“And is this your handsome boyfriend?” she asked, checking the reading from the thermometer.
My face blazed red hot. “No, he’s a friend,” I responded quickly.
“Mhmm,” she mumbled as she pulled the cuff off my arm. “And how are you feeling now? Would you like the doctor to stop in?”
“I think I’m fine.” I rubbed my head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I’ll be sure she checks in on you,” she said. “She’s a specialist for head injury and recovery, so you’re in good hands.” And then she left us.
I rubbed my head again as a pain behind my left eye throbbed. “Shit.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “It better not be happening again. Turn the lights off,” I said to Braden.
“What?” He stood up and hovered.
“The lights,” I repeated. “They’re probably too bright. Can you flick them off?”
He hopped to the switch at the door, then shut off the lights. The room remained bright with daylight, but at least the fluorescent glare was gone.
Then the pain hit harder, and I jolted. Gathering the sheets of my bed, I pulled them up around my face to block the glare. Darkness surrounded me, and I peeked one eye open. My vision filled in an instant with flashes of the asylum, only the buildings looked different. The windows weren’t boarded up, and fresh white paint coated the moldings and pillars at the front stairs of the various wards. Squeezing my eyes shut to clear the images, I opened them again. Before I could stifle it, a small scream escaped my mouth as I came face to face with the hanging woman’s purple grimace of strangulated death.
Braden jumped to my side, then grabbed hold of my arm. “Grace!”
I tried to respond to him, but I couldn’t break out of the dream. My vision traveled down the broken paved road toward Ward B, stopping at the high-security fencing. I reached my fingers to the chain link, trying to weave them in to help me climb, but the links were too small. My fingers wouldn’t fit in. Instead, I banged on the fencing, calling out, “Kaitlin! Where are you?”
My wailing voice filled my head and all the space around me. Over and over, I called for her, but no answer. The only sound that came to me was a man’s deep, panicked voice.
“Nurse! Help,” the voice boomed around me. “Come quickly! Grace needs help.”
Chapter 8
This time, the pain behind my eyes remained. Like a stabbing that gouged into my brain, it pressed at the back of my eyeballs, aching. I didn’t bother opening them. I knew where I was. The low beeping sound by the side of my bed, the glare of fluorescents above me, the smell of sterile alcohol wipes… I didn’t need to see it all again.
I wondered how much time had passed, though, since Braden’s visit and well, the visions. I shook my head in micro-beats, fighting off the humiliation. This walk of shame was worse than any morning after binge drinking at one of Nick’s parties. But I didn’t have alcohol to blame this time. It was all on me.
A long, loud exhale released from my lungs as I accepted my predicament. Braden thought I was nuts. Maybe I was. Kaitlin thought I was nuts. If so, then she was, too. Mom thought I was, well…deranged. What was new?
“Ah, you’re waking up.” A calming woman’s voice filled the room. “I expected such. Your meds are wearing off. They offered you some relief, I hope?”
I flickered one eye open, surprised to see a casually dressed middle-aged woman who looked like she spent more time in the yoga studio than in a hospital. I nearly expected her to start chanting ohm as her gray curls hung over her laptop, which was perfectly balanced on her open palm. I closed my eye to rest it.
“Too bright?” she asked, flicking off the fluorescents.
The reduction of light sent a clear image of her to my brain. Only this time, her hair was in a bun and she wore a white hat shaped rather like an upside-down Chinese take-out box. A purple blemish on her forehead stood out as she glared at me with a scowl. Her foul disposition likely rose from the tight white band wrapped around her waist, which polished off her stark-white skirted uniform.
“Silence,” she ordered me with a bark.
My eyes shot open. “What?”
“The lights,” she said. “I figured they were too bright. Is this better?” Leaning over, she examined my face. Her gray curls fell toward me.
“I-I don’t know,” I babbled. My mind swam with the crossover of mixed signals. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
There. I said it.
Out loud.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Quite normal for a brain injury. And let’s not forget you’re likely traumatized from the violence of the accident. You need to allow yourself time to heal and recover.”
“I don’t even remember the accident,” I mumbled.
“That’s part of your defense mechanism,” she said. “It’s how your mind is coping with the shock of it all.”
I studied her face. “How do you know so much?”
“It’s my area of specialization,” she said. “I’m the ER trauma doctor, but I specialize in brain injury. The rewiring of the brain after being damaged fascinates me.”
“Well, can you explain why I’m seeing things then?” I huffed. “Maybe tell me why my brain is racing faster than I can keep up with it, sending mathematical calculations through my skull to interpret every potential probability of any and every concept that erupts in my mind.” I took a breath. “And why I should even care about all the trivial facts about every subject I ever studied in school.” I grabbed my head. “I’m sorry. It’s just maddening. I can’t stop it.”
“It’s post-concussion symptoms,” she said with a calm voice.
“Right. Like emotional outbursts, anxiety, and sleep disturbances,” I rattled off. “I know. They told me about what to expect when I was discharged last time.” I moved my eyes away from her. She was no different from the other ‘experts’. Then I mumbled, “No. It’s more than that. I’m different now.”
