by Tara Brown
“I don't think it was you. The girl in the grainy video has red hair like yours, but she’s got on your Gucci sunglasses. The people at the front desk didn't make the girl take off her sunglasses so half her face is covered. She literally flashed your driver’s license and checked herself in. Then orderlies came and the girl went with them, wearing your clothes and sunglasses.”
“What the hell?” I narrowed my gaze. “They never even saw my face?”
“Right.” Lain nodded. “That’s why we think this is fishy. Especially after what happened to Jake.”
“Do you think she was able to control me? Like maybe she did that to Andrew and he killed everyone because she made him do it?” My insides were on fire and my heart raced.
“No.” Linds folded her arms tightly, holding herself. “Andrew killed those people because he’s a sick fu—”
“Seriously, stop!” Lain snapped. “Yes, Andrew is a sick bastard who’s still in on this, somehow. It doesn’t matter since he’s in jail. We can worry about that after we figure out why this happened to you and how to undo it.” She rubbed her tired eyes. “Anyway, what I was trying to say before, your dad hired someone to look into the mental institute when they couldn’t find you. He discovered it’s some seedy hell and sort of known for being more of a place where people dump off family members they don't want to take care of. The hospital has always been on the take. You can pay to have people committed. We think that’s how you ended up there.”
The blood drained from my cheeks. “How did I get here if I was there?”
“The hospital staff had to reveal to your dad that you’d checked in. We aren’t eighteen, so we legally can’t check ourselves in without our parents being notified.” Linds shrugged. “Everyone thought you were in Europe with Jenson. He’s missing too, but his credit cards are still being used in Brussels. Afterward your parents found your phone and then the hospital called to say you were there. So your dad went to see you, but they couldn’t find you. You weren’t in your room. They realized no one had actually seen you after you checked in. After that it became something of a shitshow. Your dad went on a mission to pretty much have the whole place shut down.”
“It was bad.” Lain nodded. “He had all the patients transferred and the staff is being questioned by the FBI. Your dad demanded they bring you here. He wanted you in a safe facility while they tried to figure out what had happened. They said it was drugs for sure and he believed them.”
“So he did check me in here, instead of a real hospital?” The words tasted like ash and betrayal.
“He did it because they took him to the place where they found you and it scared the hell out of him,” Linds tried to defend him.
“You think it was bad to look at? Imagine being trapped there.” I stared Lainey right in the eyes, watching for even the smallest flinch. “Why is she doing this to me? Why is that dark-haired bitch doing this to me?”
“I don't know.”
“Why do you think she’s doing this?” I had to ask it the right way so Lain couldn't cover her ideas up to keep me from being scared or freaking out.
She contemplated lying. She always made a weird face when she was about to. Not as bad as my dad with the eye twitching but still noticeable. She would furrow her eyebrows and wrinkle her forehead right before. “I think the most logical explanation is that she’s framing you for the murder of Rachel. She is looking to add an accomplice to Andrew’s mayhem. The second killer, a girl wearing the same dress as you, because we all know there has to be two. Or three, counting Tom. So why not use you since we all basically saw two of you at the party?”
“Shit!” My heart felt like it stopped. “Of course. She wants me to be here, going batshit crazy with guilt. All of this makes me look insane. Of course that's why I would try to kill myself, because I killed Rachel. Duh. I am such a friggin’ moron. I see why she picked me—I just don't like that it makes so much sense. She would never pick you two. Lain you’re too feeble to actually do any of the things, and your inability to do anything remotely close to what happened to Jake, rules you out. Linds, you’re too obvious. You’re the one everyone thinks is crazy—too easy. Sage has too many alibis, and Rita too, and they were both drugged as hell when Rach was murdered. Their being drugged doesn't work, but me and the girl who looked like me, we are the perfect killers. Of course the troubled one with the slutty past is perfect. I’ve dabbled in depression too many times not to be the guilty party. And now this. I look friggin’ nuts.”
