A Haunting of Words

by Brian Paone et al.

  “Please …” Marley’s voice trembled. “I won’t.”

  The door swung wide. Dr. Adam Vaughn entered as Ethan kissed Marley gently to mask his attack. He slid his hands lower and traced circles down her spine. She bowed her head and let her shoulders curve over her chest.

  “Nurse, get me five of morphine.” The doctor had seen her tears.

  Marley’s elbow had dislocated and broken into four fragments. Following surgery, she spent many weeks at the rehabilitation center for physical therapy. As she and Adam grew closer, he noticed bruises.

  “I know Ethan hits you,” Adam said, sipping from the cafeteria-brand coffee cup and placing it on the table. Then he clasped his hands together, bringing his knuckles to his chin every so often.

  She finished stirring her herbal tea and sat backward in the booth. She had no argument; there was no reason to fight. They were both adults, and the evidence was in plain sight.

  Adam took Marley’s hand, instantly warming her fingers. Their relationship had blossomed over the last few months. Into what, she didn’t know.

  “Let me help you, Mar. You deserve better.”

  She watched the spoon spin in her teacup and tried to think of yet another cop out. When it stopped, so did her excuses.

  Marley’s fingers shook. Her chin dropped to her chest. Shame made her wish to God she could hide her face, but she needed to accept his offer. Unlike Ethan, Adam was someone she could trust.

  She hugged her torso, rocking in her seat. “Please help me. I can’t do this anymore.”

  At the apartment Marley shared with Ethan, she only packed necessities: three outfits, toiletries, and items that couldn’t be replaced. She finished in about ten minutes, but not soon enough. When she returned to the living room, Ethan was outside the front door.

  “Oh, shit. No, no, no.”

  She flinched each time the keys jingled.

  “Get behind me,” Adam said, but Marley stepped to the side.

  This wasn’t his fight. The last thing Marley needed was for Adam to be hurt because of her. She set her jaw and squared her shoulders.

  Ethan entered and placed his bag by the doorway. When he looked up, he saw Marley with her suitcase. Then he saw Adam and smiled. He fucking smiled.

  “You’re the doctor, right? Yeah, I remember.” His grin morphed into something bitter. He extended his hand but Adam did nothing. “The least you could do is be friendly, since you’re taking Marley from me. Not that I blame you. She is a nice piece.”

  As Ethan scanned Marley from head to toe, emphasizing claim, Adam stepped forward and punched him. Ethan fell against the door, bleeding, but the laughter didn’t fade. He shoved Adam; the force was powerful enough to knock him off his feet. Adam hit his head on the coffee table, rendering him unconscious.

  Marley knelt to check. Adam was still breathing.

  Ethan cracked his knuckles. “Your turn, darlin’.”

  On the table rested the fine-tipped pen Ethan would use to solve the Sunday crossword puzzles. Marley snagged the pen and lunged, screaming something indecipherable. Maybe it was his name, or maybe it was hers. Ultimately, the words that tore from her mouth were the battle cry driving her forward.

  Marley had never realized how large her home was, until then. She wished she hadn’t reached that conclusion while holding a 9mm pistol and wearing a wedding dress. The skirt was wrinkled all to bedamned, but she felt pretty.

  She sat and massaged her temples—the left with her fingers and the right with the gun’s barrel. Her conscience, with its many voices, had emerged, and it enjoyed driving her to the mental edge just to see how large of a splash she made when she crashed into the waves below. The voice told her Adam was in Hell, and the idea terrified her.

  Marley sipped from a lukewarm champagne bottle, but it slipped from her hands as chimes rang, signaling company. She stood, smoothing her wet gown with the gun in her palm, like it was nothing more than a set of keys. This visitor was not welcome.

  “Bless your heart,” Gwen cooed as she hugged Marley. The woman blessed everyone’s heart whether they needed it or not. “Son of a bitch. Why do you have a gun?” She touched her throat with a manicured hand, shaking her head.

