by Dori Lavelle
I nod, but I know why she was left alone. It was me who lured the nurse on duty away from her room so I could have some alone time with Amanda. I have too much to lose to allow anything to happen by chance.
“What are you saying, Doctor? Are you saying it might be best for her to be in a mental hospital?” Many husbands might be horrified to be told that their wives are going insane, but it’s music to my ears.
“It might be the safer option for her at this point. Especially since you mentioned earlier that it’s not the first time that she’s tried to commit suicide.”
I allow my chin to hit my chest. “Yes. She tried it two times before.”
“And the fact that she thought a doll was her baby worries me.”
“It worries me too, but I thought maybe it would lessen some of her pain.” I reach into my breast pocket and pull out a photo I took of Amanda breastfeeding Sally. I’m a genius, even if I say so myself. “Take a look at this.”
The doctor stares at the photo for a long time, then hands it back to me. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose before replacing them on his face. “Mr. Bloom, I know a place where your wife would be safer.”
“A mental institution?”
“I prefer to just call it a safe place.” He nods at a passing nurse and continues, “You will feel better knowing she’s being well taken care of and she will not have access to anything that could harm her.”
“I don’t know.” I shove a hand through my hair. “She won’t want that, and honestly, I don’t know if I’m comfortable with having my wife admitted. She will resent me for it.”
“What’s the alternative? Your wife is a danger to herself. You said so yourself. After everything you told me...with her walking naked on the street and—”
“Okay,” I say, lowering my voice. “Maybe you’re right.” I bite down on my lip as though trying hard to control my emotions. “Will I be allowed to visit her in this place?”
“Yes, of course. Family is very important to a patient’s recovery. You will definitely have access to her.”
“Okay. I understand.” I pause. “Please do what you have to do. But I have to warn you that she will not make it easy.”
“Don’t worry, she won’t be the first patient to resist help.” He gives me a kind smile. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”
When the doctor leaves, I go back to watching Amanda. Since it’s visiting hours, I can watch her myself. She wouldn’t dare come out of the room after what I told her last night.
Her eyes are watching me, but there’s nothing left in them. The woman looking back at me is a shell of the powerful lawyer she once was. She has bags under her eyes and her cheeks have sunken. I love seeing her looking less than perfect. It makes it easier for me to get rid of her. Since I no longer feel attracted to her, I can live without her. It won’t be hard to find a replacement.
She pulls her gaze from mine and turns her head to face the other way. She’s hiding the tears from me. She doesn’t want me to see how broken she is, but I can see right through her. I smell her fear.
“Are you all right, Mr. Bloom?” one of the nurses asks when she comes to check on Amanda.
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s just hard to watch her look so depressed.”
“Dr. Price informed me about her move to Cherry Lake Facility. She will be ready to leave by evening.”
Evening comes fast, and I watch in fake dismay as my wife kicks, bites, and screams as she’s taken to the vehicle that will transport her to the loony bin.
As I watch the car drive away, I sigh with relief. In the mental institution, she will be surrounded by so many crazy people with their own ludicrous stories that no one will believe a word she says.
When I get into my car to follow the vehicle, I know my job is not done. There’s a lot I need to do to ensure my plan goes down without a hitch. But I can’t do it alone. I need someone from the inside to help me. Luckily, everyone has a price.
Chapter 16
BREE
I open my eyes and the Mickey Mouse clock on the chest of drawers tells me it’s a few minutes before 7 A.M.
I stare at it for a long time while I inhale the smells of despair and pain.
Both my body and my mind feel numb. I try to move, and even though I know I can, my body refuses to play along. I remain on my single bed, staring in front of me, trying not to go crazy. I can’t let myself go crazy.
Aside from the bed, the chest of drawers, and a chair, there’s nothing else in the room.
I’m actually relieved. At least I’m not inside a padded cell.
I close my eyes and listen to the sounds around me. Outside, someone is crying and another is laughing. If a person can laugh in a place like this, maybe it won’t be so bad.
Maybe being inside a mental institution is safer for me, especially since there are surveillance cameras installed for the safety of the patients. Hunter would not dare hurt me when someone else is watching.
When I was being checked in, I’m not sure how long ago, I told the nurses that I don’t want him to visit me. I don’t know whether they will respect my wishes. At the other hospital, everyone thought I was mad for accusing my husband of being a kidnapper and murderer.
A hot teardrop seeps from the corner of my right eye and drops onto the single pillow. I wipe the rest of the tears away with the back of my hand.
This can’t be it for me. This cannot be my story.
When more tears flood my eyes, one of the nurses knocks on my door to inform me that breakfast will be ready in half an hour.
When I don’t respond, she makes her way into the room and observes me for a moment. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asks. I fight the urge to laugh.
“No,” I murmur. “How can I be okay? I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Sweetheart, that’s what everyone says when they come here. But you’ll find it’s not all that bad. It’s just a safe place for you to be for a while, to take a break from life.” She gives me a bright smile. “I’m Nurse Josie, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
What I noticed when I was brought in is that there are many friendly people at Cherry Lake. I was surprised that although there were patients who were staring into space and throwing fits, most of them seemed normal and even happy.
