Stefan was slowly shaking his head. “I didn’t want to do this to you. I really didn’t. But you’re leaving me no choice. I don’t trust you with Chrissy. I’m afraid of what you’ll do to her.”
Oh, no. I scrambled to my feet, panic fluttering inside me again. “Stefan, you don’t understand. I’m trying to help her.”
Stefan got up as well, mirroring my movements and keeping himself between Chrissy and me. “Oh, but I do understand.” Chrissy remained motionless on the floor, her eyes flat and expressionless, as if she were watching a rather boring tennis match.
I was starting to feel desperate. “No, you don’t. Chrissy was sleepwalking. Sleepwalking. And when she does, she’s … not herself.”
“Again, Chrissy doesn’t sleepwalk. And what do you mean, ‘she’s not herself’?”
“She’s …” I didn’t want to say anything else, but I was feeling trapped, and scared. Outside, I could hear the wail of emergency sirens. Were they coming to the house? Were they coming for me? I saw Chrissy’s head cock, like she heard them, too. She met my gaze, and smiled at me.
That hollow, creepy smile. My blood ran cold. Even though I knew it was a total long shot, it was better than the alternative—I had to at least try to convince Stefan. I couldn’t let Mad Martha win.
“You know this house is haunted, right?” I said, my words tumbling out of me in a rush. The sirens were getting closer. “Aunt Charlie knew it was haunted when she bought it. Mad Martha, she was one of the ghosts, she killed Nellie, her maid, and then she killed herself. And I think when Chrissy sleepwalks, she’s possessed by Nellie.”
Stefan stared at me, his expression reflecting his utter disbelief. “Rebecca, are you listening to yourself?” Below him, Chrissy’s smile grew wider.
“Yes! I know it sounds crazy, but you’ve got to believe me. Chrissy is in danger. That locket, that locket is Mad Martha’s. And Chrissy has it. And the room, Chrissy’s bedroom, that’s where Mad Martha killed Nellie and herself! And I’ve seen things in there, back when I was sixteen, Daphne and I had a séance in that room …” I was babbling. Behind me, the sirens had reached our house. I was out of time.
Stefan looked at me, a mixture of horror and pity on his face. “Rebecca, you need help. It’s okay, I’m going to make sure you get it.”
I heard pounding on the front door, and Stefan yelled for them to come in. Desperate, I looked down at Chrissy. The light slashed across her face, hollowing out her cheeks, making her look like a grinning skull. She met my eyes, and deep in their depths, I saw a gleam of triumphant madness.
I started to scream as I was tackled from behind.
Chapter 35
“You’re awake,” Dr. Ellison said, peering at me as he paged through a file. It was definitely “Dr. Ellison” now—no more “Just call me Pete” casualness.
I didn’t answer, turning away to stare out the window.
He sighed. “Things would be better for you if you would talk to me.”
Really? I thought. Better for me? Or better for you?
But I remained silent, staring out the window with a view of the grey sky and the back of the building next door. It was better than staring at the strips of depressing, yellow-flowered wallpaper that bordered the top and middle of the walls. Or the fading yellow curtain that limply hung around the window.
He sighed again, made a few scribbles in his file, and left.
I know he thought I was being stubborn, but in truth, I simply had nothing to say. I had no interest in talking through my thought processes—I could do that myself as I stared out the window, studying the peeling paint on the broken-down building next door. I didn’t need to add insult to injury by having Dr. Ellison poking and prodding at me.
Had I imagined everything? Certainly not everything—Chrissy had clearly been sleepwalking. Hadn’t she? How could I have made that up? Even if I had imagined or misunderstood what she had said, surely, she was sleepwalking?
The alternative was much more terrifying: what if it had all been me? What if I had been the one who had hidden the knife in Chrissy’s room, and given her the locket? What if I had done it all?
