She must have heard what I’d said. I’d been stupid to think it would be safe to talk about the allegations in the Sleep Room.
What else had they heard during my conversations with Cameron? Was he the person recording me? No, he’d looked so worried when they’d burst in. His face proved that I should be more careful what I said about the MMC.
‘I just heard that the Wristcuffs were made to control people.’ Control was a harsh word, but I was so nervous I couldn’t think of a better explanation.
Her laugh unsettled me. ‘That is a rumour I have heard before. No doubt it was fed to you by a fellow Dreamer. I understand it’s hard for Dreamers to comprehend the benefits of the Wristcuff, as they haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing any of them. As you are well aware, I’m sure for reasons we can’t yet explain, your minds are not as evolved as the rest of the population’s. I understand this may sound harsh, but how could you possibly pass judgement on a product that you are not evolved enough to understand?’
Her condescending language made the good feelings I’d had about being a Dreamer fade. The negative thoughts and low self-esteem I’d carried only days before began to resurface.
‘But don’t fear, Miss Bailey, we have a very skilled and professional team working on a way to fix the problems we face with unevolved minds like your own. I’m sure it won’t be long until they find a way for the Wristcuff to work for you as well. Then you’ll be taking the next step in human evolution with the rest of your friends and family.’
Anger gripped my throat at her using my last name to belittle me. Calling me ‘unevolved’, as though I wasn’t as smart as others who the Wristcuff worked on. Maybe they were unevolved, and that was why their dreams gave in to the power of the Wristcuff and the MMC. How many others had discovered the truth only to be made to feel small by this woman dressed in her smart clothes, with her clever words? Braver as my resentment grew, I stood to my feet to look down at Dr. Muller. She also rose to her feet and met my gaze. Her eyes burnt into mine, stopping the words from pouring out of my mouth. Liar! I wanted to yell at her. You are the unevolved one! Not a sound came out.
‘I see you have a rebellious side, Miss Bailey, but not to worry. That’s something we can deal with and have experienced before. You are not of sound mind at this present moment, and you need rest in our Psychiatric Ward until you can understand things more clearly.’
With that, she called in the two men who had apparently been stationed outside the door. They took my arms in a painful grip, and panic rose up into my chest and throat.
‘Don’t worry, Amelia. We’ll have you fixed in no time.’ She smiled with distorted sympathy, and the men dragged me out of the room and along the hallway. My knees hit the floor as I collapsed, and they adjusted their grasp as they were then carrying most of my body weight. I was numb, unable to process what was happening.
We turned a corner, and a small sign on the wall read ‘Women’s Wing’. The thought of struggling or trying to break free left my mind as fast as it appeared. There was no way I could outmuscle the security guards, and if I managed to escape them, I would never find my way out of the labyrinth that was Floor Ten. Instead I found my feet and let them lead me calmly through a doorway. They scanned my wrist and led me along a hallway lined with doors with windows until we arrived at a room with the number “24” written in large black numbers on its door. Opening it, they pushed me cautiously through the doorway.
‘Your things will be brought up shortly,’ said one of the men, and he closed the door as he left.
The room was small, only two-thirds of the size of my own room. It had a single bed wedged in the back left-hand corner, with a tiny timber side table and a desk pushed into the corner on the right. The only window was the square one in the door. The walls were a dreary cream colour, but the bed sheets were a crisp and clean white with a thin navy blue blanket neatly resting on top. It wasn’t as strong in there, but the sterile hospital smell still lingered in the air. Despite being locked in against my own free will, it was a clean but petite room, similar to that of a cheap motel.
Not wanting to settle in just yet, I walked towards the door and peered out the window. Across the hall, a face stared at me from another window. She was familiar, and focusing on her features, I remembered where I’d seen the face before. She was the ranting lady who had burst into my Sleep Room, yelling at us to not let them ‘take away our dreams’.
Maybe I should have done something to help her that night?
