“You’re not alone, Tamara,” Dr. Sutherland said, in a voice that was supposed to calm and soothe her. Inviting her trust and her confidence.
But instead, it made Tamara look around, suppressing a shudder. You are not alone. She looked for a ghost. For the baby. For a guard sneaking at the corner of her vision, like they insisted on doing.
You are not alone.
There was no flitting ghost this time. Of course not. Dr. Sutherland hadn’t meant that at all. He had meant himself. She wasn’t alone, she was with him. And she could trust him and tell him everything that was going on in her broken brain.
Only she couldn’t. Because as broken as her brain was, she still knew that she couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust anyone. They would lock her up and throw away the key if they knew how wrecked she was. Tamara closed her eyes.
There had been a sci-fi movie on in the common room the night before. One in which, in an eerie parallel to Tamara’s life, the main character thought he was going crazy, only to find out that he was the only sane one, and everyone around him was being replaced by aliens. She could believe that. It would make perfect sense in her life. Or that she had been infected by an alien life form and it was gradually eating away at her consciousness and replacing hers with its own. Either way, the protagonist did not reveal his situation to anyone else. Because that would be informing the aliens that he was aware of them. It would make him a threat to them.
“Tamara.”
“Yes, Dr. Sutherland?” Tamara replied in a sweet, compliant tone.
He’d thought that he’d caught her in a flashback again.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Watching a movie.”
“You’re watching a movie now?”
“No, I’m thinking about watching a movie. About a movie I watched. In the commons yesterday.”
“Ah.” A little too normal for Dr. Sutherland. He was expecting something interesting and unusual. More hallucinations. More flashbacks of people bleeding out.
“Do you believe in intelligent life in the universe?” Tamara asked him.
“Do I…? Sure. I don’t believe we’re alone in the universe. It’s too vast. It wouldn’t make sense to me that we were the only sentient life forms.”
“So not just bacteria. You think there are other beings on other planets who are advanced like we are. Aware of ourselves and each other. Maybe even interested in exploring space.”
“It’s possible. I’d go so far as to say probable. I think if this one little planet could provide just the right conditions for life and evolution, it would be the height of arrogance to believe that it could never happen anywhere else. It probably does happen all over the universe all the time. Like bubbles in water that is heating up and starting to boil.”
Tamara could see it in her mind. The boiling, seething pot of the universe, little bubbles breaking the surface and popping every time a new planet produce the right conditions, and presto! Another sentient life form.
“Do you think they’re like we are? Their bodies? Or do you think they would be like other animals? Or plants? Or something totally different than on our planet?”
“I don’t know. I’m willing to entertain any of those possibilities.”
Tamara nodded at this. Made sense to her. He kept an open mind. They could be anywhere. They could be like anything. Like them, different from them. Something they’d never even dreamed of.
“I think we’re getting away from the topic at hand, though,” Dr. Sutherland tried to rein her back in. “I’d like to prescribe you, something, Tamara. Just to calm you down a little. And see where that goes. If it helps, maybe you will consider the next step.”
“What?”
“I’d like to prescribe—”
“No. What next step? What do you mean by that?”
“The next step in figuring out what is going on with you and how to address it. At this point, I can’t tell you for sure what that step would be. But right now, you are so anxious, you are resistant to anything that will allow me to get closer to a solution.”
“No. You’re not drugging me out. I’ve seen what happens to those girls. They’re like zombies. They don’t think for themselves, they just float from one place to another. You’re not doing that to me.”
“I’m not doing anything to you. I’m suggesting that you might want to try something that makes you feel less anxious. Don’t you want to feel better?”
“I want to feel. Not to be a zombie.”
“If you feel like a zombie, then the dosage is wrong. We’re not looking for something that changes who you are or takes away your enjoyment of life. Just something to take away some of these negative symptoms that are bothering you. Wouldn’t you like to—”
“No. Enjoyment of life? You think I enjoy it here? Or that I want to?”
“Tamara—”
“The only way I’m going to enjoy this is if you fill me up with alcohol and something that gives me a really good buzz. Then I’ll have the time of my life. But I don’t think you care about me enjoying my stay here. It’s not the bloody Marriott.”
She glared at him, but was disconcerted by the twitch of his lips at her comment.
“No,” he agreed, suppressing the smile. “It isn’t the Marriott, and I wouldn’t expect you to act like it was. But I don’t think your quality of life is improved by untreated mental illness, either.”
“You can’t force me to take drugs.”
“This is getting to be pretty serious. We’re not just talking about working through a period of depression. We can take it before the court, get an order to treat you without your consent.”
Tamara shook her head again. “You can’t.”
“The courts definitely lean in favor of letting the patient decide whether to accept or reject a course of treatment, even in the case of incarcerated minors. But they can be swayed.”
Tamara watched Dr. Sutherland out of the corner of her eye while he picked up a tablet computer and poked and swiped it a few times, eventually propping it up on the desk facing her.
She turned to face the desk square on and looked down at the little screen, intrigued despite herself.
