by Sharon Sala
“So we’ll all go with you at first. If we’re lucky, he’ll be cute,” Cin said.
Sophie frowned. “Seriously, Cinnamon, you need your head examined.”
Cin burst into laughter. “Then we’re in the right place.”
“I can’t believe I’m stuck in here with three women,” Wyatt muttered. He felt Ellie’s shock, and quickly added. “. . . with the exception of Ellie.”
Aaron Tyler had read Elizabeth Wayne’s file and was ready to begin therapy, but he liked to give patients a couple of days to settle in before he began. A part of him felt guilty that he was looking forward to meeting this patient. He’d never met a multiple before, although he’d certainly studied them. He’d requested the videos the police had confiscated, to understand what she had been enduring for the past eighteen years. It would be necessary in order for him to be able to help her heal. But when the tapes arrived, it didn’t take long for him to see that no amount of studying could have prepared him for this.
Viewing the abuse and degradation she had suffered from such an early age made him considerably empathetic. He was going to have to keep himself focused on the issues and not be swayed by the trauma of her life.
When the day of their first meeting arrived, Aaron kept a close eye on the time as he made rounds. He didn’t want to be late. Trust was imperative. He got back to the office, poured himself a fresh cup of coffee then set up a camera to video their sessions.
When she was finally escorted to his office, he was ready. Although he’d seen her file photo, it was immediately obvious it had not done her justice. Except for the fact she was too thin and her eyes seemed haunted, she was what society would have called a beautiful young woman. Classic features, long blonde hair so light it was almost white, blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears and a manner of deportment that he’d seen only in young women from the finest of finishing schools. Not what you’d expect with her history.
“Come in, Elizabeth. Have a seat. My name is Doctor Tyler. I have a note in your file that says you prefer to be called Ellie. Is that correct?”
“Ellie’s here but she doesn’t want to talk. I’m Wyatt.”
“So, Wyatt, have a seat and we’ll get started.”
Sophie tugged at Wyatt’s sleeve. “Wyatt, introduce me.”
Wyatt frowned. “Yeah, okay. Uh, Doctor Tyler, this is our nanny, Sophie Crawford, and I’ll tell you up front she’s hard of hearing.”
Sophie smiled and quickly shook Aaron’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My, my, I had no idea I’d ever have my own therapist. This is so exciting.”
Aaron was so interested watching a beautiful young girl go from the masculine mode to an older woman with rounded shoulders and a higher voice, he almost forgot to speak. “Um . . . nice to meet you, too.”
“Hey, don’t forget about me. I’m Cinnamon.” Cinnamon’s deep throaty laugh took Aaron aback. “Even though I’m really a good girl, you can call me Cin.”
“Nice to meet all of you,” Aaron said. “Shall we begin?”
But Sophie had gone into nanny mode and took it upon herself to organize Ellie’s seating arrangements. “Ellie isn’t well. She probably needs to lie down? Ellie, why don’t you lie down, dear? It will be more restful that way.”
“She’s fine,” Wyatt said. “We’ll take the chair.”
Aaron pointed to a brown, pillowback chair. “This chair will be fine. Have a seat . . . all of you.”
Wyatt sat and slid forward, his knees slightly apart, his hands folded over his belly.
Aaron made a note, then looked up and smiled.
“Are you going to write everything down?” Sophie asked.
Aaron frowned slightly. “Am I speaking to Sophie?”
“Well yes, who else would I be?” Sophie asked, and then clasped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
“Would it be alright with all of you if Ellie answered some of the questions?”
“You’ll have to ask Ellie,” Wyatt said.
“Ellie? Do you think you would be okay with answering questions?”
Aaron watched the defiant Wyatt turn into a trembling child with her hands over her ears. He thought she didn’t want to hear him until she spoke to him in a shaky voice. “You’ll have to speak louder. I have a hard time hearing over the baby’s cries.”
Aaron leaned forward. “You hear a baby crying?”
Ellie tilted her head a little to the side. “Can’t you hear it? I think it’s the ghost of the baby I killed.”
“Are you talking about the abortion?”
She nodded.
He hadn’t intended to get into this so quickly, but she’d opened the door. He felt it necessary to pursue the topic since it had been introduced. “Were you sad about doing that?”
She frowned. “No. When you get a splinter, you take it out. When you have a bad tooth, a dentist will pull it. Daddy left something in me that didn’t belong. The doctor just took it out.”
“You felt no attachment to it in any way?”
“No.”
“Did you ever think about having the baby and then giving it up for adoption?”
The moment Aaron asked, Ellie looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you? Make me understand.”
“It’s not safe to be a child.”
“Do you ever want to be a mother someday?”
“Never. I’m really tired of living. It would be easier to be dead.”
Aaron made a few notes about a suicide watch then looked up and caught Ellie whispering. “Who were you talking to?”
“She’s through talking today,” Wyatt said. “If you have questions, I’m answering.”
Aaron didn’t want to give them the impression that they were in charge of the session. “We’ll see where it takes us.”
“Whatever.”
“So, Wyatt, what’s your earliest memory?”
