by Lily White
“Apparently not. You can kill a patient by giving them too many sedatives and what you have in this cup is a cocktail that would have her laid out in seconds, unable to talk much less function. Now give me the damn orders!”
Joe turned around and I breathed out a sigh of relief when he snatched the binder of doctor’s orders from the shelf behind him. Throwing it through the window, he pitched it with enough force that it only brushed across Terrie’s hand before hitting the floor. She bent over to pick it up and he gave me a look of absolute hatred. I smiled. Fuck him and his night visits, I refused to be like the other women who weren’t sure why they woke up in dirty and wrinkled sheets.
By the time Terrie stood back up, his face had returned to a neutral expression. “There was no need for that, Joe. We’ll discuss this later while not in the presence of our guest.” Her admonishing words didn’t appear to faze him. “The rest of the meds appear to be the proper dose, so I’ll just remove these extra sedatives.”
Handing the paper cup to me, she walked to the water fountain to retrieve another paper cone cup. I downed the pills and washed them down with the water, thankful to know that I wouldn’t be unable to function after what had been administered.
“Let me check,” Terrie said.
I opened my mouth, lifting my tongue to show her that the pills had been swallowed. Once she was satisfied that the pills were now settled in my stomach, she took both cups away, crumpled them and tossed them in the trash receptacle on the side of the hall.
“Let’s go, beautiful girl. You have a date with Dr. Hutchins.”
Chapter Two
“Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.”
― William Shakespeare
Sitting outside the dirty white door, I listened as the large metal cages were opened and shut at the end of the halls – not cages really, but the pneumonic hiss and subsequent mechanical lock let us know that we were all locked inside this prison, whether sane or not.
The physicians’ wing was usually free and clear of listless patients, but every so often a nurse or orderly would stroll by in their crisp white uniforms as they escorted the damned to the assorted appointments they forced us to keep on a daily basis.
Terrie sat next to me on the small tan bench, her posture much straighter than mine as she reached up to smooth the hair on her head. She rubbed her lips together, spreading the red romance shade evenly across her mouth. Always beautiful, she appeared like a woman who had spent days in the limelight of classic film. I looked down at my light blue, thin cotton uniform and groaned to realize my hair had never been brushed since the bath.
“Fuck you, asshole! I’ll eat your fucking face while you sleep! You fucking hear me?”
My head shot to the left and I watched as Emerson, one of the better looking male orderlies, dragged one of the patients through the hall. Her body bent in all directions as she tried to break his grasp. Long brown hair that was matted and tangled hung over her face, concealing her eyes from my view. I recognized her to be one of the many women that commonly lounged in the rec room chain-smoking cigarettes while the other patients choked on the clouds of dirty air. Thinking hard, I remembered that her name was Erin, but I only knew that from having overheard the guards constantly chasing her through the ward, tackling her once they were able to get close enough to constrain her with their weight.
Her body was locked into a restraint jacket and Emerson shook his head in disbelief at her behavior. “Keep this shit up, Erin, and I’ll be sticking you with my magic needle in a second. You have a meeting with your physical therapist for that busted shoulder of yours and I’d hate for you to be completely useless to the man.”
Erin fell to the floor, her body visibly jarred by the force of her ass slamming against the linoleum. She looked up at Emerson, unable to push her hair out of her face so that her tongue stuck out from behind the curtain of matted strands.
“Tell you what. You take me back to my room and I’ll suck that magic needle of yours, baby.” Her hips began to rotate as if she was grinding a man in bed and I looked away not able to handle the sight of the desperate and miserable woman much longer.
“Erin! That is no way for a lady to act!” Terrie stood up from the bench, the sudden shift in weight jostling me where I sat. Storming over to pull Erin from the floor, Terrie lifted the woman up with a swift grab of the straps of the jacket.
Terrie couldn’t hold the uncontrollable woman and Emerson’s scream hurt my ears when she twisted right and bit him on the shoulder. Blood oozed along his crisp white shirt and Erin attempted to yank the skin from his arm by thrashing her head like a dog.
“Erin! No!” Terrie screamed as Emerson pulled a syringe filled with clear liquid from his pocket. Slamming it into Erin’s shoulder, he depressed the plunger, shooting the drug into her system.
The thrashing stopped suddenly and her body slumped to the floor. Terrie propped her against a wall before turning back to Emerson to tend to his injury.
“Fucking bitches!” He screamed.
A metal click sounded across the hall from me and I looked up to see a well-dressed man step out into the hall through the door of the psychiatrist’s office. Wrapped in a white physician’s coat, he wore a black button up shirt that was tucked neatly into black trousers that were pressed to the point where a crease ran down the front of his legs. I returned my gaze to his face and my jaw dropped slightly in recognition.
I didn’t know him, in fact, I don’t believe I’d ever seen him before in my life, but he had the type of face that looked familiar. Maybe it was the high cheekbones or the perfectly straight nose that ran down above full lips. His skin was a natural tan and brown hair framed his face, the hue so dark, it appeared black until the light of the halls touched it. Thin wired-framed glasses covered his eyes, but beneath the lenses, vibrant sapphire blue could be seen. He was striking. The type of man that wore intelligence and refinement like a second skin and I was struck dumb and silent in his presence.
