Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller)

by J. R. Tate

  “No.”

  Rusty folds his arms over his chest. “Why? Do you not care? It’s been a week. Shouldn’t we know something?”

  “Rusty, it takes time. I’m not sure how medical records work at Sunset Canyon, but they can’t tell me things like they could if he was just in a regular hospital.”

  “It seems like you don’t care. You’re his wife. For all we know, he’s being tortured.”

  It’s obvious that he shares the same views about mental hospitals as his father. I try not to get frustrated with him. I want to have this talk with him. “He’s not being tortured, Rusty. He’s in good hands. I…”

  He cuts me off. “How do you know? You haven’t heard anything!”

  “I’ll call them today. It’s all I can do.” I reach out and grab his hand. “Were you serious when you told me you were seeing and hearing things? I need to know the truth, Son.” My memory flashes to the woman I saw on the TV and what she said to me about Nathan not being crazy.

  “I’m not sure if I should answer that or not, Mom.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to be carted off like Dad.”

  I let out a sigh. “So you are?”

  He ducks his head. “I gotta get to school. I don’t wanna be late.”

  He hurries out the front door before I can stop him. I rake my hands through my hair and stare at the package of eggs on the counter. Suddenly, I’m not so hungry. With Rusty claiming to experience it, and with what I might or might not have seen, it makes me wonder what is happening with this family. Is our house haunted? I’m not even sure if I believe in that kind of stuff, but I have to at least consider it. Nathan is the most levelheaded man I know. But psychology is real. It’s a science. There’s no proof about supernatural things. Maybe all three of us are just going crazy.

  I grab the phone and dial Sunset Canyon’s main phone number.

  “Sunset Canyon, this is admissions.”

  “Yes, this is Rose Gallagher. I’m not sure what department I’m needing, but I need to get an update on my husband.”

  “Have you been included on the release of information consent?”

  I roll my eyes and plop down on the couch. How the hell am I supposed to know that? There’s been no communication until now. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t with him when he was taken in. I don’t know if he even filled out that paperwork.”

  “Let me pull him up. What’s his name?”

  “Nathan Gallagher.”

  There’s a pause and the woman says, “Oh, I see.”

  I see? What in the hell? Has something happened to Nathan? I try to stay calm. Maybe that is just her tone.

  “He has included you on the consent. Let me transfer you to his ward and you can talk to one of the nurses there.”

  “Thank you.”

  I am placed on hold and some instrumental, symphonic music takes over the line for a few seconds until a man answers.

  “Ward G, this is Riley.”

  “Yes, this is Rose Gallagher. I am calling to try to get some kind of update on my husband. His name is Nathan and he’s been there about a week. Have I called the right place?”

  “Yes ma’am you have. I’m the charge nurse on this floor. I’m glad to hear from someone in his family and even happier that Nathan included you on the consent.”

  I lean my head back on the couch. The anticipation is killing me, but I don’t want to seem too forceful. I hate it when patient’s families are hateful to us, and I don’t want to be that way with them. “How’s he doing?” My voice shakes and I try to hide the emotion.

  “Well, the good news is, he’s agreed to take the medications the doctor has prescribed. At first, he was denying all of it. He had a bad night a few nights ago. Hurt himself pretty bad and required medical attention. His doctor convinced him to give Seroquel a try and he’s been on it for about a week now.”

  Nathan has agreed to meds? Things have changed. I’m thrilled to hear it, but the tone in Riley’s voice leads me to believe that there’s a bad news side to it all. “That’s good to hear.”

  “The bad news is, Mrs. Gallagher, that he’s not really responding to it. He’s gone to sessions daily with Dr. Clint and is still claiming to see and hear things. I’ve observed him and it still appears that he is having hallucinations.”

  Shit. That is not what I want to hear. “Maybe the Seroquel hasn’t kicked in yet. Doesn’t it take psychiatric meds a while to really get into the system?”

