“So Catron has a psychic that saw it as well? Can’t say I’m surprised. My gift is rarely wrong.” Dym closed his eyes in concentration. “Sorry, but I’m not getting anything more on the Event. My intuition doesn’t often work on command like that.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being truthful or not. It was exasperating not to be able to get anything out of Dym. “Kind of a useless gift, then, isn’t it?” I snarled.
“It tells me what I need to know.”
“I wish it would tell you to get out of here. Why do you keep coming back to Silver Hill if it’s so dangerous for you? Tell me the whole story this time.”
“I can only tell you part of it. It’s that the moon has its own gravitational pull on the tides, just as you pull me towards you. You are like a magnet, a form of gravity.” I waited, but Dym said nothing more.
“That’s it? You keep returning because I’m your gravity magnet?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, one minute, you act like you don’t care, and the next, you’re practically swearing eternal devotion. That’s kind of crazy.”
“Humph,” Dym snorted, and looked up at the asylum. “Pretty sure I’m in the right place for crazy.”
“Good night, then,” I said curtly. “I’ll go back to being crazy, and you can enjoy the rest of your midnight swim.”
“Good night, Seluna,” Dym said, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he sank down into the water like he did before. It was almost as if he were being tugged by an invisible string beneath the waves. Why doesn’t he kick off like other swimmers? I’ll bet he just enjoyed giving me the shivers, pretending to be mysterious.
I walked back through the garden and up the narrow stairs to the garret. Maybe I really am insane, and Dym’s just a figment of my imagination. A beautiful, hair-tearing figment, to be sure. I sighed.
He was almost worth the price of madness.
Chapter 9
In the nights after I met with Dym for the second time, I had more strange dreams. These dreams were so realistic, it was almost as if I were still awake. In one of them, I was floating in outer space, far above the earth. I remember not wanting to leave Earth, reaching with outstretched fingers as it grew smaller and smaller in my sight. Then I was spinning, but not quickly. More like rotating, turning over and over towards the moon, where I landed safely.
I sat there, looking at Earth, which I no longer missed because I could still see it. I waved to the stars that sparkled above, and to the planets orbiting all around. I fit nicely into a particularly shallow crater, and so I used it as a seat. Beside me was a second crater of similar size. There were no others like them on the moon. I kept thinking, Is someone else supposed to be here? I searched the entire moon, but didn’t see another soul. Then I woke up.
My daytime endeavors were no less confusing. For one thing, I was having a lot of trouble with page 136 of the Book. Although it looked intriguing (it seemed to be for a hypnosis or sleeping spell), much of it was in Old Hartlandian. To make matters worse, it was written in a regional dialect, my knowledge of which was scarce. I wonder if Dym or his intuition had known that. In any event, the translation process was becoming long and tedious.
I needed more time. But time was running out; there was only a little over a week left before the Event. And I was no closer to finding what it was, why Catron feared it, or how to avoid it. Rose and Laura had all but stopped discussing the matter. I guessed that with the daily atrocities happening at the asylum, they had more pressing things on their minds. Like Dr. Catron’s electrodes. Animal.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I usually didn’t hold with soothsayers, but I did believe Dym was somewhat psychic. Since both he and Catron’s fortune-teller said the same thing without either knowing about the other, it had to be more than a coincidence. I’d kept my eyes open for a creature with dark skin, or a girl who might resemble a goddess. But so far, I hadn’t seen anyone who fit either description. It wasn’t until a few evenings later that fate gave me another chance to learn about the spell Dym suggested.
One or two girls were admitted to Silver Hill each day, as Mr. Flack had said. But sometimes, it seemed like more than one or two went missing each day, so the patient population was actually dwindling. There were fervid whispers amongst the remaining girls about what was happening, who might be next. Catron seemed more frantic than ever to find whatever—or whomever—he was looking for, and it was taking its toll on the staff. Like the new nurse who was supposed to bring me back to the garret after ten minutes of socialization with Rose and Laura. That one looked especially nervous.