“What the hell is going on out here?” The man’s voice was a low timber, vibrating across the hall as if the words had been sung instead of spoken.
Straightening in my seat, I kept my eyes glued to him while still listening to Emerson grumble under his breath about the injury to his shoulder.
“Nothing, Dr. Hutchins. Unfortunately, we had a little upset with Erin a moment ago and she bit Emerson, but he injected enough sedatives in her to knock her out for a few hours.” Terrie’s sweet voice responded to his question with no more concern than a mother who’d just given her child a toy to distract them.
The doctor grimaced. “I understand that chemical restraints are sometimes necessary in this place, but we cannot use them for every situation, Terrie.”
She laughed. “Take one look at his shoulder and just try to tell me it wasn’t necessary, Dr. Hutchins. I think Erin needed the time out. No offense to your opinion, of course, but there are certain patients in this ward that are more difficult than others.”
Turning his attention to me, Dr. Hutchins smiled. “This must be Alexandra Sutton. How kind of you to remain calm despite the drama in the hall.”
Opening my mouth to respond, I was confused when no sound came out.
Dr. Hutchins watched me for a few seconds, and after realizing I had nothing to say, swung his arm out to open the door wider. “Are you ready for our meeting? I’m hoping to meet all of the residents of the ward today and tomorrow, so this will be an introductory appointment only.”
“Go on, Alex. Don’t worry about Emerson or Erin, I’ll take care of them both. Go ahead with Dr. Hutchins and I’ll be sure to be waiting for you once your appointment concludes. Your brother will be arriving sometime within the next hour.” Terrie smiled at me as she continued to apply pressure to Emerson’s shoulder. “Be a good girl now and don’t keep the doctor waiting. His time is valuable.”
On shaky legs, I stood up from the bench, my knees almost buckling when Dr. Hutchins stepped forward to grab my ar
ms and help support my weight. He smiled again, lowering his voice to a bare whisper when he said, “You’re quaking in fear, Alex. Do I already have that effect on you?”
My eyes shot up to his face and I noticed that his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Instead of kindness, I saw something else, but I couldn’t place the emotion or understand the sudden change in the feelings I had towards him, despite the lack of change in his own behavior.
Leading me into the room, he released me to shut the door. I flinched at the sound of the heavy partition locking into place and I couldn’t understand the sudden onslaught of fear that came with being locked into the dimly lit room with him.
“Take a seat.”
Sitting in one of the cushioned chairs in front of his large wooden desk, I wrung my hands where they were placed in my lap. Dr. Hutchins sat on the edge of the desk immediately in front of me, his haunting eyes peering down at me studying every expression I gave and every move I made. We sat in silence for what felt like hours and my anxiety grew with each tick of the clock that was affixed to his wall.
“You’re an interesting case, Ms. Sutton. So interesting, in fact, that I’m glad I took this position at Statham, if for nothing more than to work with you.”
I jumped at his voice, finally looking up from my lap to see a curious expression plastered across his face.
“Do you know why you’re here? Do you even know where you are?” Reaching behind his back, he retrieved a large file from his desk. After opening it, he flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning whatever it was that was written on the paper.
When I didn’t respond, he spoke again. “From what I can see in your records, you suffer from a severe form of anterograde amnesia. What is the last thing you remember?”
Opening my mouth, I noticed how it felt like my body contained no moisture. It was as if wool had been packed between my lips and shoved down my throat, making it almost impossible for me to speak. I struggled to squeak out a response. “E – Erin biting Emerson in the hall.”
Dr. Hutchins laughed. “That’s my fault for not being specific. What I meant was: What is the last thing you remember before being committed to Statham?”
Looking away from him, I shivered under the intensity of his studious gaze. “I – I’m not sure. My parents were killed in an accident and I was sent to live with my aunt. But I ended up here. It’s like I woke up here a month ago and I have no idea why. My brother told me I’m what they call a black widow, but that’s all I know.”
“Do you know how old you are?” His head cocked to the side and I looked up at him for only a brief moment, not able to meet his stare for very long.
“I’m eighteen.”
He placed the folder on the desk to his side and bent forward. Reaching out, he placed his finger beneath my chin and tilted my face up to look at him. I flinched in response to his touch, but bit my tongue and met his gaze. Shivers ran down my spine and my skin prickled in response.
“You’re twenty-one. Four years have passed since the accident that your family was involved in. You were all injured, but as you said, only your parents were killed. You received some significant head trauma and you were in a coma for a week according to the medical records we could obtain from the hospital. Swelling on the brain, but no permanent brain damage. Do you remember any of that?”
“N-No. I…”
Releasing my chin, he answered, “Look at yourself, Ms. Sutton. The fullness of your breasts, the curve in your hips; you’re not a young girl anymore. You’ve blossomed into a fully grown and attractive woman. Does that not clue you into the fact that you’ve aged?”
