by ML Gardner
“You don’t believe him, do you, David?” I asked. David gave an indiscernible shake of the head.
“Oh,” he said, looking enlightened. “Okay, next time, I’ll just do that,” he said with a bob of the head. He took a step to leave the room, but David cut him off.
“Hit him, David,” I said, wishing to God that I could beat him to death with my bare hands. “Bash his head in,” I growled while I paced the small room. Instead, David inched forward with a fierce expression until Greg was pressed against the wall. He put his hands on each side of Greg’s head and leaned down so close that I could barely see any light between their noses.
“Let me make something perfectly clear, Greg,” he spoke.
“Hit him,” I repeated.
“The last orderly who liked to take advantage of our patients didn’t last very long here. He had a little accident.” Greg’s eyes widened as he tried to press himself further into the wall. David lowered his voice to a whisper. “And they still haven’t found that body.” He broke into a sadistic grin. “And they won’t find yours, neither.” Sweat popped up on Greg’s forehead and he nodded silently.
“Please, David. Just once. You know what he came in here to do!”
Without warning, David planted an iron fist in the pit of Greg’s stomach. He slid to the floor in a gasping heap and David pushed him roughly with his foot.
“Get out of here,” he said. “And don’t you never let me catch you in here again.”
He continued to help Greg down the hall with his foot while I waited by her door.
“Thank you,” I breathed when he returned, glancing back at Elizabeth in the bed. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here,” I said, running a hand over my face. “I have no way to protect her.” I looked away, angry at my helplessness.
“Practice,” he said firmly. He held out a pencil. “So you can protect her.” I held my hand out and pictured myself beating the degenerate that almost had his hands on my Elizabeth. He slowly set it in my hand, and it didn’t fall through. I could learn this, after all. I found the emotions that controlled objects. That part of me that was protective of her and possessive of us. I looked up at David with a triumphant smile. I rattled off a list of things for David to bring me, and I sat at the desk the rest of the night practicing and perfecting the skill.
I lay down next to Elizabeth just before dawn. I blew and the ends of her hair scattered over her shoulder. I smiled and rested my head next to hers. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you,” I promised her for the second time and closed my eyes.
She stirred just before lunch, swaying slightly as she sat on the side of her bed. I touched her arm, this time feeling soft skin instead of sinking through it. She scratched at the spot lazily and then stood, knocked on her door and waited with her head against the wall for someone to let her out. I followed her out of her room, waited outside the bathroom and then walked next to her to the commons area. She sat with a thud, sprawling her arms out on the table in front of her. The nurse put a tray of food down, and she picked and pushed, but didn’t eat.
“You should eat,” I said. After a moment, she put a small bite in her mouth and chewed in slow motion.
Later I sat next to her in the doctor’s office. He paced behind his desk a few lengths before speaking.
“Who am I speaking to?” he asked politely.
“Elizabeth,” she said, gripping the arms of the chair and staring straight ahead.
“I’d like to talk about when you escaped with Simon,” he said.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” she said with a stone face.
“I need to know how you got out,” he explained.
“Don’t tell him. Don’t, Elizabeth. No matter what he says.”
“I don’t remember,” she said calmly, raising her eyes to him.
“I think you might not be telling me the truth, Elizabeth. Now, I understand you’ve gone through quite a shock recently.” He looked down and fumbled with the edge of his white coat. “But in order to protect the community we need to know how you got out.”
“I told you, I don’t remember,” she said, then smiled. “I wasn’t born yet,” she said calmly.
The doctor looked visibly rattled. “I thought I was talking to Elizabeth,” he said.
“You are.”
“But if you were just born recently?”
“My name is Elizabeth,” she insisted.
“Can I talk to the other Elizabeth?” he asked.
“No.”
“Can I talk to him?” he asked.
“No.” Elizabeth smiled slyly. I felt panic roll through me. For a moment, I thought the doctor meant me. But he meant her other one. The original other one. I had suspected it was male from our brief encounter at the cabin. The deep voice, eager to fight, but I wasn’t sure.
“Please?” the doctor said as if talking to a stubborn child.
“You can only talk to me,” she said with a teasing grin and a tilt of her head. “The others can’t come out and play right now.”
“Where are the others right now?” he asked, scratching at the notepad in his lap.
“Sleeping,” she said, dropping the smile. They sat in a silent standoff for several minutes before he dismissed her. The nurse escorted her out, but I stayed.
“This is all your fault, you know,” I told him. “Did you know that the other one only came out once the whole time we were together? Of course you don’t, because you shocked the shit out of me before asking any questions. She was normal out there with me,” I said, staring out the window. “You ruined everything and now she’s worse,” I said, feeling the sudden urge to throw something at him, now that I had the ability to. But David had warned me to be subtle. I walked to the wall directly across from his desk. A crucifix hung in the center, surrounded by his degrees and awards.
