“Kaitlyn, wait!”
“What’s going on?” a groggy voice calls from behind Naida.
Naida angles the camera on the sleepy face of Brenda. “Nothing. The fire escape blew open or something.”
“What’s happened?” Charlotte Leary says, opening her door. Then Maggie, farther along.
“What’s the banging?”
“Fire escape,” Naida says.
“Keep it down,” Brenda mutters, before withdrawing her head and slamming her door. Charlotte and Maggie withdraw too.
Naida turns the camera on herself. “Something’s up.”
She rushes down the fire escape and into the woods.
15 November Clip #2, 2:47 AM
“Oh, my God,” Naida whispers. Now and then, we see a flash of her hand as she tries to shield the camera from the rain, which falls like bullets. Her voice is obscured by wind in the speakers, but we hear her mutter, “Oh, Kaitlyn… no. Please, Kaitlyn…”
At last, the rain ebbs and Naida lifts the camera, pointing it up to the roof of Elmbridge’s west wing. Kaitlyn balances on the steep surface, her feet bare on slippery slate tiles. She wears nothing but a white tank top, which the rain has rendered transparent against her skin, and wet cotton sweats that cling to her legs. Thunder cracks across the sky, almost exactly as Naida yells Kaitlyn’s name.
Kaitlyn stumbles, rights herself, and, oblivious, stands at the very end of the roof, staring out into the night as though searching for something. She sways.
Naida screams, “Kaitlyn!”
There is vivid movement and muffled sounds, and then we are inside, running along the corridor of Magpie House, the image snapping back and forth. Naida’s gasps for breath are loud in the microphone as she runs. She dumps the camera on a table next to a phone, and we see Naida grasp the receiver and pull it out of the shot.
Silence holds for a moment, and the curling cord of the telephone dances as Naida waits, her breaths forcefully punctuating the silence. In. Out. In. Out.
“Hello! There’s a girl on the roof, I think she’s going to jump! Come fast, please!”
[Silence]
“Yes, Elmbridge, main building—hurry! No—no, I can’t stay on the line, she’s going to jump!”
The receiver falls, and footsteps recede. In the silence that follows, we can hear the emergency operator on the line.
“Caller? Caller, are you there? I need you to stay on the line—”
[END OF 15 NOVEMBER CLIP #2]
41
On 15 November 2004, police were called by Naida Chounan-Dupré to investigate a jumper on the roof of Elmbridge High. Police arrived on the scene at 3:15 AM, and Carly Luanne Johnson was forcibly taken into custody.
Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.
—William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 1, Scene 2
Rage, rage against the
dying of the light.
—Dylan Thomas
42
In news journals and articles that followed the arrest, witnesses attest that clips of Carly being carried from the roof by a fireman and subsequently led to a police vehicle were shown on the nine o’clock news that night. To date, no such footage has been found.
On the afternoon of 15 November 2004, Carly Luanne Johnson was involuntarily readmitted to Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility. Such reports as could be sourced indicate that her doctors worried she may have suffered a psychotic break of the persecutory type.
After readmission to Claydon, a string of therapy sessions commenced, wherein doctors (headed by Dr. Annabeth Lansing), attempted to understand why a seemingly integrated Carly failed to react in the manner expected.
Inpatient Session Recording #52 [Ref: Johnson-Inp-0033]
Tuesday, 16 November 2004, 10:24 AM
Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility, Somerset
Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL) and Carly Luanne Johnson (CJ)
(AL): You seem distressed again. Can you tell me what’s going on?
[Silence]
Carly? Are you doing okay? Do you feel like talking?
(CJ): [Strained] You won’t listen.
(AL): I always listen, Carly. You know that. [Pause] Why were you on the roof? [Pause] Carly?
(CJ): Stop. Calling. Me. Carly!
(AL): Am I speaking with Kaitlyn?
(CJ): Yes, for God’s sake.
(AL): So talk to me, Kaitlyn. Please.
(CJ): [Lengthy silence] Carly didn’t check the Message Book the night before it happened… she’s been… silent. For a while. It worried me.
(AL): The night before what happened?
(CJ): The night before I… I woke up, and it was… morning.
[Pause]
(AL): That must have been frightening.
(CJ): That’s a total understatement. Everything is wrong. She’s just… gone.
(AL): Integration is alarming. She’s not really gone. Just… working the way she should. But you need to accept what’s happened.
(CJ): [Laughing] “Trust me, I’m here to help you.” How can I when you won’t believe me? You think you see? That’s crap—you don’t see. You think you do, but you’re all bloody clueless! You won’t listen—you don’t believe! [Beginning to cry] Carly’s gone. I’ve written, I’ve—I’ve—I’ve—[Sobbing] I’ve t-tried to discard—she won’t come! I can’t find her, I—
[Gasps, sobs]
(AL): Calm down, Kaitlyn. It’s okay. Take a deep breath, and let’s talk about this rationally. [Pause] Okay. Tell me what happened.