Hate and rage mixed with the already existing fear of having to stay in this disgusting pit the rest of my life, if I was lucky and didn't end up in prison. “I’m going to kill this bitch myself. With my own hands.” They trembled as I lifted them, scars and all. But the scars made me doubt my ability to kill anyone. The dark-haired girl had broken me. She’d proven my lack of ability.
Linds nodded. “Yeah, you are. And if you can’t or you need help, we’ve got your back. Whoever is behind this is going down.” The desperation in her eyes almost convinced me we might be able to pull this off and come out alive. Lainey seemed worried as Linds took my hands in hers and squeezed. “Was the girl the only person you saw?” She changed the subject.
“Yeah. And heard. Her voice was the only one.” It was burned into my mind. I would never forget the sound of that girl’s voice. Or the feel of her hateful stare. She haunted my dreams and lurked in the shadows, even in a pristine place like this.
“Can you describe her?”
I nodded, opening my mouth to answer but Linds cut in, “Sage. We can get Sage to come and draw what you describe. She’s good at this. I watched her do it once for Rachel, with a dress. It was crazy. We found the dress as soon as she drew it. The buyer knew it from the sketch.”
“That's a smart idea.” Lainey nodded.
Something in the conversation made the cold sink in. It crept up my back and arms, tingling its way into my heart and soul. My arms instinctively lifted, wrapping around me. I clung to myself as a hollowness lurked in the background.
“Are they drugging you?” Lainey offered me a face full of pity.
“Yeah.”
“Stop taking it. Pocket it in your cheek and spit it out later. You don't need drugs.” Linds leaned in, pulling me into her embrace. She was warm and smelled like perfume and expensive soap.
“You smell good,” I muttered.
“You smell like Girl, Interrupted.” She laughed as she said it.
“What?”
“Girl, Interrupted. That movie I made you guys watch with Wynona Ryder and Angelina.” She sighed. “That and Foxfire, remember? We were all camped out in Rachel’s room, and she pretended like she wasn't crying, but she totally was.”
“I don't even know how you’re not gay.” I closed my eyes and let the warmth of her be more than enough.
“Me either. But let’s focus on the important stuff: You act as sane as you can and get into the general population tomorrow. Find Andrew and Rachel’s moms and grill them about Lucinda. Take no prisoners on this, don’t let them try to avoid talking about it.” Linds hugged me tighter. “And then tomorrow night, you sneak into the records room and find Lucinda’s file. We need to find out as much about her as we can. Don’t bother going into the room on the main floor; her file won’t be in the regular records room. She’ll have an old file. You’ll have to find the storage room for archived files. I made Lori tell me where they kept them when she worked here. It’s in the basement. There are fire escape stairs to it. Sneak down and find it and bring it home with you.”
“Home? I don't think I’m going home for a while. They think I tried to kill myself.”
Lainey shook her head. “Leave it to me.”
“Okay.” I had no idea how to do it, but I knew I had to trust them both.
“Think of this as lucky. We wouldn't be able to find the friggin’ file if it weren’t for the fact you’re here.” Linds offered a pathetic shrug with her attempt to silver line this bullshit.
“I’m not going that far, dude. I’ll find the file, but I refuse to think of this as lucky.” I pulled at my sleeves to hide the injuries. This wasn't something I could brush off, not like Lindsey could.
But she did have a point. If we were ever going to end this, I needed to find out about Lucinda.
Chapter Five
Rosemary’s Baby
Sweat formed in my hands as the doctor’s eyes roamed the chart in front of him. He pushed his glasses up, nodding his head. “Well, Sierra, you seem to be doing surprisingly well. I think you can probably head outside today and enjoy the serenity of the grounds.” He said it like he either didn’t care or he didn’t mean it. “I’ll have your things moved to one of the guest rooms where you will have more privacy. We still won’t risk it by letting you be in close proximity to anything you could hurt yourself with, but it’s a start.”
