felt a sudden and immense joy. She wasn’t sure if it was biological, emotional, or what—and she didn’t care. In the blink of an eye, she had become a mother.
“Do you have names for them yet?” asked Meghan as she moved one of her bishops, capturing a pawn. The other patients from her group crowded around them in the common room as they played. In the background, another group was watching the first Halloween movie. The room had been scented with a pumpkin-spice candle to celebrate the upcoming season. A few of the nicer orderlies walked around, and the atmosphere was quite festive.
Sam shook her head, holding her left hand protectively over her stomach as if it were the only thing keeping her unborn children from becoming a dream. “I haven’t given it that much thought, actually. I was thinking of waiting until I find out if they’re boys or girls or one of each, ya know?”
From the television, the Halloween theme started playing.
“You shouldn’t wait too long,” said Miss Prissy. “I mean, as Martha Stewart says, ‘When you're through changing, you're through.’”
“Oh, cut it out with the Martha Stewart quotes, Ursula,” said Livingston, who then reached over and tapped one of Sam’s knights. “You should move this one. He’s ready to battle.”
“Gracious, Lou! Let Sam play the game herself,” said Miss Prissy.
The group around the television gasped as one of the movie’s scarier scenes played out.
Livingston blew a raspberry. “All right, but I’m next to play. I tried playing checkers with Brian, and you can guess how that went.” Nearby, Gormless stared blankly at a checkers board that lacked any pieces.
As everyone chuckled, Sam felt her spirits lift inch by inch. Even if it was only due to her pregnancy, it was nice to finally feel like she belonged.
She made her move just as the group around the television squealed. Michael Meyers hacked away at one of the many victims in the film. Meghan looked disgusted. Then she slapped Livingston’s hand as he reached for one of Sam’s pieces.
Once the screaming settled down, Stinky Palms said, “Yeah, half-naked, nubile teenagers aside, is it really appropriate to be showing that movie in here? Just saying.”
Preacher Man snorted. “’Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.’ Gospel of Matthew, chapter 26, verse 52.”
With a snarky laugh, James Woods patted him on the back. “I’m with Drake on this one. Hey, you guys! Turn it down! We’ve got a pregnant woman over here.”
Sam’s ears burned, and she tried to meld into the chair as he pointed at her like she was the most important person in the world. Someone in the group apologized and turned the sound down. People were really looking out for her now that she had a pair of meatloaves in the oven.
Even Dr. Kindley had been going out of his way to accommodate her. She had been moved into her own private room and put on a specific, healthy diet. Also, Veronica said that she would ensure Sam’s file reflected a hormonal imbalance in correlation with her psychotic episodes. Maybe this means I can be happy now? I’d like that.
The game finally ended with Sam winning, Meghan declaring that she preferred checkers over chess, and Livingston and Stinky Palms getting into a disagreement over who would play next. But then the orderlies declared that it was fifteen minutes to lights-out and everyone needed to get back to their rooms.
As the patients started shuffling out, Meghan handed Sam her crutches. “Hey, need any help getting back to your room?”
Sam pulled herself to her feet, shaking her head. “Nah. I’m good. Thanks again for playing with me, though.”
“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow then, girl!” Meghan blew a kiss and skipped off.
By now, the room was mostly empty, with one orderly putting away the television. As Sam limped toward the exit, she heard a voice say, “They killed her.”
She stopped in her tracks. Looking around, she saw that the room was empty save for the lone orderly and Gormless, who was still at the checkers table. He was motionless and drooling, having a catatonic episode.
Blinking, she approached. “Brian? Did you say something to me?”
He remained silent, a puddle of drool forming on the checkerboard.
“Right. Now I’m hearing things. And I can’t take anything but Tylenol for nine months.” She turned back around to leave.
Then she heard someone again. “They killed her. She told me.”
Her brow tense, she spun around. “You know, Brian, it’s really poor taste to pretend like you’re…”
But Gormless wasn’t there.
Coldness descended over her. Leaning down, she examined the checkerboard. In the puddle of drool was a small charm on a chain—a pink mouse, one she knew she had seen before. Wiping it off, she scanned the room just in time to see Gormless shuffling out. With a soft sigh, she pocketed the charm and limped back to her room.
Once inside, she sat on her bed and took out the charm, dangling it between her fingers. Nostalgia suddenly coursed through her, and she rested it on her bedside table. I need to hold Mom’s charm now.
Opening the drawer in the bedside table, she took out a red, plastic high-heeled shoe charm on a chain. It had been melted so badly, its original form was almost lost. The golden lettering for “Comus” was mostly indistinguishable. But despite the damage, just looking at it calmed her down. It was the only possession she treasured. It was a keepsake from her mother that she’d had to beg and plead with Veronica to get back.
She squeezed it gently. In her scarred left hand, it felt natural. It was times like this when she wished she had known her mother, who was said to be soft-spoken, gentle, and kind. Oh, Mom, how would I have turned out if you had raised me?
