The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series)

by Calinda B

  I catch the rage in my fists and hold it tight, bearing down on it, willing it into a ball of molten steel.

  Dr. Bellows steps back. Everyone in the room seems to be tense, holding their collective breath.

  “I’m fine,” I continue. “Just a little frustrated, that’s all.”

  Dr. Bellows leans forward, like he’s heading into a stiff wind. “Say more about the frustration.”

  I explode out of my chair like an atomic bomb, nearly colliding with Dr. Bellows. “I’m not supposed to be in here. I don’t belong here. My aunt’s the one who’s crazy. She’s the one who did this to me, and she’s holding my dog hostage! I was put here against my will!” The words come out at an inhuman decibel level and tears actually leak out of my eyes at the thought of Sober. The group skitters backwards in their chairs. One of the chairs tips over, and the mousy blond haired woman cries out from the floor where she has fallen.

  Dr. Bellows rises to the outburst, eager to assume control. “It’s okay everyone. I’ve got this. Easy. Easy, Ms. Engles. Rafe, see to Miss Carpaccio. Call for assistance if need be.” He looks at me like I’m a wild horse and he’s bound and determined to be the first to ride me. His hands are outstretched, palm down. “Easy.”

  I sit down, shaking my head from side to side. “You asked me what I was feeling. I told you,” I say through clenched teeth. My body is shaking from the effort of holding back the light.

  “I did. I did,” he agrees. “I just didn’t expect an outburst. We encourage feelings, we just encourage them in a more civilized manner.” He whips a notebook out of his pocket and scribbles a few notes. “We’ll have to deal with your anger in a one-on-one session.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we do.” He scribbles some more notes. “This little episode has upset the balance today. I’m going to give you some outdoors time, everyone. We’ll pick this up later this afternoon.” He glares at each person and waves his hand back and forth to disperse them.

  They all pick themselves up and shuffle from the room. I start to wander off, too, when Dr. Bellows cuts off my departure with his bulk. “Ms. Engles, we need to have a chat.”

  I blow the breath out of my cheeks and stop. “Why?”

  He comes up to me and stops a little too close for comfort. I step back.

  He steps closer. He picks up a strand of my hair and twirls it around his finger. “I pull a lot of weight around here.”

  “Okay.” I grab his hand and remove it from my hair. “Good for you.”

  “I can get you released sooner than later.” He strokes my cheek with his sweaty, pudgy fingers.

  I close my fingers around his hand and start to squeeze. I really, really want to let the light flow and break every bone in his hand.

  “Or,” he says, pinning me with his eyes. “I can hold you here longer than necessary.”

  Point taken. I drop his hand.

  “It’s your choice.”

  “So this is one of my choices?” I laugh. It’s a mirthless sound that lands at my feet. “I was told I have no choices here.”

  “Well, you don’t exactly have choices. Think of it as an opportunity. An opportunity has presented itself to you.” He smiles and reaches for my hair again.

  Oh, the things I could do to this man if I let the light flow through my system. I close my eyes and trap the light and feelings inside my head. I squeeze my eyelids tightly. When I open them, Dr. Bellows is studying me.

  “You’re different.” He releases the lock of hair after taking a small sniff of it.

  “Different how?”

  “I’m not quite sure, but this is going to be enjoyable.” He straightens his tie and opens the door for me. “After you.”

  I wander out, feeling cooties and crawlies all over my body from head to toe. I really don’t like this man. Tom was right. I need to watch out for him.

  Chapter 4

  I make my way to my white room. Rafe is lounging in the hallway near my room, studying something. He’s slouching, but he seems to be pretty tall - 6’3” or 6’4”, I’d say. Muscled. I wonder if they have a gym here. When I get closer I see that he’s clutching a pamphlet called Is Aggression Anger? My eyebrows knit together as I approach. “Is it?” I ask.

  He whirls around. “It is. Aggression is a form of extreme anger. I should know.” He pauses and bites his lip, looking at me intently. “Are you alright?”

  “Oh, I’m super. I’ve got Haloperidol humming through my system, and I’ve never felt better. You?”

