Flutter

by Olivia Evans

  “What’s so great about it?”

  Joel smiled. “First, they have the best facilities in the state. Hell, possibly the country. It’s a private hospital, but Dr. Edmonds is on the board, so we’re able to work under his affiliation. It’s really exclusive. Lots of celebrities have checked in there for one reason or another, but it's not a hideout for rich people to go through rehab. It’s for people with serious issues who want complete anonymity.”

  “And it's called The Hilltop Institute?”

  Joel nodded. “Hilltop for short.”

  Dylan shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “That’s not surprising. If you’re looking to pick up some extra hours, you should mention to Dr. Edmonds that you’re interested. I’ll be honest, you’re nothing more than a glorified nurse over there. You don’t treat patients, but it’s still totally worth it. Some of the cases there will really push the boundaries of your thinking.”

  Dylan looked at his watch and stood. “Well, right now, I better worry about the job I have. I’m going to make rounds.”

  “Are we still on for drinks tomorrow night?” Joel asked.

  Dylan shook his head in disbelief. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  Joel shrugged. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow night. You can tell me more about Hilltop.”

  “You got it.”

  As Dylan made his rounds that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with Joel. He didn’t need the money, but after busting his ass through school with overloaded schedules, endless hours of studying, and his internship, he found he had more free time on his hands than he’d had in years. It gave him too much time to think. Maybe picking up hours at a place with more challenging patients would help him finally put the past behind him.

  Chapter Two

  Loud voices echoed around the room as groups of rowdy patrons watched a baseball game playing on wall-mounted televisions inside the crowded bar. In a booth toward the back, Dylan took a sip of his beer. Jenny sat to his left, laughing with Joel, who sat across from them, Amy by his side.

  “So how did it go with Dr. Edmonds?” Amy asked, causing Joel and Jenny to turn their attention to Dylan.

  Dylan exhaled. It had taken him a month to work his way on to the rotation at Hilltop. Dr. Edmonds had been hesitant to add the additional hours and stress on to Dylan’s schedule, but like most goals with Dylan, once he put his mind to something, he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.

  “I’m meeting him there the day after tomorrow.”

  Jenny smiled. “I knew you’d make it work. If this joker can do it,” she said, hooking her thumb at Joel with a wink, “anyone can.”

  “Why do I invite you to our weekly get-together again?” Joel asked, his tone playful.

  “You don’t,” she sassed. “Dylan does.”

  Dylan shrugged when Joel looked at him with narrowed eyes, a half smile on his face. “If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have found that amazing sushi bar. That in itself is reason enough to invite her every week.”

  Jenny smiled, and her dark eyes sparked with something akin to hope. Dylan knew that look. He’d seen it in the eyes of the girls he’d attempted to date in college. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never return their affections. Maybe it was because he never got closure with Presley. Or maybe it was because, no matter how much his family and friends tried to convince him, there really wasn’t anyone else for him but her.

  “Where’d you go?” Jenny asked, her eyes now brimming with concern.

  Dylan wrapped his long fingers around his beer while scratching at the stubble growing along the sharp angle of his jaw. “I’m just tired.”

  “Well, it’s only going to get worse from here on out,” Joel cut in, oblivious to Dylan’s internal battle.

  “Nah,” Dylan answered. “I’m not going to overload myself quite like you have. I still can’t believe you come out to drink with us instead of crashing the moment you leave the hospital.”

  “And miss all the fun?” Joel asked, bumping his shoulder against Amy’s. “Not a chance.”

  Dylan looked at his watch and sighed. “I’m going to get out of here. Even if I don’t plan on working Joel’s crazy schedule, I’m still about to have a dent put in my sleep. I’m going to get as much as possible while I can.”

  Jenny frowned. “Same time next week?”

  Dylan knew he needed to be careful about his interactions with Jenny; he didn’t want to give her the wrong idea. The truth was, he enjoyed hanging out with her. More so than anyone else in a very long time. It made him wonder if there was hope for him, after all. With that thought, he nodded.

