by Calinda B
“I…well…” She flicks her eyes nervously over to Aunt Topaz.
My aunt’s mouth is pressed into a crisp, baked slit, like the peanut brittle smile of Dr. Beasley.
Jill pulls her hands away. “This is for the best, sis, I know it. You’ll get better in here, I promise.”
Tears pool in my eyes. “I’ll get better when someone believes me, and I get out of here. They’re giving me Haloperidol, Jill. That’s for schizophrenics. I am not a schizophrenic. You know that. I’m sensitive, I keep to myself, but I’m not crazy.”
Aunt Topaz stands up. “I think we’d best get on our way. Jill?”
“Get better, sis,” Jill whispers in my ear.
“Believe in me,” I whisper back. I’m desperate for my sister’s acceptance of who and what I am. There’s got to be someone in the family who will believe in me. “Please. Please. Believe in me.” We give each other one last tearful gaze.
“I’ll show you out, ladies,” All Smiles says, striding up to us.
I glance over at him and notice Rafe sitting in the corner with his visitor. He’s sitting with a guy around his same age. They’re hunched forward, leaning into the space between them and having a heated conversation.
He must feel me staring at him because he looks over at me. His face closes down, and he positions his back to me.
What is that guy’s secret?
All Smiles unlocks the door leading to freedom, and my sister and aunt disappear through the opening. He strides back to me. “Wasn’t that nice to see your family?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say?” he asks, smiling. He unlocks the door to the inner sanctum for us freaks who abide there. “After you.”
“I’d say it was necessary, it was a beginning step, and I am so not finished talking to them and giving them a piece of my mind.”
“I see,” he says non-committedly. He smiles and nods at staff as he tramps down the hall. When he gets to my doorway, he opens the door, and beckons me inside. Following after me, he says, “I believe in you, Ms. Engles. I just want you to know that.” He fluffs my pillow and smoothes the white covers with his large, dark hands.
“Why would you say that?” I ask, perplexed. “I seem to be the big ticket freak around here. I’ll bet people are laying odds at how well I do or when I’ll snap and end up in isolation.” We’re interrupted by a staffer who wanders in with the dreaded blue tray and paper cups of sedation.
“Afternoon, Debra. Here to see to Ms. Engles?”
“Good afternoon, Matthew. Yes, I am. Dr. Bellows has requested a medication change for you, Ms. Engles.”
A lightning quick flash of concern passes over All Smile’s face. It is replaced by his big, generous smile. “I see. Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” He gives the covers one final pat and makes his way to the doorway. Before exiting he turns, looks at me, and opens his mouth as if to say something. His mouth shuts, his head gives a small shake and he disappears, leaving me with Debra, new drugs, and a whole lot of hurt and rage at seeing my sister and my goddamned aunt. Someone is going to pay.
Chapter 6
The food here is tolerable, at best. I’m used to lots of wholesome, natural fare, prepared simply. I’m sitting at a dining table, picking at the warmish canned peas and carrots, stirring them into the sorry-looking instant mashed potatoes, when Rafe comes over and sits down next to me.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say. “How are you?”
“I’m in a mental hospital. What can I say?” He smiles at me.
“That’s my line.” I return the smile. He’s got white, white teeth. A clean, fresh complexion. He looks a little pale, but then don’t we all when stuffed full of a pharmacopoeia of substances? “How’s your life of subterfuge and intrigue?” I shovel a mushy bite of veggies into my cotton-filled mouth. These drugs make my mouth feel like the Sahara desert.
“Intriguing.” He carefully positions his plate, his silverware, and his glass on the table. “Dr. B is going to have a private session with you tonight.” His eyes dart around the room. “Watch yourself.” He forks a bite of turkey and chews it thoughtfully. “Your visit today seemed pretty intense.”
I sigh. “Yeah. Yours did, too.”
“That was my brother. I was telling him what goes on in here. He didn’t like what he heard, but then, well…” He shrugs. “He put me in here.” He stabs another morsel of turkey and holds it in the air. “That was the first time he’s been to see me.”