  He snorts. “Same. Rafe Caldwell, by the way.” He sticks out his hand.

  He’s got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Full kissable lips. Short ginger hair. Freckles everywhere. He looks like a candy bar that you could eat and never quite be satisfied - you’d only end up wanting another. In other words, you’d be addicted. “Marissa Engles,” I answer. I start to extend my hand and then consider. What if I shock him with my erratic energy? I don’t want to end up in isolation or whatever they do to severe head cases. I draw my hand back. “Uh, I’m kind of sensitive about touch.”

  He cocks his head. “Really? Or is it because you don’t want anyone to know you’ve got electricity buzzing through your veins?”

  “What? Who told you that?”

  He puts his hands behind his back and leans against the textured, white wall. His ginger hair makes a sharp contrast to the white. “I snuck a peek at your patient records. They said you’re delusional, thinking you can stream light.”

  “That’s private!”

  “I know. I just wanted to find out more about you. All the staff is up in arms about you being here. They’re twittering and clucking in the break room between shifts. You’re trending.” He smiles. “Your aunt has been a longtime supporter of this place. That’s why all the fuss over you being here. She’s probably responsible for entire wings being constructed with her donations.”

  “Aunt Topaz?”

  “Yep.”

  We both lean against the wall, silent. Why would Aunt Topaz donate to this place? I ponder this for a while and come up blank. “I like your name.” I continue to look at the opposite wall.

  “Thanks. It means wolf. I’m a red-headed wolf.”

  I turn and catch his small smile with my eyes. It comes and goes, though, fleeting. “I’ve seen red wolves. At the zoo in Tacoma. They were beautiful.”

  He smiles again, still staring at the opposite wall.

  I rest my back once more against the paneling, right next to Rafe. There’s a cheap picture of an abstract, geometric something or other hanging across from me. It appears to be something from Walmart. I study it. I could do so much better. My paintings are alive. This one is dead. Colors and lines arranged without feeling, like a mechanical drawing.

  “So. Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Do you have electricity in your veins?”

  I scoff and ignore the question. “You’re awfully nosy.”

  “What else is there to do in here?”

  “How long have you been here?” I turn and lean my shoulder against the sturdy surface, staring at him. I like the way he looks. He looks sexy and wild. He looks like someone who walks to his own beat. He looks like a fascinating troublemaker, although now he’s a sedated one. I know I’m with Daniel, but there’s no harm in appreciating the world around me.

  He drags a hand through his hair. “Too long. At this point they’re just keeping me here, just because.”

  “What are the episodes Dr. Farty Pants asked you about?”

  He chortles with laughter. “Dr. Farty Pants?”

  “That’s what my…never mind. It’s just a name I made up.”

  “I get mad - like you did. Extreme anger is called an episode around here.”

  “What are you mad about?”

  Rafe stares at this shoes. His face reddens and the pool of shame puddles around his ankles again.

  “Are you going to need mouth to mouth?”

  His head whips ar
ound and he stares at me. “What?”

  “Mouth to mouth. You seem to be drowning over there. In a pool of what looks like shame.”

  He stands up taller as if sucking up the shame. He shakes his head and stares at me. “I’ve…I’ve gotta go. I have all these duties.” He makes air quotes around the word duties.

  “I’m sorry. I just blurted that out. I tend to do that. I’m sorry.”

  He runs his hand through his hair again. “It’s okay. I just…we just…we don’t know each other all too well. How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t. You probably can, but you don’t know that.”

  “Bingo.” He stabs the air in front of him.

  “What are your duties?”

  He looks away from me. “Oh, this and that. I file stuff. Help out wherever they need me.”

  I frown. “Don’t they have staff to do that?”

  “It’s supposedly a privilege for good behavior. I’ll supposedly get out of here sooner with this opportunity.” The air quotes go up again around the word opportunity.

  “I see. I was handed an opportunity, too.”

  His face hardens and his cheeks color. “I was worried about that. That bastard can do what he likes to me but to you? No.”

  What’s he talking about?

