by Anya Allyn
“Cassie, are you okay?” asked Detective Kalassi. I opened my eyes into the detective’s concerned face.
“I’m okay,” I breathed.
The thin-cheeked detective steepled his fingers. “I want to ask about Ethan McAllister. I understand he was put in a cell within the underground—for almost the entire duration that you were there.”
“Yeah, he was.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
Because he took a knife to Jessamine. To a ghost. “Because he was violent.”
“Violent to whom?”
“He was just… very angry. Angry at those who were keeping us in the underground. He threatened to kill our captors.”
The detectives scribbled in their notebooks again.
Detective Bryant gave me a sympathetic smile. She had pale eyes that drooped at the corners and messy auburn hair. “I’d like to ask about Lacey Dougherty now. I hope that’s all right.”
I nodded, taking a breath.
She drew her lips in, appearing to think carefully about how to phrase her words. “Lacey… she came into the underground with you, didn’t she?”
“Yes. She did.”
“But she disappeared soon afterwards?”
“Yes.” I gazed directly at her. “Where is Lacey now?”
“She’s been put in special care,” she told me.
“You mean she wasn’t arrested?” I stared around at the detectives.
“There were no grounds for arrest,” said the thin-cheeked man.
Inwardly, I burned and seethed. “She brought all the girls to Henry. She admitted it to us on the night of the rescue.”
“We’ve heard… lots of things from Lacey,” said Detective Byrant. “It’s all quite… fantastical. She’s admitting all kinds of things. Even things involving ghosts and demonic creatures I’m afraid. She’s experiencing acute guilt that she escaped becoming an abductee herself. She’s in psychosis and may not be well for quite some time to come.”
“You think she’s admitting to things that aren’t true?” Anger seeped through my voice. “She knew exactly where all of us were all that time.”
Of course they believe what Lacey’s saying isn’t true. Ghosts and serpents are insane. Don’t give yourself away, or they’ll lock you away too. Don’t give yourself away. You can’t tell any of them what really happened.
“We understand you being angry at Lacey for not ending up in the same situation as the rest of you,” said the thin-cheeked man. “There’s no telling why she was allowed to go free. Often we never come to an understanding of how the minds of abductors work. But we can’t discuss this further I’m afraid. Lacey is not a suspect. That’s all we can tell you.”
“Well, is there something you can tell me?” My tone was harsher than I’d meant it to be. “I know that the police can’t look for Prudence’s body. But it’s down there. Please, I want to know who she is… who she was. Have you checked your missing person’s lists?”
A tear ran down mom’s face. She stepped away, gazing out the window. I guessed what she was thinking. Prudence could have been me.
Martin Kalassi sighed, shaking his large head. “I’ve checked the lists ‘till my head's spun. Right around Australia. Now, we know her name is unlikely to be Prudence, but there’s just no missing girl matching the description, age and dates. I remember the night of the rescue you telling me you hadn’t seen her in person, is that right?”
I saw her as a ghost. “Molly was the only one of us to see her in person. And… Lacey.”
“Lacey has spoken of a Prudence,” said the thin-cheeked detective. “But then, you and Aisha Dumaj did hold quite a lengthy and heated conversation with Lacey that night, and she is most likely just repeating things you told her. And if Molly Parkes was the only one, in essence, to actually see Prudence, then all we’re gaining is a second-hand description.” He gave an off-hand shrug. “In any case, being the first one in the underground, there’s a possibility Parkes invented an imaginary friend.”
Lacey was ‘The First One’. Not Molly. “Please don’t refer to Molly as Parkes. Please don’t.”
“Agreed,” said Detective Kalassi. “Molly deserves her first name.” He paused for a moment. “I think we’ll head onto the next subject now. The sleeping drugs—the stuff we found in the blood of all you kids that were kept underground—who gave that to you and why?”
“They called it tea.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Tea?”
“We drank it in cups, just like tea. Did you find out what was in it?”