It both relieves and terrifies me. Is that what will become of me? Would I resign myself to my fate and start feeling at home in a mental hospital? No. It won’t happen to me.
“I need to call the cops,” I say in a firm voice. “My husband is trying to kill me. Even if I’m in here, he will find a way.”
“Amanda,” Josie says and I cut her off.
“My name is not Amanda. My name is Bree Tyler. I’m a lawyer from Houston, and my husband kidnapped me. He killed my friends and now he wants to kill me.”
The nurse’s lips curl into a smile. “No one will hurt you in here. You’re safe.”
“Yeah, that’s what the nurses at the hospital said. But I wasn’t safe. He entered my room in the middle of the night and they refused to believe me.”
“Amanda, you are here because your husband doesn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
I scoff out loud and find the energy to finally move. In spite of the pain in my wrists, I pull myself to a sitting position and fold my arms across my chest. “You don’t believe me either, do you?”
“What I believe is that you have a very supportive husband, who is willing to give you the treatment you need to get better.”
“Did that supportive husband also mention that he cut my wrists? I did not try to commit suicide.”
She simply smiles. I’m sure she’s heard it all. I wonder how many people have come in here claiming to not have wanted to hurt themselves. Maybe she thinks I’m one of them. How could I ever convince her or anyone else?
“I need a phone,” I say. “I need to call my mother. She will want to know how I’m doing.” My stomach clenches when I realize I can’
t call my friends.
“I’m afraid patients are only allowed to make their first calls after being in here for forty-eight hours.”
“What is this?” I shake my head. “Am I in a prison?”
“Of course not.” She sighs deeply and turns to leave. “Get ready for breakfast. I’m sure you’ll feel better after you eat something, and later, a doctor will come and see you.” She walks out before I can say anything else.
After she leaves, I start hearing more voices outside in the halls, bringing the place to life. All I want to do is lie in my bed and feel sorry for myself, but if I do, they will think I’m depressed. After everything I’ve gone through, of course, I am depressed, but in order for them to believe me, I need to act like I’m not. I need to prove to Nurse Josie and everyone else that I don’t belong here, that I’m in the right state of mind.
I barely touch my breakfast as I sit at the table, listening to the patients and nurses around me, wishing this was just a nightmare and not my real life.
Some of the patients try to strike up a conversation with me, but I have no idea what to say to them. All I want to tell them is that I don’t belong in here. But most of them probably think the same way.
I ask another nurse for a phone, and again she refuses to give me access, even though I saw one of the patients making a call at the nurses’ station.
During group therapy, I listen in silence to the other patients talking about their anxieties, depression, and suicide attempts. When I’m asked to talk about my own issues, I can’t help telling them that I didn’t try to commit suicide. Even though they clearly don’t believe me, I need to tell as many people as possible. Maybe I’ll find someone who thinks I’m not crazy.
I repeat the same things to Dr. George, a small female doctor of Asian descent, who listens to me patiently, allowing me to pour out my heart. When I’m done, she asks me one question.
“Do you still feel like hurting yourself?”
That’s when I lose it.
I jump to my feet and start to scream, accusing her of not being a good enough doctor.
Three nurses are called to escort me back to my room. They offer me medication to calm down. I take the pills and hide them under my tongue until they leave. Then I slip them under my pillow. I’m sick and tired of being drugged.
I remain in my room until lunch. Feeling drained and exhausted from trying to fight for my freedom, I eat spaghetti Bolognese without tasting it.
When everyone goes to recreational therapy, which involves watching a movie, I refuse to be among them.
I’m afraid that if I make myself at home, I’ll never leave. I refuse to make myself at home in a mental hospital.
Chapter 17
Shortly before 4 P.M., Josie comes to tell me it’s visitation hour and my husband has come to see me.
“I said I don’t want to see him.” I clench my fists, causing the pain in my wrists to explode. “I never want to see him. Don’t let him in.”
“He said you might say that,” the nurse says kindly. “I understand how you feel. Many patients who come to Cherry Lake are resentful toward their loved ones, who they feel have rejected them. But you will soon find that the support of family is one of the things that will help you get better sooner.”
“How long am I staying here?” I ask, ignoring what she just said. She probably says it to everyone.
“Dr. George will decide after your meeting tomorrow.” She pauses. “But it will do you a whole lot of good if you speak to someone from home.”
“I said I don’t want to see him.” I lie back on my pillow and turn my head away from her. “I need to be alone now.”
I let out a sigh of relief when I finally hear her footsteps moving away from my bed. But it’s not long until the door opens again. When I turn around, I find Hunter inside my room.
I sit up so fast, my head spins. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m your husband. I came to see how my wife is doing.”