  “I’ve got to go. I can’t be late or the opportunity…” More air quotes. “The opportunity will be taken away from me. And I want to get out of here. I’ll see you around, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he whirls and ambles down the hall.

  This place is giving me the major creeps now. My stomach bunches up like dough being kneaded by strong hands. I push the door open to my room and pace, back and forth, back and forth. I have got to get out of here. I miss Daniel. I miss my dog. Hell, I even miss the old coot Tom - when he’s not pretending to be a fly. But right now, I’m tired. So tired. Eyelids are being dragged toward the floor, like weights are affixed to each eyelash. The pacing stops. The bed beckons. And I fall asleep at 11:00 in the morning, as if it’s midnight. Damn drugs. That’s the last thing I think before falling into oblivion.

  Chapter 5

  An hour, a day, an eternity later I awaken to All Smiles shaking my shoulder.

  “Up and at ‘em, Ms. Engles. Rise and shine. The day is young.”

  “Huh? What?” I’m so disoriented I don’t know where I am. I sit up and wipe the dried saliva off of my cheek and stare blankly around the room, trying to reorient. “What time is it?”

  “It’s time for you to get up. You have visitors.”

  Again, he says this like I’m a tot about to greet my playgroup. I imagine the expected response is to squeal with glee and clap my hands. Instead, I mumble, “Who is it?”

  “It’s your family. Go wash up and meet me outside your room.”

  My family? My lying, betraying family? By the time I get out of the bathroom, I am hopping mad. I’m surprised steam isn’t spewing from my ears. I pull the door open so hard it whacks against the wall.

  “Easy, there, Ms. Engles. Let’s preserve the facilities.” He takes off down the hall, whistling.

  I shuffle along behind him. He unlocks the door at the end of the hall and holds it open for me. “Is this a locked psych ward?”

  “Yes, it is. You’re right on the money. We have patients in this ward who present a danger to themselves or to others. We have to keep everyone safe.”

  “Where do I fit in this picture?”

  His face grows serious for the briefest second. His dark chocolate colored eyes flick over to me. He then resumes his smile. “You fit just about anywhere, Ms. Engles. Just about anywhere.” He gestures to the room we’re about to enter, no doubt certain that he’s cleverly skirted the question.

  We enter the visitor’s lounge, and I spy my sister Jill and my not-so-dear aunt. They rush towards me, cooing and clucking.

  “What the hell did you do to me?” I shout, or at least I think I shout. I stomp toward them or at least I think I stomp. I catch my reflection in the big mirror on the wall. I look stupid. I look like an idiot. I look pale and lethargic and ridiculous. I have neither shouted nor stomped. I have shuffled and mumbled. Me, the kick-ass Light Rebel, has been reduced to this. Drugs. Doubt. Misperceptions.

  “Ladies, here we are,” All Smiles says cheerily. He waves to a blue couch and chairs positioned around a coffee table with a vase of flowers in the center. “Why don’t you sit here, get comfortable, and visit. I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Matthew.” My Aunt Topaz perches at the edge of the sofa.

  Jill sits next to her. She wrings her hands. Her face is lined with concern and worry. “Hey,” she says to me.

  Jill and I had always been the closest. She and my other sister, Cira, had already moved out when I went to live with Aunt Topaz, but Jill still stayed in touch with me. We had a bond that Cira and I didn’t share. At least I thought we did. “Hey,” I respond. The word shatters like an icicle when it leaves my mouth. I shake my head at my sister. I can’t even acknowledge my aunt. Betrayed, betrayed, betrayed.

  “How are you?” Jill asks.

  “How do you think I am? I’m in a goddamned mental hospital for something you swore to keep secret.”

  Jill and Aunt Topaz glance nervously at one another. “You were a mess a couple nights ago,” Jill continues. “I was frightened. You were talking about a sorcerer and having flown on some big mythical bird to get home and how you killed someone by stabbing them and…” Tears sprang from her eyes. She grabs a tissue out of the box placed handily next to the sofa. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, but it can’t be good. I think it may have been Daniel who made you snap.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Jill flicks her eyes at Aunt Topaz and then back to me. “Jason called us. He said he was in Brazil to keep an eye on you. That you were dining together and you just ran out the door and got in a cab, heading for the airport. You were screaming that you had to be with Daniel in Brazil. That nothing was going to stop you.”