  “Of course.”

  Later that night, Dylan stood in front of his bathroom sink, a towel wrapped around his waist as he wiped the fog from the mirror. He studied his face, the lines that creased the skin around his blue-gray eyes and the shadows underneath that never seemed to fade. His eyes dropped lower, and his hand lifted of its own accord to trace the wing of the butterfly tattooed over his heart. The red ink curved and twisted to form a beautiful wing on one side, while the other was nothing but sharp, broken lines, the decayed black wing dripping with ink. It was the perfect tribute to Presley. She used to say he made her flutter. He regretted never telling her she did the same to him. When she left, she took that feeling with her.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut. “One foot in front of the other.” Climbing into bed, he pushed thoughts of the past to the back of his mind and instead focused on what the future held. He focused on the opportunity he’d been given to work at Hilltop.

  Dylan’s eyes widened as he pulled through the gate and drove the long, winding path to Hilltop. He turned into the employee parking lot and shut the car off, his body frozen as he looked at the building in front of him. He’d never seen a hospital like it. Stone and brick covered the imposing structure, and delicate wrought-iron light fixtures adorned either side of the massive arched wooden entrance doors. With a deep breath, he stepped out of the car. His gaze swept over the manicured lawns dotted with colorful flower beds and tall trees that rolled out into the distance as he pulled open the front door.

  Soft music filtered through the speakers as Dylan nodded to the guard before making his way across the honey-colored hardwood floors to the reception desk of The Hilltop Institute. Large canvases painted with abstract swirls of bright colors decorated the walls. Everything about the place was warm and inviting, expensive. It looked more like an art gallery than a psychiatric hospital. He understood why the other residents at Grace were falling over themselves for a chance to work here.

  “Good morning,” Dr. Edmonds greeted as he sipped his coffee.

  “Or evening, depending on how you look at it,” Dylan joked, having just finished his shift at Grace. He would have preferred to go home and catch a couple of hours sleep before touring Hilltop, but Dr. Edmonds was only there in the morning, so he didn’t have much choice.

  Dr. Edmonds smiled. “Don’t worry, this won’t take too long. I’ll show you around, introduce you to some of the staff, and give you your ID badge. Then you can go home and rest.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course you will.” Dr. Edmonds shook his head. “I must admit, I’ve only had a few residents in all my years here who have pushed themselves as hard as you, for no other reason than sheer determination. I can’t help but wonder why that is.”

  Dylan fell into step with Dr. Edmonds as they walked toward the first set of doors. He licked his lips and averted his gaze. He wasn’t sure he liked the direction of the conversation. “What do you mean?” he asked as Dr. Edmonds swiped his badge across the security panel. The light flashed green, and a second later a buzzer sounded as the door locks disengaged.

  “You’re not doing this out of necessity. Dr. Burton is a friend of mine as well, you know?”

  Dr. Burton. Dylan’s grandmother’s
doctor friend who’d referred Dylan to Grace and Dr. Edmonds. Dylan was now certain he didn’t like the direction of the conversation. He cleared his throat. “I assumed you two must have known each other in some capacity for him to refer me to you.”

  Dr. Edmonds nodded. “Yes. We’re old friends. I’ve also met your grandmother, Ann, a time or two. Very smart lady. Full of spunk too,” he chuckled.

  Dylan cracked a smile. “That she is.”

  “My point is,” Dr. Edmonds said, not straying from his line of questioning. “I’m aware that your family is quite wealthy. So, whereas the other residents are driven by money to work such brutal hours, I would bet that’s not the case with you. Now, I could be wrong, of course. But in my professional opinion,” he added with a quirk of his lips, “your desire to push yourself so hard comes from another place entirely. As your mentor, I should know what that is.”

  For a moment, Dylan didn’t speak. He weighed his options about just how much he should reveal before releasing a heavy breath and looking Dr. Edmonds in the eye. “Why did you become a psychiatrist?”

