Infinite Faith Infinite Series, Book 4)

by L. E. Waters

  “She’s nineteen?”

  “Turning twenty soon, in late spring.”

  “Any other reasons for bringing her here today?”

  “She’s now even getting her twin to believe her.”

  “Annelie has a twin?” This seems to excite him for some reason.

  “Identical, except for a little mark Kathrin was born with on her forehead.”

  “And this twin doesn’t show any of the same delusions?”

  “Not at all. She was right as rain until Annelie convinced her of her stories.”

  “Do you think Annelie knows the difference between what is real and what is not?”

  “She never has appeared crazy to me. Only said strange things.”

  “What do crazy people look like?” I can hear the smirk in his tone.

  “I mean that she seems connected. She doesn’t have that wild look some unfortunate people have when they break down. Her eyes are always clear, and she always takes care of herself and her responsibilities. Annelie’s a very smart girl who would do better in school if she would just stop writing odd stories.”

  “Stories?”

  “Her teachers are concerned because she writes stories of these past lives and experiences. They don’t know what to do about it. Many have pointed out that her history is quite accurate and they want to know what has she been reading, when we know she hasn’t read anything on these subjects at all.”

  “She must be acquiring this information somehow.”

  “We’ve checked what she’s read in the libraries and at school. We can’t figure out where she would get this information.”

  “How many lives does she say she’s lived?”

  “She tells us she’s lived eleven times before this life. From ancient Egypt to the American Civil War.”

  “The American Civil War?” His voice rises.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Nothing, it’s just an unusual subject.” He lowers his voice once again. “And she’s not herself in these delusions?”

  “Annelie claims she’s other people. Even different sexes.” Mother hisses this, since it’s what’s always concerned her the most.

  “She identifies with the male sex?”

  “No. It’s not that she thinks she’s a male now, just that she’s been a male before.”

  “Very interesting.” The doctor sounds as though he’s practically salivating. “Your daughter sounds to be an intriguing case.”

  “Do you think she will get better if I leave her here, Doctor?”

  “I need to examine her myself, but I can assure you, if she can get better, we will help her to do so.”

  Their chairs push back with a startling shriek on the linoleum floor. I pop my hands out from under me in an attempt to get the feeling back in them before he comes out to shake my hand. The doctor is much younger than he sounds. He must be fresh out of medical school. His whole face lights up with a charming smile that reaches his blue-grey eyes.

  Blue-grey eyes. James. This will be interesting.

  He reaches his hand out, and I purposely give him my hand with the mole. At first he doesn’t know what to do with my left hand, and then he grasps my four fingers for a little shake. I fight back the pain of the pins and needles that surges up from his slight grasp. His eyes are drawn right to the birthmark. He looks deeply into my eyes and smiles again. He pauses. “Are you sure that you haven’t been here before?” He flips through my file.

  Mother pushes her pursed lips out and shakes her head. “No, never before.”

  I always laugh inside when they seem to have some recognition of me. The usual glimmer of remembrance.

  “I was sure I’ve seen you before, but I see that’s not possible.” He lets the papers flop back and slaps a hand down on his thigh. “Such a lovely girl. You are right there, Mrs. Herrick.”

  This makes Mother’s eyes tear up again, and she twists her gloves in her hands.

  “Won’t you please step into my office?” He sweeps his hand toward the door. Mother takes a step to follow me in, but he puts a hand up toward her and then points to the bench in the hallway. She obeys with a worried look.

  I step into the high-ceilinged office, which is completely devoid of any clues about the inhabitant who most likely slaves at this plain wooden desk most of the day, deciding the fate of despairing individuals. I sit in the only chair across from him and he glides into his seat, fountain pen at the ready.

  “Annelie?”

  I glance up and quickly realize it’s a test.

  “You do know your name.” He smirks.

  “Yes.” Why can’t anyone understand I’m not crazy?

  “Are there any other names you wish to be called?” He keeps his fountain pen waiting.

  “It’s not that I wish to be called other names, but there are other names I’ve been called before.”

  “Can you tell me these names?”

  Here is it goes. I prepare myself for the look of worry and complete doubt.

  “Josephine, Edgar”—he looks up, even though he was prepared for the gender switch—”John, Kohana—”

  “Kohana? That doesn’t sound European.”

  “It’s not. It’s Native American.”

  There’s that smirk again. It twitches at the right side of his lips as the professional side of him restrains it.

  “So, only four other names?”

  “I wasn’t finished. Redmond, Luis, Lucrezia, Elizabeth, Liam, Alcina, Sokaris, and Lazrina.”

  “Is that it?”

  Isn’t twelve enough? I wish I could say, but instead I reply, “Yes.”

  “So you feel you have been a man before?”

  I nod.

  “Do you have urges now to be a male?”

  What does he mean by ‘urges’?

  “No, I’m fine with being a girl now.” My gaze drifts out the window, wishing the rest of me could go too.

  “Have any of these lives been famous lives?”

  Oh, this will definitely get his pen moving.

  I turn back to him before I say, “Edgar Allan Poe—”

  His eyebrows raise.

  “Major John André, Redmond O’Hanlon, and Lucrezia Borgia.”