“In how long? You never did tell me how long you’ve been in here.”
His face snaps shut like a shutter closing over the window for winter. He puts the bite of turkey in his mouth and chews. “A while…” he says, through the chewed food.
“So what happens in a private session? What should I watch for?”
Rafe’s eyes scan the room again. “Anything can happen.”
“What kind of anything?”
“Just watch yourself, Marissa. These opportunities aren’t always what they seem.” Rafe eyes me thoughtfully, biting the inside of his cheek. His eyes flit to the doorway behind me, and he, and everyone else in the room, sits up taller and quiets.
I pivot my head to see Dr. Bellows marching in the room, a benevolent smile stretched across his face, like he’s the pope. I wonder if we are expected to kiss his ring.
“Eat, eat,” he says to us all. “Don’t let me stop you.” He makes a beeline over to my table. “Ms. Engles. How are you adjusting?”
I frown and push my plate away. “Adjusting to what?”
“Life here. Your new medications.” He leers and places his palms on the table, effectively putting himself between me and Rafe like a barrier.
“Y’all are obsessed with how I’m feeling, adjusting, and getting on around here. I’m not happy being here. It’s that simple. My story hasn’t changed.” I stand and prepare to carry my dishes over to the window to the kitchen. There are workers in there, swiftly grabbing the soiled plates, food remains, crumpled napkins, and shoving the dishes and silverware into an industrial dishwasher.
Dr. Bellows grabs my arm. “I haven’t finished what I was going to say.”
I wrench my arm free before sparks fly. “Finish then. I’m sure I have something else more interesting to do.” I rub the place that he grabbed.
“That’s just it. I’ve scheduled a private, one-on-one session with you. You’ll find me in my office. Come in…” He glances at his watch. “Come in 30 minutes.” He pushes away from the table, satisfied. “Rafe,” he says, acknowledging him for the first time. “Your session will be after hers. We need to work more on restoring your wholesomeness through therapy. You’re coming along nicely.” He smiles, but it’s just the muscles of his face moving into a new position. There’s no warmth there.
Rafe’s cheeks flame red, and he stares at his plate. “Be nice to her,” he mumbles.
“I’m always nice.”
I stare at the two men, sliding my eyes from one to the other. Rafe is contemplating his uneaten food. Dr. Bellows is contemplating Rafe. His expression is neither wholesome nor therapeutic as far as I can see. “Well, then,” I say. “I’ll see you in 30. See ya, Rafe,” I add, and saunter out of the room.
I enter my room and pace. A private session with that prick? What if I skip it? What can he do? I’m starting to wear a trench into the floor when All Smiles enters. He looks like he’s about to go to a funeral.
“Ms. Engles?” he says.
I’ve never seen him look so sad. “Who died?”
He must not have been aware that he looked so gloomy. The smile resumes, his face brightens, and he gestures to me to follow him. “I’m sorry. Lost in thought. I’m here to escort you to your appointment.”
“Ugh. I was going to skip it if you don’t mind.”
His face falls for a second, but then that cheery smile returns. “Oh, that’s not a good idea, Ms. Engles. You don’t participate, you don’t get to leave. Or you g
o somewhere far, far less desirable. It’s that simple.”
My shoulders rise and fall to the tune of a sigh. “Understood. Well, then. Let’s go.” I follow him out the door.
When we arrive at Dr. Bellows office, two locked floors away, he pauses before knocking on the door. “You be careful,” he whispers. “Be strong.”
“What?”
He ignores me and knocks.
“Enter,” a voice calls.
All Smiles opens the doors and steps aside for me to enter. “Evening, Dr. Bellows. I’ll be back to get her in 50 minutes.”
“Fine, fine,” Dr. Bellows answers.
I wander in and look around. It’s a huge office with rows and rows of certificates, accomplishments, and education winking from the walls like beacons to this man’s self-importance. I’m not impressed. You can be educated and still be an asshole.
“Come in, come in,” Dr. Bellows says. “Enter. Sit.” He points to a brown couch next to a stuffed chair.