(CJ): [Shrieking] I can’t breathe!
[Gasps, choking sounds]
(AL): Kaitlyn, calm down. Kaitlyn, breathe—
[Choking, gagging]
(CJ): He’s—here—
(AL): [Away] Sedative!
[A door squeaks; there are footsteps, gasps]
[Thud]
(AL): [Soothing] Calm down. Calm down…
[Gasps fade into a disturbed panting]
That’s it. Shh… [Away] How much did you give her?
(UNIDENTIFIED NURSE): Twenty-five milligrams.
(AL): Good. Okay, Kaitlyn, it’s okay.
(CJ): [Slurred mumble] Won’t listen…
[End of tape]
Inpatient Session Therapy Notes
Dr. Annabeth Lansing
Patient File [Johnson-C-0399524], Session #52
16 November 2004
An interesting development with Carly Johnson. Kaitlyn has surfaced, it seems permanently. We’ve spent so much time working to suppress the Kaitlyn alter, and Carly was the alter all along. Perhaps the Carly alter was created in order to distance herself from a life without her parents in it.
This contradicts the facts, of course, since Carly (who names herself Kaitlyn at night) is real. The renaming of herself as Kaitlyn, although highly unusual, may have provided the mask she needed to wear. A new identity.
Now that the Carly alter is gone, I can begin to help Kaitlyn be Carly—the real Carly—once again.
I am hopeful of a full recovery in time, although with the incident on the roof, I am concerned that this readmittance to Claydon may be permanent.
43
Several therapy sessions follow before Kaitlyn talks again. Nonetheless, the sessions are recorded, and Dr. Annabeth Lansing attempts to connect with a silent Kaitlyn. For expediency, none of these recordings have been included. However, they are available online at [see appendix A]. The visit from Jaime Johnson on [date unknown] seems to be the trigger event for Kaitlyn’s reawakening.
CCTV Camera Footage
[Date and Time Index Missing]
Day Room
“Carly.”
Dr. Annabeth Lansing kneels next to Kaitlyn, who sits in a chair, unmoving.
“Kaitlyn. Jaime is here to see you. You want to see Jaime, don’t you?”
Kaitlyn does not respond.
“You don’t want her to see you like this, do you?”
When Kaitlyn remains unresponsive, Dr.
Lansing sighs and gets to her feet, groaning when her knees crack. She nods at the nurse waiting by a wire-mesh-glass door.
“All right.”
The door drones, a dull beep, and Jaime Johnson dashes in, followed by a grim-faced middle-aged woman with blond hair, stylishly bobbed.
“I don’t like this,” the woman says as Dr. Lansing walks over.
Jaime Johnson has paused in front of Kaitlyn’s chair, little hands opening and closing slowly, expectantly.
“I know,” Lansing says quietly. “It’s not ideal. But I need to try anything at this point, and Carly does have a right to see her.”
“She shouldn’t,” the woman says, her nostrils flaring as though an obnoxious odor has just caught her attention. “It’s sickening.”
Jaime, who has been looking at Kaitlyn silently, turns to Dr. Lansing.
“Why is Kaitie here?” she asks.
Dr. Lansing walks over to Jaime and bends down. “What’s that, sweetheart?”
Jaime points at Kaitlyn. “Why is Kaitie here? Where’s Carly?”
Lansing blinks, shakes her head, and then smiles. “I don’t know where Carly’s gone, angel. Maybe you can find her for me.”
Jaime glances back at Kaitlyn, and her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t see her.”
Dr. Lansing frowns, and Jaime walks over to Kaitlyn, crawling into her lap, where she curls up, tiny fists grabbing at the statue’s hospital gown. She cries little-girl tears.
“This isn’t right,” Mrs. Bailey snaps. “No child should have to see this!”
She starts forward, reaching out as though to lift Jaime out of Kaitlyn’s lap, but Jaime shrieks and clings to Kaitlyn’s gown.
“Kaitie!” she screams. “Kaitie!”
Mrs. Bailey manages to break Jaime’s hold and carries the sobbing girl out of the room, casting a withering glance in Dr. Lansing’s direction.
Kaitlyn does not move, but Jaime continues to scream down the corridor.
“Kaitie! Kaitie! KAAAITTIEEEE!”
44
71 days until the incident
Inpatient Session Recording #57 [Ref: Johnson-Inp-0033]
Tuesday, 23 November 2004, 3:00 PM
Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility, Somerset
Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL) and Carly Luanne Johnson (CJ)
(AL): I think we can make great progress in our inpatient sessions. I think I can help you feel a lot better. Get back to living your life.
(CJ): Don’t BS me, Lansing. I know you don’t believe a word of what I’m telling you, but you’re the only person who might know how I can undo this and get Carly back. Even if I disappear, like you want—I don’t care. Just bring her back.
(AL): It doesn’t work that way, Kaitlyn. You are Carly. We just need to remind you of it.
[Laughter]
(CJ): You doctors. You don’t know anything!