Then she realized she was crying. Wiping the tears away, she pressed it to her belly, her throat still tight. “Feel that, little ones? That’s your grandmother. I won’t make the mistakes my parents made. I’ll be there for you. I promise. Mama will be there when you need her the most.”
Drying her eyes on her sleeve, she lay down and stared at the charm.
It was late at night when Sam awoke with a start, still holding her shoe charm. The lights to her room were off, and the hallway lights were dimmed for nighttime as usual. She shivered, a chill all around her. Pulling her robe on, she hobbled to the doorway, intent on finding an orderly and complaining about the temperature. But it was warm and cozy in the hallway. The difference between there and her room was like night and day.
“What the hell?” She slipped back into her room. It was frigid and eerily silent.
Going back to her bed, she rubbed her face, trying to make sense of what was happening. The silence of the room was broken by a scratching sound beside her. She examined the bedside table. The pink mouse charm was slowly inching across the wooden surface, making scratching sounds, until it reached the edge and dropped to the floor. She watched for a moment, transfixed, before exhaling nervously and picking it up. Immediately, she felt a shiver in her shoulders and the sensation of being watched. Something was here
. Something spiritual. And it wanted her attention.
She held onto the charm and hobbled over to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, she splashed cool water on her face, taking a moment to recollect herself. Don’t stress over it. You’ve been feeling spirits all around since the fire. You’ll figure it out.
With a yawn, she gazed at her reflection. There were dark circles under her eyes. I need more sleep.
Then she patted herself dry and turned back into her room, coming face-to-face with a white, translucent apparition staring back at her with hollow, lifeless eyes.
Gasping, Sam stumbled back, falling square on her butt onto the toilet lid.
“Christ, what the hell?” She hadn’t seen a spirit physically manifest since the battle in her townhome. This time, however, instead of a monstrous loa, it was what she figured a ghost would look like: pale, translucent, and misty. Hopping up, she inspected it closely. It was a girl, no older than her late teens, with a shaved head and a gaunt face. Her eyes were sunken in, and her mouth was sewn shut. Her body faded into mist at her torso. Sam could swear that she had seen this girl before.
“Who are you?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
The apparition pointed at Sam’s hand, the one wrapped around the pink mouse charm.
Instantly, she knew who it was. A girl who had once owned that very same charm. A girl who was quiet and shy and never really fit in. A girl who went missing without any explanation other than that “she couldn’t be treated.” Sam flipped the charm in between her fingers.
“I know you, you’re…”
But the apparition was gone. However, Sam didn’t need confirmation. She knew who it was: Laura Levron. Little Squeaker.
“My God. She’s dead. Little Squeaker is dead! They killed her!”
Chapter 5
One and the Same
Date: Sunday, October 11, 1992
Time: 9:00 a.m.
Location: Tulane Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit
Downtown New Orleans
“What did you find out?” Sam asked Meghan. In the corner of the common room, the two quietly pretended to play checkers.
“Well, I had to do a few favors to get the information. The official statement is that Laura was transferred to the Evergreen Sanatorium. It’s a long-term mental rehabilitation facility.” Meghan kept her voice hushed, leaning in toward Sam.
Sam frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Wasn’t she from Lafayette? Wouldn’t it have been easier to transfer her to Acadia-Vermillion Hospital?” She wished that she herself had been sent there. Then she’d be under Dr. Lazarus’s care.
Meghan shrugged. “I think neither one of us have a freaking clue what’s going on.”
Rubbing her face, Sam groaned. “Something’s not right. The whole story stinks. I’m convinced that they did something to her.”
“Right, like that makes sense. Look, I know that some people here are shitwads, but what you’re talking about is plain illegal. You’re assuming a lot just from a mouse charm and something Brian drooled out.”
With a grunt, Sam leaned back. She couldn’t just say she’d seen Little Squeaker’s ghost. “Well, I’d be more comfortable if we could look at her file. You said you could help me out with that, right?”
Meghan hummed, abandoning the fake checkers game. “Sam, come on. This isn’t like The Pale Lantern or something. We can’t just go traipsing around Dr. Kindley’s office. If we get caught, we’ll be in serious trouble!”
The reference to Richie’s book made Sam laugh. When Meghan wrinkled her brow, she said, “It’s just ironic that you’re using something written by the father of my children as a basis of comparison, hun.”
“Well, little Sammy, what’s got you so giggly-giggly?”
Sam stopped as someone slapped her with a wall of stink. Covering her nose, she watched as Herpin stood there, grinning down at her. Bits of broccoli peeked out from between his teeth. She had hoped Dr. Kindley would have fired him for the cafeteria incident, but he had only been suspended for a few days.
“God, Herpes, you stink!” Meghan covered both her nose and mouth. “Where do you bathe, the city landfill?”
“You’re cute, Meggy, really cute. I just want you two to know that I’ve got my eye on both of you. So, behave, ya hear?” He patted them on the shoulders and stalked off.
Closing her eyes, Sam pushed back the impulse to retch. It took her several seconds to calm down her stomach. “I really can’t stand that guy. Please don’t tell me you’ve ever traded favors with him.”
