I opened my eyes and angled my head toward her slightly to get a better look. I hadn’t seen this nurse before. I studied her, searching for any sign of needles or restraints.
Everything about this place terrified me. The visions. The nurses. The needles and pills. I was scared to tell them when I wasn’t feeling well, because all they did was make me feel worse by injecting me with more medicine that made me groggy and disoriented.
“I’m feeling good,” I lied.
I’d had a headache for days. Weeks, maybe. I’d completely lost track of time. How long had I been here?
The nurse was younger than the others, her face smooth and beautiful. Not a wrinkle in sight. She wore a pristine white uniform with long sleeves and a skirt that settled somewhere just below the knee. White tights covered her legs. Her dark hair was pulled into a twist at the base of her neck and covered at the top with the type of white nurse’s hat that went out of style more than fifty years ago.
She smiled and crouched beside me.
I pressed my back harder into the wall behind me, wincing.
“The doctor said if you’re feeling up to it, you might be ready to come outside and join the other girls sometime soon,” she said with a glance toward the open door. “Everyone is anxious to meet you.”
I swallowed against the dry sandpaper of my throat and tried to find my voice.
“Other girls?”
She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “Of course. You didn’t think you were all alone in here, did you?”
I closed my eyes against the pounding headache that drummed against my skull.
I’d been alone for as long as I could remember. All I knew anymore were these white walls and the nightmares that haunted my sleep.
“Harper?” The nurse touched my arm, and I flinched, pulling back sharply.
I stared at her, waiting for her to pull a needle from her pocket and jab it into my arm. I gritted my teeth, preparing for the pain and the horror of the endless nightmares that always came when they forced me into a deep sleep.
Tears stung my eyes, and my entire body tensed.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said softly.
I dared to draw a breath, my trembling body resisting the fullness of it. How could I trust her? My only memories of this place so far were of women who looked just like her holding me down so they could sedate me. Women who told me I’d done horrible things and was a danger to myself and others.
“Where am I?” I whispered, daring to ask the one question the nurses had refused to answer.
“You’re in a safe place,” she said with a sad smile. “We’re going to take care of you here, I promise.”
I closed my eyes. A tear escaped and fell down my cheek, leaving a hot trail across my skin.
She hadn’t answered my question. Not really. And I was too tired to protest. Too afraid to ask again.
The nurse reached out and ran her hand along my hair, pushing the matted blonde mess behind my ear. “I know you’ve been through some hard times,” she said. “It can’t be easy to lose everyone close to you, but now that you’re feeling better, we’re hoping the healing can begin. Do you think you’re ready to see the doctor, Harper? To talk about what happened?”
My eyebrow twitched involuntarily as I stared at her. I looked deep into her dark-brown eyes, trying to make sense of her words.
How could I possibly talk about something I didn’t even remember?
I glanced toward the doorway and watched as several girls who looked about my age passed by. One glanced inside, and then quickly snapped her head away. All of them were wearing knee-length gray dresses, their feet bare against the tile floor.
I closed my eyes and thought of the oppressing loneliness of this room. The images that haunted me night after night.
After a few seconds, I looked up at the nurse.
“Are you ready to join the others now, Harper?” she said.
I swallowed again, wishing for water.
“Yes,” I said, my voice like sand against my throat.
The nurse smiled, her teeth white against the red of her lips. “Wonderful,” she said.
She stood and reached for my hand.
Taking in a deep breath, I put my hand in hers and let her help me to my feet. My knees wobbled, and I steadied myself against the padded wall. The nurses had kept me in restraints for days before they locked me in this room. How long ago was that? Days? Weeks? The room had no windows and no clock. No way to mark the passage of time.
It felt as if I’d been here for a lifetime.
“Come on, now,” the nurse said, coaxing me from the safety of the wall. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Dr. Evers has been dying to speak with you.”
I took the journey one step at a time, the door in front of me like a gate to another world. Would I find answers beyond that doorway? Would someone be able to tell me who I was? Would anyone know why I couldn’t stop dreaming of a guy with green eyes?
I was terrified to know if he was still alive or if he’d also died in that fire. I was terrified to know the full extent of what I’d done.
Maybe it was better that I didn’t remember.
I slowed, my stomach reeling at the thought. Had I killed everyone I loved? Was that why I couldn’t remember? Because the horror of it was so great, my mind had refused to see?
A part of me knew it had to be true. I dreamed of fire constantly. I saw it every time I closed my eyes. Every night I watched the beautiful white house burn in the flames. Sometimes, I could swear I still smelled it in my hair.
I reached up to touch my unruly locks, the matted waves so knotted and dirty I pulled away, embarrassed. I tucked my head down, not wanting anyone to see my face. I didn’t want the first glance the others had of me to be of a girl with tears in her eyes.
This isn’t me. I don’t belong here.