  “For the most part, yes, but with what he’s on, the hallucinations should at least be fading. It’s expected that he’ll still get them, but on a much milder level. It seems to me that they’re getting worse. He’s got fresh wounds. He is still angry. I’m not sure what goes on during his sessions with the doctor, but here where I’m at, it still seems like he is back peddling.”

  I’m not sure what to say. At least he’s taking the pills, but why aren’t they helping him? “Is the doctor considering a different medication?” The nurse side of me kicks in. Sometimes people need to try several different things before their body agrees.

  “Yes, I believe so, but Seroquel is supposed to be one of the top ones out there today. We are really trying to stay away from Thorazine, but in your husband’s case, more drastic lines of treatment might be necessary.”

  I swallow the bile in my throat. This can’t be happening. Why can’t he just go in, get leveled out, and come home? Why is this so damn complicated?

  “Drastic levels? What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing has been set in stone, Mrs. Gallagher. The doctor has final say. I don’t want to tell you things that might not happen, but since you’re in the medical field, as Nathan claims, I’ll go ahead and tell you. We might have to resort to electroconvulsive therapy.”

  Electroshock therapy? Nathan’s fears were accurate. “They still do that, Riley?”

  “Last resort, but yes, especially for patients that just aren’t responding to anything else. Look, Mrs. Gallagher, Dr. Clint hasn’t said too much about that option yet. I know he tries not to do it if he can avoid it. I just want you to know that it could be a possibility, but we’re not giving up on the Seroquel just yet. Nathan is stubborn. He’s a fighter. It’s going to work out.”

  I feel the tears flow down my cheeks and any attempt at hiding the fact that I’m upset is useless. “Thank you so much for letting me know what’s going on. If there’s anything to be positive about, at least Nathan has agreed to taking the medications.”

  “You’re right, ma’am. I’ve gotten to know Nathan. He can be a pain in the ass, but I’ve said it from the moment I saw him – he doesn’t belong here. I’m going to make sure I’m along side him, fighting whatever this is and that he is able to walk out those front doors on his own two feet with a hopeful recovery in front of him. Believe me when I say that, Mrs. Gallagher.”

  “Thank you. I’ll call back in a few days for another update.”

  I hang the phone and the crying is now uncontrollable. I slide to the floor and curl up into the fetal position as I yell out. I really want to see him. I can tell a lot about him by just how he looks.

  I’m so mixed up inside. Rusty is claiming to see stuff. I could have possibly experienced it too, but I still am telling myself that it was a very vivid dream.

  “Please, Nathan, start getting better. We need you home.” I speak out loud as if he can hear me. “Please be okay.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nathan

  I sit in Dr. Clint’s office for what seems like the millionth time. It’s been almost two weeks since I was brought to this damn place, and I don’t feel any better than I did before. In fact, I feel worse. Out of the three hallucinations, as the staff calls it, they’ve all been back more often, not to mention a few new “visitors.” The woman used to be the only hostile one, but now with things happening so fast, I can’t pinpoint who is doing it to me.

  Dr. Clint stares at me, his hands clasped as he studies me. I’ve learned a
lot about him, as I’m sure he has about me. One thing I know for sure – nothing goes unnoticed. Every blink, every swallow, every twitch my body makes, he’s documenting it.

  “You’re taking the medication as prescribed?” he asks, pen poised to document my response.

  I nod, and it feels like my brain is sloshing around in my skull. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I’m hanging on by a thread, and it’s to the point where I can’t sleep at night, even with the sleeping meds to go along with the crazy pills.

  “Three times a day, Doc. I’ve been told that’s the max before I’m deemed a lost cause. You agree with that?”

  He shakes his head, takes his glasses off, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Stumping Dr. Clint was a game I started from the beginning, but lately it’s been a lot easier than it was during our first few meetings.

  “You’re not a lost cause, Nathan. I’m not going to give up on you.”