I start to sit on the chair, but he stops me.
“That’s my seat. Make yourself comfortable on the sofa.” He makes his way over to the stuffed chair and settles into it, as if it’s his throne.
“Can I just stand?”
“No. Sit. Please.” He waits.
I eye the sofa suspiciously before perching at the edge.
“Settle back.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“You know fine is not a feeling.”
I smile.
He glares. “Let’s proceed then, shall we?” He steeples his fingers beneath his chin.
It’s the same gesture Dr. Beasley made on “orientation night.” They must train them to make that gesture in college. I look at the walls, the photos, the books…everywhere but at him.
“Let’s explore your childhood, shall we?” he begins.
“Why?” I ask, still not meeting his gaze.
“Why not? It’s a good place to begin. Were you accepted as a child?”
I frown. “My mom and dad adored me, if that’s what you mean.”
“So, they accepted you?”
“What do you mean by accept? I was loved. Isn’t that the same as acceptance?”
“Marissa, look at me.”
My gaze meets his, defiantly.
“You’ve clearly got some issues with anger, and we want to get to the heart of it. Only through accepting and acknowledging what we are feeling will we release our wounds.”
“The only wound I have right now is the betrayal at being put in this place to begin with. I don’t belong here. And, if your little theory were true, you wouldn’t have tried to placate me when I ‘expressed’ myself in the group today.” I make air quotes around the word “expressed.”
“You were clearly out of control,” he says, as if that answers everything. “You were putting yourself and the others in harm.”
I roll my eyes, sit back, and drape my arms over the back of the couch. This new drug combo makes me feel aroused, dizzy, lethargic, and very, very heavy. It’s a strange sensation.
“You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that.”
I ignore him.
“Let’s try something, shall we?”
I shrug.
“Close your eyes.”
“No.”
“Please, dear, this is a therapeutic exercise I want to try with you.”
“Nope.”
He huffs. “Remember what I said about opportunities. They can be revoked by me.”
“Asshole,” I say under my breath.
“I’ll let that outburst slide. This once. Now close your eyes.”
I let them fall shut. It would be so easy to just lay my head down on the arm of this couch and fall into dreams or the bleak, bleary sleep-scapes of the sedated. I have to work to keep my head from falling back against the wall.
“That’s it. That’s good,” Dr. Bellows coos. He sounds like he wants to rock me to sleep. “Now see yourself facing a doorway. It leads down a long set of stairs. You’re going to walk down that set of stairs, okay?” He sighs. It’s a deep sigh, like a lover’s caress. “One. You take the first step. Two. You take another step. Three. Four. Keep stepping, one at a time. Five. Six. Your body is very relaxed. Seven. Eight. Your body is very heavy. Nine.”
As he speaks, sure enough I see myself wandering down a long flight of stairs. I take step after step after step, entering a world of darkness. I zone Dr. Farty Pants out. He doesn’t exist down here. I wander deeper and deeper. I arrive at two dimly lit doorways. On one door, a red square is carved into the wood. On the other door, a purple circle beckons. Both of those are the colors I associate with Daniel. I crack open the door with the red square, peer inside and see nothing but darkness. Should I enter?
Marissa.
Daniel? Where are you?
I’m with…
Who are you with? What’s going on? The connection between us is still faint but at least I can hear him. I don’t even have my earrings on, and I can hear him. This is good news as far as I’m concerned.
I take a tentative step into the gloom. It’s pitch black down here. Complete absence of light. I could turn mine on, let my light flow, but Dr. Farty Pants is still somewhere around here. In the dark, dark world Daniel commands, bursts of breath punctuate the air. There is nothing, nothing, nothing, and then a sigh. More emptiness and then a growl. The hair on the back of my neck bristles. I shouldn’t have come in here. The stench of rotting bodies, decay, and death greets me the further I step. I press my hand over my mouth and gag. This was a bad idea. Bad choice to come in here. These are the things that Daniel draws forth. This is the world that he commands. Is he in there?