I wasn’t sure where the thought came from, but the heat that pulsed under my skin told me that whoever this girl was—with her lowered eyes and trembling knees—she was not me. I had no idea what events had brought me to this place or why I couldn’t remember anything, but I prayed that whatever answers were hidden beyond that doorway, I would have the strength to seek them out.
And the courage to face the truth, no matter how horrible it might be.
There’s Only One
I sat in a leather chair across from the large mahogany desk, waiting for the doctor. It had taken two nurses over an hour to brush the tangles from my hair, and my scalp still hurt from all their pulling. They’d watched me as I stood under the shower, making sure I didn’t hurt myself.
But I didn’t want to hurt myself. I wanted to stand in that stream of hot water forever.
After weeks without a shower, it felt like heaven. But the nurses had rushed me along, dressing me in a simple gray dress that matched those worn by the girls I’d seen earlier. They pulled my long blonde hair into a simple ponytail and had me brush my teeth.
Then they had brought me here, telling me to wait.
This room was so different from the rest of the hospital. Where everything out there was white and sterile and harsh, this room was welcoming and warm. A fire burned in the hearth and the lamp on the desk emitted a soft, warm glow. Sunlight streamed in through heavy gold curtains.
The doctor’s desk was neat and tidy, decorated only with a leather blotter and a fountain pen. There was the lamp, too, of course, and a picture frame. I couldn’t see what it was a picture of, though, and I was too nervous to dare stand up and go around to look.
A plaque across the front of the desk read Dr. Monica Evers.
The door opened and a woman walked in, her dark hair pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. She wore glasses and a simple brown suit with a knee-length skirt and kitten heels. She smiled at me as she came into the room.
“Harper, I’m so happy to see you looking well,” she said. “How are you feeling today?”
I stifled a groan. How many times would I have to
hear that question?
“I’m fine,” I said.
“That’s good,” she said, taking a seat behind her desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out a large file, opening it and glancing through several pages before she looked up again. “The nurses tell me you’ve been improving, and they feel you’re almost ready to join the rest of the girls in the main ward.”
I nodded, although I didn’t like the sound of that word. Ward. No one had explained to me what this place was, but considering the fact that I’d been locked in a room with padded walls, I had a pretty good idea.
“I know it’s been a difficult few months for you since the fire,” she said. “But we are here to help you, Harper.”
I looked up at her. “Months?”
I thought it had maybe been a few weeks. But months?
“Yes,” she said, lowering her glasses onto the edge of her nose and looking at her files. “You’ve been at the Evers Institute going on four months now.”
I shook my head. How was that possible?
“How much do you remember of what happened before you were admitted to this place?” she asked.
“Not much,” I said. “I remember a fire. Sometimes when I fall asleep, I dream of a large white house burning down.”
She nodded, her eyes sympathetic but watchful. “What else? Do you remember who was inside the house?”
I shook my head. “I’ve tried to remember,” I said. “But there’s only one person I see over and over again in my dreams.”
She nodded, encouraging me to go on as she lifted her pen to an empty page in her notes. “And who is that?”
“I see a guy with green eyes,” I said. “I think he’s about my age. His hair is dark and longer on top. But mostly it’s his eyes that I see.”
She gripped her pen tighter, and a muscle in her jaw twitched.
“Do you remember his name?” she asked.
I lowered my head. Had I said something wrong? “I can’t remember anything else.”
“It’s going to take some time,” she said. “You’ve been through a very traumatic event. Sometimes it takes awhile for our memories to come back from something so tragic.”
“Why am I here?” I asked. “Is it because I can’t remember?”
“I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that,” she said, pushing her glasses up and setting down the pen. “Harper, there have been some questions about how the fire got started in the first place. The police seem to think you may have been the one to start it, but whether it was intentional or not is something only you can answer. After the trauma of the event, you closed yourself off from the world, refusing to speak or eat. You tried to hurt yourself. That’s when they brought you here to us.”
None of this sounded familiar. None of it sounded like me.
“How long do I have to stay?” I asked.
“As long as it takes,” she said, which wasn’t really an answer.
“What will I do here?”
“We’ll work together to help you remember what happened,” she said. “Hopefully as time goes on, we’ll work through the event together, trying to understand it and make sense of what happened that tragic night.”
“And what about my family?” I asked. “Surely there’s someone out there who is worried about me? Has anyone come to visit?”
Dr. Evers sighed and shook her head. “Harper, I know this is hard to hear, but your parents were both killed in the fire,” she said. “Your sister was also killed. You had no other relatives.”
“You’re telling me I’m all alone now?” I asked. I drew my knees up into the chair, wanting to curl into a ball and go back to my white padded room. I didn’t want to hear this. It couldn’t be true.
“You’re not alone, Harper,” she said with a smile. “You have us now. Over time, you will come to see the girls and the staff here at the Evers Institute as your family. You’ll see. Things are going to get better. It just takes time.”
I wanted to believe her, but something in the deepest part of my heart refused to believe this could be real. Something was off about this whole place, as if I were locked inside a nightmare.
