Dr. Madeline Gideon
September 14 2018
When we found Cora sitting in a pool of blood pulling out her stitches I was truly stunned. The nurses rushed in and whisked Cora away with Mara Landry right behind her. Cora was taken into surgery and the surgeons once more had the task of putting her back together again.
I remember standing in the middle of Cora’s hospital room, my hands and knees covered with her blood and Jim Landry standing in front of me, his face red with rage. “This is your fault!” he spat. “You were supposed to help her! You were supposed to help my family!”
Kendall was sitting on Cora’s hospital bed, crying anguished tears. I tried to step past Mr. Landry to go to Kendall, to comfort her, something her father should have been doing.
“No way,” he said, blocking my way. “You stay the fuck away from her. You stay away from my family.”
“She’s upset,” I told him the obvious. “You should go to her. She needs you.”
“No!” He stepped toward me, forcing me to move backward until my back was against the wall. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Get out.”
After Cora, I reviewed her case file over and over. I read and reread until the pages were dog-eared and smudged. I thought I would be able to pinpoint the mistakes I made, learn from them and hopefully never make them again.
And for a while I did just fine. I moved on. That’s what we do as doctors. We assess and diagnose and treat and then move on to the next patient. The problem was, I didn’t move on. I kept doubting myself. I’d make a diagnosis, then hesitate and change my mind. It got to be that I couldn’t make a move without consulting with a colleague. I was losing sleep. I wasn’t eating. And I wasn’t good at my job anymore.
So I resigned. I quit because a little girl named Cora Landry and a fictional entity named Joseph Wither got into my head.
I don’t tell people that, of course. I simply said I needed a professional change, a new challenge. So I moved three hundred miles away and began a second career as the head of the psychology department and a professor at a small liberal arts college east of the Mississippi.
Jim Landry’s final words still echo in my head. The words he shouted after me as I left Cora’s hospital room the last time I saw her. “You’re going to pay for this.”
And I have. In too many ways to count.
Sept. 14, 2018
Today is a good day. I get to use a pen to write in my journal and that is so much better than a crayon. It’s hard to stab yourself with a crayon. But like I said, today is a good day, so I get to use a pen.
My doctor here, Dr. Kim, tells me it’s a good idea to get my thoughts down on paper, that it will help me process everything that happened last April. I don’t know about that, but I like to write, so I do.
Dr. Kim also likes to talk about what I wrote in my old journal, the one I dropped at the train station. He walks in with his file folders, the ones labeled Case #92-10945, and he’ll say, “Good morning, Cora, how are you?” And I’ll say, “Don’t you mean Good morning, Number Ninety-Two Dash One, Zero, Nine, Four, Five?”
Dr. Kim laughs and says, “I like Cora.” We do this before each of our sessions. Every. Single. Time.
I don’t especially like talking about what I wrote in my journal. Imagine having to talk about every single secret thought you had. It sucks.
My arm is better and I didn’t lose my eye. My face has healed but there are scars. When Kendall came to visit me last week, she told me not to worry about it, that the scars make me look interesting, that when I’m older I can tell people whatever I want about what caused them. So now whenever I meet a new kid in the psych ward I say that I was in a car accident or mauled by a grizzly bear or injured in a skydiving accident. But if I really want to mess with them, I tell them the truth.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember exactly what happened that night. It was cold, but I barely felt it. It was the dark that scared me. But I was kind of excited, too. I thought Joseph was going to come and take me away from Pitch and we’d never come back.
I remember my arm hurt. Bad. Jordyn pushed me down after I grabbed her backpack. I was so tired of her bullying and teasing and tricks. She made me so mad saying that Joseph wasn’t real. That it was all one big joke. We heard something then. Footsteps or maybe just the wind.
I hoped it was Joseph coming for me like he promised. I looked around but I couldn’t see him. Jordyn and Violet had run away and I saw the knife on the ground at my feet. Jordyn must have dropped it. For a second I wanted to find Jordyn and use the knife on her, I hated her so much.
Then I saw someone in the tall grass. I thought it was Joseph but they told me later I was wrong. They told me it was Gabe Shannon and that he was in on the prank. I can’t believe I ever liked him. But at the time I believed he was Joseph and thought he was going to leave without me. I couldn’t stand it. After all the messages and promises I thought Wither was going to leave me behind and never come back. And worst of all I thought he was going to take Jordyn instead.
I tried to follow him but he sprinted away from me and in that second I thought that nothing mattered anymore. I was going to be stuck here in Pitch forever. Our messages back and forth meant nothing. His letters meant nothing. He never loved me.
I don’t really understand what happened next but it was like I was outside my body. Numb. Like I rose up above myself. That happens to me sometimes when things get too hard, when life doesn’t make sense.
I took the knife and shoved it into my stomach. The pain was terrible and the blood pumped out but I wouldn’t die. I was still there. I couldn’t bear to stab myself again and I prayed for the train to come and run me over but it didn’t. So instead I banged my face and head against the railroad tracks just wanting the world to go black. And I watched it all from above myself.
