by Anna Davies
Dr. Taylor rose to his feet. “We’re out of time. I know you’re upset. And I feel that after a rest, you’ll be better able to talk to me about what’s really bothering you.”
“I don’t need a rest. I’m Hayley. Look me up. You’ll find me.”
“I’ll find your sister,” Dr. Taylor said tersely, impatience weaving into his voice. “And we will talk tomorrow, Hayley.” At this, he pressed a button. A chime sounded, and a bleached-blond nurse wearing a set of hot-pink scrubs walked in. “You have to come to terms with who you are, so you can move beyond it.”
“Hi there. I’m Nanci, the nurse assigned to your cottage. Come on, Jamie doll, we’ll get you settled,” she said, bustling toward me. She had a hint of a Southern accent and her blush was unevenly applied, giving her moon-shaped face a lopsided look.
Dr. Taylor cleared his throat. “The patient mentioned that she’d prefer to be called Hayley for the time being.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled. If I fought, I’d only be branded crazy. I needed another plan, one that didn’t depend on anyone. I just needed to be able to think.
“All right, Hayley, let’s hop up to your room. Your roommate’s so excited to meet you!” the nurse clucked, as though she were a nursery school teacher trying to convince a child to share the art supplies.
I helplessly trailed behind the nurse, through the long corridors of the facility, then out into the open air. This would be over in a matter of hours, I reminded myself. It had to be. I was too smart to be trapped. It had been a good try on Jamie’s part. But I was smarter than her. I was stronger than her.
We trudged along the gravel path, and I wondered wildly if it’d be possible to escape: to sprint from the path, scale the fence, and spring to the nearest town.
Finally, the nurse stopped in front of one of the six cottages that flanked the central building. She walked up the sagging porch steps and unlocked the door.
“You’ll be with Sheila.” She motioned for me to follow her up a winding staircase toward the second floor. It seemed that the hospital was on the grounds of a former hotel. The main facility was the actual hotel proper, while the buildings flanking it had been family vacation cottages.
The nurse pushed open a door to a room that was bare except for two twin beds. A girl sat cross-legged in one of them, staring into the distance with brilliant aqua eyes. She’d obviously cut her reddish-blond hair herself, and chunks stuck out haphazardly around her pointed, angular face.
“You!” Sheila exclaimed, pointing at me.
“Yes, Sheila. This is your new roommate, Jamie,” Nanci said in a singsongy, infant-soothing voice.
“Where’s Jenny?” Sheila blurted out.
Nanci pursed her lips as though she’d sucked on a lemon. “Oh, Sheila. Don’t you worry about Jenny. She’s in a better place right now. How about you focus on getting to know Jamie?”
“What happened to Jenny?” I asked, turning toward Nanci.
Nanci shook her head and gestured to the empty single bed.
“That’s where you’ll be sleeping. Everyone here wears hospital-issue clothing. That way, there’s one fewer thing to think about. Don’t you agree, Sheila?” It was only then that I realized Sheila was wearing a pair of shapeless black pants and a gray baggy T-shirt. The nurse squinted at me.
“I think you’re a small. I’ll get some clothes and some medication, and then you should be right as rain.” She turned and left the room. She closed the door, but I realized it didn’t matter. The room had a huge picture window looking into the hallway. I noticed a camera in the corner as well, an unflickering red light trained at me. We were being watched all the time.
Sheila coughed and I realized that she, too, was staring at me.
“Hey,” I said awkwardly, perching on the edge of my own bed to face her. “So, I’m not here for very long, so …”
The radiator hissed and I jumped. Sheila emitted a low, loud cackle that seemed far too loud to have come from her tiny body.
“Everyone says that. Everyone’s here forever. Unless they’re like Jenny. Jenny escaped. Jenny’s not coming back.”
“Where did Jenny go?” I asked urgently. But just then, the door reopened and Nanci walked in, balancing a round tray that contained a tiny plastic cup and a large glass of water. Inside the cup were half a dozen multicolored pills. “Here are your meds,” she said, holding the tray out toward me. “You’ll feel much more comfortable when you take them.”