I honestly didn’t even know anymore. Stefan’s voice, his expression that night … he truly seemed like a husband who was at the end of his rope trying to figure out what to do with a wife who was losing her mind.
And if that’s what was happening—if I was losing my mind—would I even know it? Or would I have reacted precisely as I had—in utter confusion, blaming intangible things like ghosts and hauntings?
Was this what had happened to me before, in that same house, fifteen years ago? Was this why I still couldn’t remember?
I felt like I was standing at the edge of an abyss. And I was terrified.
Who was it that said if you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares into you? Was it Nietzsche? Was the abyss staring into me right now?
Oh God. What have I done?
A nurse walked in to the room, holding a little tray. “Time for your meds.”
When I didn’t immediately respond, she thrust the paper container of pills in front of me and rattled them. “I said, time for your meds.”
I looked down at the pills, and then up at her. She seemed familiar somehow. Her dyed blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her face was covered with thick foundation, which didn’t hide the puffiness and exhaustion. Her eyes narrowed as she rattled the container again. “Such a princess, aren’t you? Think you’re too good to be here?”
There was something about her eyes—something almost malevolent, lurking behind the smeared eye shadow and clumped mascara. And just like that, it hit me— she was the woman who had yelled at me that night in the bar bathroom.
She smiled then—one of secrets and rage—almost like she realized I had finally recognized her. “I don’t have all day. Take your meds.”
There was no way I was taking anything from her. I pushed myself back against the bed and shook my head. Her smile widened.
“Are you refusing to take your meds?” There was a syrupy-sweet undertone to her voice, which worried me—she was clearly enjoying my refusal too much.
“I’m not taking anything from you,” I said.
She practically grinned at me. “Oh, you will.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.
I brought my knees up, wrapping my arms tightly around my legs, and began to rock. What was I going to do? I felt completely alone. Abandoned. And hopeless.
The door opened, and the nurse came back in. She smiled at me before triumphantly brandishing a hypodermic needle. Behind her, two unsmiling male orderlies slithered inside.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s your choice.” She moved closer to me, gesturing to the male orderlies.
I drew myself up into a tighter ball. “I want to see Dr. Ellison.”
“You can see him tomorrow,” she said as she reached over to rub alcohol on my upper arm. I shied away. One of the orderlies grabbed my arm, while the other one held me from the other side as Nurse You’re-Too-Good-For-Us jabbed the needle into my arm.
“Maybe tomorrow, you’ll take your pills,” she smirked, as the blackness washed over me.
***
“You’re awake,” Daphne said.
I stirred, trying to focus on her. My eyes felt gritty, like they were full of sand. How long had I been asleep? How long had I been in the hospital? What drugs—and how much of them—had they pumped into me?
Daphne looked worried. Her brow furrowed, as she drew her chair closer to me and took my hand. “How are you doing?”
“How long have I been here?” I croaked.
Daphne let go of my hand and went to pour me a glass of water. “Not very long. A day or two.”
A day or two. It felt like I had been there forever, locked in a lifeless, grey dream wor
ld, while just on the other side of those walls, life carried on, all bright colors, loud noises, and fresh air.
She handed me a glass of water and waited for me to take a drink. The water was warm, but I drank gratefully. I hadn’t realized just how dry my throat was.
“What happened?” she finally asked.
I looked away. The late afternoon sunlight slanted in my room, the bars creating shadows on the floor. Again, I studied the side of the tired-looking, red-bricked building I could see from my window.
How could I answer her? If I was being honest, I wasn’t even sure myself what had happened. Was Mad Martha and Nellie to blame? Or was I simply losing my mind? And what about Chrissy? Was she okay?
Guilt, shame, and terror roiled around inside me, playing a massive tug of war. Not to mention feeling like a total loser—fifteen years after my last breakdown, I was once again back in the same hospital, presumably because I was having yet another breakdown.
God, I felt like crap.
