Insane

by H G Lynch

  Casey’s expression darkened. Yes, I’m deaf, moron. What’s your excuse? he spat, glaring at Chester.

  That snapped me out of my state of shock, and I barked back, “Hey! You don’t get to be a douche to him just because he can’t hear you.” Even if he couldn’t hear me, I hoped my anger was clear enough on my face.

  Chester grimaced. “He’s bitching about me? What did he say?”

  “Doesn’t matter, because he’s going to apologize,” I replied, making sure he was watching my mouth move. Casey folded his arms, scowling.

  I’m not apologizing to the ghost boy, he grumbled. I glared at him. He arched an eyebrow. He wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway.

  I resisted the urge to throw up my hands in exasperation. This guy was going to be a major pain in my ass, I could tell. But I would. I don’t know who you are or why I we can hear each other’s thoughts, but rule number one is this: be nice to the ghost boy. Even if he can’t hear you, I said silently, matching his glower with my own.

  Finally, Casey heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. Fine, I’m terribly, terribly sorry I was mean to the ghost boy. Even in thought, his tone was mocking, but I figured we had bigger issues to deal with than him being a douche, so I let it go.

  I turned to Chester and relayed the apology, without the mocking tone. Chester just grunted and jerked his head once in acknowledgement, his eyes narrowed on Casey. I sighed. “Okay. Um…okay…”

  You said that already, Casey pointed out.

  I dragged a hand through my hair and pulled it over my shoulder, plaiting it with nervous fingers. “I know. I don’t know what else to say. I mean, come on, this is…” I shook my head, pressing my lips together.

  Crazy? Yeah, well, take a look around, Button, he muttered, slumping in his seat.

  “Callie. My name’s Callie,” I said.

  His lips curled. I know, he replied, but he nodded slightly, probably more for Chester’s benefit than mine.

  Before I could reply, either telepathically or aloud, a shadow fell across the floor between us, and I looked up to see Dr. Moore hovering next to me, holding her clipboard. She was wearing an ugly brown blouse, grey trousers, and a small, cautious smile. “I see you’re finally making friends, Callie. That’s very good,” she said to me, her tone just a hair shy of patronizing.

  I just shrugged, slouching down in my seat. Then her eyes fell on Casey, and her smile widened. “Hello Casey,” she said his name with more warmth and familiarity than when she spoke to me.

  Casey smiled back, and I blinked, startled by how nice his smile was when he used it. His teeth were white and straight, and one corner of his mouth went up just a tiny bit higher than the other, creating a small dimple in his chin. He lifted one hand to the doctor in a sort of salute.

  “I hope you’re settling in well in your new room?” she asked, letting her clipboard hang at her side. Watching them interact, I got the impression she actually cared about his answer, not just about getting it written down so she could psychoanalyze him later. It was like they were friends, and I wondered just how long Casey had actually been here. He was new to this floor, but clearly not new to the hospital. He must’ve been moved from another floor. But the important question was, had he been moved up or down?

  I’d really hate to be mind-linked with a dangerous psychopath. Although he didn’t look like a psychopath. But then, they never did look like serial killers, until their picture wound up on the six o’clock news.

  “…wonderful. I hope you don’t mind if I take your new friend for her session. I promise I’ll bring her right back,” Dr. Moore said, and Casey just grinned, waving his hand toward me as if to say ‘help yourself’. I scowled at him, and he winked back. Chester made a sound awfully close to a growl, but Casey ignored him, picking up his book and settling back into his chair, flipping the pages to find where he’d stopped.

  Dr. Moore sighed and turned to me. “Come now, Callie. It seems we’ve got something new to discuss for today’s session.” She raised her clipboard to her chest again, all professional once more, and I levered myself out of my chair. Chester followed, and I tried very hard not to glance at him. Dr. Moore strode ahead of us out of the common room, so she didn’t notice me flinch when I heard Casey’s voice in my head.

  Have fun in your session, Callie. Guess you’ve got plenty to talk about now, he said, and I could feel his silent laughter. I didn’t turn around as I shot him the finger.