  Marley rolled her eyes and used the weapon to wave her in, but Gwen remained on the porch.

  “Put it down.” Gwen’s voice shook.

  After a beat, she reached for the pistol. She was fortunate to step from the line of fire before Marley accidentally squeezed the trigger.

  The bullet struck the television.

  Life was so different a week ago, Marley thought. She went from being adored and showered with wedding gifts to being a patient on Antebellum Asylum’s maximum-security floor, or the acute wing; a level some doctors and nurses refused to work because of violence.

  Nurse Winnie had confiscated Marley’s shoelaces, belt, hair ties, and even her toiletries. Once the nurse used soap to loosen her engagement ring, it went into a plastic bag with the rest marked, ACUTE: DAVIS, M.

  “Give it back.”

  “Take it up with your doctor.” The nurse glanced at her watch. “You have about twenty minutes before lights out.”

  The hallway was endless, yet it resembled every background on Scooby Doo Marley had ever seen. She could have sworn she passed by the same flickering lights and peeling wallpaper every three feet.

  To no big surprise, her room was cramped. At least she didn’t have to share with a roommate. The staff didn’t want to lock two rabid animals in a cage and risk fighting. At least, not on the acute floor.

  The bed was a single rubber-sealed cushion that probably made it easier to wipe off bodily fluids. After Marley fitted the sheets onto the bed, she struggled to lie down without stripping the corners. Dealing with the squeaks proved to be more difficult.

  When the moon carved a light bright enough to distinguish shadows of trees through the barred windows, Marley found herself better able to breathe. No, she didn’t see herself living a satisfying life without Adam, but she’d rather be miserable outside with freedom than miserable inside without.

  A woman screamed.

  Marley shot up, backing herself into the corner. Even with the doors closed, the nurses’ footfalls were almost as loud as their threats that the patients needed to shut up or they’d be sedated.

  Mass hysteria. These weren’t just screams. They were cries for help, scorching the brain. If Marley wasn’t released soon, she might end up like them. She could become someone else’s scar.

  Marley didn’t fall asleep until the howling had subsided in the early morning, so when the nurse woke her at six, she threw a pillow at her.

  She covered her face. “Leave the drugs on the table and go the fuck away.”

  Marley could only see the nurse’s silhouette in the doorway, but she could tell it was her. She stank like a hooker’s dirty laundry— not the lightly worn pile that could be rescued by Fabreze, either.

  “Time for your shower,” she said, scribbling on a clipboard.

  She should take her own advice.

  “You’ll see the doctor after.”

  “We have supervised showers? I don’t think so.”

  The nurse chuckled and handed Marley a Dixie cup containing body wash. “I’m just here to give you the necessities.”

  She reached into her pocket, removed a new plastic-wrapped toothbrush, toothpaste, and a single-serving bottle of green liquid, placing all three on the sink. After she opened the packet and squeezed a line of toothpaste onto the bristles, she handed the toothbrush to Marley.

  “Don’t bother swallowing the mouthwash,” she said, tossing away the garbage. “It’s non-toxic and alcohol-free. Meet me down the hall to get your breakfast. You’re running late, so you won’t have much time to eat.”

  Great. I’m late on the first day of crazy camp.

  Marley’s clothing was still being searched for contraband, so she had nothing to wear yet. Luckily, the nurse had brought her a set of black scrubs and soc
ks. Things could have been worse; it could have been a hospital gown.

  Things were worse. The patients were like haunted paintings— motionless, with eyes that move.

  Holding her tray, Marley approached a young woman staring at a painted window. “May I sit here?”

  The woman burst into a laughing fit. Defeated, she moved to the closest available seat next to a man speaking to himself. She repeated her question.

  “Can’t you see we’re talking?” he asked. Then he continued his conversation.

  Marley’s last option was to sit next to a girl holding a pair of panties and weeping. This time she didn’t bother asking. She sat and the girl treated her as if she were nonexistent. Fine by me.