She caught my stare, and as I gave her a sympathetic smile, she gave me a little wave before turning away from her window. She must have only been in her early twenties. Her features soft and fragile, she’d looked tougher the night she came shouting through the halls of the Sleep Ward.
Straining, I tried to see further along the hallway. All I could see was one more door on either side of the ranting lady’s. They were identical apart from the numbers ’21’, ‘23’ and ‘25’ painted on them in black.
Defeated, I lay in the bed and stared at the bland white ceiling. The whole situation felt so surreal, as the reality of my situation hadn’t begun to sink in yet. Maybe I was in one of my nightmares and soon enough I would wake up and Dawn would help me decipher its meaning. But the arrival of a small-statured lady with my backpack made me realise that I wasn’t in a crazy dream I was going to wake up from.
It dawned on me that I would have to do something if I was to escape. Staring at the ceiling once again, plans and ideas swirled around my thoughts, but I found it hard to concentrate on just one. When the lights went out suddenly, I continued staring into the darkness.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The house I stood in was old and falling apart, creaking and moaning in the harsh wind that howled through its cracks and crevices. Fear fell heavy in my stomach and tightened my chest. I crept through a doorway, attempting to make as little noise as possible. I had the feeling someone was there, but they were nowhere in sight. I made my way towards the back door without a sound, but as I pushed it open, a squeal pierced the air. A tall dark silhouette stepped out from the shadows, backlit by moonlight streaming through a window.
‘Get back here!’ His voice boomed competing with the sounds of the old house and bellowing wind. I pushed through the doorway, leaping over the small staircase to the hard gritty sand and ran along the shore of the beach.
Breathless, I ran as fast as I was able, but my legs ached, moving in slow motion as though the air had become thicker slowing my stride. The man caught up to me with ease and reached me as I stumbled and fell face first with a thwack to the ground that tore at my face, harsh as sandpaper. As I rolled onto my back, he stood over me, tall and dark with a long-barrelled gun in his hand. My body ached to scream, but not a sound came out as he unloaded his weapon with a terrifying boom!
***
Sweat dripping from my forehead, I sat up in my single bed, trying to calm my breathing and heart rate. He’d shot me! The man in my dream had shot me! My chest burned from where the bullet had wounded me, but as I ran my hand over the area, it confirmed it had indeed been a horrible nightmare. Unable to make sense of it, I wished that Dawn was there to help me understand. Again reality sank in as I recognised the surroundings of my small prison room.
For a long while I lay awake, afraid to fall back to sleep until the bright fluorescent lights flickered on to signal the start of a new day. I hoped they would let me go home to my soft comfy bed and forget the whole ordeal had ever happened. The door clicked loudly, disturbing my thoughts, and the lady who had delivered my clothes the night before entered the room wearing a white dress and nursing a pile of folded clothing. She placed the pile on the end of my bed at my feet, bowed a little while not making any eye contact, and then left the room, closing the door behind her. Guessing that I was meant to wear them, I unfolded a white shirt and long grey pants. I changed into my new uniform and looked out of the little window in my door.
Women were walking along the sta
rk white halls, wearing the same outfit I had been given. As I tried the door’s handle, it made another loud click, and I pulled it open towards me. There were at least fifteen women making their way along the corridor towards my left. Like a lost sheep I followed them, not knowing what else to do. At the end of the hall was a room with two long tables topped with beige tablecloths to the left. A pool table and television with three large couches facing towards it filled the right side of the room. The women were taking seats around the tables, and a waving hand caught my attention. She beckoned me to sit with her from across the hall. I hesitantly made my way over and slid into a plastic blue chair that reminded me of being in high school, and I smiled at her, unsure and nervous.
There was general conversation around the table. ‘How did you sleep?’ ‘Did you hear about Jane?’ The conversation continued until a man and two ladies wheeled in metal trolleys laden with plates of food. Each of us received a plate which held two pieces of toast topped with scrambled eggs. Each lady was also given a bottle of water. They left with their empty trolleys as the women began to eat. The discussions began again with the added noise of the clanging of cutlery on the white ceramic plates.
