by Olivia Evans
Dylan knew he didn’t have forever, but the thought of pushing more after only four days terrified him. Instead of answering, Dylan deflected. “You told Dr. Edmonds you’d talk to me. He wants to meet with me next week about your progress. I have to tell him something.”
Zach smirked and shook his head. “In time, Dr. Walker. In time.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dylan’s heart pounded as he worked his way around the lounge to Presley. She didn’t look well. In fact, she looked the worst he’d ever seen. After his talk with Zach, he’d buried himself in reports of withdrawals and side effects and medications that heightened or dulled another medication’s effect. He’d discovered that Presley’s daily doses of Fluoxetine heightened the effects of the Haloperidol. If he wanted to peel back the layers of medication that blanketed her mind, he’d have to remove them both. Which he’d done three days earlier. For the first seven days, he’d reduced her morning dose of Haloperidol, but since then, he’d removed it completely along with the Fluoxetine. The problem was, the withdrawal symptoms from Fluoxetine were much more noticeable. Presley looked as though she was going to vomit at any moment. He couldn’t help but worry he’d pushed her too hard.
Just as he turned to give Heather her medication, he felt a hand grip the back of his jacket. His body jerked as he lowered the tray to the floor without knocking over any of the cups.
“I’m sick,” Presley mumbled, her weight falling into him.
Dylan’s knees buckled as he spun to catch Presley before she collapsed. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her upright, struggling to keep his panic at bay. He didn’t need to take her temperature to know she was burning up.
“What’s wrong?” Katherine fretted, her eyes wide as she rushed to his side.
Dylan shook his head, his heart lodging in his throat when he noticed the blanket lying carelessly on the floor in front of Presley’s rocking chair. He’d never seen her without it. “She’s going to vomit. I need to get her to the bathroom.” Without another word, Dylan whisked Presley out of the lounge and to her room. Rushing into her tiny bathroom, he placed her in front of the toilet and stumbled to the wall across from her. The space was small, and when she started to heave, the sound echoed around the room. Seconds later, her legs folded under her as she fell to the floor and hugged the toilet.
Wetting a washcloth, Dylan took tentative steps toward her and pressed it to her forehead as he whispered words of comfort. Presley’s heaves slowly transformed to sobs, her body shaking with each gasping breath. “Something’s wrong! I need to see Dr. Sanders.”
“No, Presley,” Dylan whispered, his voice laced with pain. “You don’t need to see Dr. Sanders.”
Presley froze, her eyes filled with panic. She pushed away from the toilet, her back pressed flat against the wall, the color draining from her face. “No,” she croaked, drawing her knees to her chest. “Please, God, no.”
“Presley,” Dylan pleaded, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Please, Presley, you’ve got to talk to me.”
“Stay away from me,” she screamed. “This isn’t real! You aren’t real! None of this is real!” Her fingers twisted in her hair as she folded into herself. “Make it stop, make it stop, oh my God, please make it stop.”
Dylan’s eyes darted around the bathroom. He suddenly felt like he was in some sick reenactment of six years earlier when he’d found himself on a bathroom floor with Presley. He froze as he realized he might not be the only one remembering that day.
“Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his fists. He had to calm her. If they called Dr. Sanders, everything was over. Pulling a couple of Xanax from his pocket, he stood and moved to the sink. Crushing the pills the best he could, he dropped them into a cup on the sink and filled it with water.
“Drink this,” he instructed, thrusting the cup at Presley.
“No! Get away from me.”
Gritting his teeth, Dylan spoke once more, his voice hard and demanding. “Dr. Sanders wants you to drink this. It will make everything stop.”
Blindly, Presley reached for the cup and gulped the contents in one swallow. The ease with which she accepted the escape from reality made Dylan’s chest ache. He hated that he’d caused her pain, but the alternative was to leave her there forever, and that wasn’t an option at all.