He nodded. “Yeah. A highly potent mix of chemicals designed to put a person into deep sleep. Same as sleeping tablets.”
A blonde woman in a smart city jacket pursed her lips. “Am I correct in saying that you were all given this substance on a regular basis?”
“Yes, every night. Or whatever passed for night down there.”
“So you were essentially drugged each night?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“For what purpose?” she said.
I shrugged. “To subdue us I guess. So we weren’t wandering around while we were meant to be sleeping.”
I understand that you were made to sleep in a certain way each night. As in, a certain position. Could you show us?”
Nodding, I leaned back in the bed and crossed my arms across my chest.
“And you woke in this manner?”
“Almost always, yes. We slept so heavily that we didn’t move.”
The blonde woman frowned at the thin-cheeked man. “Almost as though they were being presented,” she said in a low voice.
Jessamine made us sleep that way because we were her dolls—to do with what she pleased. But I can’t explain that. Because then I’d have to explain Jessamine….
“Cassie,” she said. “Did you ever wake to find… other people around?”
“No.”
“Never? Did any others ever come to the underground—apart from Henry?”
“Once while I was there—a large group of people came.”
The detectives murmured amongst themselves.
“Can you describe these people?” asked the blonde woman.
“They were dressed for a party, for a ball. It’s the one time we were given enough to eat. More than enough. Food of every kind.”
“These people, what did they do?” she asked.
“We danced. Then we played a game of hide and seek. And then they left.”
“Are you certain they left?” She crossed her skinny arms. “Could these people have stayed while you girls slept? Could they have in fact come to the underground every night, and touched you all while you were sleeping?” She looked over at Doctor Pearson. “Are there signs of sexual activity?
The doctor looked uncomfortable. “No signs of any interference. My understanding is that there was no sign of interference with any of the abductees.”
My mother returned to my bedside. “I think that’s enough. Quite enough. You know you could have left your speculations until you left here. My daughter didn’t need to hear that.”
“My apologies,” said the woman. “We’re just trying to get to the motivation behind the abducting of teenage girls and keeping them for years. There’s a matter of the most likely scenario, the driving reason behind all this. And the reason for keeping girls like that is almost always—“
Detective Kalassi put his hand up. “We’ll leave it there. Cassie, thank you for your time. You rest up now and look after yourself, okay kid?”
I nodded rigidly, unable to speak.
The detectives were looking for answers in the human world. They would not find their answers here. Somewhere out there, the shadow roamed. I need to tell someone—but there’s no one, no one who would believe it. The knowledge of the serpent was bending my mind, the horror packed down tight—horror that might soon explode into a million jagged pieces. And then I might remain crazy forever.
“They questioned me, too….” Aisha’s voice wa
s a whisper coming down the phone line.
I sat cross-legged on the beanbag in my bedroom, hugging a cushion to my chest. After six days, finally the hospital had decided I could go home. Aisha would still be in the hospital for a few more days.
“What did you tell them?”
She hesitated. “Nothing. What could I tell them? After I heard where they put Lacey, I got scared. I can’t let myself be locked away again.”
“That scared me too.”
“Never tell,” said Aisha. ‘We have to promise each other.”
“I promise.”
“Cassie….”
“Yeah?”
“I heard about what Ethan did… and what he knew. One of the detectives said to me that maybe Ethan had been double-crossed—that maybe he knew too much and Henry decided to keep him locked away too.”
“They’ve got all kinds of theories. It’s like… it’s like they’re trying to lock the whole thing down into a neat little box. I don’t know what to think….” The image in my mind of Ethan kept swapping from the Ethan with the diamonds in his eyes to the Ethan with a snowflake on his eyelashes, the snowflake I’d brushed away.
“I do. I hate him.” Vehemence crept into her voice. "Who would bother pocketing gold and diamonds when we were all about to die? I spoke to him... a few days after the rescue. He barely had anything to say. Refused to explain anything. It's over between us."