  “So what’s next then? Everything is getting worse. I’ve done your song and dance. I’ve taken the damn pills and I’ve come to therapy. What’s it done for me?” I slam my hands down on his desk and raise my voice. “What’s it done for me, huh?” I wave my index finger at him and stand up, pacing in front of his desk. “I’ll tell you. More of the damned hallucinations.” I make quotation marks with my fingers. “More self mutilation. More sleepless nights, and now I’ve got the damned side effects that go along with those pills.”

  Dr. Clint arches his eyebrow. “What side effects have you been experiencing?”

  “I’m nauseous. I’m having horrible stomach pains. I want to sleep but I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you sleep, Nathan?”

  I rake my hand through my hair and chew on the inside of my cheek as I continue to pace. “Are you kidding me, Doc? Would you be able to close your eyes if you’ve seen the shit I’ve seen? Would you be able to relax enough with the constant fear on your mind that something is lurking in the shadows, ready to tear into you?” I rest my hands on my hips when I’m finally able to stop walking back and forth. He doesn’t say anything, but I didn’t intend on him answering me. “I want to close my eyes and dream of something amazing. I want to turn the light off and not be terrified. I want this all to stop.”

  “I’m working on it, Nathan. I’m really trying.”

  I let out an exasperated laugh, though none of this is funny in the least. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ve taken the medicine, knowing that it won’t make a dent. I’ve talked to you about everything. Why is it all worse? What do we have left? A change of meds?”

  Dr. Clint thinks about it for a second. “We’ve tried Seroquel and Haldol. The CT on your brain didn’t show anything, so we’ve ruled out a possible tumor being the culprit. You are not responding like a typical patient.”

  I forgot about the CT scan. It must’ve happened during one of my major drug induced states, but I’m thankful my memory is failing me. Most of this stuff is better forgotten. “So again, I ask, what is next?” I can tell that he’s hesitant, which makes my fuse shorter than it already is. “Come on, Doc. Am I going to end up a statistic? Am I going to be one of the patients who ends up blowing his head off because he can’t handle it?” I’ve never been suicidal, but if my life continues this way, there’s no telling what will eventually happen. If I don’t do it to myself, the hostile woman might do it for me. “Maybe all those people didn’t kill themselves. Maybe the demons they faced did it to them, but no one believed them, and it was all assumed they did it to themselves. Physically, my body is done. Mentally, I’m almost there too.”

  A look of sympathy flashes on Dr. Clint’s face. “You ever hear of electroconvulsive therapy? ECT for short?”

  “Electroshock therapy?” I feel the bile form in my throat, and another wave of nausea hits me. I’m not sure if it’s the medication or the sudden fear from just the mention of the word.

  “Yeah, that’s what it is known as to most people. Before you start thinking about Hollywood and the perception you get from the stereotypes, I want you to think about it. It’s perfect for instances like this, when a person just doesn’t respond to other therapies.”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m not agreeing to that. I’ve done everything you’ve wanted. I’ve jumped through every damned hoop you’ve put in front of me. I’m not doing it.”

  “It’s something to think about, Nathan. You’re concerned about becoming a statistic. If you don’t try something else, it’s inevitable.”

  “I thought you weren’t giving up on me.”

  “I’m not, which is why I’m suggesting this. You’ll be sedated and won’t feel it. We are basically causing a brief seizure to make changes in your brain chemistry. You will be monitored by medical staff the entire time.”

  “Change my brain chemistry? Isn’t that what the Seroquel and Haldol was for? A lot of good that did.”

  “I’m not expecting you to make a decision right this instant. Think about it. I’ll have Riley give you some information on it so you can read about it. This is what we have left, Nathan. I really want to do this. I think you are resistant to the meds, but this will really make a difference.”

  I stand in front of his desk, looking down at him. I’m trying so hard to stay calm, but something inside of me flips out, and my anger makes me see red. I ball my fists as I stand over him. Hitting him won’t solve anything. I know he’s here to help, but I’m at my wit’s end. Any fear I had of insane asylums is coming true with his current suggestion.