Marissa, don’t. My father will…
A hand shoots out of the darkness and grabs my neck. I scream, shake the hand off, and quickly back out of the room, slamming the door shut tight.
Marissa. Come. I need…
I can’t tell where his whisper is coming from. I am not going back in door number one.
Marissa. You must…
Are you okay? Where are you? I don’t know where he is. All I know is that suddenly I feel very aroused. Maybe I should take a wander through door number two. I’m filled with the soul bound sensations that bind us, that connect us, that let me know he’s alive - when I’m not completely sedated, that is, and when he’s not wherever the hell he is.
My awareness zeros in to my soft cotton t-shirt against my skin. It rises and falls with each breath. I shift a little to the right and it rubs against my neck, pushing tiny hairs out of the way. I want to drag my palm languidly along my breasts, stroking and caressing them. My focus lands on the satiny fabric of my bra. The cotton shirt slides along the slick surface as I inhale and exhale. My nipples stiffen and begin to ache. I want Daniel’s mouth around them, sucking, licking, gorging on the light that streams from them like a mother’s milk. He likes to drink my light. He draws it into his mouth and swallows, feasting, growing stronger from the electrical nourishment I give. He says it goes down like a hum, a strong vibration pulsing against his insides. He told me that it fills him like a lightning bolt entering and exploding. It buzzes through his veins, making his muscles bulge. It kick-starts his cock into rock solid readiness. I want that cock inside of me. I pulse my core muscles as if I am milking his erection. My hand lifts to open the door with the purple circle.
Marissa. Stop. You’re…
Why? I can feel you. I want you. I need you. I… My mouth drops open, yielding to the kiss that I know is awaiting me. My lips soften, ready for Daniel’s pillow-soft lips to connect with mine. I frown as skin touches skin. Something isn’t right. These lips are not Daniel’s. My eyelids fly open. Dr. Bellows is leaning over me, violating my mouth with his.
Without thinking, I let electricity rip through my body. I push him, hard, and he flies across the room, his head colliding with the back wall. His skull bounces against one of his important certificates, photos, or degrees like a ping pong ball, shatte
ring the glass and frames. Air flies from his lungs in a sick moan. He slides to the floor, knocked cold.
“Oh, shit! What have I done?” I leap to my feet and begin pacing, my fingertips sparking. “What have I done? What have I…?”
Rafe pushes open the door and peers inside.
I whip my hands behind my back.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, hurrying inside. He spies Dr. Bellows’ unconscious figure, and his mouth drops open. “Matthew’s going to be here any moment. Hurry! We’ve got to do something.”
I cloak my sparking fingers, visualizing the electricity away. Did he see that? “What do we do? I was doing one of his stupid therapeutic exercises, and he started kissing me while my eyes were closed.” I scrub my lips with my palm. “Gah! It was disgusting.”
Rafe paces back and forth, tugging at his hair.
It sounds like he’s cursing and swearing under his breath but I can’t really tell. Finally, real words fall from his mouth.
“I’ve got it. You, step out into the hall.”
“Seriously? I want to help.”
“Go. Matthew’s probably coming down the hall right now. I’ve got this.”
I cautiously open the door, look right and left, and, sure enough, All Smiles is striding toward me.
“Everything go well?” he asks. His eyes show the concern his smile refuses to acknowledge.
“Fine. Super. Thanks for asking.”
He visibly relaxes. “That’s great. Rafe already in there?”
“Yup. Ready?”
“Here we go.”
He takes me down to my floor and walks me to my room. I shove open the door and start pacing.
“You sure you’re alright?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. The therapy session was…” I search his face. “It was intense, that’s all. I’m fine. Really. Fine.” I will calm into my system. “Really, I’m fine. I just have a lot to think about. That session really stirred me up.”
“That’s what therapy will do.” He puts his hands on his hips. “Well. I’ll leave you to it, then. It’s lights out in an hour. You might want to journal your thoughts and feelings.”
“I…I didn’t bring anything to write with. My arrival here was against my will, remember?”