  By the time I finally got free of my session with Dr. Moore, and I’d swallowed my pills while she watched to make sure I wasn’t cheeking them or anything, I entirely expected Casey to be gone from the common room. So I was mildly surprised to find him sitting exactly where he’d been before, with his nose still buried in his book.

  As if sensing me in the doorway, he looked up, and a weird thrill went through me when his eyes fell unerringly on me. He smiled a little, and closed his book. Did you have fun? he asked silently, and I rolled my eyes by way of an answer. His lips quirked into a grin as I crossed the room and dropped into the seat opposite him, right where I’d been sitting earlier. He swung his feet off the chair next to his and turned to face me fully, his eyes darting around like he was looking for something. No boyfriend? he asked.

  I blinked, frowning for a moment before I realized he was talking about Chester. I shook my head. No, he…left. And he’s not my boyfriend, I thought back at him.

  He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He picked at a thread on the hem of his shirt, and I chewed my lip, feeling awkward and uncertain. I wanted to ask him how long he’d been there, what he in for, but I was a little scared of the answer. What if he was a schizophrenic with homicidal tendencies? What if he was a crazy stalker type? What if…if he thought aliens were coming to kill him? I couldn’t handle the tin-foil hat kind of crazies. They creeped me out.

  I do not think aliens are coming to get me, he said suddenly, irritation in his tone, and I jumped guiltily. I glanced at him and found him watching me with narrowed, green eyes. He’d heard me, and I hadn’t even been thinking at him. What was I supposed to do with that? How was I meant to handle a guy who could hear my thoughts whether I wanted him to or not?

  I quickly nixed that train of thought before he picked it up, and asked instead, So what are you in for?

  He looked away, wrapping the thread around his finger tighter and tighter until the tip of his finger turned white. Then he unwound it and started tying knots in it. That’s a little personal to be asking someone you just met, don’t you think?

  I shrugged, but my stomach was starting to feel like that thread – knotted. Only if you’re in for something bad, I replied, watching his fingers working on the thread.

  I felt him glance at me sharply, but I didn’t look up at his face. I was too afraid I’d see something scary there. Fine then. What are you in here for? he snapped angrily.

  My lips turned up in a humorless smile. “Take a guess,” I said aloud, folding my arms across my chest. Then I glanced around, realizing that talking to him aloud might be almost as bad as talking to an invisible person. I grimaced, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention. The blonde nurse near the back of the room seemed to be talking to – or flirting with – the guard who’d been with RJ the other day. I hoped that meant RJ was on shift soon. I was desperate for a normal conversation with a normal person after all this…craziness.

  I turned back to Casey and blinked. He was leaning forward in his chair now, with his elbows on his knees, his gaze surprisingly intense. Even more surprising was the way it made my heart beat a little faster and the sudden butterflies in my stomach. I drew in a breath through my teeth, telling myself to stop being stupid. I’d obviously been in this place way too long. It was like being in a convent – after a while, any guy looked good. A convent full of crazies, I thought. Just freakin’ awesome.

  Casey’s lips turned up at the corners and I guessed he’d heard that thought, but from the line of confusion on his forehead, he hadn’t hea
rd any of the rest. Thank God. Last thing I needed was a possibly-stalker-type thinking I had a crush on him.

  Finally, he leaned back, and I tried not to let my relief show on my face. So, you’re in here because of your boyfriend, right? he said, and I remembered what we’d been discussing before my hormones decided to get all uppity.

  I scowled and nodded. “Yes. And he’s not my boyfriend,” I muttered.

  Casey drummed his fingers on his knees, looking thoughtful. He seemed to be considering something. I watched his hands, and noticed there was an actual rhythm to his tapping. I stared intently, trying to figure out the tune in my head to see if it was one I recognized. Then his fingers stopped tapping abruptly, and I realized I’d leant forward, my face scrunched into a frown of concentration. Embarrassed, I sat back quickly and looked at him. He was staring at me with something indefinable on his face. I cleared my throat, although he couldn’t hear it – an automatic human reaction to awkwardness.