‘I’m Rosemary,’ started the woman I’d named the ‘ranting lady’.
Knowing her real name made her less intimidating. ‘I’m Amelia.’
‘I’ll let you eat, but afterwards maybe we could have a chat.’
She put a forkful of egg and toast into her mouth, and I nodded politely, beginning to eat my own breakfast.
Why would this lady want to talk to me? What would she want to say?
The idea of talking with her made me nervous. My last chat was the reason I was in the Psychiatric Ward in the first place. My heart told me to trust her, but my head begged me to be careful until I knew more about her. I knew that to survive, I would need allies, even friends. I hoped that once I had an opportunity to convince the MMC I wasn’t a threat, I would be released and that way I wouldn’t need anyone but myself.
While I ate, I listened into the conversations around the table. I got the impression that many of the ladies had been there for quite a while. Come to think of it, Rosemary must have been in there for at least three or four days before I’d arrived. But there was no reason for them to hold me; they couldn’t keep me much longer. I hadn’t run yelling through the halls. I’d only had a whispered conversation with my nurse.
We finished breakfast, and Rosemary, who’d eaten only half of her meal, guided me towards the couch furthest from the dining tables. We sat facing the television, but I wasn’t paying attention to what was on. I was anxious about why she wanted to talk to me.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you into trouble.’ She sounded friendly and wore a warm smile that set me more at ease in the unfamiliar setting. ‘I just know what it’s like to feel alone in here, so I thought you could use a friend. I remember your face from my escape down the hall. I’m sorry if I scared you. I was just frustrated that they were locking me away, and escaping was my first instinct. Unfortunately, it was also what landed me in here. It’s unlike me to behave that way. I even surprised myself.’
She sounded genuine, but where I came from perfectly sane people didn’t run screaming through the halls. ‘Thanks, Rosemary, you didn’t scare me.’
‘Call me, Rose. All my friends do. My guess is that like the rest of us, you have challenged the MMC in some way, accusing them of not being what they are saying they are.’
‘Guess you could say that.’ I looked around in case guards might come bursting through the doors again and felt angry at myself for letting her start this conversation at all.
‘Well, until they can either get your dreams under control or you are no longer harbouring those thoughts, they will keep you here under the pretence that something is wrong with your mind.’ Her expression was sympathetic as was the way she shrugged her shoulders.
I thought on what she had said for a moment. It made sense. They had obviously heard the questions I’d asked Cameron and assumed I was against them and that my mind needed to be fixed.
So what was I supposed to do? Pretend I was better and that my ideas had changed? Maybe I needed to pretend they were just questions and I hadn’t believed it was true. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be there anymore. What if they found a way to take my dreams away as horrible as they could be?
Frustrated, I wished I had kept my mouth shut and said nothing to Cameron. Cameron!
I hoped that he hadn’t gotten into trouble or worse because of my stupid questions. Joe warned me to play it cool, but no, I had to go and get not only myself but also Cameron into trouble as well. They were sending someone in to relieve him. What did that mean?
‘Tell me about yourself.’ I welcomed the change of topic. I didn’t want her to start talking about the MMC again.
I told her the basics. Where I was from, where I grew up, and what I did for a living, ensuring I kept it clinical and didn’t give away any names or too many details. She, on the other hand, was very open telling stories about her life before she had been taken to the ward. Rose was from Stonevale, which was inland from Sandhaven and lived with her son Ethan and her mother June. Ethan was six. His father left them when he was one week old. Rose was relieved when he took off; it was better that way as Ethan’s father could be violent and drank too much. She told me stories about Ethan, and they made me smile along with her as she invited me to enjoy her memories of him. Her happiness soon turned to yearning, and her sadness from being away from him was evident. Her willingness to let me in helped me open up more and tell her stories of my life on my parents’ farm and moving to Sandhaven. Although I tried my best to keep her at a safe distance, it was hard to deny that I enjoyed, even needed her company. It was comforting to know that someone in the Psychiatric Ward would look out for me.