“I’m sure you’re tired and hungry,” she said. “I’ll have one of the nurses escort you to your room so you can meet your new roommates. What do you think?”
I didn’t know how to answer. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to fall asleep and wake up tomorrow in my own bed with my own memories. I didn’t want to be in this place.
“Everything is going to be okay,” she said, standing and coming over to place her hand on mine. Her skin was cold, and I wanted to pull away. Something about her made my skin crawl. “We’re going to take good care of you, Harper. We’re a family here. You’ll see.”
She clutched my hand tighter, and I heard the jingle of a bracelet as it slipped down her wrist. I peered at it, noticing a single charm dangling just beneath the hem of her brown suit jacket.
A tiny emerald scarab beetle.
I’d Done This Before
“Come with me,” the nurse said as I left the doctor’s office. “Let’s get you settled in your room. Dinner should be starting soon, so if you’re feeling up to it, I’ll take you by the dining hall, too.”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I felt up to it at all. For some reason, the charm on the doctor’s bracelet had completely unsettled me. I felt as if I had seen that image before somewhere, only I couldn’t remember where.
I followed the nurse into the stark, bare-walled hallway and around several turns. The dress they had given me scratched at my skin, making everything itch. They had not given me any shoes, and my feet slapped against the tile floors.
Everything seemed so cold in this place, and I longed for carpet and blankets and hot chocolate. I prayed for a hot dinner of soup or pasta, something that would warm me from the inside.
I kept my eyes lowered when we passed other nurses or other girls in dresses like my own. I wasn’t quite sure where I fit in this place, but there was definitely a hierarchy. And I was at the bottom of it. To them, I was the new girl. An outsider.
I couldn’t imagine I would ever feel that I belonged here.
When the nurse stopped suddenly toward the end of one long corridor, I looked up, eyes wide as I peered inside the door of a new room. There were four beds lined up in a row with white metal railings at the head and foot of each one. Except for a navy wool blanket folded at the bottom of each bed, there was no color in this room, either. It was bare and cold just like the rest of this institution.
“Go on, then,” the nurse said. “Your bed is the one there in the middle.”
I walked inside and moved to stand beside the bed, unsure what she expected of me. I had no belongings to put away or to even mark my spot. All I could do was stand here and stare at the bed I’d been given and wonder who occupied the other three. There were a few items on top of each of their beds, but nothing that really told me who they were or why they were here.
The nurse stepped out of the room for a moment, leaving me alone to stare at the walls. I wanted to crawl into the bed and wrap the blanket around my body, shutting out the world.
“Your roommates must have already gone to the dining room,” she said when she returned. She handed me a small white bag with my name embroidered in green thread along the edge. “These are just a few things you’ll need while you’re here. A toothbrush. A comb. A change of underwear. A nightgown. Just set them on your bed, and I’ll show you to the dining hall.”
She tapped her hand on the bronze numbers nailed to the door of my new room. 1802.
“I’ll make sure someone is with you at all times so you don’t get turned around in this place,” she said. “But try to remember your room number in case you get lost.”
I memorized the numbers, saying them in my head over and over. I hoped I wouldn’t forget, but so many things seemed to have slipped through my brain like sand through an hourglass. I remembered bits and pieces of life before thi
s place, but my memories were only fragments, like a jumbled puzzle with no matching pieces.
I tried to memorize the turns as she led me through a maze of hallways where each one looked identical to the last. I began creating a map in my head. Turn left at the end of the hall, and then right. Another right and the hall opened into a much larger room filled with square tables, rocking chairs, sofas, and even a fireplace. Windows lined the far wall, and I breathed in, as if I could smell the fresh air from here.
My shoulders relaxed at the sight of the courtyard just beyond the glass. It was twilight and the sky was painted in dark pinks and oranges. After being locked away with no windows for such a long time, I was grateful for this glimpse of the outside world. It was the first sign of warmth I’d had since I arrived, and it filled me with hope.
We passed through another corridor, and at the end of that hall, she led me through a set of double doors that brought us, finally, to the dining hall. The noise of it assaulted me. Until now, I hadn’t even realized just how quiet my life had become. I’d been alone for so long, I’d forgotten the way a room sounded when there were people in it.
The noise seemed to brush against my skin, as grating and rough as the fabric of my dress. I lowered my head, wanting to disappear as eyes turned toward me. Too late, I realized the nurse had already started walking. She looked displeased, her arms crossed and her smile faded.
“Harper, I need you to pay attention, please.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as I hurried to catch up to her.
I tried to ignore the eyes that followed my every move, and the whispers and laughter that rippled through the place as I walked by.
This room was the largest I’d seen in the place, filled with long wooden tables that extended the entire length of the space. Each table had several matching wooden benches lined up on either side, most of the seats already filled with girls. I dared a glance around, noticing that some of the girls were much younger than I was. Possibly as young as seven or eight years old. Others looked about my age or older, but none looked over twenty or twenty-one.
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