“What’s your name again?” she asked as she locked my friends into their room for the night. “Mabel? Margaret?”
“Er, something like that,” I replied.
“They told me to keep special watch on this one girl, Selena or Sekuna or whatever it was.” She fumbled with the keys, trying to determine which would imprison Rose and Laura for the next eight hours. “I can never tell you nutcases apart nohow.” Suddenly, there was a terrific smashing sound in the next hall, and noises like metal hitting the floors.
“Bonnie! BONNIE!” I heard Nurse Cutter scream. “Get over ’ere, s! This thunderin’ loony is tryin’ to overturn the equipment cart.”
The nurse I was with turned white as a sheet. I guessed this was Bonnie. Hurriedly, she found the correct key and locked Rose and Laura in. Then she turned and pointed to me.
“You stay put now, you ’ear?” she said. “I ’ave to go ’elp Nurse Cutter. Don’t know what I was thinkin’, takin’ a job in this blighted place.” She gathered her skirts in her hands and scuttled off down the hall.
I could hardly believe my luck. I’d been left alone in the asylum, and for once, I wasn’t handcuffed to a bench. This is my chance. I’d sneak away, maybe to the secret staircase. I could gather a few supplies and hide there for a while with the Book, translating and seeing if it held anything useful.
The Book. Which I left in the locked garret. I groaned and put my forehead in my hand. Maybe I could get a hairpin or something to unlock it with before they found me—
“Psst. Psst! Hey, you!”
Is someone calling me?
“Yeah, you with the long black hair!”
Blast it—a nurse. I’d been caught. Should I stay where I was or try to run? And where’s that voice coming from, anyway?
“Psst—come on. Get over here! Haven’t got all night; who knows when that Bonnie twit will be back.”
I turned around. The voice was coming from the other end of the hall, opposite where Nurse Bonnie had gone. I tiptoed over to the last door. Peeking through the window was a girl with messy brown hair and big, brown eyes. I looked at the sign above the window. It said “Reserved.” I swallowed hard.
Aren’t those the rooms for permanent residents? Where Laura said she heard horrid screams coming from?
But what if the girl inside needed help? I couldn’t just turn my back. Curse it all. Maybe I could see what she wanted very quickly and then sneak away.
I didn’t have time to make a decision. In a few swift movements, the girl opened the door, grabbed my arm, pulled me into the room, and slammed the door shut. Then she spun me around and stood in front of the door, hair matted, eyes wild. Her clothing was torn, her fingernails long and dirty. I put my finger up to point in my usual senseless, defensive gesture. Was she the creature Dr. Catron wanted so badly?
But as I squinted and looked closer, I realized she couldn’t be. For one thing, she didn’t have dark skin. I also saw that no one had bothered to brush her hair, or let her near a comb. They hadn’t bothered to change or mend her clothing either. No wonder she looked like hell. To top it all off, she had scars all around her fingers, palms, wrists, and forearms. As if she’d had a lot of experience trying to fight people off.
She was just a girl, like me. An unkempt, forgotten girl, but a girl nonetheless.
By the looks of things, she had no roommate. Her room was smaller than Rose and La
ura’s; what they called a single, not a double. There was only one bed. I guessed most of the reserved quarters were private ones. Catron probably didn’t want the “advanced cases” rooming with the general population, the same way he didn’t want me doing so.
But I was still trapped by the girl standing in front of the door. Maybe if I convinced her I was friendly, she wouldn’t hurt me. I lowered my finger. It was bizarre; I’d never gestured with it before I came to the asylum. I really had to stop this pointless pointing.
“What’s your name?” I asked gently.
“Francine.” She cocked her head to get a better look at me.
“Great. Ah, nice to meet you, Francine. I’m . . .” While I was debating whether or not to tell her my real name, she said it for me.