“That’s easy . . . listening to Ellie cry.”
“Cry? Do you know why she was crying?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Ellie nearly died when she was born. She was sick a lot the first three years of her life, then she started to get stronger.”
“So you remember being three?”
“I think younger. I remember crying when we didn’t know how to talk. Ellie cried all the time, and then she found me and didn’t cry so much anymore.”
“Can Ellie remember that far back?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her that, but not today. She’s still too sad to talk.”
“Why is she sad?”
Wyatt frowned. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t ask that question, because I’d like to think you’re smarter than that.”
Aaron made another note. Wyatt is smart and protective and doesn’t trust me.
“This is Cin and I know a reason Ellie’s sad.”
Wyatt jumped back in. “Damn it, Cinnamon, if Ellie wants her business told, she can do it.”
Cinnamon snapped back. “We’re here for Ellie and this man is a doctor. If anyone can put Ellie back together again, it would be him.”
Aaron pushed her to continue. “Tell me, Cin. What do you know?”
“When Ellie was twelve, her mother died. Everyone thought she committed suicide and Ellie felt abandoned and got real mad. You know how it goes . . . a mother would rather be dead than stay and take care of her kid and all that stuff. But then Garrett confessed to Wyatt on his deathbed that he’d killed his wife to keep her quiet after she found out about the abuse. Ellie is sad because for all those years she was mad at her momma.”
“That is very valuable information, Cin, and thank you for telling me.”
Cin glared at Wyatt. “You guys are all messed up because of secrets. If you want Ellie to get better, start talking.”
Aaron stifled a smile. He liked Cin. She was loud and proud. He turned to Wyatt. “Do you remember the first time Garrett molested you?”
“No. It was just what he did . . . how we lived . . . we didn’t know any different for years.”
Aaron remembered the early videos Garrett had made of Ellie. She couldn’t have been more than two. “Where was your mother when all that was happening?”
“Praying. Momma always prayed. She would go to bed and pray a lot back then.”
“Then who took care of you?”
“Daddy. She gave us to Daddy, went to bed with God, and look what happened.”
Chapter Twenty-One
One week later:
The patients at Mind and Body ate their meals in their rooms, but when it was free time—time to watch television, or play a game of chess or checkers, or just sit near a window in the sunshine, all the patients who were able came to the common room—a huge, wide-open space with windows that circled the room on three walls. There were dozens of large round tables with folding chairs, a bookshelf along the far wall with a few books, a stack of newspapers and some magazines.
Ellie had looked at them briefly, noted the newest newspaper was more than a month old and the magazines were from last year. The first book she opened was missing the first three pages. So much for entertainment.
But knowing this led to her realization of what the mind-set of the patients must be like. Either no one read, or if they did, they didn’t notice or care that what they were reading wasn’t current, or that they might have read it before.
Her first day in the common room she’d pulled a chair into the corner of the room and sat without moving, trying to assess what was and wasn’t done in here.
It was like when Sophie had first come to live with them and how hard Ellie had worked to learn the rules of polite society. Something told her that in here, knowing which fork to use and saying please and thank you wasn’t going to be as pertinent. Even more troubling to her, Sophie would be of no help in here.
Wyatt had taken one look at the group, said it was like living in a zoo and rarely came back. But Sophie went often and when she did, she liked to sit in the sun and read. Cinnamon was a regular and tuned in to her favorite soap opera when she could control the remote.
After the first two tries, Ellie wouldn’t go back. Some of the patients scared her as much, if not more, than Daddy. They’d get loud and shriek, or stand in a corner and pull strands of hair from their heads and put them in their pockets.
A young man, who she learned was schizophrenic, seemed fascinated with her hair and kept trying to brush or braid it. Ellie didn’t like to be touched any more than she liked the skinny woman with brown hair and gray roots who kept calling her Charlotte. Being among people like that made her think she was like them, and she wasn’t. She still didn’t know why the court had put all of them in here. This wasn’t a real jail and Wyatt was the one who shot Daddy.
Cinnamon was right in the middle of watching a scene in her favorite soap when someone tapped her on the shoulder. “What?” she asked, without turning around.
She got another tap on her shoulder.
Aggravation added to the tone of her voice. “What?”
And one more tap.
Cinnamon lost it. She got up and turned around, ready to berate whoever it was who was making her miss her show, and then forgot what she’d been going to say.
The man standing behind her chair was probably the tallest man she’d ever seen. Just guessing, she would have put him near seven feet. His hair was long and white with a beard to match but his face appeared ageless. His eyes were such a pale blue they appeared transparent, and with the white pants and shirt he was wearing, she didn’t know whether he was an employee or a patient.
“Uh . . .”
“I have come to speak with Ellie.”
Cinnamon blinked. “You want to talk to Ellie?”
He nodded.
“She doesn’t come in here. She doesn’t like it.”
“She needs to talk to me.”
Cinnamon threw her hands up in the air. “Look, no offense, mister, but if you’re one of the loonies then you’re not hearing my words. Ellie doesn’t come here. You people make her nervous.”
“Tell Ellie I’ll be waiting here again tomorrow.”