Meghan snickered. “As if I would. Besides, the staff here is too afraid of getting canned to screw a patient.”
Sam leaned back and deeply exhaled. “Well, that’s a relief… Wait a minute. What kind of favors did you do to get the information about Laura?”
“I’m told I have a very talented mouth.” Meghan winked.
“And that’s what I get for asking.”
“Well, Miss Dumont, I think we can say Miss Castille is on the road to a full recovery. But it will take time. I know she’s anxious to get out of here, but we’re at a point in the treatment where rushing it will be detrimental to her healing. Wouldn’t you agree, Sam?”
Dr. Kindley’s voice stirred Sam from her thoughts, mostly regarding Little Squeaker.
Looking away, she nodded. He knows I’m not paying attention. The Styrofoam cup of coffee and chicory steamed in her hands. She sipped it. It was still hard to get down at times, but drinking it reminded her of home. It helped that she liked to drink it black, which was the healthiest way.
Veronica, who was seated next to her, had been taking notes during the session. “I agree. But I also think that Sam is doing remarkably well. It seems that discovering she was pregnant sparked a very positive change in her. And I think we’d be remiss to ignore that.”
“I agree,” he said, playing with the gold pin on his lapel. “Sometimes, the sudden responsibility of parenthood can have a positive transformation on a person. I have high hopes for her.”
Sam sipped her coffee again.
“Sam, what do you think?” Veronica was looking at her.
She offered a rehearsed, pleasant expression. “Yes, I feel optimistic about things, just like Dr. Kindley said.” It was a canned response that required very little thought. She had since learned to just tell him what he wanted to hear. But she knew he’d hurt Little Squeaker. She was going to get proof and ruin him.
Dr. Kindley motioned for the nurse to open the door. “Wonderful! Well, I think we’re done for today. Miss Castille, Miss Dumont, I’d like to see you both again tomorrow at the same time, and again on Tuesday and Wednesday. After that, I think we can go to once every other day. We’ll have her back in group before the end of the month.”
Finishing her coffee, Sam reached for her crutches. As Veronica passed by, she patted Sam’s arm and spoke in a low, hushed voice. “We’re all on your side, Sam. Don’t worry. It will work out in the end.”
Then she left, leaving Sam to wonder again what she meant. That was a bit cryptic.
She was halfway out of the office when Dr. Kindley stopped her. “Miss Castille, I’d like to speak with you a moment, if I may.”
Cautiously, she backed up, realizing that she was alone in the room with him. She was pretty sure that was against the rules. He sat on the corner of his desk, resting his hands in his lap and smiling in that fake manner she hated so much.
“Yes, Doctor?”
He cleared his throat. “Your little friend, Miss Dubios, was very busy last night. She put one of my men in a very compromising position—three or four, actually.”
Uh-oh. Meghan got busted!
“Your friend was inquiring about a former patient of ours, Miss Levron. I just wanted to assure you that she was a legitimate transfer. She wasn’t responding to the treatment here, and I felt she’d do better at a different, longer-term facility.” It was like he was daring her to disagree.
She masked her growing concern f
or her friend. “Well, I’m glad you cleared that up, Doctor, but I didn’t have any doubts about your judgment. I’ll be sure to set Meghan straight. I’ll miss Laura, but I’m sure she’ll get better at… where did she go again?”
Dr. Kindley chortled coldly. “Oh, that’s not really any of your business, Miss Castille.” Then he headed back behind his desk and picked up a folder stuffed with papers. “And don’t concern yourself with Miss Dubios, either. After her last little escapade, I no longer feel that I can treat her, either. She’ll be transferred as well, at the end of the week.”
Sam felt a sudden chill. Her jaw tightened and her body tensed. He was going to send Meghan to the same place he’d sent Little Squeaker. They’re gonna kill her!
Opening his desk, he put the folder away. She watched him, taking note of which drawer. He caught her gaze and smiled even more broadly. “That will be all, Miss Castille. Keep up the good work. I’m sure you’ll recover soon.”
Her gaze drifted back to the drawer. She had to look at those files tonight.
“Of course, Dr. Kindley. Have a nice day.”
Hurriedly, she left the office and searched for Meghan. But it was too late. She was already gathered for group, and the orderlies wouldn’t let her enter the room. Her stomach sank as Meghan waved to her from the circle of chairs and blew her a kiss.
“Love you, Sam!”
Dr. Kindley brushed past her. “Miss Castille, you look exhausted. Would you kindly go rest in your room?”
The heaviness in her gut only grew as she hobbled back to her room. Tearing up, she lay down, facing the wall. Meghan was running out of time, and her only chance of surviving was for Sam to find proof of Dr. Kindley’s deeds and pass it to Veronica. I need to do this tonight or Meghan is dead!
She felt herself spiraling into a vortex of self-doubt, and she stopped it by repeating, “I’m better than this,” over and over again.
When the last tears had fallen, she rubbed her face against the pillow as if it were Richie’s chest. After a few moments, she realized she was both flushed and frustrated. The stress was gnawing at her. With that revelation came a desire to relieve the tension inside her.