“No,” I shook my head. A lie formed in my mind. “I was a wreck when I came in because of the medications. I know Dr. Taylor wants me to get better. The only way I’ll get better is if I can talk to him without taking anything.”
“You can take it up with him. I’m just doing my job,” Nanci said firmly, shaking the cup so the pills rattled together. “Come on, be a good girl. They’ll go down easy, and you’ll be nice and relaxed.” She put the tray on a wooden dresser, picked up one of the cups, and pushed it closer to my mouth.
I panicked, visions of myself becoming an unblinking robot like Sheila coursing through my head.
“I said no!” I swatted her hand away, and the pills — a collection of hexagonal, trapezoidal, and rectangular capsules that reminded me of the blocks I’d once played with as a child — clattered to the floor and rolled under the bed.
“She was bad!” Sheila exclaimed, clapping her hand to her mouth in horror.
“Yes, Sheila, Jamie was very bad,” Nanci said through gritted teeth. “All right, we’ll try this again.” She reached underneath the bureau and pressed a button.
“I’m really fine! I’m sorry!” I chirped, desperate to stop the situation from escalating. “I’ll be good!”
“Well, we’ll have to hope so, won’t we?” Nanci muttered. “But you’ll learn soon enough, it’s best if you do what you’re told. We want the best for you, Hayley.”
“I’m not Hayley! I mean, I am. But I shouldn’t be here. I just really need to figure this out.” My voice broke into a half sob.
Nanci’s gaze softened. “Everyone’s here because they need to figure something out. And you’ll learn that you can’t do it on your own. Dr. Taylor will help. So will the meds. You just have to trust us.”
Just then, another nurse burst into the room.
“What’s the problem?” she asked.
“Judy, can you get her some more meds? We had an incident,” Nanci said, gesturing to the mess on the floor.
“Of course.” The tiny nurse disappeared out of the room. I looked back at Nanci.
“You know, I’m not staying here. This is a horrible mistake that will be fixed, and you’ll be sued. You don’t want that, do you?” I asked, trying to rationalize.
“Every patient says they’ll sue. None of them ever do. Threats are a waste of time, honey.” Nanci shook her head. “Now, you can either take your meds like a good girl, or we’ll have to resort to other measures.”
I gulped. I couldn’t imagine what the other measures would be.
“Here you go,” Judy said as she reentered the room, holding an identical tray filled with the same tiny plastic cup. I glanced at the capsules.
“I’ll take them,” I said.
“Smart girl,” Nanci murmured.
I picked up the tiny cup and tipped it into my mouth, holding the pills under my tongue and hoping I could hold them there long enough to spit them out.
“Good. Now, take a nap like a good girl,” Nanci said.
As soon as the door clicked closed, I lay facedown on the bed, knowing the camera wouldn’t capture the angle. Then, I spat into my hand and wiped the half-dissolved lump of medication on the sheet under my pillow. Sheila was watching, wide-eyed. I knew either she’d tell the nurses or a housekeeper would discover the multicolored mess, but I’d be long gone by then.
“Can you keep a secret, Sheila?” I asked.
Sheila nodded, unblinking. “I kept Jenny’s secret.”
“What was it?”
�
�I can’t tell you,” Sheila said proudly, rocking back and forth. Sunlight was still spilling through the window, creating large patches of light on the floor. Even though there were no clocks anywhere, it was probably only midday. But the encroaching dread surrounding me made me feel as if darkness was fast approaching.
“Did Jenny … die?” I asked finally.
Sheila laughed, the loud cackle that made her sound older and more evil than seemed possible, given her appearance. “No. She only wished she had.”
At that, the door clicked open again. Nanci strode in and grabbed Sheila by the shoulder.
“Sheila, I think it’s time for a little talk, what do you say?” she asked, glaring at me as she dragged Sheila out the door.
Finally, I was alone.
And I was terrified.