Dr. Sutherland had started a video playing. There was either no sound or it was turned down. The pictures were black and white surveillance video, a little grainy, but clear enough to recognize herself sitting at her desk in class. As Tamara watched, she saw her own head go up suddenly. Everyone else’s faces turned toward her. Tamara swallowed. The videos were edited together to follow her progress as she bolted from the classroom and ran willy-nilly down empty hallways. There was no baby being whisked away just ahead of her steps. There was no one else in the hallway but her and the security staff. Tamara’s eyes were wide. It was obvious that she was yelling. Her face was contorted in fear or rage.
Tamara shook her head and turned away from the images. “There’s no sound,” she pointed out. “If there was sound, you would have been able to hear the baby crying.”
“I thought you just told me it was all a joke. That there was no baby crying. You just did it to get attention because you were bored in algebra.”
Tamara bit the inside of her cheek. Why couldn’t she at least think well enough to keep her lies straight? It was overwhelming trying to keep up the appearance of normality under Dr. Sutherland’s scrutiny.
“There’s nothing wrong with me.” She gestured at the tablet. “That’s just me having fun. You don’t give someone medication for playing a prank. Ground me to my cell for being naughty.”
Dr. Sutherland gave her a long, steady look. Tamara looked up at the ceiling again, waiting for him to move on.
“How have your other symptoms been?” Dr. Sutherland asked finally. “Are the relaxation exercises helping with your PTSD? Are you experiencing fewer flashbacks?”
“Yeah. They really help.”
“Have you even done any of the exercises?”
She met his eyes. “Well… I’v
e done those ones with you.”
“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t believe that doing a guided relaxation exercise with me once every week or two is enough to have an impact on your PTSD. I think you need to be doing more than that.”
“It’s getting better. Maybe it just goes away by itself.”
She had, after all, been able to go several months without any major traumatic events in her life. So maybe her brain was healing. Or she was getting better at anticipating and hiding the flashbacks from the people who would report them to Dr. Sutherland.
He let the silence draw out, something he did in hopes that she would feel the need to fill the awkward silence. But Tamara didn’t. She just closed her eyes and enjoyed the brief reprieve from his questions.
17
TAMARA PACED BACK and forth across her cell, waiting for reveille. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. Her heart was pounding in her chest like it was trying to get out. It was a relief when the bell finally rang and she could hear the noises of others stirring around her.
Within a few minutes of the bell, there was a quick knock on the door and it opened a crack.
“You decent?”
“Yeah.”
Zobel poked his head in, peeking at her as if he weren’t sure if she was telling the truth, then opened the door the rest of the way.
“You remember you have court today? You need to get yourself ready quickly to get on the bus. Especially if you want something to eat first. You don’t eat breakfast here, you’ll miss it. They won’t have anything for you at the courthouse.”
“I remember. I know all the rules.”
“Good.” He held a bundle of clothes toward her. “Civvies for court.”
“Oh, thanks.” Tamara stepped forward and took them from him, grateful she wouldn’t have to appear in court in her orange prison uniform.
He nodded. “Be quick.”
Zobel stepped back into the hallway and let the door shut behind him. Tamara quickly stripped off her nighttime pinks and pulled on the pants and blouse that had been provided. Probably by Mrs. Henson. She was the one who thought of that sort of thing.
Everything felt tight and strange against her skin after her uniform. Tamara buttoned up and straightened the shirt a couple of times. The style didn’t really suit her. Or maybe it was just because she wasn’t used to wearing anything but the one-piece coveralls of the facility.
It seemed like Zobel was a long time in getting back to her. Tamara was starting to feel anxious about missing the bus. If she missed the bus to court, what would they do? Reschedule the case? Go on without her?
The door opened and Zobel looked at her. “There you are. I said to be quick. It’s getting too late to eat now.”
“I’m not eating. I’m just waiting for you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you on your way, then.” He motioned her forward impatiently. Tamara walked with him to the guard station, where Zobel and one of the other guards wrapped her in the full chains and shackles required for transport. Tamara stood still while they locked everything up and each checked the chains independently.
“Do I have to wear these for court?” Nobody was going to believe anything she had to say if she looked like that up on the stand.
“No. When you’re at the courthouse, they’ll take them off. They come off before you go into the courtroom, and then go back on once you’re out. Nobody sees you walk in in chains.”
Tamara nodded and swallowed. “Good. Thanks.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“You’re all prepared for this. You’ve met with your lawyer. It will all go like you planned.”
She must have looked just as scared and small as she felt. Tamara made an effort to blank her face and straighten her posture. She needed to look confident and capable. She had a job to do. It was her chance to help ensure that Mr. Baker went away for a long time. For the maximum, whatever that was. She was going to make sure he couldn’t get access to any more children, no matter how old or young.
Zobel nodded his approval. “Better. Be strong. You can do this.”
She wondered how much he and the other guards knew about the court case, why she was going and what she was there to testify about. They knew she was going as a witness, not the accused. But she didn’t know if he knew any details.