“Se-lu-na.” She grinned and drew the word out the same way Catron did, but it didn’t sound as frightening coming from her. “I know who you are. We all know who you are.”
“We? We who?”
“Lunatics. You have quite a lot of influence over us.” Before I could ask Francine what she meant, she spoke on. “It’s a good thing dear old Bonnie didn’t lock my door right. Honestly, it’s a wonder that woman can tie her bootlaces in the morning.”
“If your door’s unlocked, why don’t you try to get out of here?” If you’re not dangerous, maybe we can hide together, I thought.
“For the same reason you don’t. How long do you think we’d last on the wild moors, or in the daaark, forbidden forest?” She wiggled her fingers at me. “How long before they find us and drag us back?” I couldn’t deny it was true. This girl might have been crazy, but she was also savvy.
“Not to mention the fact that my family just up and left me here,” she said. “So I don’t have anywhere else to go. Do you?” She looked at me pointedly, as if she already knew the answer.
“I suppose not,” I replied.
“Just as I thought. No, I’m here for the duration.” Her eyes took on a dull, dead quality, and she looked at the floor. “I’ve resigned myself to fate.” Her head snapped back up. “But that doesn’t mean you have to. There’s something strong about you. Special.”
“I . . . I don’t think so. I’m flattered, though.”
She laughed a little too loudly. “Oh, it’s not just flattery, dear. You’re going to need all your strength for what’s coming.” As if on cue, a loud wind swooped through the trees around Silver Hill, rattling the windows. Francine gave a jump and crouched down to the bed’s footboard. She laughed again and motioned for me to get on the bed. Then she wrapped her dirty hands around the footboard’s thin metal rails. Now, it looked as if we were gazing at one another through the bars of a prison cell.
“The earth, the moon, they can feel it.” She glanced around the room, then looked at me with penetrating eyes. “Can you feel it? It won’t be long now. Not more than seven nights or so, I’d say.”
I shivered. That was the third person to mention the Event. Well, not mention it specifically, but it had to be what Francine was talking about.
Francine took my shivering to mean I agreed with her. “Ah, so you do feel it! Splendid. I’m glad you know.”
“Know what?”
She ignored my question. “This makes it so much easier. I mean, sometimes, I actually think you have trouble remembering.” She almost seemed to be talking to herself.
“Trouble remembering what? Why did you pull me in here? Are you in trouble?”
“Oh, I’m in trouble, all right,” she said bitterly. “But not the kind you can help with. As for why I pulled you in here, well, I just wanted to make sure it was you. After all, I might not have another chance to meet you. It’s quite an honor.”
“Ah, thanks. Honored to make your acquaintance as well.” I had no idea what Francine was going on about, but this encounter reminded me of my first time meeting Dym. “It’s you!” he’d said, even though he’d never met me before. Likewise, I was certain I’d never met Francine.
“Mind if I ask why you’re in a room marked ‘Reserved’?” I ventured.
“Because I’m crazy,” Francine said simply, as if I were already aware.
“Right, got that. We’re all crazy here.” I rolled my eyes.
Francine didn’t. “No, I mean I’m really crazy,” she said. “As crazy as they come. I’ve got schizophrenia.”
I sucked in my breath. “What’s that?” It didn’t sound good. I hope it didn’t mean she was dangerous.
“It means sometimes I see things that aren’t there, hear things that aren’t real. At least, other people say they’re not real.” She took a thick piece of her hair and waved it back and forth.
“What kinds of things?” I asked.
Francine shrugged. “Shapes, shadows. Sometimes people. I hear them telling me to do things.” She looked to the left and right, then leaned closer to me, as if trying not to be overheard. “But I’ll tell you a secret.” She put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. “I don’t always listen!” She giggled again, and continued waving her chunk of hair.
This girl is all over the place, I thought. “When did it start? Your hearing and seeing things, I mean?”