  Dylan watched as understanding colored Dr. Edmonds’s face, and a sad smile caused the lines around his mouth to deepen. It was a common theory that most doctors became psychiatrists to deal with their own issues. For Dylan and, it seemed, Dr. Edmonds as well, that theory was more of a reality.

  “We all have our reasons, I suppose,” Dr. Edmonds conceded. “I just need to know that yours aren’t going to jeopardize the treatment of a patient.”

  Dylan straightened his shoulders, the motion making his lean, runner’s body seem wider, more imposing. “I only want to help. I want to help people see their worth, understand that they have options.”

  “Apart from what?”

  Dylan’s neutral expression masked the turmoil swirling inside his chest as he released the answer in a choked exhale. “Death.”

  The two men stared at each other for a moment before Dr. Edmonds nodded and started back down the hall. Dylan followed, and when Dr. Edmonds spoke again, it was about security cards and patient charts. The conversation was over, but the weight of it sat heavily on Dylan’s shoulders as they walked the halls.

  “This is the lounge,” Dr. Edmonds said as he pushed open another set of security doors.

  Dylan looked around the room, his eyes wide. “Joel wasn’t kidding when he said this place was high-end.” Everything looked top-of-the-line, from the dark wooden game tables and large flat-panel televisions, to the window seats covered in plush red pillows that ran the length of the room.

  “Some of the people here are long-term patients. Their loved ones deserve to have them treated well. Above everything, we want to foster an environment that is calming and warm. Safe.”

  Dylan nodded, his eyes landing on a boy who looked around thirteen. He sat cross-legged on a fluffy rug, his shoulders slumped and head bent over a book resting in his lap.

  “That’s Cody,” Dr. Edmonds said with a smile. “Cody is my favorite of the three.”

  Dylan turned to Dr. Edmonds, his brows pulled together. “Three what?”

  “Personalities. Right now, he’s Cody, the host. A sweet thirteen-year-old boy who loves to read. On other days, he might be Maverick or Zach. You’ll need to keep an eye out for Zach when you work the night shift. He’s a bit of a troublemaker.”

  Dylan blinked and nodded, his head spinning a bit. “How long has he been here?”

  Dr. Edmonds’s smile slipped. “Three years. Because of that, developmentally, he’s more childlike than what you would expect in a boy his age. In some ways, he’s still the same ten-year-old boy I met when he first arrived.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “There was an incident with his—”

  “Dr. Edmonds?”

  Both Dylan and Dr. Edmonds turned toward the voice behind them. A woman no more than five feet tall with long brown hair stood with her hands clasped in front of her. Her brown eyes were abnormally large for her face, a stark contrast to the way her bright pink scrubs swallowed her frame. “Yes, Katherine?”

  “You have a call from Grace. They tried your cell, but it went to voice mail.”

  Dr. Edmonds pulled out his phone and sighed when he noticed the screen was black. “It’s dead.” He looked from Dylan to the door. “Dylan, do you mind hanging out here for a bit? I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

  Dylan waved him off. “No problem. Is it okay if I look around a little?”

  “Sure. You’ll be restricted to this room since I don’t have your security card with me. I’ll grab it from my office while I’m out.” He nodded in Cody’s direction. “He loves when people read to him. You’re welcome to do so if you like.”

  “Sounds great,” Dylan answered with a smile. “Take your time.”

  He watched Dr. Edmonds and Katherine disappear through the doors before turning to Cody. Taking slow, measured steps, he stopped about a foot away from the round, white and red rug Cody sat in the middle of. Easing himself down to the floor, Dylan mirrored Cody’s position and waited for him to look up. When he didn’t, Dylan cleared his throat. He was more nervous than he expected. He wasn’t sure if it was the newness of the place or the age of the kid, but the last thing he wanted to do was cause the child distress. After a beat, Cody lifted his head. Dirty-blond hair fell over his forehead, his velvet-blue eyes dark yet full of an innocence only a child could possess. He even looked like a ten-year-old.

  “Hello,” Dylan said, his voice low and soft. “My name is Dr. Walker. You’re Cody?”