  When he continued to stare at me, I squirmed. “Quit it,” I said, hunching my shoulders.

  He blinked, and his mouth twisted into a funny shape. A faint blush touched his cheeks, like he hadn’t meant to stare at me for so long. Quickly, he filled the silence with a question. So what happened? To get you put in here?

  I just told you, I thought back.

  He shook his head. No, you told me why you’re in here, not how you got put in here.

  I sighed, knotting my fingers together on my lap. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to explain how Chester died and how my dad thought I was nuts and how I’d give anything to have my normal life back.

  Softly, Casey murmured, See? That kind of thing…it’s personal.

  Reluctantly, I nodded. I had to give him that one. He was right; it was personal. Not so much the story of what happened, but the grief that came with it. I’d spent nearly two months after Chester died feeling like I’d had my heart ripped out, feeling like someone had scooped out my insides and left me an empty shell. I hadn’t been able to eat or sleep or leave the house. And then he’d come back as a ghost, and suddenly there was light in the world again. Everything was…not exactly right again, because he was still dead, there was still a gravestone with his name on it. But things were a whole lot better.

  Looking at Casey, at the haunted pain in his eyes, I wondered if that didn’t make me incredibly lucky.

  Chapter Three

  ** Callie **

  That night, I lay on my bed, unable to sleep. Light shone through the little window in the door from the hallway, spilling a wedge of yellow onto the floor and the end corner of my bed. Chester hadn’t returned after disappearing before my session with Dr. Moore earlier, so I was left alone with too many thoughts in my head and nobody to help me sort them out.

  Frustrated and confused, I rolled over to face the wall, squeezing my eyes closed, hoping that if I just lay there with my eyes shut for long enough, I’d eventually get tired. But I was too worked up to stay still for that long. I turned over onto my stomach, burying my face in my pillow, resisting the urge to scream into it. I lay there until I couldn’t breathe through the material in my mouth and nose, and then sat up, frustrated and confused.

  I hopped out of the bed and padded across the floor, wincing at how cold it was under my bare feet, and peered out the barred window in the opposite wall, looking out over the courtyard. My room was slightly to the left of the gravel driveway, while the common room was further to the right, so I got a wonderful view of the gates, almost directly ahead of me. From here, they seemed closer, but they might as well have been a hundred miles away for all the security between me and them.

  My face was reflected back at me in the dark glass, and I made a face, tugging on the lock of my fringe that I’d dyed red just before I’d gotten locked up in here. Only the ends of it were still red – actually more like orange, since it had faded. My naturally jet-black hair – which was now down to my waist, thanks to the fact that I hadn’t had a haircut since March and it was now September – was invisible against the blackness of the glass. You couldn’t tell from the reflection, but my eyes were a pretty pale blue-green that was about the only decent thing I’d inherited from my mother. Dark smudges underlined my eyes, and my bow-shaped lips were pressed into a thin line. I missed my shocking purple lipstick and glittery Urban Decay eyeliner. Without them, I looked almost normal, and far too much like my mother.

  I squinted at the glass, seeing past my reflection. The moon was hidden behind clouds tonight – or maybe it was just out of sight of my little window. The sky was…dark. Obviously, since it had to be nearly midnight at least; not that I had any sort of freakin’ clock. It drove me crazy, not knowing the time in this place.

  There weren’t clocks anywhere patients could see, not even the common room, and once I’d asked why and the nurse had told me it was because some of the patients got upset with the ticking. I asked for a clock in my room, since I was more likely to lose it without a clock than with one, even if it ticked like a metronome, but the nurse had just given me a look and walked away. Bitch.

  Normally, Chester was my clock, because he could glide into the nurses’ station, where there was a clock on the wall, but since he’d vanished and I didn’t know when he’d be back…

  I sighed and turned away from the window, hopping from foot to foot on the cold floor, wishing there was something – anything – I could do. A book to read, a puzzle to do, hell, even a kiddie coloring book would do. Maybe next time I saw Dr. Moore, I could ask for something. Casey was allowed books, some of the other patients got to keep diaries, so why not me? Oh, yeah, because I was being punished for trying to escape for the third time.