  Marley had time to drink a carton of milk and eat half of a silver-dollar pancake—with a plastic spoon—before the nurse called her name to see the doctor. He was in his mid-forties, with a potbelly and thick glasses. He smiled like he already knew too much. When she looked at his desk, her file was open to a page with an old school photo attached.

  She already disliked him, but she shook his hand, regardless. His grip was confident, and that only reinforced the feeling of captivity.

  “I’m Dr. Matthews. Please sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Marley eased onto the sofa. Comfortable. The couch might as well have spikes in the cushions.

  “So, I assume you know why you’re here. I want to dig deeper. You shot at your sister—”

  “I didn’t shoot at her.”

  There was silence. She crossed and uncrossed her legs while biting the inside of her cheek.

  “Let’s work through the process, shall we? Now, digging deeper … I’d like to find out why you had the gun in the first place. Your file says when the police brought you in, you were wearing a wedding dress.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” Marley snapped, trying to shut the man down.

  He moved to sit on the corner of his desk, facing her. “Let me put it to you this way, Miss Davis. The sooner you cooperate, and you will cooperate, the sooner you’ll leave. People only leave on my orders.”

  Breathe in the flowers, blow out the candles, Marley. That’s it. Inhale, exhale.

  Marley had come too far to abide another man’s threats, but he had her. She wanted out, but she had to give Dr. Matthews what he wanted if she hoped to be released. She had no choice.

  “Three days ago, my fiancé died. My shitty way of grieving was to drink myself into oblivion.” She shrugged. “Wearing my wedding gown and waving a gun around made sense at the time.”

  The doctor snatched a ball from his desk and squeezed it in his right hand.

  “Did you love him?”

  “Did I love him? What the hell do you think?” Marley’s blood boiled, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off the ball. “Can you put that thing down?”

  “I think you’re evading the question.”

  He placed the ball on the desk and diverted his attention to swinging a small metallic sphere on the end of a pendulum.

  “Of course I loved him,” she said, eyes burning. “Why do you think I almost killed myself to be with him?”

  Dr. Matthews cleaned his glasses.

  “Tell me about him. When did you first know you loved him?”

  “How is this helpful?” Marley watched the pendulum, but he waited for her answer. She sighed. “I was in an abusive relationship before Adam, and he helped me leave the prick. No one had ever given a damn about what happened to me. When my ex saw us leaving, he was pissed. He knocked Adam unconscious. We were lucky to get away. And do you know what Adam’s first words were when we got to safety? He asked if I was okay. He almost died, and he was concerned about me.”

  When she finished speaking, her elbows were on her knees, with her hands cradling her head. She wanted to run. She wanted to rip off the shrink’s head; however, that wouldn’t be conducive to good mental health.

  The doctor’s expression was unreadable. He raised his eyebrows. “I see. And how did he propose?”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Miss Davis …”

  The dam broke and water overflowed. Dr. Matthews had pressed the big, red button that read Do Not Touch. He handed Marley a tissue. She didn’t take it on principle.

  “For you to heal, you’ll need to work with me.”

  “We-we-we …” Marley stuttered. “We were camping in the woods. I was afraid because there were noises outside our tent.” She wiped her eyes and massaged her burning cheeks. “He held me close and told me that scars shape a person, and even though he wished I had none, mine have sculpted me into someone who feels more completely than anyone he’d ever met. He said he wanted to protect and love me forever. And after he said these beautiful things, he pulled out a sapphire ring, which your people took from me, and asked me to be his wife.”

  That night the screams were Marley’s. Darkness blanketed the room, and everything moved too quickly for her to process.

  “Tie her wrists. I’ve got her legs,” a man’s voice said as they tugged her in two different directions.

  Marley tried to fight, but her arms and legs were like jelly.

  “Did you give her the injection? What if—”

  “Yes, asshole,” a second man said. “We need to hurry before the drug wears off. Did you bring the drops? Jesus, do you ever shut up, girl?”

  Rough hands held open Marley’s eyelids as cold liquid splashed her eyes. She waited for pain, but there was nothing but grogginess from the shot. Sweat formed on her upper lip.