  Cody nodded, the pale skin of his full cheeks stained with color. Dylan tilted his chin to the book in Cody’s lap. “What are you reading?”

  Cody smiled, his reddened cheeks a stark contrast to his dark blue eyes alight with excitement. He lifted the book and flipped the cover so Dylan could see. A confused smile lifted the corners on Dylan’s mouth, his dimple deepening as a small chuckle slipped past his lips. “Elvis for kids?”

  Cody nodded, his smile widening. “Elvis is one of the greatest musicians of all time.”

  “He is, indeed,” Dylan agreed. “Would it be okay if I read to you for a while? I’d like to learn a little more about The King myself.”

  Cody hesitated before shyly passing the book to Dylan and moving over so he could join him on the rug. Dylan took his cue and moved beside Cody, the book now in his lap. He opened to the dog-eared page and began to read. For several minutes, the melodic tone of Dylan’s voice was the only sound in the room. Cody leaned closer and rested his head against Dylan’s arm, his relaxed posture making warmth spread through Dylan’s chest.

  Cody started to hum, the vibration seeping into Dylan’s skin. The moment he recognized the melody, his heart dropped and his words faded to silence. Cody continued to hum, the familiar notes of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” pulling Dylan into the darkest depths of his memories. “You know his music too?” Dylan asked, his voice cracking.

  “Presley hums it a lot. I picked it up from her.”

  Dylan’s vision swam as an explosion of emotions erupted through him. He blinked and tried to regain his focus. He knew Cody wasn’t talking about his Presley. His Presley was dead. The reminder caused the room to spin, and Dylan had to place his hands on either side of his body to keep from tipping over.

  “Oh?” Dylan exhaled, his chest on fire. “Who’s Presley?”

  Cody tilted his head to the side and studied Dylan. He seemed to be searching for something, but Dylan didn’t have time to consider what. As if in slow motion, Dylan followed Cody’s movements as the boy raised his arm and pointed to a spot across the room.

  The world stopped. There was no light, no dark, no sound. Bile burned Dylan’s throat as he blinked over and over and over again. Adrenaline surged through his veins until he felt as though his heart might burst. Everything was too much, yet there was nothing. It couldn’t be. He was hallucinating.

  “Presley?” he whispered, his tongue thick as his body swayed, weight
less and weighted. He was feathers and iron.

  “Are you okay, Dr. Walker?” Cody asked, but his voice was underwater, garbled.

  Dylan twisted his body and stood on shaky legs. He shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, but it just didn’t make sense. It wasn’t possible. All his years of school and training were for nothing. His mind had finally broken.

  He stumbled forward until he stood in front of the girl who had stolen the face of his dead girlfriend. The girl he’d loved more than anything in the world. The girl who had taken his soul with her when she’d finally succeeded in taking her life two years earlier. He fell to his knees and tried to remember how to breathe. The girl had short blond hair. It was cut in a sharp line that just met her chin. It was nothing like his Presley’s long, flowing strands.

  “Presley?” His voice broke, and he felt ridiculous for even considering that this girl could be his girl. He gritted his teeth and balled his fists. He was going to ruin his career before it even started. He swallowed hard and pushed off the floor. He stared at her a moment longer before turning to leave. Then she spoke, and the world drowned.

  “Don’t cry, Dylan.”

  His body stiffened, and goose bumps broke out over every inch of his skin. Tears blurred his vision, and the lump in his throat grew so large he was certain it would suffocate him. Slowly, he turned to face her. He expected her to be looking at him, but she wasn’t. Her eyes were downcast, focused on a ratty blue blanket cradled in her arms. He opened his mouth to speak when her voice pierced the air once more.

  “Shh,” she cooed. “Don’t cry, my beautiful boy. Mommy loves you.”

  “Presley?” Dylan said again. He wondered if this was what purgatory felt like. Trapped in a place that was neither heaven nor hell. Floating in the misery of what could have been. He didn’t expect her to look up, didn’t expect her to acknowledge him. When she did, he immediately wished she hadn’t.