She stepped closer. “How do you mean?”
“I see things,” I said.
It felt awkward to say, but maybe she might have heard about this sort of thing before. I certainly couldn’t be the only one. Well, besides Kaitlin.
Her head tipped as she listened.
“And I feel things,” I added. “It’s like a new sixth sense. Like I’m living within a dream I can’t wake up from.”
“Your brain is rewiring,” she said. “It’s finding new neurological pathways and strengthening itself. It will feel strange and unreal at times.”
“And haunting?” I asked. “It’s more than what you’re saying. Please, just tell me what it is. If you know so much about this, then tell me what it could be.”
She put her laptop down on the end of my bed, then ran her hands through her hair.
“It’s too early to be sure,” she started. “But it sounds very possible.” Her eyes narrowed, studying me.
“What?” I pressed her.
“It’s a condition where a traumatic brain injury patient suddenly has new ability. Of a higher level. A genius level, even. Like that of a learned scholar or a sage.” She paused. “The brain is open in new ways, using information that was once suppressed.”
“What do you mean?” My eyes widened as I stared, waiting for her to say more.
“Acquired savant syndrome.”
Acquired savant syndrome? The term rolled through my mind and shed light in every corner, illuminating the truth of my condition.
I’d heard the term ‘savant’ before, usually referring to a six-year-old master piano player or a brilliant deaf composer. But I never realized it was something that could occur at a random point in time, after a brain injury.
But I was certain she was right about her diagnosis. My brain had rewired in ways that exploded my thinking to levels that reached near paranormal. I had even looked right into Kaitlin’s face that first day I woke up in the hospital, and she was in a different room.
Something was strange. And it was evolving quickly. My
doctor said it was only the beginning, which rattled me even further. She said the brain could take weeks or even months to finish its healing, and I was still only on week one since the accident.
If my migraines subsided, they’d release me from the hospital by the end of the day. Once discharged, I’d research the hell out of acquired savant syndrome. And find out if Kaitlin had it, too. Although that answer screamed its own truth in my face, clear as day. She saw the woman at the tree. And she saw something, or felt something, at the front door of the Excited Ward, too. Something sinister.
“So where’s your handsome boyfriend?” The nice nurse returned to check my vitals.
“He’s not my…”
“Oh, right. He’s not your boyfriend,” she interrupted with a chuckle. “My bad. So how are you feeling?”
“I’m good,” I answered quickly. “Feeling strong.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You sound too convincing.”
“No, really…” I hesitated, cringing at my overzealous response. I took it down a few notches. “I think the resting helped. I feel decent now. Like, the headache is much better.”
“Are you sure?” She studied me as if she could read my true thoughts.
“Yes. I’m sure,” I said, holding my eyes open to hide their natural desire to squint from the stabbing pain driving straight into my brain.
“Well, I’ll get clearance from your doctor and will contact your mother to come for…” Her voice morphed into a mixture of instructions that then turned to liquid-like warning that oozed all over me.
I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the vision of her melting face. My migraine was taking on a new level of pain that was causing terrifying hallucinations. Even with my eyes closed, her face continued to drip as her words tormented me, poking at me with evil jabs.
“There’s no one coming for you,” her twisted voice cut at me. “You’ve been abandoned. Left here to rot.”
My air sucked in with a gasp.
Her voice continued to harass me. “Wayward girl. Dancing with the devil. You’re no good and you’ll grow old here. Alone.”
My eyes shot open with a gasp, and I stared in horror into my mother’s face.
“You’re dreaming, dear. Wake up.” She rubbed my arm. “I’m here to take you home.”
Settling into my own bed in my own room seemed like it should have felt like utopia, but all I could think about was getting in touch with Kaitlin. It had been at least three days since we were at the asylum, and I needed to talk to her.
My phone had been packed into a plastic hospital bag with my name and room number written on it with black Sharpie. Socks with rubbery skid-proof patterns and my brown jacket filled the bag, and made it impossible to find the phone. Finally, my prodding latched on and pulled it from the bag.
“No screen time, Grace,” Mom called from the kitchen as if her extra-sensory perception had kicked in.
I fumbled for my charger, cursing at the evil dark depths of my unresponsive black screen. “Shit,” I murmured, impatiently pressing the button to get it to turn on.
Finally, it glowed to life. As I scrambled to begin typing a message, Kaitlin’s three dots bleeped into a full paragraph of text.
Wtf
Answer meeeeeeeee
I’ve seen so much its driving me crazy
R u seeing it too
GRACE
GRACE
GRACE
I texted back as fast as I could.
Kaitlin
I’m home now
I need to talk to u
FaceTime lit up in two seconds flat.
“Holy shit,” she squealed into the screen. “What the hell happened to you? Braden said you were a mess.”
“He did?” My shame burned my face as her comment distracted me from my focus.
“No, not really, but I could just tell,” she said. “You kind of freaked him out. What the hell happened?”