I leaned one shoulder against the wall and watched him for a moment. He was certainly stressed, visibly affected by what had recently happened. I wondered how much was remorse and how much was self-preservation. I reached up and touched the bottom tip of the cross. I pushed it an inch away from me then let go, letting it swing lightly against the wall. The doctor stopped writing and looked up just as it came to a stop. I pushed again, harder this time and it scraped against the wall several times like a pendulum, and then slowed to a stop, centering itself. He watched it with a gaping mouth, then gathered his papers hastily with shaking hands and ran out of the room.
“Might wanna ask for something to help with those hallucinations, Doc,” I called out after him and then walked to his desk, randomly pushing his perfectly arranged things around with the tip of my finger. My hand hovered over his annoying pen and I smiled. I opened the top drawer, took out all the pens, and systematically drained each one of its ink, right into the seat of his chair. Not very ghoulish, but fun, I thought to myself with a shrug.
The days quickly fell into a dull and familiar monotony. I stayed by Elizabeth’s side much of the time and talked to her as she drifted asleep, hoping to bring her to the surface, even just for a few moments. It became clear, day after day in the doctor’s office that a stronger fraction of Elizabeth held control now and she would not relinquish it for anything. She was very powerful, determined and calculated. She rarely lost control physically and talked the doctor in circles until he was so confused, he dismissed her.
She was in the office the morning he sat in the puddle of ink in his chair, his white coat wicking it up into a black spot on his backside. She laughed uncontrollably, and when he confronted her as to whether she had anything to do with it, she simply flashed a wicked smile and raised her eyebrows. It unnerved him to no end.
I almost felt sorry for him. But not enough to keep me from sitting in his office every day between patients to remind him of all the destruction he had caused in the name of mental health. Every now and then I would move something so subtlety he assumed his mind was playing tricks on him.
After
about a week, I watched him pull out a small bottle from his bottom drawer and pour two pills into his shaking hand. He threw his head back with the glass of water and then waited with head on folded arms for the pills to take effect.
“I think I’m really starting to get to him,” I told Elizabeth with a laugh as I lay next to her that night. “He’s on edge all the time. He deserves it, the controlling bastard. I saw him taking pills and I heard one of the staff say that he will be turning in his resignation.” I watched her face as it stared blankly at the ceiling. “Don’t worry about the next doctor,” I told her, ever so lightly moving a few strands of hair out of her face. “If this next one isn’t good to you, I’ll scare him away, too.”
She took a deep breath and sighed, rolling over toward me. “Close your eyes,” I whispered. After a few seconds, she did. “I wonder if that’s just coincidence,” I said with a light laugh. She opened them again, staring through my head. “Close your eyes,” I repeated. She did. “Can I talk to my Elizabeth?” She made a light noise with a small headshake, snuggling deeper under the covers. “I’m not trying to take you out of control, Elizabeth, I just want to talk to her. Just for a minute, please?” I touched her face and she felt it, scrunching up her nose. When she opened her eyes, they were soft and familiar. Her face shifted to sadness and pain. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“I miss you,” she whispered aloud, closing her eyes quickly. Her face dissolved, and I watched her go back to the safe recesses of her mind.
“I miss you, too.” I wanted more time with her, but I wanted to gain the stronger Elizabeth’s trust. I put my arm around her and watched her as she fell asleep.
Unable to rest my mind, I walked the halls later. I passed a few other lost souls and even though I knew they couldn’t hurt me, I put as much distance between us as the hall would allow. A few of them looked at me curiously, but most of them ignored me. I had counted six, so far.
Walking down the men’s hall, I passed by Ronnie’s door and heard him whimper. With nothing better to do, I stepped inside and just when I thought things couldn’t get any more bizarre, I saw him cowering in the corner on his knees. A man loomed over him, shimmering with a dull silver glow. He was dressed in tattered colonial clothing with a pistol on one hip and a long sword on the other. Except for a high red velvet crown, he looked like he might have been nothing more than a high-ranking soldier during the Revolution.
Well, I’ll be damned. There really is a king, I thought. I caught a glimpse of something shiny at his feet, just before he kicked it toward Ronnie. It made a metallic scrape on the floor and then came to a stop against his knee. Ronnie looked down at it and shook with fear. The self-proclaimed king turned to me abruptly.
“Go away,” he ordered. “This is none of your concern.” His accent was definitely from a time long ago, as were his graceful movements.
“What do you want with Ronnie?” I asked. He glared at me silently. “Can he see you?” I asked, taking a step closer. “I thought David was the only one who could see us.”
“He can hear me,” he said with a grin and turned back to Ronnie. “Open it, Ronnie,” he commanded. Ronnie, sniveling and crying, picked up the razor that rested against his knee. “Now, put it to your throat,” the king said, a smile spreading across his face.
“Hey! Now, wait a minute! What the hell are you doing?” I yelled. My eyes darted between the king and Ronnie, who now had the blade pressed to his throat. Ronnie trembled with tightly shut eyes.
“Ronnie, don’t do this!” I yelled.
“He can’t hear you. He can only hear me.”
I walked over and stooped toward Ronnie. “If you can hear him, you can hear me. Put it down, Ronnie,” I said. The king laughed behind me, loud and cold.
“Pull it, Ronnie. Do it now!” he seethed with anticipation. I saw a hard shiver roll through Ronnie, and I put my hand over his.