  “What did you give me?”

  “Just a paralytic, baby girl. You’ll be back to yourself in no time.” The man brushed hair back from her face. “Hey, buddy, get the light.”

  She was grateful for light until … nothing was clear. She could only decipher colors. The two men were large—too large to fight. Her only recourse was to run if she saw the opportunity.

  One of the men threw Marley over his shoulder and slapped her backside. “Okay, darlin’. You’re coming with us.”

  A brief walk later, the other man gave her an injection in the neck. The effects were slow, but her limbs prickled with life. One man seized her while the other held her wrists, binding her to a fixture inside a large shower intended for multiple patients.

  “What’s happening?” Marley was relieved somewhat, but she still couldn’t see.

  They ignored her.

  When her hands were tied, the man faced her. “This is my favorite part.”

  A camera flashed in Marley’s periphery. She heard scissors cutting fabric and felt a tug at her torso. When a chill reached her breasts, she squirmed. He pulled down her pants so roughly, she lost her balance and hung by the wrists. She screamed. He backhanded her.

  Another flash lit the room.

  “Don’t leave marks on her,” one of them said.

  “Yeah, yeah, I forgot. Showtime.”

  The water was lukewarm at first, then it warmed and continued increasing in temperature.

  She gathered saliva in her mouth and spat. “You’re kidding me, right? All of this for a shower?”

  They laughed as one of them kicked Marley’s shin. Soon the water was boiling. Where the water splashed on her body felt as though someone was raking their fingernails over her flesh, as if her skin melted off the bone.

  A man yanked her hair so the water would run into her face, up her nose, and into her mouth. A moment into the torment, her feet slipped, and the elbow she had dislocated years before popped. Pain exploded through her arm and up her neck.

  “Damn,” one of the men said as he revealed a syringe. “This should be enough for the doc’s offering tonight.”

  Marley never thought she’d be in a padded room, but here she was, nude and shaking, crouched in the corner. She wasn’t even sure what the room was. A metal frame was the only sign of a bed, and there was no doorknob or heating. She was certain the camera wasn’t connected to anything. The only thing that appeared to work was the bli
nking keypad.

  At least my vision is back.

  After several moments, two orderlies entered the room. Marley almost cried from relief until one pulled out rope. She backed farther into the corner and curtained herself in hair, though the men had already seen everything. Hell, they had photos.

  Bobby laughed. “Look at her. She’s shaking.”

  Yes … Bobby. They had nametags.

  John exposed a syringe. “She won’t fight us.”

  She moved to her knees in a prayer position, shaking her head. “Please don’t.”

  “Please,” Bobby mocked. When he opened his mouth, she could practically see the bacteria swimming between his yellowed teeth.

  “Just a little Haldol,”—John injected her arm with the hypodermic needle—“to mellow you out.”

  Within seconds, Marley was “mellow.” John carried her to the bedframe and turned her facedown. She didn’t have the energy or will to fight. She wanted to sleep. He spread her legs and arms so he could tie her down.

  Bobby ran a finger down her bare thigh. “Do we get to play with her first?”

  John slapped away Bobby’s hand. “No, the doc wants this one all to himself.”

  “He has all the fun.”

  A camera flashed.

  They left Marley in the darkness for at least a day—cold and exposed, face inches from the ground while claustrophobia consumed her. Her stomach heaved and she vomited bile. The liquid hit the floor and splattered onto her face. The smell was so disgusting, she wanted to heave again.

  She wasn’t sure which she feared more: dying, or Bobby and John returning to “play.”

  The drug was still in effect when Dr. Matthews knelt beside Marley to untie her wrists.

  “Thank Christ.” She sounded as though she had a mouth full of marbles.

  The room spun as the doctor pulled Marley upright, letting her fall against him. He stroked her hair, as a lover would, but she fought. Even though she was weak, she beat his chest, desperate to escape. What he was doing wasn’t right.

  Words echoed in her mind: The doc wants this one all to himself.