“Fine. I’ll pass along the message, but don’t blame me if she doesn’t show.”
“Tell her that I’m listening. She will come.”
“Okay. What’s your name?”
He walked away without an answer.
Cinnamon sat back down and then looked at the television and groaned. The show was over and she’d missed the big reveal of the day.
“Dang it.” She relinquished the remote and was on her way out when one of the doctors came hurrying toward her.
“Ellie, my name is Doctor Moira Ferris. I need to ask you a quick question.”
Cinnamon stopped. She’d seen her in the hall with Doctor Tyler before but didn’t remember her name. “I’m not Ellie, I’m Cinnamon.”
“Oh. Sorry. I wanted to ask you something about that man you were talking to.”
“You mean that old tall guy?”
“Yes. What did he say to you?”
“He wanted to talk to Ellie. I told him she doesn’t like coming here, but he kept pushing the issue, so I said I’d tell her. Between you and me, I don’t think she’ll come.”
“Did he say why he wanted to talk to her?”
“Nope. Just said for me to tell her he had been listening, whatever the heck that means, and that he’d be back in here tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Moira said, and then hurried away.
Cinnamon thought nothing of the moment and by the time she got to their room, had forgotten it.
Ellie was lying on the bed with her eyes closed, but Cinnamon knew she wasn’t asleep. She could see her eyelashes fluttering. “Hey Ellie, stop pretending you’re asleep and sit up.”
Ellie frowned, but pushed herself up to a sitting position. “What?”
“There was a man in the common room who asked you to come see him tomorrow.”
“What kind of a man?”
“A really tall man.”
“Was he a doctor?”
“No—maybe—I don’t know. He was dressed all in white, but didn’t have a name tag on his shirt.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to him.”
“That’s not fair. He wasn’t acting all weird or anything. I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought he would hurt you. He was just really big and quiet.”
Ellie frowned. “You know I don’t like to go to that room. What did you tell him?”
“I said I’d give you the message, that’s all.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. Are you going?”
“Why would I go?” Ellie asked.
Cin shrugged. “You’re not doing anything else. Why not?”
Ellie sighed. It was difficult to argue with her logic.
Cin added. “Oh, one other thing. He said to tell you he’s been listening.”
“Listening . . . listening to what? What does that mean?”
“You’ll have to ask him yourself.”
Ellie’s stomach rolled. She was tired of making decisions.
“I’ll think about it. Where’s Wyatt? He has an appointment with Dr. Tyler in ten minutes.”
Cin sat down beside Ellie. “Why don’t you go, too? Dr. Tyler is nice enough. He doesn’t get mad or ask stupid questions. He’s just trying to help all of us.”
Ellie frowned. “The only help I need is for God to let me die, but I’m not talking to Him anymore.”
Cin’s eyes filled with tears. “You make me so sad.”
“Why?”
“I know how to be happy. If I was out of here tomorrow I’d know what to do. I would be ecstatic just being alive.”
Ellie started to shake. “That’s not fair. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You want my life? I wish I could give it to you.”
“You still don’t get it,” Cin said. “One of these days I’m going to dis
appear. The doctor will integrate us and that will be that.”
Ellie frowned. “What do you mean, disappear and integrate what?”
“Ellie, Ellie, you know the answer. You just don’t want to face it.”
There was a knot in Ellie’s stomach as she rolled off the bed and started pacing back and forth in front of the window. “Stop talking in riddles. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cinnamon wanted to shake her. Ellie’s refusal was typical. If it was scary, pretend it didn’t exist.
“You would know what I was talking about if you’d show up for your therapy sessions instead of hiding in the corner like a coward and making one of us go in your place. We’re not real, Ellie. We’re people you made up in your mind to compensate for a lack of stability in your real life.”
Bile rose in the back of Ellie’s throat as she backed into a corner. “You lie,” she whispered.
“No, honey, I don’t. Remember when I told you that I knew I wouldn’t live long . . . that I wouldn’t grow old? That’s because I knew one day you’d have to let us go. Doctor Tyler calls it integrating. He means we all go back into you, but we’ll take each of our strengths with us, and when we’re all together you’ll be strong enough to face the world on your own.”
Ellie started to sob. “You lie, you lie. Sophie is real. And Wyatt is my twin. We’ve been together forever. He’s the other half of my soul. I can’t live in the world without Wyatt.”
“Then you better start liking this place, because as long as you keep talking to people who aren’t real, they’ll never let you leave.”
“Get out!” Ellie screamed. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” She threw herself back down on the bed and pulled the pillow over her head.
Cinnamon left, but what she’d said stayed behind. Ellie was horrified and saddened and scared—so scared. How could any of that be true? As little children, she and Wyatt had slept together—played together—shared meals and gone to school together. She refused to consider anything Cinnamon had said as true. She was just jealous because she wasn’t real family.
Her anxiety increased as she glanced at the clock. The aide would be here any minute to take Wyatt to therapy and he was nowhere to be seen. If he didn’t show up, Dr. Tyler would be unhappy and the repercussions would probably roll over onto all of them.