Daphne hadn’t said anything. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. She waited patiently, still holding my hand, her face calm, but I could see the telltale stress lines around her eyes and mouth.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t really know what happened. I thought … well, it seemed so clear that Nellie had possessed Chrissy. But …”
She gently squeezed my hand. “I thought you were going to call a doctor?”
I shrugged. “I was, but … I don’t know. Everything ended up happening so fast. After Stefan drugged me …”
Daphne held up her hand. “Wait a second. Stefan drugged you?”
I nodded. “I wasn’t sleeping. I couldn’t sleep. I was so worried about … well, the ghosts. I had to keep an eye on Chrissy. No one would believe me, and I know she’s in trouble. I know it, Daphne. I can’t even imagine what’s happening to her now that I’m here, and she’s alone in that house …”
Daphne squeezed my hand. “Hey, hey. Breathe. You’re getting yourself worked up again.”
In my agitation, I had started to sit up in bed, but I collapsed back into the pillows. “You don’t believe me. No one believes me. I don’t know if I believe me.”
“First thing’s first: I think Chrissy is okay. I stopped by the house. Stefan answered the door and I talked to him briefly.”
I turned my head to look at her. “Did you see Chrissy?”
She paused. “He said Chrissy was fine.”
I leaned forward urgently. “But did you see her?”
She hesitated again. “Not really. A glance. But that doesn’t mean anything.”
I shook my head and looked back out the window. “You don’t know.”
“Look, I can try and see her if it’s important to you. But, I’m sure she’s fine. He is her father, after all.”
Yeah, but Nellie thinks he’s Edward. And where the hell is Mad Martha? I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Did I honestly still believe all of that was happening, even now, sitting in the hospital? I really didn’t believe in ghosts, did I?
I didn’t know what I believed. All I knew was that I still had this gnawing sensation inside of me that kept telling me Chrissy was in danger.
Daphne squeezed my hand again. “Tell me about Stefan drugging you.”
I pressed my eyes shut. “He crushed sleeping pills in my wine that night. Or maybe it was just one sleeping pill. Well, it doesn’t matter. When I woke up, Chrissy was sleepwalking again. Stefan found us downstairs, and, well …”
“He said you had a knife.”
My eyes flew open. “Well yes, that was the chef’s knife I couldn’t find, but it’s not like I was holding it! I found it in Chrissy’s bedroom, under her mattress. Why did she have a knife in her room, Daphne? I put it in my purse, so nothing would happen.”
Daphne didn’t say anything for a moment. “I wish you had called me.”
I slumped even further into my pillows, despair cascading over me. I felt completely and utterly alone. No one was going to save Chrissy. And it was all my fault. “Why? You don’t believe me. Maybe I am crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.”
I gave a short bark of laughter. “Certainly sounds like I am, even to me.”
Daphne shook her head furiously. “No, I’m certain there’s something else going on. That’s why it’s good you’re here. You needed to get out of there. Get some objectivity, so we can figure out what’s really happening. Not to mention, you need to see a doctor.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I trust him,” I said morosely. “Stefan found him for me. But, it was all so weird …” my voice trailed off as Daniel’s words echoed in my head. I don’t trust your husband.
Daphne squeezed my hand. “I don’t trust anything happening here,” she said softly.
“Could … could Stefan be behind this?” I asked. “He did drug me that night, although it seems like he had a good reason. He thought I was crazy. And, in his defense, I kind of was acting crazy.”
Daphne’s eyes widened. “Are you defending him? For drugging you?”
I squirmed. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. When he explained it, he made so much sense.”
Daphne was shaking her head. “No. You’re not crazy.”
“But, what alternative is there?” The words were barely out of my mouth when another thought struck me. “Wait a minute. Is it possible I’ve been drugged the entire time?”
“Who would have been drugging you?”
“I don’t know, but is it possible?” I sat up, feeling the first surge of hope and excitement that I had felt in weeks. “Maybe it was someone who didn’t want me here.” I thought about that footprint outside. Maybe I had been stalked after all. I hadn’t been imagining things. I wasn’t crazy.