One day. Twelve pills. And even though I’d spit them out whenever a nurse’s back was turned, I knew the medication was seeping into my system, and that the craziness surrounding me was seeping into my pores. I felt slow and shaky, with a second or two going by before I realized anyone was talking to me. The Ainsworth final interview was on Monday, less than twenty-four hours away. But all that seemed light-years ago. Now, all my attention was focused on getting through each hour without losing my Hayley-ness. And it was hard.
Even though I’d been there less than twenty-four hours, the routine was clear — and it was clear I’d go crazy if I actually had to follow it for longer than I already had. All meals were at a long, cafeteria-like table, with nurses sitting at each table to ensure every bite was eaten. Nurses monitored each shower door. Group therapy sessions happened in the morning and the afternoon, and there was a mandatory nap when the doors were locked. Sheila continued to stare at me. I’d learned she was sixteen and had been living at Serenity for almost a year. She liked it, she said. I couldn’t tell if she was incredibly smart or incredibly out of it, but her wide-eyed stare unnerved me. When I’d fallen asleep the previous night, I’d woken up to her face inches away from mine. I’d screamed, and a night nurse had dragged Sheila back to her side of the room before slowly and methodically strapping her wrists and ankles to the bed with Velcro restraints.
“That’ll keep you in one spot,” the nurse said.
Sheila bleated a single cry of terror, but then the nurse must have given her medication, because her breathing had slowed into soft, deep snores that had freaked me out even more than seeing her face inches away from mine. Drugs were always used to calm people down, to keep them quiet, to make them obey the draconian rules. I knew it was better for me to stay under the radar and cooperate, but I couldn’t help but feel my heart go out to Sheila. Had she gotten better in a year, or far worse? Judging from the way I felt after only one day, I think I knew my answer.
“Jamie?” Dr. Taylor asked, snapping his fingers in front of my face. It was my second therapy session with Dr. Taylor. Sessions occurred every day, with one on weekends and two each weekday, and it was clear that playing along was key to getting anyone to listen to me. “Tell me about Aidan.”
“What about him?” I asked. Each session with Dr. Taylor was like playing verbal charades. I’d latch onto a name that sounded familiar and try to pump Dr. Taylor for clues. I figured that until I escaped, the best thing I could do was get as much information about Jamie as possible. I knew my father had adopted her with Deborah, and that Aidan was born only a few months after. I knew she’d been to a few different boarding schools and had a long record of shoplifting. I knew she blamed Aidan for everything.
“They’re in the same grade?” I’d asked when Dr. Taylor probed me about the time I locked Aidan in the kindergarten coat closet, prompting a full-on panic when everyone assumed he’d been kidnapped. Apparently, the entire town had spent the night searching for him everywhere, while I’d contentedly sat on the couch, watching Sesame Street and hugging my stuffed polar bear.
Dr. Taylor had shot me a funny look. “Yes. You’re in the same grade as your brother. Is that difficult for you?”
The question had given me pause. Because I could see how much it would suck. It’d be like having a twin with none of the benefits. Even in my brief time at the Thomson-Thurm house, I’d seen the adoring way James and Deborah had looked at Aidan and the accusatory glances they’d cast at “Jamie.” Of course, her behavior warranted it. But what if Aidan had always been the favored child? If I had been her … well, maybe if I’d been in a similar situation, I’d have locked him in a closet, too.
That had been the last significant piece of information I’d gleaned about Jamie’s family. It was as if Dr. Taylor had sensed that he’d overstepped, that I was eager for any drops of knowledge, and he’d retreated, relying on headshakes and nods.
“Jamie?” Dr. Taylor prodded, snapping me back into the moment.
“I’m not sure what to say about Aidan,” I said slowly. The thick file on his desk had the answers.
“Tell me about how he makes you feel,” he prodded.
I glanced at the model of the brain on Dr. Taylor’s desk. I knew he performed electroshock therapy, and I knew that’s where Sheila went when the nurses pulled her out of the room.
“Sad,” I suggested.
“All right, anything else?”
“Mad?” I felt like we were playing a game of Mad Libs.