  “Quite impressive.” The smirk soon follows.

  What I wouldn’t give for one person to remember. At least Kathrin doesn’t look at me this way. She’s the only one who loves listening to my stories. I wish she were here with me now.

  “We will have to talk about this in detail later. I’m quite fascinated.”

  Later. I’m going to stay here. My dreams prepared me for this, but now that the time is here, I don’t want to accept it.

  “Just a few more questions and then you can rest.”

  I hope resting will mean a nice, clean room by myself somewhere at the end of these sterile halls.

  “Do you think of harming yourself?”

  I can’t think of anything worse than to remember existences that no one else is aware of and, even worse, that they think you’re crazy for being able to.

  “No.” Wishing you never existed isn’t really wanting to harm yourself.

  “Do you ever think of harming others?”

  “No.” Just shaking them until they remember who they are.

  “Can you tell me what year it is?”

  “March, 1939.”

  “And where are we?”

  “Sonnenstein Castle Asylum, Pirna, Germany.”

  “Very good.” It seems to be something he doesn’t hear that much. I wonder how sick the others are here.

  “Do you hear, see, feel, or smell things that others do not perceive?”

  I think about my dreams of Zachariah and the sensations I have that trigger poignant memories, but I wouldn’t call these hallucinations.

  “No.”

  “You hesitated. Are you sure?”

  “I only thought of my dreams, but those only occur when I’m as
leep.”

  “Do you ever hear the voices of these people you mentioned?”

  “No. I was those people.”

  “But you’re not now?” His eyebrows stay high.

  “No. Well, they are me; part of who I am.”

  “And what is your name?”

  Again. “Annelie.”

  He smiles. People here must be so disconnected if my remembering my name makes him so happy.

  “Is everyone you meet someone from your pasts?”

  “No, not everyone.”

  “Have you met me before?” He flashes a dashing grin.

  What would he say if I told him? “I’m not sure yet.” And that is the truth. I wonder how he would react. No one except Kathrin has ever believed me.

  His smile drops a bit. “Well, please keep me posted.” He leans toward me. “I want to be honest with you, because you are an adult and I feel that you have a good understanding about your condition. I do think it’s best you stay here with us, and I will try my hardest to help you.”

  I find so much to trust in those familiar blue-grey eyes. I know this is where I belong. Where Zachariah has led me. I can only nod.

  “Let’s go say goodbye to your mother, and then I will take you to admissions.”

  I wish he would just take me to my room and let me be. I don’t even want to say goodbye to Mother. It will be too hard to see her face and watch her walk away from me.

  He places a steady hand behind my back and directs me out to the hall. Mother hops up nervously.

  “Annelie has decided to stay on with us, in hopes of great improvement.”

  Mother cracks a hopeful smile, but it doesn’t reach her worried eyes. She looks at me. “Are you sure you want to stay here? We could always see if a doctor can treat you from home.”

  How sweet she is for not wanting to leave me here, even after Father demanded it.

  Dr. Evert chimes in merrily. “I assure you, I will look out for Annelie and work with her myself.”

  Mother tucks a lock of her orange hair behind a pearled ear and checks with me again. “Are you sure? Kathrin’s going to be so upset.”

  I’m not sure about anything. “I think this is where I should be.”

  Her tense shoulders drop in release of the burden she’s been carrying. “I’ll try to visit every week.”

  That is quite a promise to make, since it took over an hour to get here on the train. Not to mention the expense.

  “Good. I’m going to take Annelie down to admissions myself and make sure she is comfortable.” He tucks my folder under his arm so he can start out.

  “I love you.” I hug her tightly. “Tell Kathrin I will be fine; it’s just part of the adventure.”

  Mother can’t say a word and only nods repeatedly. Dr. Evert leads me away down the echoing hall and I hear Mother break down as she’s leaving. I can’t turn back and look at her, so I keep my head straight, putting one foot in front of the other.

  Chapter 2

  Dr. Evert guides me back through the grand entrance where Mother caught her breath earlier when she looked up to the cathedral ceiling and grand staircase and exclaimed, “Oh, this is much nicer than I expected.”

  His hard-soled shoes punish the marble stairs as we hurry down. He picks up speed as we go, checking back at me awkwardly as I try to keep up. We head out into a late winter courtyard with all the signs of spring coming. This place can’t be so bad, with so much outdoor space. With its many brick buildings of the finest architecture, it looks like all of the universities I’ve seen. But where are all the patients, then? How come not a single one can be seen strolling around? Only white-coated doctors and stiff nurses crisscross the campus. Not even a bird hops along the pathways. Not a squirrel is seen foraging. An eerie stillness hangs about the enormous place. Was this all for show?

  That question is answered as soon as we enter the next building. Quite the opposite of the entrance where they greet the family members abandoning their damaged ‘loved ones.’ An entrance that reminds me of the pictures of the first class grand ocean liners. Now it’s clear I’m entering steerage, the underbelly of the asylum where most of the patrons are kept out of sight. The ceilings are low and the windows kept to a minimum, with iron bars on the insides—again, to keep up the pleasant appearance to the rest of society.