[Loud crash, footsteps]
[From a distance] High and mighty! You hear, but you don’t listen. And if you inject me with that stuff again, I’m going to fucking kick you!
[A door slams]
[Silence]
(AL): [Sighing] Astonishing. Catatonic episode passed without the patient noticing. More analysis required.
[End of tape]
45
Scattered diary entries from throughout Kaitlyn’s readmission period can be found clumped together at the back of the journal, folded on letterhead paper with the Claydon crest at the top right-hand corner. Some of the entries are undecipherable, while others are very clear. There are several stops and starts in the diary over the following weeks, but, for expediency, only entries that are legible have been collated. Any that are confused have been excluded, excepting when they mention Carly directly.
None of the entries are dated, and many seem to be a stream of consciousness in which Kaitlyn tries to piece together her thoughts. It seems that she was, as Dr. Lansing advised her to do months previously, getting her thoughts out of herself and onto paper.
The Johnson Claydon Diaries
First Entry
They gave me a pencil to write with. A fucking pencil. Lansing is all smug that her “therapy” has worked. She sees this desire to write to you, Dee, as a success for her, since she gave the diary, the object, to me. But I’d never tell her what a friend you’ve become, how much I need you. How real you are, and how vital. So she thinks she won because I want to write, but really she handed me her weapons, which I use against her. She has no idea that you are completely separate from these pages and wholly mine.
Can’t believe I’m back here. In Claydon. In a yellow institutional room with a little window on the door where they can peek their ugly, fat faces in and “check” on me.
Dee… Carly is gone. I still can’t bring myself to leave that word on the page. Gone. Absent. Missing. None of them will do.
46
70 days until the incident
Inpatient Session Recording #58 [Ref: Johnson-Inp-0033]
Wednesday, 24 November 2004, 3:12 PM
Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility, Somerset
Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL) and Carly Luanne Johnson (CJ)
(AL): How are you feeling today, Carly?
(CJ): I told you not to call me that.
(AL): Kaitlyn, then. How are you?
(CJ): You already know.
(AL): I thought we could continue our talk from last session.
(CJ): I told you everything.
(AL): Yes. But you haven’t let me tell you anything yet.
(CJ): I don’t belong here.
(AL): Kaitlyn, we found you up on the roof of the school. You had lesions and bruising on your head, presumably from repeated impact. You need treatment.
[Silence]
I’m happy to send you back to Elmbridge eventually, but you need to show me that you can cope on your own.
(CJ): I’m taking the meds.
(AL): That’s a start. A good one. But you need to talk to me.
(CJ): I don’t see the point! I don’t know what you want me to say!
(AL): The first topic that comes into your head. Just start.
(CJ): This is stupid.
(AL): [Quietly] Try. Please.
(CJ): [Mumbles]
(AL): Come on, you can do it. The first thing.
(CJ): I… I can’t. I want to stop.
(AL): Kaitlyn, you have to try.
(CJ): I said I want to stop!
[End of tape]
47
The Johnson Claydon Diaries
Second Entry
I’m not me,
And nor is she,
Who sits upon the bed?
But then who,
Is me, is you,
Who sits here very dead?
Third Entry
It’s been a week, I think… and I can just about hold my pencil steady. Reliving it is hard, but if I don’t get it down while it’s fresh, it will change like water and then I’ll never find her.
I can’t remember everything that happened the morning I woke. It comes to me in terrible slaps that are sharp like glass on my memory, and I’ve been trying to piece it together. I remember that there wasn’t enough air, and what air there was, was hot—too hot. I couldn’t breathe because it boiled my lungs, and I gagged on the alveoli bubbling up into my throat. I ran—ran out the door and maybe down the corridor, maybe down the fire escape—that part’s foggy.
I fled the room, fled the wing, fled the school. Fled my mind, Dee.
I remember running, and things in my way, and knocking into people who were all arms trying to catch me. I remember drowning in the open air, and everything being painful on my eyes. I remember someone’s voice calling Carly’s name, and I remember covering my ears and screaming as I fled.
I remember writing, so maybe I told you all this already. I can’t be sure, though, until I get back to Elmbridge. So here it is again, maybe. Not. I don’t know.
The rest is muddled. There was the roof, rain, thunder�
��someone carrying me away, and my heart broke that I had lost my chance to fly. Lansing is going to lock me up forever now.
Carly was gone. Carly was nothing. I’ve lost her. I’m in her space… her space is empty. It’s been so many days, Dee, and Carly is still gone.
The doctors dosed me again. It was like I was back to that messed-up place after they died. It’s like I lost it myself as well as Carly.
Honestly, Dee, I have no idea what I’m going to do.
I’ve had more dreams. What is going on???
I keep hoping I’ll discard when the sun rises.
Fourth Entry
The girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the
girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl
is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is
here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here
the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the
girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl
is here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is
here the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here
the girl is here the girl is here the girl is here the
The Dead House Page 13