After several intense moments, her breathing began to slow and her posture relaxed. With careful steps, Dylan moved forward and scooped Presley into his arms. She wasn’t asleep, but she wasn’t completely lucid either. He carried her to the bed and gently pulled the sheets around her. Moving a chair to her bedside, he sat down and cradled her hand between his.
Her head lolled to the side, her eyes fluttering before settling on a half-opened daze. Pressing his lips to her hand, he leaned forward. “I know you’re scared,” he whispered. “But I need you to come back to me. I need you to trust me. This isn’t the life you’re supposed to have, baby. This isn’t the life we’re supposed to have.” Overcome with emotion, Dylan traced the curve of her jaw with the tip of his finger. “I can’t do this alone. I need you with me. It’s going to hurt, but you’ve got to remember. This isn’t how it ends for us, Elvis.”
A small gasp passed through Presley’s lips, and her fingers tightened around Dylan’s hand before going limp. When he looked at her face, her eyes had drifted shut. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he let her hand fall to the bed as he stood and took a step away. He’d been so stupid. To believe her memories would return as quietly as her withdrawals, just little by little, had been a fool’s dream.
Her memories were violent and heartbreaking. She’d been abandoned and broken by everyone she loved, including Dylan. He couldn’t do this alone, but aside from a thirteen-year-old boy suffering from dissociative identity disorder who’d murdered his own mother, what options did he have?
“Is she okay?”
Dylan spun toward the door, startled. “Yes,” he answered, his voice hollow as he tried to smile at Katherine. “I’m fairly certain she has the flu.”
“She has her weekly session with Dr. Sanders at one. Should I send for him?”
Dylan shook his head and tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “No. I’ll speak with him. We should let her rest. I’ll keep an eye on her for the rest of my shift and let Milly know if there are any changes before I leave for the day.”
Katherine’s eyes narrowed with concern even as she nodded. “You’ll let me know if she needs anything?”
“Of course,” Dylan nodded.
With a final glance at Presley and a promise to return soon, Dylan moved down the hall to speak with Dr. Sanders. As expected, he wasn’t very keen on taking Dylan’s advice at face value, but after a couple of well-placed coughs and an admission that he too felt as though he might be coming down with something, Dr. Sanders relented.
For Dylan, it didn’t feel like much of a victory. Presley was going to get worse before she got better. He couldn’t help but wonder how long he could realistically keep Dr. Sanders at bay. The weight of the world lay on his shoulders as he walked back into the lounge. Moving next to Cody, Dylan dropped to the floor and sighed.
“She’s sick,” Cody said, his voice low.
Dylan nodded. “She’s sick.”
“Will she get better?”
“Yeah. Eventually.” Dylan rubbed his hand across his face and tried to pull his mind away from the memory of the incident in the bathroom, both the one from earlier and six years ago. The realization that he was going to see her break over and over again as she came to terms with the past made Dylan want to find the nearest bar to drink himself into oblivion.
“You can’t puss out now.”
Dylan jerked in surprise as he looked at Zach. “I’m not.”
“You better not. I like you. If that changes, it won’t work out well for you.”
A chill ran up Dylan’s spine at the same time as his eyes narrowed. “You going to murder me too?”
Zach laughed and shook his head. “You don’t know shit about what happened.”
“Then why don’t you tell me? That’s why I’m here, right? You want to tell me, and I want to know.”
Zach pressed his lips together, his expression mirroring that of his thirteen-year-old counterpart instead of his twenty years. “We’re not to that part yet.”
Dylan shook his head and let out a condescending laugh. “I think we are. I only have a couple more days before Dr. Edmonds grills me about you. If I can’t tell him anything, then all of this was for nothing.” A sudden feeling of pain mixed with rage washed over Dylan, and he had to ball his fists to keep his body from reacting further. “This will not be for nothing. Tell me something, Zach!”