  He opens a steel door, which even he strains with, and sweeps his hand for me to enter first. A terrible smell hits me at once, and I try my hardest to place it with something that I’ve smelled before—the farmyard? The outhouse? The garbage bin? The vagrant who lives outside the station? Nothing suitable matches, and I peer around to find the culprit.

  He points to a small office off the corridor. “Everyone staying with us needs an ID tag.”

  Like dogs.

  He picks his lanyard up to show me. “See, we have them too. They like to keep track of all of us.”

  I walk into the green office. Green, everything’s green around here. The doors, the walls, the stairs, the rooms. Maybe they hope it will tame the frayed nerves languishing here.

  “Nurse, you have the opportunity to take this lovely girl’s picture.”

  The nurse is not amused. She barely waits for me to sit down before I see the flash. No count, no ‘smile’; I wasn’t even given time to smooth down my hair. Once I stand up, the nurse slaps a sticker on my chest. “Keep this on until your ID tag is ready. Don’t eat it.”

  Eat it? I try to read it upside down:

  Annelie Herrick

  Delusional

  Non-violent

  Summed up in so few words.

  “Follow me,” Dr. Evert says as he drifts back out into the hall. All of the areas are blocked off by expanding gates where large sentries stand guard. To keep people in or out?

  Dr. Evert waves to one of the sentries and points up the stairs. “Your floor is all the way at the top. It has the nicest view.” He’s the one who’s delusional. It’s as if he’s a bellhop at the most extravagant hotel.

  I catch a glimpse of some shadows—not people, really, for they hunch over and glide across the floor like spirits. Hair a mess and heads toward the ground, they float around the hallways with the direction and motivation of feathers blowing in the wind.

  Just as I grab the railing to follow him up, a rattling scream causes me to jump. We both turn to see a patient throw herself at the gate. Two sentries take hold of the unfortunate woman as she cries out, “Don’t let them take you!” Nurses rush up brandishing needles, and the patient falls to floor with the most pitiful whine. “You’ll never be free again.”

  Dr. Evert takes my shoulder gently to prod me upstairs, though I take every step slower. Will I be here forever now? If I want to leave, will they let me go?

  We reach the fourth floor landing and Dr. Evert nods to the sentry to open the gate. One nurse sees the doctor entering and jumps to her feet, pretending to assist a patient. At least this floor smells less horrible, but the air hangs stale and lifeless in the long corridor. I wonder if they ever open up the large windows to let breezes in.

  Dr. Evert motions to the pretending nurse. “Nurse Bathilda, I have an admission here for you.”

  She looks up, as if seeing him for the first time, and paints an overly wide smile on her smug face. Bathilda takes my file from his outstretched hands and a twitch spasms at the corner of her mouth as she reads what Dr. Evert has scribed. Her steel-grey eyes flash as she shifts her gaze from my history to me. I feel them almost cut me as she looks me over. Those steel eyes never fail to unnerve me. This is not going to be the safe place I thought it would be.

  “You feel she will fit in here?” she asks Evert.

  Now I hope he will change his mind and take me to someone else.

  He grants me a charitable smile. “She is not violent and completely functional.”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “I find the delusional to be the most problematic, but you’re the doctor.” After a q
uick check back to my file for my name, she says, “Annelie, follow me, please.”

  I don’t want to leave the doctor, but she prods, “Now, please.”

  She gives the doctor a questioning look, so I take a step away from him to follow her and she takes off in a fury of hip movements, like she’s marching down the corridor at the head of a parade.

  Dr. Evert calls down the hall to me. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow, Annelie. After you settle in.”

  Each patient I pass looks up at me in excitement. They cease their mutterings, their rocking, or their staring at the wall to watch me find my room. Bathilda unlocks the metal door with her ring of keys. The room couldn’t be more than eight feet by ten feet, with only a cot with sheets and a ratty quilt. I grasp the cold handle of my suitcase since there is no dresser to even set it upon.

  Bathilda holds out her claw-like hand. “Your suitcase, please.”

  I hold it closer to me.

  “All suitcases need to be searched through before admittance.”

  “But why?”

  She yanks it out of my hands. “We need to be sure there is nothing dangerous in there. Even the smallest bottle can be broken to use as a weapon.”

  I think of my soaps and perfume and realize I won’t see them again. I’m sure I will smell them on Bathilda soon.

  “Now strip down.”

  “What?”

  “Hospital protocol. We have to be sure you don’t carry anything on you, or in you.”

  I’m trapped in the small room, and even though the ceiling is very high, I find it hard to breathe. She fixes her steely gaze on me and crosses her arms, waiting for me to comply. I slowly start to unfasten the buttons on my dress and I peel it down to step out of it. I stand there in my underclothes.

  “All undergarments need to be removed as well.”

  I shake my head immediately, but she just stands there. I check to be sure the door is closed and I turn around to see if anyone can see me through the window, but it is too high. I unclasp my delicate brassiere and hold an arm up in protection as I slip off my panties with one hand. As soon as they hit the floor, I cover myself, using my hands like Eve’s leaves. The smile twitches again at the corners of her lips. She is enjoying this, I know.