“Don’t,” I commanded. Using every bit of concentration I had, I got a grip on his hand and slowly pulled it away from his neck. He looked down in confusion as he watched his own arm being pulled away from his body. I pried his curled fingers away, the razor fell to the floor with a clink, and Ronnie balled himself up, crying hysterically. I turned around to confront the king, but he was gone.
The next day I found David and told him what happened.
“I know. That one is a menace,” he said grimly. “He tortures poor Ronnie.”
“Well, what can we do about it?” I asked.
“Nothing, except wait till he decides to go.”
“Ronnie almost killed himself last night,” I said. “We can’t just let this go on and hope that one day he’ll decide to go through. From the looks of him, he’s been here for awhile. Or at least he thinks he has.”
“He’s been here longer than you or I, Simon. This hospital was built on a colonial cemetery, and he’s not too happy about it. He thought very highly of himself–”
“I noticed,” I interrupted dryly.
“He thought a shrine should be built over his grave to honor him. When he found out that the shrine turned out to be a nuthouse, he thought it was personally offensive, and he’s been wreaking havoc ever since.” He shrugged his shoulders and bent his head. “I’ll try talking to him again,” he offered.
I sighed and rubbed my hand over my face and through my hair. “I gotta get us out of here,” I said.
The next day I started working on that plan. I sat in the doctor’s office and casually put my feet up on his desk.
“You need to let Elizabeth go home,” I said, getting right to the point. “She is as stable as she’s going to get, no thanks to you, but she would do better at home and you know it.”
He muttered to himself, flipping through a thick psychology text.
“She might talk,” I said. He stopped and stared at his desk. “She might let the other Elizabeth tell them how we escaped on your watch, and wouldn’t that make you look incompetent?” He rose quickly, threw the book back on the bookshelf, and dug in his drawer for his pills. “And she might tell them about the pills and bottles of booze in your bottom drawer. And about the nurse you’re a little too friendly with.” I had seen no evidence of this, personally but I had heard the whisperings of the staff over the months of a quiet affair with an older nurse. “Wouldn’t your wife love to know about that,” I laughed. “You should let her go home,” I said, dropping back down into seriousness. “Besides, you have many more serious issues to deal with than a harmless girl with a broken mind. The investigation won’t stop with me, you know. They are going to look into the deaths of every one of your patients.”
I had figured out that the weaker a mind is, the easier it is for them to hear my words as their own thoughts. And the good doctor was growing weaker by the day. I stood and leaned over his desk.
“I won’t leave you alone until you send her home,” I promised him grimly with a low voice.
The next day I returned as promised, but, this time, brought a friend. The starving girl stood behind me, terrified.
“He can’t hurt you,” I promised her. “He can’t see you or hear you.” I looked at the doctor, who stood near the window, staring intently. “Tell him what he did to you,” I urged. “Tell him he’s responsible.”
“I thought he couldn’t hear me,” she said in a high-pitched ghostly whisper.
“He can’t hear us directly. But our words come across as his own thoughts. Didn’t David explain this to you?” I asked. She shook her head, and her wispy hair fell around her face. “I’m afraid of him,too,” she whispered.
“Who? David? You shouldn’t be afraid of him.”
She looked up at me with caution. “He won’t tell them I’m here? That I don’t want to go?”
“No, he won’t,” I said and then curiosity got the best of me. “Why won’t you go?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the desk.
“I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I can.”
I looked at the doctor. “You should tal
k to the doctor,” I said with a sarcastic smile. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Eyes down, she sat nervously wringing her bony hands in her lap.
“My stomach hurt all the time. That’s why I couldn’t eat,” she said softly. “I tried telling him–”
“Talk to him, not me,” I said, nodding to the doctor.
She looked up at him like a frail mouse. “I tried to tell you that the medicine you gave me made my stomach hurt. You told me I was trying to get attention. Day after day, I sat at the table so very hungry. But I couldn’t eat. You wouldn’t listen.” She sighed and looked down. Suddenly, she came up out of her chair and stood next to the doctor, breathing heavily through her nose. “I couldn’t eat because you wouldn’t listen. And even as I wasted away to nothing, you accused me of doing it on purpose,” she said through her teeth. “You killed me.”
“Send Elizabeth home,” I added.
“You killed me,” she fumed.
“Send her home.”
The doctor held his head and grunted, squeezing his eyes shut.
She turned away quickly and sat down, as if she were exhausted. She hung her head for several moments and then looked up at me slowly.
“Thank you,” she said. “I do feel better.” She looked at the doctor who was taking a long drink from his flask. “I’m not done, but I feel better for now.” She smiled. By reflex, I put a hand on her shoulder and was surprised it felt semi-solid. I squeezed lightly and could feel the mass of bones under my hand. “That feels good,” she said, closing her eyes. I dropped my hand quickly.
“I’m glad you feel better,” I said with a smile and turned to leave.
She followed me down the hall to Elizabeth’s room. It was empty and I sat against the wall, waiting for her to return.
“What’s your name anyway?” I asked the girl as she sat in the opposite corner and drew her legs up in front of her.