Daphne, however, didn’t look convinced. “You think someone snuck into your house to drug your food?”
“Well, it makes the most sense. I mean, who else could it have been? Stefan? He wouldn’t have done it. He’s my husband.”
“Who drugged your wine.”
“Well, yes. That’s true. But, how could he have done it? He was mostly in New York. Unless he only drugged food and drinks he knew only I would touch … or told Chrissy to leave certain foods alone.” I frowned. “No, that seems too complicated. But wait! Chrissy! Maybe it was Chrissy, when she was possessed by Nellie.”
I grasped Daphne, nearly shaking her in my enthusiasm. “Don’t you see? It makes total sense.” All the strange and mismatched pieces of my time in Aunt Charlie’s house clicked together. All those instincts I had about NOT eating food prepared by Chrissy … it all fell into place.
Daphne sighed. “There were no drugs in your system.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you were tested when you were first admitted, and it came back negative.”
It felt like the air had been sucked right out of my lungs. No drugs in my system. Everything inside me deflated again.
I must be crazy. That was the only explanation.
Daphne looked like she was about to say something when the door opened, and Nurse Nasty walked in. I slunk down further in the bed, contemplating the fact that maybe Nurse Nasty was exactly who I deserved.
She saw Daphne sitting next to me and did a double-take. “What are … oh of course you’d be here.”
“Hello, Ellen,” Daphne said stiffly. “Nice to see you, too.”
Ellen? I perked my head up, looking between Daphne and the nurse. Nurse Ellen looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Daphne, I realized, looked sad.
“You two know each other?” I asked.
“Everyone knows everyone in Redemption,” Nurse Ellen snapped. She glared at Daphne. “You have five more minutes before it’s pill time.” Whirling on her heel, she stalked out of the room.
I blinked. Daphne sighed.
/>
“What’s that all about?”
Daphne shook her head. “It’s complicated. And it happened a long time ago.”
“What happened a long time ago?”
Daphne sighed. “We were … involved.”
I blinked. “Involved? But …” A number of thoughts collided in my head and I wasn’t sure where to even start. Daphne took one look at my face and burst out laughing. “Yes, I’m gay.”
“I … well, okay then,” I said. “But, I actually saw her—Ellen—that night we were at the bar, and … she just went off on me. Started yelling that no one wanted me here and I should go back to New York.”
Daphne looked even sadder, although a moment before, I didn’t think that was possible. “Ellen is … confused,” she said. “That’s part of what happened years ago. But, I better go. I can tell you the story when you’re out of here.” She leaned over to give me a hug. “Don’t listen to her—a lot of people in this town are happy you’re here.”
I tried to hug her back, but something didn’t feel right. Here I was spilling my heart out to Daphne, but Daphne clearly had secrets of her own that I knew nothing about. Even back when we were teenagers, she could be so secretive. Could I trust her?
I quickly shoved those thoughts away. What on earth was wrong with me? Daphne was with me, right by my side, right then. She had never been anything but supportive of me. Why should I question her?
It was probably the drugs in my system making me paranoid. And the despair of being trapped in the awful hospital. Despite Daphne’s optimistic words, I really didn’t feel like I would ever get out.
Daphne straightened up to leave, but I reached out to grab her hand. “You will check on Chrissy, right? You don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind, if that will make you feel better.”
I nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
The door opened, and Nurse Ellen strode in, glaring at Daphne. “Time’s up.”
Daphne nodded, giving me one last wave as she backed out of the room.
Nurse Ellen didn’t look at me as she flung the pill cup in front of me. I meekly took it, along with the water she offered me. She barely glanced at me before striding out of the room, her shoes making faint squeaks on the linoleum floor.
It Began With a Lie: A gripping psychological thriller (Secrets of Redemption Book 1) Page 28