“I wonder if you can go deeper,” Dr. Taylor mused, picking up the brain and turning it with his hands. I wondered if his subtext meant that he wondered whether a shock to my brain could make me go deeper.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. I took a large sip of my coffee. Coffee wasn’t officially allowed, since the nurses were worried about the caffeine interfering with the complicated pill combinations they were giving patients. But Dr. Taylor had made an exception for me, I think as a reward for no longer insisting on calling myself Hayley.
“Well, how are you adjusting here? Your roommate, Sheila … how do you like her?”
“I’m worried about her,” I said, a brilliant idea forming in my mind. Everyone knew she had hallucinations, and when she did, it was all hands on deck to restrain her. If I could use her to provide a distraction, I could get the file. I could get the phone. And I could get my freedom. I smiled, despite myself, then quickly arranged my expression to a more somber one when I saw a flicker of concern on Dr. Taylor’s face.
“Really?” Dr. Taylor leaned forward. “Talk to me about that. Why are you worried about her?”
“I feel like I have to look out for her. I guess it’s sort of like the way I felt I was supposed to look out for Aidan. But I couldn’t, because I was so wrapped up in my jealousy and anger. Now, I feel like I care about Sheila, and I want to have a good relationship with her. I guess it’s a way of transferring my emotions and trying to fix the past,” I said, throwing in plenty of therapy-like words that I knew Dr. Taylor would like. I smiled, despite myself. I was pretty proud of my off-the-cuff explanation.
“Yes, that’s good!” Dr. Taylor excitedly took a sip of coffee. And then I had an idea.
“I really think I’d be most helped if I could see her now. If I could go back to my room and tell her this,” I said. I needed to get Sheila on board, and fast. I was pretty sure I could convince her to help me, but I needed to set it in motion before her electroshock treatment, before I would spend another day longer than I had to here. Then, I’d call Matt. I didn’t trust my mother — not when she’d lied to me about Jamie in the first place, not when I didn’t even know whether she’d be at home or with Geofferson. But Matt would believe me — he’d been at the restaurant, he had to have noticed a difference between Jamie and me — and then, I’d get him to call the police while simultaneously getting me out of here.
“Really? You have another half an hour, and we’re really digging up some interesting stuff. I think you might find it valuable to discuss …”
I shook my head vehemently. “I need to process stuff … please?”
Dr. Taylor paused, his eyes flicking from me to the clock on t
he wall. It was almost one o’clock, and I was hoping his hunger for lunch would be larger than his hunger for my own psychological breakthrough.
“All right.” He pressed the buzzer on the corner of the desk to call for a nurse.
In a second, Nanci came to the door.
“Bye!” I called gleefully to Dr. Taylor, barely able to contain my excitement. This would work. It had to.
As soon as I got into the room, I glanced at Sheila, who was engaged in her usual activity of staring out the window. She turned toward me. She reminded me of a gerbil hyped up on caffeine, manic and jerky and desperate to please.
“I need your help.” I glanced behind my shoulder at the always-on camera. I quickly stepped onto the bureau and ripped it from the wall, hoping the nurses were too busy doing rounds to notice it was out of commission.
“You broke it!” Sheila exclaimed, blinking her ultra-large eyes at me accusingly.
“I know. But it’s all right. You said you wanted to help me, right?” I asked soothingly.
Sheila nodded vigorously, the tufts of hair surrounding her head bouncing as wildly as flickering candles on a birthday cake.
“Good. Now, do you know what a distraction is?” I asked, amazed that the idea hadn’t come to me before. It was so simple. Maybe that had been my problem. I was thinking big-picture, James Bond–style escapes, when I should have realized that my captors were fluorescent-lipstick-loving, graphic-scrubs-wearing sheep who only did what Dr. Taylor told them to.
“I know what a distraction is,” Sheila announced importantly.
“Good. So, at lunch, what I want you to do is exactly what you did yesterday. Remember? Just fall to the ground and start yelling. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” She nodded, eyes wide.
“Good. But remember, it’s just pretend. It’s a game. You’re pretending you’re really, really upset. But you’re not.”