"I'm sorry."
“I’m sorry too. Hey I better go. Mum doesn’t like me talking about this stuff—she says it upsets dad too much. He might get tempted to go deal out some justice to Ethan, and he’s in a delicate state after his stroke.”
I said goodbye and set the phone back on the receiver.
Mom tapped on the door. “Cassie, there’s someone here to see you.”
The door was already open and the tall, lanky figure of my father stepped into my room. I stood and he made an awkward attempt to hug me. He didn’t want to see me when I was in the hospital, he said, because he couldn’t bear hospitals. He didn’t have much to say, and in the end, the visit was as hollow as any other visit had been over the years. The fact that I’d been missing for months and almost died had not changed anything. He was nothing like Aisha’s father—who had hugged me and cried over me like I was his own daughter. Andy made me promise to call him if I needed him for anything—but it was an empty offer. There was nothing I could ever need him for and there was nothing he could ever do for me.
Over the next week a procession of people came to see me, including a psychiatrist that mom knew.
The media camped outside our house, until they were forced by police to move away. But they didn’t move far.
Lacey’s parents were the first visitors after my father. Mr. Dougherty didn’t wear his police uniform—maybe to ensure it didn’t look like an official police visit. Mrs. Dougherty held my hand and cried. She mostly talked about Lacey and how sick Lacey had been these past two months. I didn’t know if she knew what I’d accused Lacey of but she would have to know the things Lacey had been saying. She had always been uptight and anxious the times I’d seen her and today she was even more so.
The twins, Brianna and Caitlin, rode over on their bikes. For once, they were subdued and at a loss for words. I felt like a freak, like someone who’d come back from the dead.
Even being around mom was hard. Under the surface I could see the fear and anguish, and she treated me like I was made of glass, like I might shatter at any moment.
Everything seemed surreal, ugly. I was in limbo—floating in space and not knowing where I belonged anymore.
The only person I felt at all comfortable speaking to was the person I hadn’t known before the underground—the psychiatrist, Dr. Alexia. She sat across from me on the sofa, her hands on her pregnant belly, just listening. Maybe the reason I felt calmer around her was something to do with the baby inside her—sending me a message that life would go on. Maybe I needed to know that more than anything. I could tell she knew I had secrets, but she didn’t try to pull them from me. She’d give me a small smile, rub her belly and tell me that it was the little things that often mattered most and were the things that got us through.
17. DR. VERENA SYMES
Psychiatrists’ waiting rooms have the same atmosphere as doctors’ waiting rooms. The smell is different—not as chemical—but the faces of the people have that same expression. People waiting for answers.
But I'm never going to be able to find answers.
Mom held my hand as we stepped down the corridor towards Dr. Alexia’s office. I’d been coming to see her at her office for the past two weeks—the only times I left the house. I fought back a wave of anxiety. Even though the sessions helped me, it was still difficult each time to begin the process of unpacking my mind.
A smallish woman with straight dark hair and glasses sat at Dr. Alexia’s desk, her hands clasped.
“Hello, we were expecting Dr. Alexia?” said mom.
The woman adjusted her glasses, drawing her lips in tightly. "She had an unfortunate pregnancy complication."
Mom's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no. I hope she and the baby are alright?"
“She’s resting in the hospital presently,” she told mom. “They’ll be conducting further tests to discover the cause of the bleeding. I am Dr. Verena Symes—I’ll be taking on Dr. Alexia’s clients for the time being.” She moved from behind the desk to shake mom’s hand and then mine. “Please, take a seat.”
Mom eyed me with hesitation. I nodded slightly to let her know it was okay. But it wasn’t okay. I’d let Dr. Alexia into my private thoughts but didn’t know if I was ready to allow anyone else in.
Mom’s phone buzzed and she glanced down at the text message. “I’m sorry—it seems I have a rather urgent dilemma with a client. Cassie, I’ll just be outside the waiting room while I try to sort this out.”