I was uncomfortable at his observation. Wrapping my arms around my chest, I couldn’t help but notice that what he said was true. My body had changed and filled out. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed before.
“I apologize if what I said seems inappropriate. Given the crimes of which you’ve been accused, I assume you are scared or affected negatively by your sexuality. Do you remember either of the men you’ve killed?”
“What?” My voice bounced off the walls, the elevated volume causing the doctor to smile. He studied me silently, observing every nuance of my reaction.
Finally settling myself back into my chair, I asserted what I knew was the truth. “I haven’t killed anybody. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He retrieved the file once again and flipped to a page in the center. “Bobby Arrington and Chase Wallace. Are either of those names familiar?”
A twinge of recognition floated across my thoughts, but I couldn’t place either of the names, couldn’t see in my mind’s eye any faces that would identify the people he’d named.
Placing the file back where it’d been, he sighed. “I want to help you, Ms. Sutton. Most doctors would shy away from a patient who’s killed and refuses to admit to her acts and aversions, but I think I can help you. I’d like to try a new type of rehabilitation. I’m a psychiatrist and not a psychologist, so it will be somewhat abnormal for me to do more than prescribe drugs, but I’m particularly interested in you.”
“Why?” I spit the question out with the tone of a cautious woman. He chuckled in response, the sound more dark and disturbing than it should have been.
“Because I’m a doctor and you are a unique case. On the outside, you appear timid and shy, weak and unable to defend yourself. However, these police reports speak volumes about what is truly lingering inside you. The amount of violence you committed against those boys…” He tsked. “…And to think, you remember none of it. Or, at least, that’s what you claim.”
“No. I haven’t killed anybody. I don’t even know who those people are.” I objected to what he was telling me, completely confused about my age, my location, about everything.
Standing up, he rounded the corner of the desk to sit in the black leather chair that was positioned in shadow. Why was this room so fucking dark?
“How long have you been here, Ms. Sutton?”
“A month.”
“You’ve been here for a year…”
“I’ve been here for a month!” I stood up from my chair, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. He didn’t move in reaction to my obvious anger. He simply waited for me to calm down before motioning for me to retake my seat.
Grabbing the folder from his desk, he flipped it open, picked up a single piece of paper and looked it over. After several seconds, he placed it back in the folder and returned his attention to me.
“You’ve been here for a year. Your brother has visited you once a week since you were committed and you’ve met with the previous psychiatrist, Dr. Keppler, 58 times as well. Do you remember any of this?”
“No – Yes. I remember Dain. But he’s been coming daily, not once a week. He’s been here every day to see me since I woke up in this place, sometimes twice a day.”
Dr. Hutchins shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sutton. But for whatever reason, your long-term memory has not been processing information as it should. It’s only been over the past month that there have been signs of improvement. That’s why you can remember the past month and the names and faces of the staff here at the hospital. Do you remember Dr. Keppler?”
I tried to remember, desperately attempting to see the features of a man I’d just been told I’d met 58 times before. “Did he have blonde hair?”
Dr. Hutchins laughed. “What was left of it, yes. He was balding on top, but what remained was blonde. Do you remember anything else about him?”
Familiar stirrings of memory wafted through my thoughts and I scrunched my nose at the recollection of a strange and offensive smell. “He smelled funny when he talked. I remember backing away from him, but I don’t remember what the smell was or why I didn’t like it.”
He laughed again, nodding his head in approval. “Yes, he did smell. He was an alcoholic, which is the reason he is no longer the psychiatrist in charge of Statham.” His chair creaked as he sat back and tapped his finger against his chin. His unwave
ring gaze made me uncomfortable and I looked up at the wall clock that ticked away each passing second.
“I’m going to be reviewing your prescribed medications this afternoon and you’ll also see me here and there throughout the ward as I observe the patients. Please try not to be disturbed by my presence and don’t let it affect your normal behavior. Your medications will most likely change because I’m not of the opinion that keeping you drugged to the point of constant stupor is in your best interests. Hopefully, once the clouds begin to clear in your head, we can make additional progress with your ability to remember past events. Does that sound good to you?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He laughed while removing his glasses and wiping the lenses with a tissue he plucked from the dispenser on the desk. “You are nothing if not perceptive. No. There is no choice. Just like there is no choice about your involvement with me in the coming weeks. You do have one choice, however, and the one thing you should know about this institution is that nobody leaves until I say they can. If you work with me and I can see that you’re no longer afflicted by the mental illness that led to your incarceration, I’ll send you home. If you misbehave or resist the therapies and chemical management, then you stay here until you can learn to behave, even if that means you’ll be here for the rest of your life. Thus, your behavior is your choice.” Pausing, he allowed that tidbit to settle in before adding, “I plan to begin your therapy once I’ve completed the evaluations of the remaining patients in the ward.”
“Weeks? How long will I be staying here? If I’m improving, shouldn’t I be released?”
With a stern expression, he regarded me closely, his gaze heating my skin. “If you improve, you will be tried for your crimes. You were previously declared unfit to stand trial and you are considered a danger to yourself and to other people. The only reason you are not locked away in a prison cell on death row is because of your mental instability.”