I didn’t care what he thought or did. He had given me my first step to freedom and that was all that mattered. The crazy-person side of Silver Hills wasn’t terrible but it was still an isolated nuthouse.
“Okay. Thanks.” I relaxed my fingers, leaving crescent-shaped tension marks in my palms. I had to be grateful for the freedom. I had to be sane.
“Before we end this session—” He paused, lifting his discerning gaze to mine. “Can you just tell me why?”
I shook my head.
“It’s troubling me. You have all the characteristics of narcissistic personality disorder, and I can’t imagine someone with your symptoms hurting themselves. You just don’t fit the bill. Yes, you’ve done drugs and drank and pushed everything to reckless excess, which coincides with a narcissistic personality, as would being manipulative and self-centered. But people with your diagnosis rarely self-harm. I would never perceive you cutting yourself, under any circumstances. You seemed to be in anguish when the nurses cleaned your wounds. You clearly don’t savor pain—you appear to avoid it and anything uncomfortable at all costs.”
He had nailed me right on the head. He’d pegged me so perfectly I almost clapped. Fiercely wanting to tell him how right he was, I struggled with the words that left my lips, “I don’t know why.” It was the truth and all I could let slip from my lips.
“Okay. I want you to put some thought into it though, okay? I want you to have something for me at our next session. Maybe not the actual answer as to why, but just an idea of the reason you became so depressed.” He got up and smiled the least interested grin. “And enjoy the fine weather. For the middle of November it’s still fairly nice out there.” He left me alone in the session room to ponder the fact it was November and I had school to get back to. I’d missed so much.
Of course I didn't spend as much time thinking about that as I did thinking about his question on what had made me so sad. Had he truly contemplated my life over the last four months? If I wasn’t actually depressed, just a little, it was a miracle.
But like he said I didn’t like uncomfortable things.
I pushed back the thoughts and jumped up, hurrying to my room. I needed to pack and move to the good part of the institution before heading outside to find the moms. The idea of fresh air was like winning a prize.
The new room was much nicer and on the west side of the estate. I had a view and proper bedding and there were no locks on the doors to the other rooms. And no middle-aged man just watching me from around the corners. My door still didn’t lock, but it was far nicer and comfier than the sterile room I’d been in for days in solitary. Most people came to Silver Hills for a break, not to be confined. I didn’t even know there was a side with a hospital environment. I had never heard of it. Not that I ever gave a damn about this place.
Now I wasn’t sure I’d ever really leave it, even if I did get out.
It had marked me in a dark way.
The dark-haired girl had won.
She’d beaten me.
She’d broken me.
I was being good and quiet and pretending like I didn’t mind being here. Hell, I was even excited about my new room.
It wasn’t all her doing though. I’d played along since I got here. I pretended I cut myself so they would think I was healing and let me out, at some point. And the new room reminded me I was so close to being free, and yet still a prisoner.
I pulled on clothes my dad had brought, even though he hadn’t come to see me yet, and headed outside.
It was impossible not to be upset with my parents for leaving me here alone, despite the mission of milking information from Andrew and Rachel’s moms needing to be done.
When I got outside I hardly recalled where I was. The cool air on my face was the best feeling ever. My feet crunched on the dry leaves and dead grass as I crossed grounds that were being winterized by the gardening crew.
A handful of other crazies were outside.
The first person I passed was a guy about my age with thick black-rimmed glasses. I had the strangest sensation I knew him from somewhere, but I couldn’t place where. Likely a country club or something. Everyone here had money.
Just over from him were a couple of young women a little older than me. Across the lawn was an older lady on a bench. And at the farthest end of the grass were the moms I was looking for.
The only one who seemed crazy, out of us all, was the old lady. She talked to someone next to her that I couldn’t see. I thought she was talking to herself but as I passed she laughed and moved her hand like she had slapped them on the arm.