“A few years ago.” I didn’t ask how old Francine was, but she looked about my age, maybe a year or two older.
“Do you . . . do you hurt people?” I leaned back slightly.
Francine stopped waving her hair back and forth. Instead, she shook it at me. “Now, why would I do a thing like that? Sure, some crazy people are dangerous. But not all of them. Some are only a danger to themselves. And there are plenty of people who aren’t crazy—or who the world thinks are just fine—who hurt folks every day.”
I thought briefly of Dr. Catron and his staff. “I agree with you there. But is there anything they can do for your, um, type of crazy? Like a treatment?”
“There are medicines that might help. But I fear Dr. Catron and his cronies have other methods they enjoy using far more.”
I nodded sadly. “Right you are again.” Incredible. There really is someone who needs mental help in this insane asylum. Knowing Silver Hill as I did, it seemed ironic. This was the last place such a person should be. The last place any person should be.
Could this be the goddess they were talking about? I wondered. But I quickly realized it was impossible. By the state of her, Francine had been here quite a while—long before I overheard Catron and Flack’s conversation. If they were still looking for a goddess after Francine was admitted, she couldn’t be “the one.” Or could she? Maybe Catron suspected she was, but needed proof. As I’d said to Dym, I felt Catron was waiting for proof of something. I just didn’t know what.
“But you know the most twisted thing of all?” Francine asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“No, what?”
“My family didn’t send me to Silver Hill because I see and hear things.” She put down her hair and folded her arms across her chest.
I frowned. “Really? Then why did they send you here?”
“Because I didn’t want to be part of the façade anymore, the lie they were telling the world. I wanted to live a different life.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“My family occupies a particular social position. But I want to break out of it. They want me to stay by their side, to never change. They see anything else as a betrayal.”
“I think I know of someone like that,” I said, with Geraldine in mind. “This person wanted to be an artist instead of following her parents into jobs they hated. I think they were convinced she was betraying them by being true to her heart.”
Francine snorted and uncrossed her arms, digging one fist into the opposite palm. “I wonder if it ever occurred to her parents that they betrayed her. We all have a responsibility to encourage each other to be the best versions of ourselves. They failed to do that.
“And there’s more to me than just a crazy person, you know.” Francine suddenly stood straight up, agitated. “Before they pulled m
e out of school, I wanted to be a union organizer. You know, one of those people who fight for workers’ rights. They call us mad because we want to blow the whistle on exploitation and hypocrisy, to advocate for change.”
“I know there’s more to you than crazy,” I said quietly. My tone was partly to avoid upsetting Francine, and partly because I believed what she was saying. “Sometimes, I think madness is just the name our enemies give us. It symbolizes everything they’re not ready to face. Instead of admitting they have a huge problem on their hands, it’s easier to focus on a single person, to call them mad. Then they never have to address the real issue, which is usually much more complicated.”
“You know what beats it all?” Francine sat down on the bed and exhaled loudly, as if all the fight had gone out of her. “The worst part of being crazy isn’t the crazy. It’s the loneliness. Being in a world that exists only to you—some parts grand, some ghastly—but one others can’t experience. It’s the most horrific way of being alone. Because you aren’t, really. People may be sitting right beside you.” I was sitting right beside Francine, but she stared straight ahead without looking at me. “And yet, it doesn’t matter. For all you have in common, you may as well be on separate planets.”
Now, she did look at me. “Do you have any idea what that’s like? To be completely isolated in a universe that is perhaps of your own making, perhaps not? And it’s not the kind of place where you can just find a door and leave.” She threw out her hands in exasperation. “It follows you, envelopes you wherever you go. You can’t escape, and no one can pound their way through to rescue you, even if they wanted to. Which they never do. On the contrary: people are so repulsed and frightened by me that they usually run far and fast in the other direction.” Her voice hung heavy with agony and despair. “And there’s no relief, no relief at all.” Her throat caught on the last word, and I feared she was about to cry.
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