“Understandable.” Dr. Verena stepped behind mom, closing the door.
Mom held out a hand on the door. "Cassie prefers the door stay open."
It was true. I could no longer bear to be within a room with a closed door.
"Of course,” she said.
I sat myself in the chair opposite Dr. Verena.
“Cassie, so nice to meet you. I hope that you and I can become friends.”
“Dr. Alexia will be back soon, won’t she?” I couldn’t help myself, even though I felt a little rude.
“Oh I’m sure she will. I understand that it’s difficult for a client to adjust to a new psychiatrist. And you have been through some extremely difficult events. If you prefer you can wait until Dr Alexia is fully recovered, but it could set your progress back.”
“No, I want to continue.”
“Good.” She smiled.
I relaxed a little and returned her smile.
“Well, let’s start then shall we? Now, I have a slightly different style to Dr. Alexia. I like to get to the heart of things quickly—I consider that we can get the best results that way. How do you feel about that?"
“Yeah, I want that. I want to feel… normal.”
She held her fists together under her chin, as though either thinking or giving me pause. Finally she gave me a brief smile. “Cassie, we’ll try a relaxation technique and then try to look at things on a deeper level. How does that sound?”
“Okay.”
Dr. Verena led me through a series of exercises. I felt my mind growing sluggish, slow. I drifted… floated.
“Cassie, you are entering the dream zone, a place where it is easier to reach the deepest corners of your mind. To make things easier next time, to get yourself into this frame of mind, whenever you see this signal, you will enter the dream zone. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
She put her hands flat together and made a motion that looked like a fluttering butterfly.
My head dazed.
“Horror unique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent. You are now in the place you need to be. We’ll sta
rt with dreams you may have had whilst in the dollhouse. Do you remember any dreams from that time?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"See your dreams as though they are films. Watch them. Let them unfold. Hold nothing back. Can you do that?”
"Yes."
"Did any dreams seem… more real than others?"
“Yes.”
"Those are the dreams we need to focus on. Which dreams were the most intense?”
“I dreamed… about the tunnels… about shadows… about Prudence… about my father… about a train… about people with hungry eyes…"
She leaned forward. “Tell me more about the train?”
“The train is hot and airless inside… it’s heading over steep mountains….”
"Good. Go on…."
"I know the mountains. The Copper Canyon mountains. I've been there with mom."
“Describe what you see.”
"I see a man…."
"Who is he?"
"Henry Fiveash."
The dream-memory in my mind switched places with the psychiatrist's office. My heart clenched. I was back there. Really back there.
I was looking over his shoulder. I could see everything Henry had drawn—bridges and tunnels of the train tracks. And he traced over an X on a spot along the railway line in heavy pencil.
Henry turned, startled at first, and then a smile knocked itself into place on his face. He grabbed my wrist before I had a chance to leave. A suffocating wave passed over me. He pulled me towards the door of the carriage and opened it. He kissed my temple and whispered in my ear. "Go….”
I wanted to get away from Henry and I gladly hastened away.
Circus clowns with worn makeup slept in the next compartment. I crept past. Wind blasted in my eyes and mouth as I opened the door of the carriage. Nothing but the wide sky spread out all around. Below, red mountain sides cut away into impossibly deep valleys. I steeled myself to jump across to the next carriage.
I took a leap and landed with my hand on the door’s handle. The handle seemed stuck and I desperately shook it to make it turn.
A girl and an old man sat inside the compartment, sleeping. I slammed the door shut but they didn’t wake. I crept closer. The girl—she was Jessamine. Not a ghost, not a spirit. The real, live Jessamine. And the man, he was her grandfather. I recognized him from the photograph inside the locket. Jessamine sighed in her sleep—her arm tucked around her grandfather’s. She looked so young and fragile—nothing like the girl who had terrorized us all in the underground.