  Damn.

  I was just contemplating getting back into my bed, if for no other reason than to get my bare feet off the freezing floor, when suddenly, everything went black. The light in the hallway flickered out, dropping me into pitch-darkness. No more than a second later, it flared back to life, and I blinked, wondering if I’d imagined it. But then it happened again, and this time it was several long seconds before the light came back.

  In the darkness, I stood still, holding my breath. I suddenly felt very cold all over, like the temperature had dropped ten degrees. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. When the light came back on, I shuffled cautiously to the door and peered out the little window, wondering what was going on.

  The weather was calm, no storm, no lightning – no reason for a power-out. Unless the electrical wiring was shorting out or something. The building was pretty old. It was possible the wiring was iffy.

  I had my face pressed to the little panel of glass, my eyes searching what I could see of the hallway for some sign of guards or nurses, some sign that somebody else had noticed the flickering lights – the last thing I needed to add to my crazy-list was hallucinations. It was bad enough I apparently had an inexplicable telepathic link with a guy I’d never met before – but there was nobody. The hallways were empty, and everything was eerily quiet. Normally there was faint chatter from the nurses’ station, or the groan of old pipes, or at least the moaning of the wind. But no. It was dead silent.

  I chewed my lip, standing on my toes. My breath fogged the glass, and I swept a hand across the window to clear it…and jumped backward, a scream catching in my throat. I blinked, swallowing my pounding heart, and looked at the window again. There was nothing there. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, prickling. I could have sworn there had been a face on the other side of the glass. Not a normal face, but an ugly, twisted face, with oil-black skin and burning red eyes.

  Get a hold of yourself, Callie, I told myself fiercely, despite my shaking hands. There’s nothing there. You’re tired – you’re imagining things. Go to sleep. Except, I couldn’t take my eyes off the little window in the door. Breathing hard, I crept back to the door, hesitating before peering out of the glass again. There was nothing there. Of course there wasn’t. I was just losing my goddamned mind, that
was all.

  Earlier, that very thought had terrified, the idea of really going crazy. But right now, it was sort of comforting. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it.

  I still had my fingers pressed against the door, my face at the glass, when the lights went out again. My heart jumped into my throat as I was plunged back into darkness so still and so deep I couldn’t see my hand two inches from my face. I waited, statue still, for the lights to come back on. I counted: one crazy, two crazies, three crazies….

  By the time I reached fifteen crazies, there was a nasty feeling tiptoeing down my spine. The lights weren’t coming back on. But I couldn’t hear anything beyond the door, no footsteps or people talking. None of the usual panic that happens when there’s a sudden blackout. Just more of that endless silence. Where were the guards and nurses? Shouldn’t they be checking on us or something? Shouldn’t the back-up generator have kicked in by now?

  Staring out the window, the blackness seemed to go on forever, stretching out and out into some deep void. I shivered again, goosebumps rising on my arms. My stomach tied itself in a knot, and I tried to tell myself not to be ridiculous. It was only a power-out. I’d never really been scared of the dark, not since I was six years old, but right now, I was scared. And I didn’t even know why.

  I was terrified to move, every muscle locked in place. My breathing sounded rapid and ragged to my own ears, too loud in the unsettling silence of my pitch-black prison cell. So it was no surprise I jumped three feet in the air when a voice whispered by my ear, “Callie? What’s going on?”

  I whirled around, slamming my back against the door, gasping. It took me approximately a second and a half to realize I recognised the voice that had spoken, and another half a second to spot Chester, glowing faintly, in the middle of the room. Intensely relieved to see him, I let out an uneven sigh, my shoulders slumping. “Shit, Ches. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I hissed, putting one hand over my chest, as if to keep my heart from breaking through my ribs. It was racing a mile a minute, but Chester’s presence made the knot in my gut loosen – slightly.