Dr. Kim tells me it’s called depersonalization and I tell him that I call it being crazy.
The first time I was in the psych ward was after I tried to pull out all my stitches. It was in Grayling and I stayed there for about a month. One girl I met on the floor said that most kids get kicked out after a few days and I must be pretty crazy to have been there that long. The second time I ended up having to go all the way to a hospital in Des Moines because no other place had open beds.
My mom was so mad. She started yelling at the doctor and begging him to let me stay closer to home. He said it was out of his hands, that the patients had to go where there was room.
After Des Moines, they said I was well enough to go home. That lasted about a week. I don’t remember much about it, but in the middle of the night my mom caught me in the dark, standing on my desk with my ear pressed to the air vent, talking to someone who wasn’t there.
That was when I was sent to the Iowa Institute of Mental Health in Claiborne and that’s where I’m at today. In a locked adolescent psych ward, in a rec room where sometimes I’m allowed to use a pen and, if I’m being really good, I might even get a scissors. And I’m trying to be good. You get more stuff that way.
At the time, I thought it would be better to die instead of being left behind. Sometimes I still feel that way. I remember hearing a dog bark and I remember seeing Skittles run by—and yes, I know that Skittles isn’t real. Never was. But I still see her sometimes. And I hear things, too. I try to ignore them if I can and I don’t tell anybody, not even Dr. Kim.
When I meet with Dr. Kim, we don’t always talk about that night or Joseph Wither even, but between the medicine I’m taking and talking with him, sometimes I feel better. But usually I don’t.
Last time my family came to visit, Kendall told me Mr. Dover quit being a teacher and moved away. She also told me that Jordyn got in big trouble by the police for lying to them and that she has to go to counseling and check in with a parole officer for kids and that Violet moved away. Good.
Kendall tre
ats me like I’m a broken doll. I don’t like it. Sometimes I wish she would just call me a pest like she used to. She feels so bad that she and Emery pretended to be Wither. But I feel bad that she tried to kill herself. Sometimes I wish she wouldn’t even come to visit me at the hospital. We don’t know how to act around each other anymore so most of the time we don’t do anything or say anything. We just sit there quietly.
* * *
My mom and dad were the ones who told me they were suing Dr. Gideon. They thought she acted recklessly because she didn’t alert someone soon enough when she learned that I had been talking with someone pretending to be Joseph Wither. My dad said Dr. Gideon committed malpractice because she failed to protect me from harm, which I think is hilarious. Maybe my parents should sue themselves.
They had to turn over my journal and all my medical records and a copy of my journal to a lawyer so they could be used in the court case against Dr. Gideon. I hope my parents lose. I liked Dr. Gideon. I think she really cared about me. But then, what do I know.
My mom says they’re just trying to protect me. But if I thought my mom and dad were overprotective before I was wrong. Parents can be pretty clueless. And so can doctors and nurses. Computers are everywhere. Even in hospitals.
* * *
Acknowledgments
With each novel I write I am continually amazed at the generosity of others who share their time, talents and knowledge with me.
Special thanks goes out to Chief Mark Dalsing, Eric Williams, Natalia Blaskovich, Carissa Gunderson, Teena Williams and Megan Wuest. Without their expertise this novel could not have been written.
Thank you to my agent, Marianne Merola. Her guidance and friendship mean the world to me. Thanks also to Henry Thayer and everyone at Brandt & Hochman Literary Agents, Inc., for their behind-the-scenes efforts.
Many thanks to my editor, Erika Imranyi, who with each novel provides thoughtful insights and spot-on suggestions. I so enjoy our conversations, collaboration and brainstorming sessions.
Thanks also to Emer Flounders, Natalie Hallak and the entire Harlequin, HarperCollins and Park Row team—I’m so fortunate to have you all in my corner.
Many thanks to Jane Augspurger and Grace Gudenkauf for reading early versions of the novel and offering priceless feedback.
My parents, Milton and Patricia Schmida, have always been my biggest supporters—all that is good and true I’ve learned from them. I thank them for providing a home that was filled with books, love, encouragement and the freedom to be imaginative. My brothers and sisters, Greg Schmida, Jane Augspurger, Milt Schmida, Molly Lugar and Patrick Schmida, are each a gift to me. I couldn’t ask for better siblings.
As always, heartfelt thanks goes to my husband, Scott, and to my children, Alex, Annie and Grace. I love you beyond words. I am blessed.
Before She Was Found
Heather Gudenkauf
Reader’s Guide
Questions for Discussion
Cora, Violet and Jordyn are young girls with a turbulent friendship. Why do you think Cora keeps trying to remain friends with two people who don’t seem to have her best interests in mind? What role do you think Cora plays in the friendship difficulties?
Childhood friendships can leave deep impressions, both good and bad. What childhood friendship impacted your life the most? Why?