Several moments of intense silence passed before Zach turned to Dylan and pulled in a sharp breath. Dylan expected defiance; he expected anger and resistance from the defensive expression Zach wore. Instead, Zach’s face fell and his eyes softened. For a moment, Dylan could have sworn he was Cody until he spoke. “I loved my mother more than anything.” In the blink of an eye, Zach was gone, and Dylan was left reeling.
“I can’t tell you anything else, Grandmother,” Dylan sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.
“Hogwash,” she snapped. “I want to know about this child helping you. How do you know you can trust him? This is Presley we’re talking about. I want her back as much as you do. I will not put her fate in the hands of some adolescent psychopath!”
While there wasn’t anything funny about the situation, Dylan couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t one born of humor or joy, but from weeks of stress, sadness, and fear. “I think there is more to his story than any of us knows. Besides, without him, I wouldn’t have her file or medications or anything that I’ve acquired to help her.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I know you don’t. Some days, I don’t either. But I trust him. I want to help him just like he’s helping Presley.”
“You can’t save everyone.”
“I know that,” Dylan said. “But surely I can manage two.”
A resigned sigh echoed through the line. “I miss you. I feel selfish for saying that because you’re off saving the world while I sit in my house with my plants, but I miss you nonetheless.”
An ache bloomed in Dylan’s chest at the sadness in his grandmother’s voice. “Maybe you should come for a visit. I can bring you to Hilltop, and you can see Presley. You could meet Cody, Maverick, and Zach. Who knows, it might do us all some good.”
“Could I really see her?” she asked, her voice brightening.
Dylan pulled in a deep breath. “Yeah. You can see her. I’ll bring you with me to read to the kids. No one will suspect anything.”
“Thank you, Dylan. I need to get away from here. I need to see the both of you. I’ll be in touch soon. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Dylan murmured as the line went silent. He wasn’t sure how a visit between Presley and his grandmother would go, but he wasn’t sure about anything these days. Maybe it would be the best thing that could happen.
The next morning, as Dylan walked toward the lounge, he heard what sounded like a chorus of screams. Panicked, he swiped his card and ran into the room, freezing as he took in the scene around him. Screams echoed around the room as patients thrashed on the floor, slammed their heads against tables, and rocked in their chairs. The orderlies moved from patient to patient, doing their best to control the situation no matter how futile it seemed.
“What’s going on?” Dylan yelled, his voice barely breaking through the noise.
“Bats in a tree! Bats in a tree!” Heather screeched, grabbing the back of Dylan's coat in her fist.
“Jesus,” he exhaled, pulling himself free. “Katherine, what’s going on?”
Katherine looked at him wide-eyed as she pointed in Cody’s direction. “He’s having a complete meltdown.”
Dylan looked at Cody as he flailed on the floor, immediately realizing that it was Zach. Beside him, Presley sobbed. Without thinking, Dylan rushed forward, his eyes darting between the two of them. When he reached them, Zach grabbed the front of Dylan’s coat and yanked him forward. “Get her out of here,” he hissed. “She’s remembering.”
Dylan froze, his body stone-still as he began to understand the scene unfolding in front of him. He gripped Zach’s hand and shook his head. “I can’t let you do this.” As much as he wanted to save Presley, as much as he appreciated Cody’s and Zach’s help, he couldn’t continue to allow them to sacrifice themselves.
“I wasn’t asking,” Zach hissed. In the blink of an eye, the room blurred and spun before Dylan felt warm blood trickle from his nose. The orderlies rushed around him, hauling Zach away before Dylan realized what happened.
Zach had hit him.
The next thing Dylan noticed was that Presley was no longer crying. As a matter of fact, she was directly in his face, whispering words he had yet to understand. Using the sleeve of his coat, Dylan pressed it to his nose to stop the bleeding as he blinked to bring Presley into focus.
“Dr. Walker,” she gasped, her trembling hands dancing around his face. “Are you okay? Oh my God, I can’t believe he hit you!”
Dylan blinked again and grabbed her shaking hands. Lowering them to her lap, he shook his head. “Are you okay?”