  I slide my arm over the surface of the desk, knocking everything to the floor with a loud crash. I never make contact with Dr. Clint – he’s quick to step back and get out of the way, despite the fact that it is never my intention to lay my hands on him.

  “Nathan, please calm down.”

  Before I can cause any more destruction, two orderlies barge in and pin me against the adjacent wall. My head slams into it and I’m already bracing myself for the needle sting that I know is soon to follow. Instead, I hear Dr. Clint yelling out to not drug me up. I try to push off of the wall, but there is a reason they hire big, strong men to do this job.

  One guy pulls my right arm behind me, much like a police officer that is apprehending a suspect. We fall to the floor and I’m so pissed at this point that I’ve pretty much lost all track of where I’m at and what is going on. My body and mind are both tired, and I feel the straight jacket pull around me, restraining my arms.

  Dr. Clint is now standing over me, visibly shaken. “Think about all of this, Nathan. You do that for me?”

  “I wasn’t going to hurt you, Doc.”

  “I know.”

  He nods at the two men, and I’m quickly brought to my feet. They escort me right back to the padded room, and I’m confused as to why I’m taken there. Dr. Clint follows me in and they lay me on the floor. With as little energy as I have, it’s impossible to even sit up. I rest my face on the floor, embarrassed and defeated.

  “I hate to put you in here, Nathan. You’re just too upset to be put back with everyone else right now.”

  I look at him, but stay quiet. I don’t even know what to say. I’m done talking. I’m done listening.

  “You going to think about this next option?”

  “You mean… only option, right? It’s my only option left.” My voice is low, but since we’re the only two in the room, Dr. Clint hears me.

  “I didn’t say that, Nathan.”

  “You didn’t have to.” I shift my weight, but there is no way to get comfortable when you’re in a straight jacket. Sadly, I’ve learned that all too well in the past two weeks. “I’m done, Dr. Clint. I’m done.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You know exactly what I mean. Just let the woman kill me. Just let me die. Move on to someone you can save.”

  Dr. Clint reaches down and squeezes my shoulder. I know my words hurt him, but it’s exactly how I feel. What kind of life is this? I don’t want Rusty seeing this, and Rose
doesn’t deserve it either. I don’t want to do that to them.

  “No sir, we’re not giving up. Not after everything.”

  He walks to the door and a nurse I don’t recognize replaces him. He’s holding a syringe and I don’t even fight it. I try to pretend that it’s a lethal dose of potassium being plunged right into my vein, much like they do to death row inmates, but that would be too easy. Instead, the familiar heavy feeling overtakes me, my eyelids feel like they are weighed down, and the straight jacket is suddenly comfortable.

  “Get some sleep, Nathan. You’ll feel better soon.” It’s the last thing I hear before my body drifts off.

  ***

  Rose

  “They want to do electroshock therapy on Nathan.” Jack and Rusty are sitting across from me at the kitchen table. It’s good to see Nathan’s father again, but I really hate that it is under these circumstances. I wish Nathan could see how much his father is worried about him and how much he cares.

  “You can’t let them, Mom.” Rusty’s emotional outburst startles me, but I should expect that from him. “What does Dad say about it?”

  I wipe my nose with a tissue. It’s hard to have a calm conversation with him, especially about this. With the information I got from Sunset Canyon, it’s enough to make him sick like it has me.

  “The head nurse on Nathan’s case called me this morning to give me an update. He’s not doing well at all. They’ve tried two different medications and he’s just deteriorated more. The nurse told me that ECT isn’t like it used to be. He’ll be drugged up and won’t even know it’s happening.”

  “You didn’t answer me, Mom. Does Dad agree with it?”

  “Not yet, but since he put me on all of the paperwork, I have a say in his treatment too, especially since he’s not really in his right mind right now.” It terrifies me to make these decisions. What if it is painful and the nurse is sugar coating it? What if it’s like all of those movies about it? I don’t know if I can live with myself if I agreed to it and it hurt Nathan.

  “I can’t believe you’re even considering it. You gonna do that to me, too?”