Parents sometimes go to extreme lengths to protect their children. To what extent would you go to safeguard someone you love? Where would you draw the line?
Social media has become such an integral part of day-to-day life, even with children. What responsibility does social media like Facebook, Snapchat and others have in protecting youth? How about schools or government? And parents?
Several sorts of families are represented in the novel: Jordyn is being raised by her grandparents, Cora comes from a two-parent home and Violet is being raised by a single mother. How do you think the dynamics of each family played into the events of the novel?
Who would you describe as the antagonist or antagonists in Before She Was Found? Why?
How would Before She Was Found have been different if it had taken place in a different time or place?
What is the significance of the title? How does it relate to each of the main characters?
If you could ask the author one question, what would it be? Why?
A Conversation with the Author
What was the inspiration behind Before She Was Found?
Just like many of my novels, the idea for Before She Was Found was inspired by news headlines: a fictional online entity and real life collided with heartbreaking results. Not far from where I live, the account of two young girls who were obsessed with a character called Slender Man, who originated as an online meme, hit the news. Over the years, Slender Man, a tall, spidery figure with a blank face, has been the subject of short stories, videos, artwork and video games. The girls, believing Slender Man would hurt them and their families, lured a classmate into a wooded area and attacked her. The attack not only had a devastating impact on the victim and her family, but on the perpetrators, their families and the entire community.
The novel was also inspired by the many accounts of those who have misused social media by pretending to be someone else, bullying and encouraging others to hurt themselves. Through my writing I wanted to explore how social media, the lack of mental health services and family dynamics can impact actions and decisions that have life-altering costs to all involved.
Before She Was Found is written in several different voices and styles. What were some of the challenges you faced in writing this way, and how did you overcome them?
I love writing from multiple points of view and wrestling with the challenge of weaving different voices and writing styles together. It can be very difficult to balance the various perspectives throughout a novel and to know when a particular character needs to take center stage. As I wrote and got to know the characters, Cora’s journals and online conversations with Joseph Wither emerged as the focal points of the novel.
Another challenge I faced was to make sure that I captured the voice of twelve-year-old Cora in her journals and other communications. As an adult, it can be easy to forget what it’s like to be a preteen. To help with this, I thought back to my experiences as a classroom teacher and instructional coach. I also visited with younger family members for feedback so that as I wrote in Cora’s voice, I could do it accurately and honestly.
The novel jumps back and forth in time, making it a challenge to keep the movements of the characters straight. To help, I created an extensive timeline that I taped to the wall so I could refer to it as I wrote, adding and moving events as the story evolved. I also created a handwritten map of Pitch, the fictional town where the story takes place, and had it right next to me as I worked so I could get the characters where they needed to be. Having these visuals were crucial for me as the story grew.
You are a school curriculum coordinator and also a mother. In your observations, how has social media changed the way young girls like Cora behave and interact with their peers?
The internet and social media have become so ingrained in our cultural fabric it sometimes feels like we’ve never been without it. Over the years, as an educator and as a mother I’ve seen how social media often replaces face-to-face interactions between young people and their peers. As a result, I think some are emboldened by immediacy and the impersonal nature of chatting via social media and misunderstandings and hurt feelings are compounded. Then there’s the permanency of what is posted on social media—what is posted has a life beyond what many kids (and adults!) understand.
On the other hand, I’ve also seen some positive things associated with some of these platforms. Students today are using social media for social action and for discovering different perspectives and ideas. What’s crucial is that children learn how to navigate and use soci
al media judiciously and appropriately. Nothing can ever replace person-to-person interactions.
As an avid reader, what are some of the books and authors that have inspired your own writing?
I think everything I’ve read over the years has influenced and inspired my writing, but a few standouts come to mind.
I read Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson in high school and today it remains one of the most profound, emotional collections of short stories I’ve read to date. This haunting portrayal of small-town life taught me how much impact richly drawn characters have on a reader.
If I could choose a book to read a book again for the very first time it would be Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. When you close a book and realize that you desperately miss the characters and can’t stand not knowing what has become of them, you know it is a very special novel. Betty Smith had a way of writing and talking to the reader in such a way that I found myself saying, “Yes, that is exactly how it is!” There is such a truth to her stories, a turn of phrase that leaves you nodding your head.
Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible was one of the first novels I remember reading that was written in multiple points of view. I was amazed at how brilliantly Kingsolver was able to tell such a complex, heart-wrenching tale through the eyes of the Price women. Though I didn’t know it at the time I read The Poisonwood Bible, it set the stage for my exploration into writing many of my novels in multiple perspectives.
Willa Cather’s My Ántonia is my favorite novel of all time. The story is of an immigrant, Antonia Shimerda (my maiden name is Schmida) and her family’s new life in a small frontier town. I love how Cather was able to perfectly depict time and place through her stunning descriptions of the heartland. I think this is why I spend so much effort in developing a sense of setting in my own novels. I read My Ántonia every single year and have been collecting multiple editions over the years to add to my collection.
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