She let out a manic laugh and shook her head. “I’m so far from okay I can hardly breathe.”
“Let’s get you out of here.” Dylan moved to stand as a haggard Katherine approached.
“Dr. Walker, I’m so sorry. Presley started screaming and crying, and the next thing we knew, Cody had thrown himself to the floor and started thrashing around. We didn’t know what to do.” Katherine looked at Presley and shook her head. “We need to get her to Dr. Sanders, and you need to get that nose looked at.”
“No,” Presley screamed, her arms flying around Dylan and clutching him like a lifeline. “Please. Please don’t leave me.”
Dylan looked from Katherine to Presley, his eyes wide. He swallowed hard and gave a slight nod in Presley’s direction before turning his gaze to Katherine. “It’s okay. I’m going to take Presley to her room. I’ll have my nose looked at soon enough. I know a doctor,” he added, his tone light as he tried to lift the tension in the room.
“If you’re sure,” Katherine said, her face wrought with skepticism.
Dylan nodded and lifted Presley from the floor. “Will you please let me know what happens with Cody? His medication has been changed recently. His outburst might have been beyond his control.”
Katherine moved to the side as Dylan walked out of the room with Presley. As soon as they were out of earshot, he leaned to her ear and whispered, “What really happened back there?”
Presley’s body began to shake as she tightened her grip. When she looked at him, it was like looking at the terrified eighteen-year-old girl who told him she was pregnant.
“I remember you,” she choked just before her eyes rolled back and her body began to seize.
Chapter Fifteen
Presley
March 2011
“I got my letter,” Dylan said, his lips upturned in a nervous smile as he shuffled his feet in front of the school.
Presley laughed. “Why do you look so nervous? Do you really believe for one second that you’re not getting in?”
Dylan rolled his eyes and threw his arm over her shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m more concerned for you, if I’m being honest.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” Presley warned, but her smile let him know that she wasn’t bothered by his teasing.
He leaned into her and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry.”
Presley hummed. “You can make it up to me later.”
Dylan leered at her as he slid his hand from her shoulder to her waist, flexing his fingers into her hip. “I should insult you more often.”
Presley rolled her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. “Do you want to come over t
onight? We can open them together.”
“Sure. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t offer you moral support through this time of uncertainty?”
“Keep on making fun of me. All the dirty ways you’re thinking about apologizing are becoming more fantasy and less reality.”
“I never said anything about doing dirty things. I was thinking more along the lines of flowers and chocolates. Who knew you had such a one-track mind?”
“I blame you entirely,” Presley laughed, swatting his stomach, her steps faltering when a wave of dizziness hit her.
“Whoa there,” Dylan said, tightening his grip. “What did you get into before school this morning?”
Presley shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just a little light-headed. I overslept and had to skip breakfast.”
“Well, come on. We have a few minutes. Let’s run by the dining hall and grab you something to eat.” Presley nodded and stayed pressed against his side as they walked into the school.
Throughout the day, a feeling of unease rested heavily on her shoulders. While she’d been truthful about skipping breakfast, there was more to it. She’d felt off for nearly a week. When she had to race to the bathroom to vomit halfway through first period, a terrifying possibility began to take shape in her mind.
As soon as she walked into her house after school, she darted to her room. With shaking hands, she flipped through the pages of her calendar. Once, twice, three times she counted the days. She blinked through her tears and counted again. And again. No matter how much she wanted the number to be different, it never changed. She was late. Very late.
Her breaths were short and choppy as she eased to the floor. She closed her eyes and fought to control her breathing. If she didn’t calm down, she was going to have a full-blown panic attack. After several deep breaths, she looked around her room. Books were scattered across her desk, clothes on the floor, makeup on her vanity, and a stuffed bear in the chair. She was wrong. She was being ridiculous. There was no way she was pregnant. She was only eighteen. She and Dylan were careful. Always.