As the day went on, I opened up more and more without realising or meaning to, and when we weren’t talking, we enjoyed sitting silently, watching television. It made the time pass faster, and it wasn’t long after we had finished dinner that we were ushered back towards our rooms.
Rose and I reached our doors. ‘Sweet dreams.’ She smiled, amused at her little joke.
‘You too.’ And I made my way inside room 24.
A few at a time, we were invited to shower. Once in my MMC-approved grey pyjamas, I lay in my bed, staring once again at my ceiling. The excitement of meeting Rose mashed up with being angry at myself for telling her so much personal information, and the distress of being locked in the MMC for another night with no answers made me feel lightheaded and overwhelmed.
Falling into darkness, I landed back at the shadowy man’s house, and once again, he chased me onto the rough dry sand and shot me in the chest. Yet again I woke up gasping for air and clutching at my heart that beat rapidly against my ribcage. This time, I recovered faster, realising it had been another nightmare, and I managed to get a few hours of dreamless sleep before the lights sputtered on, signalling another day in the Psychiatric Ward.
Once again the young lady came into my room and placed my uniform for the day on the foot of my bed. She bowed and then left as swiftly as she’d entered. After changing, I opened my door and was relieved to find Rose’s kind eyes smiling back at me. She linked her arm through mine, and we walked along the corridor towards the dining and recreation room. Rose made me feel at home in such an awful unfriendly place, and I couldn’t remember ever meeting someone so lovely. An open book, she was happy to tell me anything about her past. The only subjects we never spoke of were dreaming and why we had been put into the Psychiatric Ward. It was for our own safety more than because she didn’t want me to know.
She was a kind soul, and her maternal instinct made me feel safer in her presence. Her petite build made her appear almost timid, as did her long chocolate brown hair that she’d woven into a loose plait, but as she spoke, you could sense the inner confidence she had in herself and the maturity that came with being a young
mother. Her confidence was something I had never found within myself, but had always wanted to. It wasn’t a loud confidence like Sarah’s, which intimidated people, but a composed, welcoming confidence. Her honesty helped me open up about my family and our relationships and how Sarah had been my only real friend for most of my life. Rose reminded me of the times I’d sat around the dining table at Dawn’s house. Dawn and Joe popped into my mind often, but I was careful not to give them away. Rose was the first friend I’d made since meeting Sarah, the first friend I’d ever chosen on my own.
Throughout the day, ladies were called from the room and led along the hallway.
‘Psychiatrist,’ Rose had said after the second girl’s name was called, and I’d given her a questioning glance.
Crossing my fingers, I prayed I wouldn’t have to see Dr. Muller again. I got the impression she was the one I needed to convince to let me out, though.
After lunch, a lady appeared and called, ‘Amelia Bailey.’
Standing, I looked at Rose. ‘Wish me luck.’ I made my way towards the woman, following her through the empty hallway.
She led me past the numbered doors and then scanned my wrist before ushering me through a large doorway that stood at the end of the hall. We then turned left along another corridor. I tried to remember the direction we were heading in, but none of the walls had any identifying markings, and I began to wonder how the staff didn’t get lost, thinking maybe their computer tablets had a GPS system on them. She directed me through a door, and as I entered, I realised I was back in Dr. Muller’s office.
Dr. Muller sat at the tidy desk across the room, but she wasn’t alone. Cameron sat to her right. facing both her and the chair I was to occupy. I looked nervously away from him, not daring to make eye contact in case I might cry. It was great to see that he was well. Judging by his white coat and the tablet lying in his lap and his hands resting folded on top, he still worked for the MMC. My mind had run rampant with stories of what they may have done to him, but he appeared to be healthy and safe.
Dawn of the Dreamer (Dreamer Trilogy Book 1) Page 6