I almost envied her, living in her own little world. Someone like that couldn’t be tortured or broken. You could put her in a cell but she wouldn’t see it. The world looked how she wanted it to, not how you told her it was.
I hugged myself as I crossed the grass to where the ladies I considered aunts sat.
The guy with the glasses watched me walk to them. The way his gaze followed made me certain we knew each other. Shame crept in as I wondered if he’d heard that I had tried to kill myself. They likely all assumed that. The idea of it made my insides tighten.
I glanced back at the ladies I was walking to, noticing Andrew’s mom wince as she saw me. Her fear of seeing me didn't stop her from standing and hurrying to wrap herself around me.
“I am so sorry, sweetie.” Her voice was weak and thick. Her embrace was like being wrapped in a light silk. She weighed almost nothing and her skin had become see-through. She held me to her, and before I could get a word out I started to cry.
It wasn’t what I had expected but I couldn’t stop.
She was better than seeing Linds or Lain. She was like a mom to me. All my friends’ moms and dads were the same as my parents. They’d known me since I was a tiny baby. The moms were always nice, except Lainey’s. And the dads were always sort of scary.
The sad fact her son had just murdered her husband, her entire household and Jake’s, didn't change the way Andrew’s mom loved me. It wasn't the way I loved my friends. Our parents had a plastic type of love, wrapped in a Pucci scarf and scented with the limited Chanel Number 5 that wasn't sold in stores. But it was a love we were each used to. And in this moment when I needed it, it was a parent holding me to them and telling me I would be okay.
From the way she trembled and cried with me, I wondered if Andrew might have killed almost everything inside her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered back.
“Come sit.” She pulled me to sit next to Rachel’s mom. They didn’t speak. We sat, cold and more alone together than we had been apart. I wanted to say things but everything seemed wrong. How did you apologize to someone properly for the grief they were suffering? You couldn't know the type of comfort they needed. And all that talking could lead to other talking and sharing, and I just wasn’t emotionally prepared for it. The fact I’d cried was bad enough.
The bitter wind crawled along the ground, carrying leaves and sticks to where we sat. The noise of it filled the awkward silence until finally someone spoke.
“Your mom was here yesterday,” Rachel’s mom whispe
red.
“No, two days ago, dear,” Andrew’s mom corrected her.
“Oh, was it?” Rachel’s mom gave her a confused look. “What happened yesterday?”
“We went swimming.”
“Oh right.” She lifted a finger. “Of course.” She nodded but the confused expression didn’t leave her face. “Your mom came two days ago.”
I realized neither of them were the women I had grown up with, the women I knew better than I knew my own mom. They were shells with small voices and no emotions. The drugs were keeping them both on an even keel. I saw that in myself too. I wasn’t as angry as I should have been or as scared. I was half of everything.
“She seemed happy you were all right.”
I didn’t add the thought I had about my mom. It was inappropriate.
“She wanted to see you but they told her no. They said they wanted to make sure your parents’ divorce wasn’t causing your sadness.” Rachel’s mom spoke so softly the wind was almost stronger than she was.
I nodded, gritting my teeth.
“She said if they wouldn’t allow her to see you, then they had to let your friends come. They agreed. Did the girls visit you?”
“Yeah, Lainey and Lindsey came.”
“Oh good.” Andrew’s mom smiled. “It’s nice when they visit. Andrew doesn’t visit anymore. He stopped a few weeks back. He and his dad both.” She was lost, maybe like the lady talking to herself. Maybe she was in her own little world where Andrew wasn’t an evil dick and her husband wasn’t dead. I wished I could visit that world where none of this was true.
“Andrew’s not going to come visit anymore, hon. He went away.” Mrs. Swanson gave Mrs. Henning a hug, but her eyes focused on me. She was the one who seemed to be with it, whereas when Lain and Linds came, they said Rachel’s mom was insane.
“Can I ask you a question?” I whispered, realizing Mrs. Swanson was the one to ask.
“Of course.” She scowled, like I shouldn’t have asked permission.