“You’re not my husband. You are a murderer… a psychopath. Get out of my room.” I point a shaking finger at the door, but my anger only seems to amuse him. Even though he’s not smiling because I’m sure he wants to act as though he’s worried, his eyes tell me everything I need to know. He’s as dangerous as he was the last time I saw him. He still has murder on his mind.
“Amanda, I only want to speak to you.”
“I told them I don’t want to see you.”
“It’s not only up to you. You might not want to see me, but I want to see you.”
I make myself as small as possible, my gaze fixed on a small box in a corner of the ceiling. I suspect it to be a camera. I relax a little knowing he won’t hurt me when he’s being watched.
I’m shaking inside as he drops into the chair by my bed and leans forward to speak to me in a low voice. “You must hate being inside here. It makes you feel crazy, doesn’t it?”
“That’s exactly what you want. You want me to seem crazy so no one will believe me when I tell them the truth about you.”
“You’re a very smart woman.” He smiles. “Don’t worry, you won’t be in here for long. I’ll speak to the doctor. I just wanted them to see firsthand how unhinged you are, then I’ll get you out of here.”
“To take me where exactly?” My eyes pierce through his. “To the grave?”
He nods and I glance at the camera again. To my horror, he follows my gaze. Instead of freaking out, his smile widens.
“That’s not working. I thought we might need a little privacy.” He coughs. “You know, before it’s all over.”
“It’s already over. Get the hell out of my life.”
“What I mean is, it’s over for you. I haven’t changed my mind about getting rid of you. The fact that you’re in this place makes it a little easier for me. You tried to commit suicide and I told the doctors that it wasn’t the first time.”
Blood drains from my face, but I don’t say anything. I know where he’s going with this, but I need him to confirm it. I need to know exactly what he has planned so I can find a way to save myself, if that’s even possible.
“You’ll try to commit suicide again, and I’ll help you out with that. This time, you will succeed.”
“You mean you will succeed? You plan to kill me and make it look like a suicide.”
“I loved you, you know. I did not want it to end this way. I didn’t want it to end at all. But you hurt me, Amanda.”
I spit in his face and regret it almost immediately. I expect for him to strike out and hit me, especially since no one is watching, but he doesn’t. He simply wipes the saliva from his chin, then reaches into a bag I didn’t know he was carrying. He pulls out a folder and rests it on his lap.
“Even though you have betrayed me, I’ll always be seen as your loving husband.” He opens the folder to reveal several beautiful vases.
“These are urns,” he says. “I’ll be sure to get a nice one to carry your beautiful ashes. Go ahead and choose the one you like best from these ones.”
I watch him in horror, my heart pumping fear through my veins. “You’re disgusting.” The raw fire of hate blazes in my voice. Being in his presence and breathing the same air as him gives me a crawling flesh sensation.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m just a loving husband, who wants to store his wife in a pretty package.” His finger runs down the length of the page, then he glances up at me. “So, which one do you like? I’m thinking marble would be perfect. I’ll have your name engraved on it in gold.”
“You can’t... You can’t do this.” I try to swallow, but my throat aches when I force down the saliva. “Please, you can’t.”
“The decision has already been made. And everything is going to take place in about a week. I have already made arrangements with a local crematorium. All I need is for you to go to sleep. There will be no other people present at your send-off, just you and me, baby. I’m the only one who should matter to you anyway.”
/> While I’m still reeling with shock, he flips the page that has three more urns displayed on it. But they are engraved. At first, I think he’ll ask me to choose which kind of engraving I want, but then he reads out a name.
“Linda Singer. She was my first wife. Like you, she wasn’t satisfied with the role of a wife. She was a top surgeon and refused to give it up. She was my childhood sweetheart. But she broke my heart when she didn’t put me first. In the end, she had to go.” He moves his finger to the next urn, one in black marble. “This is my second wife, Cindy Rogers. We were married for only a month. Same problem. She was an investment banker.” He shakes his head as he moves his finger to the next and final urn. “My third wife, Drew Andrews, was a financial analyst.” He shuts the folder and stares at me. “They all failed me, just like you did. The only comfort I have is the money they left behind, plenty of it.”
As he speaks, I can barely hear anything he’s saying because my mind is running wild. I recognize one of the names. I’ve heard of Drew Andrews. She was a very successful financial analyst. Her name was all over the papers when she died from apparent suicide.
I get it now. I finally understand Hunter’s mission. He’s killing off powerful women. He’s punishing them for wanting more than just being a wife. “Why?” I ask in a low voice.
“Women are full of shit. They think they can have it all.” His face grows dark with anger. He pushes himself to his feet and glares at me. “They treat men like crap, my mother was one of them.” He drops the folder onto the chair and grabs his hair. “While my dad stayed home to make sure I was taken care of, all she cared about was her stupid career. Being a mayor wasn’t enough for her and she treated us like we were worth nothing to her.” He drops his hands at his sides. “No one knew who she really was behind closed doors. She was a monster. She hurt me. She hurt my dad, and not only emotionally. They say men are the abusive ones. They’re wrong. She... When the cancer finally got her, I was happy.”