  “Are you fucking shitting me?” I blurt. Jason is my blond-minded tool of an ex. He is a lame-ass student of Tantra spirituality who has no boundaries, lots of girlfriends, and seems to float through life with a lucky charm stuck to his cheek.

  All Smiles stands up and moves a few steps toward us. “Everything alright, ladies?”

  “It’s fine, Matthew,” Aunt Topaz answers. “She’s just a little confused.”

  “I am not confused. I’m furious.” I stand up and begin to pace. “Jason is the one who drove me to the airport. He was working for the guy who kidnapped me. Kidnapped me. Did you hear what I said? I was kidnapped!” I stomp over to the couch, for real this time, and flounce back on the cushions. “Ask anyone in Sweet Things. They’ll tell you. Ask my waiter friend Karl. He was the waiter. Ask him,” I plea.

  “Oh, dear,” Jill says. “Baby sis, I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I’m so glad Aunt Topaz suggested bringing you here. You’ll get well in here. You’ll be fine.” She reaches out to pat my hand.

  “I will not be fine in here.” My voice comes out in a ragged whisper. “I don’t belong here. I need to see Daniel. I need to get back to Sober. What are you managing to do to my dog?” I snarl at Aunt Topaz, still unable to look at her. “And why can’t I remember anything from the other night? From when you brought me here?” I slowly turn my gaze to my aunt’s bird-like face. I am shaking. Trembling. Tremors of light and heat are rumbling inside of me. I’m not sure I can contain it this time. I clench my fists so tight I wonder if I’m going to break my own bones. I grit my teeth. And I feel very, very, satisfied when I look at Aunt Topaz. She’s pale as morning fog. She looks like she could be blown away in the morning breeze. She’s frightened of me. She should be. I want to make her pay for what she’s done to me.

  “Sober is fine, Marissa. He’s fine. He’s a good dog. He misses you. He’ll be happy when you’re well again.” She smoothes her neat gray pants w
ith her palms. Swallows. Blinks.

  “And?” I keep her pinned with my eyes.

  “And?” she asks, confused.

  “And why can’t I remember anything about you bringing me here? I’m not a brain dead idiot. What did you do to me this time?”

  Aunt Topaz jerks as if I have slapped her. Her brown eyes are wide and fearful. “I just…I had some…” She looks at Jill.

  “You had some of the concoction Armando gave you to suppress my memories when I moved in with you? Is that what you were going to say?” I smile sweetly. It’s a razor sharp smile, I’m sure.

  “I…no…I…”

  The electricity has managed to subside. I think it’s because I feel in control now. I’ve needed to assume a position of power and control with my aunt. I need to not be her victim. No more. “I know what you did to me.”

  Jill looks to our aunt, confused, questioning. “What did you do to Marissa?”

  “She and Daniel’s dad gave me some voodoo concoction when I was 15 to remove my memories. I wasn’t joking when I showed you what I can do, Jill. You’ve got to believe me.”

  Jill looks perplexed. She turns her gaze to my aunt. She turns back to me. “I…you…”

  “I can do what I said I can do, sis,” I say gently. “Why would I lie about that?” My gaze darts over to All Smiles and back to my sister. “Only if I do it in here, they’ll lock me away as a science experiment. I’ll be shut away for the rest of my life.”

  Jill reaches up to scratch her head. She’s got the angled, refined facial features of our German-Irish dad. Her light brown hair is shoulder length and always held back in a ponytail. She’s got a toddler who loves to grab her hair. “It’s not possible to do what you said you could do.”

  I take after my mom’s Spanish descent. My skin is darker than my sister’s. My dark brown hair is wild and unruly. My eyes are hazel, the color of nut-butter or polished agates or so I’ve been told. Jill’s are blue, like cornflowers. I take her hands in mine. They don’t spark. Maybe we have some kind of sister immunity. “I showed you what I could do. You saw it with your very own eyes.”