“I’m strong,” she repeated. She needed to feel it. She needed to hear it out loud. She had always felt small and bullied before Mr. Baker. But she was taking control. She was in a position of power over him. He should fear her, because she was the one who had the power to affect the rest of his life. She would stand up and describe everything he had done, and the jury and the judge would make sure he paid for it. She wasn’t just speaking for herself and all of the babysitters and other young women that Mr. Baker might have had contact with, but for the babies, who couldn’t speak for themselves.
The thought of the babies and of Mrs. Baker also being there made Tamara dizzy for a moment, sliding back toward the past. Zobel held her arm and steadied her.
“You can do this,” he repeated. “Just stay focused on the present. What you’re going to do today.”
“Okay.” Tamara nodded and pulled her arm away from him. “Yeah.”
He looked her over once more to be sure she was ready, then escorted her to the transfer point. Tamara and a couple of other girls got onto the bus. One was a Shark, and one a girl Tamara didn’t recognize, who must have only been there short-term while waiting for a hearing. Neither one of them paid any attention to her, and Tamara did the same, pretending she was the only one on the bus.
Being in the courthouse made her sweat. The only time she had ever been there was when she was in trouble, facing prison time or more prison time. As soon as she got there, sweat was running down her back like she was standing under a shower. Tamara went where she was told to go and stood and waited when she was told to wait, and eventually Zobel escorted her to a room that adjoined the courtroom and contained a couple of tiny open-bar cells and courtroom security guards in brown uniforms who looked hot and bored and irritated. Their name tags read Blau and Lynch. Zobel introduced Tamara to them and they referred to the paperwork that they had to confirm that she was on the witness list for that day.
“You can put her in a cell and take off the chains. We’ll escort her in when they call for her.” Blau looked at Tamara and gave a shrug. “Doesn’t look like she’s going to give us any trouble.”
Zobel cleared his throat and gave Tamara an apologetic look before answering.
“I’m required to inform you that she is a violent offender. She has two murder convictions and has been involved in a prison break. There have been a number of incidents at juvenile detention the last little while when she has not complied with the security staff. You are to take every precaution.”
Blau gave Tamara another look and shook his head slowly. “Every precaution except keeping her in chains.”
“Yes,” Zobel agreed. “She’s a witness, not the accused, so the prosecutor does not want her appearing in chains. It’s a calculated risk, but we don’t believe she will attempt anything in the courtroom. If she does, you have deterrents.”
Like the guards at juvie, the courthouse guards wore an arsenal on their belts, with tasers, pepper spray, and firearms close at hand. Blau hitched his heavy belt up, nodding. He’d have a story to tell when he went home to his wife and kids. How he’d protected everyone from a dangerous murderer. A girl who looked like a sweet farm girl, but had murdered two people at the tender age of twelve.
Tamara knew that Zobel was only giving them the warning because he was required to, preventing the prison from being sued or shut down if Tamara walked away from the courthouse because they hadn’t explained to anyone how dangerous she was and how closely she needed to be watched. But she still felt betrayed by his words. He knew that she wasn’t that kind of person. That she wasn’t a danger to the security st
aff or innocent bystanders. She followed the rules and cooperated with the security and administration.
Or, she had. Before.
He’d been friendly with her. He was the one who told her to keep her chin up and be strong for the trial. She’d saved his life. Twice. But none of that stopped him from giving the caution like she was some axe murderer.
“Put her in the cell,” Blau said, motioning to one of the open doors.
Tamara didn’t wait for Zobel to tell her to go. She walked into the little cell, heart pounding still harder.
“Stand watch,” Zobel instructed as he stepped into the cage behind Tamara. The cell was almost too small for the two of them to stand together. Zobel unlocked the shackles and gave Tamara quiet instructions as he reached around her to remove the chains. They were both sweating. Tamara could see his brow glistening and could feel the heat of his body as he stood close to her.
Finally, he finished. Taking the hardware with him, he stepped outside the cell and swung the barred door shut. It latched. Zobel pulled back on the door to confirm it was properly locked. He nodded to Blau.
“Check to make sure it is secure.”
The man rolled his eyes, but he did as he was asked, stepping forward and giving the door a good yank. It didn’t budge. He shook it hard so that it made a racket. Lynch, who had been largely ignoring the proceedings looked up from his paperwork and scowled.
“Do you have to do that?”
“Have to make sure it’s secure,” Blau sneered.
Zobel nodded. “She’s all yours until the end of the day, then. Try to get her to eat some lunch; she didn’t have any breakfast.”
Blau shook his head. “I’m not her mother. She’ll be provided with lunch. That’s all I do.”
Zobel gave a nod in Tamara’s direction. He didn’t tell her again to be strong or anything else that might make it look like they had a relationship. Then he walked back out of the room. Tamara wanted to call after him for one more reassurance, but she didn’t. He was the only person she knew there, and she felt strangely abandoned, even though she knew all of the reasons he had done it and that he would be back to get her at the end of the day. She took a deep breath and sat down on the hard wooden bench inside the cell to wait.
Tortured Teardrops (Tamara's Teardrops Book 3) Page 18