I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t know. I had the craziest migraine. Like, I went blind from it. It was so scary.” I shook my head. “I literally thought it was permanent. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“That’s insane,” she said. “I swear, the same was nearly gonna happen to me. My headaches are disgusting. Like a gross feeling of someone in my head messing with it. It’s like I’m losing my mind and someone is there, making it happen.”
“Jesus, Kaitlin. That’s creepy,” I mumbled. “Sucks, because, unfortunately, I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
We stared at each other through our phones as if not knowing what to say or do next.
“Why didn’t you visit?” I asked. “Braden came instead.”
She paused. “I asked him to go in my place.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t do it, Grace,” she said. “I was too scared.” She looked away for a moment. “Like, when I’m near you, it makes everything…more. Like more intense.”
“What do you mean?” I pressed.
“Like the visions…and the headaches,” she said. “When I’m near you, they’re even worse. And when I heard you went to the hospital again, for blindness, it scared the shit out of me.” She stared into the phone. “I don’t know what’s happening, Grace. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“It’s acquired savant syndrome,” I stated. “My doctor told me all about it. It’s a condition that happens sometimes after a brain injury. It’s rare, but it’s real.”
“Acquired what?”
“Acquired savant syndrome,” I repeated. “Like developing a superpower after a head injury heals and rewires, even stronger than before.”
“So we’re superheroes now?” She chuckled.
I smiled back. “Yeah. I think so.”
“So what do we do now then?” she asked. “Fight crime? Take over the world?”
I wish I shared her levity on this. But honestly, she just had no idea what all this meant. She probably still thought we’d get better. I was starting to believe this was our better. And I needed to figure out what it all meant and how we were going to live with this new shadow hanging over us.
“I think we need to go back to the asylum,” I stated with flat affect.
“What? Why?” Kaitlin’s eyes widened in fear.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “It felt odd there. Too many strange things were happening. Don’t you agree?”
“It was just a creepy place,” she said. “Of course our imaginations were going to run away with us.”
But it was more than that, and she knew it. It scared her.
“Don’t you just want to see more of it?” I pressed. “I mean, it’s better than anything we’ve ever discovered.”
Kaitlin’s hand flew to her eye. “Ahh,” she cried out, dropping her phone onto her bed.
“Kaitlin?” I called. “Are you okay?”
My screen displayed a still-white image of her ceiling, but I could hear her rustling.
“I can’t do screen time,” she murmured. “It’s hurting my eyes.” Her voice trailed off, but then erupted in a crash of pain and fear. “Grace!”
I stared at the white ceiling image in my phone, straining to get a glimpse of her. “What is it, Kaitlin?” I yelled.
“The woman,” she screamed. “I keep seeing the woman!”
“What woman? What’s going on?” I shouted back.
“The one hanging from the tree,” she cried. “And she’s alive. She’s…calling to me.”
“Holy shit, Kaitlin! It’s a dream! Shake it off!” And in that same instant, the feeling of a red-hot poker drove into my brain, causing me to hunch over in agony.
An image of the same girl shot through my mind. She stood at the top of concrete steps at the entryway to a brick building. Her heavy skirts and thick shawl swayed with her agitated movements as she shook her arm at me, twisting her face with strained effort. Her lips moved as her face contorted, trying to be heard, and she repeated the same word again and again until I finally heard he
r raspy voice.
My spine straightened and I sat up tall in my bed, eyes wide, searching for the source of the sound that resonated through my skull.
“Did you hear that, Kaitlin?” I whispered into my phone.
All I could detect was her quiet whimpering.
Then the girl’s voice burst through my mind again, and I dropped my phone as she shouted, “Run!”
Chapter 9
The girl’s command to run was clear as day, but somehow, it had the opposite effect. All I wanted to do was go back to her. I needed to return to the asylum and search for answers. There was something there calling to us. Like something or someone needing to communicate. And somehow, Kaitlin and I had the ability to hear it. And to see it.
We had to go back.
We had a new gift. The doctor plastered a fancy term on it, acquired savant syndrome, but I had a better term.
Medium.
That girl was reaching out to us, and we could see her. We actually heard her voice calling out to us.
Whatever it was, I needed to know more. And the only way to get more information was to go back to the condemned asylum.
The biggest hurdle would be convincing Kaitlin. She was terrified of the girl and every unusual sensation that ran through us when we thought of the institution. But I refused to be haunted by the visions. I needed to understand them. Figure out their message.
“Are you freakin’ crazy?” she warbled through the phone.
I thought a good night’s sleep would recharge her and bring back her adventurous curiosity. Her anxious tone and bulging eyes proved I was wrong about that.
“What? You don’t think we should go back?” I pressed.
“No, I do think we should go back,” she said. “But we have to. I know. But you’re crazy if you think we should go back without the guys.”
I huffed in relief. She realized we had to return, too. That was a start. And she was willing to go. That was also a good thing. But she was stuck on the part where I suggested we go alone. And this was the part I felt most strongly about.
The Shuttered Ward Page 7