Chapter 35: Thirty Three - Listening

Listening

October:

I ended up falling asleep later that evening and missing the basketball match I promised to join. I don’t know at which point during the day I fell asleep, all I knew was that one minute I was rushing through the climax of the book and the next, I was waking up in the middle of the night to the collective sounds of Kara’s snoring and my own tummy’s rumbling.

I’d slept all through dinner.

Yawning widely, I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Squinting against the dim moonlight that shined into the room through the gap in the curtains, I pushed my open book off my chest and onto the bed. I was about to roll over and resume my slumber when my stomach growled again. Louder, this time.

Maybe I could sneak into the kitchen and rummage the fridge for something to eat?

I stood up and padded quietly over to the door, maybe doubly sure that I didn’t make any noise. Kara was sleeping soundly in her bed, and I didn’t want to wake her up. I eased the door open softly and, sparing her a quick glance to make sure she hadn’t stirred, I slipped out of the room and closed the door gently behind me.

Pleased with my stealth, I walked quickly down the hall. I didn’t have to put too much effort into being silent since I was only wearing socks and my feet made minimal noise on the hardwood floors. However, I made certain that I didn’t step on any loose floorboards; didn’t want a groaning floorboard to send me to my doom.

Okay. A little dramatic, but I’d been reading a spy novel the entire day. I was excused.

I tiptoed down the staircase, my fingers trailing gaily along the smooth banister. I remembered how, on a night very much like this one, Sid had once double dared Kara and me to slide down the banister. We’d taken the dare, of course, and thankfully hadn’t gotten caught.

I was just a couple steps away from the second floor – the doctors’ floor – when I was suddenly gripped by a strong sense of unease. It was an eerie feeling, unfamiliar; and it took control of my whole body in one quick second. As I stood frozen on the staircase, one hand still on the banister, I thought I saw something stir in the corner of my vision. Turning slowly, I noticed something glittering in the distance, a thin beam of moonlight bouncing off some unknown reflective surface.

My legs started moving on their accord, stepping softly onto the landing of the second floor. The uneasy sensation hummed in my head, each beat getting louder and louder with every step I took. It urged me forward, insisting that I investigate the subtle movements in the darkness.

I crept along the corridor, pressing my body against the walls. As I moved deeper into the shadows of the office hallway, the sound of muffled voices met my ears. A woman’s and a man’s. I paused for a second, frowning. There were only two people it could possibly be; Larky and Darren. I was puzzled. Larky never stayed over at the Institute. She lived close by so that she could pop in and out whenever she pleased and had the habit of leaving straight after dinner. It had to be well past ten in the night. What was she still doing here?

Now motivated by my own curiosity, I edged closer to Dr. Larkson’s office, from where the sounds were coming from. I’d almost made it to the door when, out of nowhere, a hand snaked out of the shadows and grabbed my own.

I don’t know how I did it, but I somehow managed to keep myself from screaming.

Heart hammering away in my chest from fright, I peered into the darkness angrily. After a few seconds of blinking, my eyes adjusted to the light – or lack thereof – and I was able to make out a face staring back at me.

Parish.

“Wha—” I started to hiss, but he cut me off with a curt shake of his head. He placed a finger to his lips, silently telling me not to make a sound.

Normally, I would have spoken just to spite him or tick him off, but something about the serious set of his face stopped me. Something was wrong. And I didn’t need the still-present feelings of discomfort to figure that out.

After a quick second of deliberation, I nodded. He jerked his head towards the closed door, and tapped at his ear.

Listen.

Okay. Got it.

I let him pull me gently to a side, where we could hide in the shadows. Since Dr. Larkson had a corner office, all Parish and I had to do if we heard someone coming was duck around the corner and pray that whoever it was didn’t need to use the copy machine – because that’s what the hall we’d be hiding in led to.

“In the past two years alone the boy has gotten in trouble for assaulting his principal, one of his teachers, three boys from school, and another boy from his neighborhood.” I heard Dr. Larkson say evenly. Who were they talking about? “Brent’s broken nose isn’t the worst of the damage he’s caused. One of the other boys had four of his teeth knocked out.”

I snapped my head in Parish’s direction, stunned. They were talking about him?

He didn’t seem to notice the dumbfounded look on my face, though. He was too busy staring at the oak wood door, his dark eyes filled with some emotion or thought I couldn’t really place. I’d never seen it on him before. Looking at him just then, I couldn’t imagine that he’d done the things that Larky had just described. But then again, maybe he had. If anyone in the Institute knew about his temper, it was me.

Besides Brent, of course.

“Do you know why  he assaulted them?” Came Darren’s rebuttal. I felt a slight twinge of happiness over the fact that he was defending Parish. I had absolutely no idea what the whole story was – I was completely out of context – but that hard expression on Parish’s face, as well as the dangerous note in Dr. Larkson’s voice, told me that it wasn’t pretty. “Do we know his side of the story? Do we know anything besides what’s in those reports? For all we know, Parish could have been defending himself,” Darren continued, his tone becoming angrier and angrier with each word that left his mouth. “Or defending someone else. You’re jumping the gun here! He’s not dangerous.”

Next to me, Parish dragged a shaking hand down his cheek and slowly sank to the floor. I followed suit, kneeling on the wooden floor beside him.

“That’s a matter of opinion, Michelson. You may have developed some feelings of fondness for the boy; or maybe, as his doctor, you’re just feeling obligated to protect him.” Larky said. A large part of me very much wanted to punch her.

“Regardless of why you’re so adamantly defending him, your argument is irrelevant.” She continued, sounding bored. “It doesn’t matter why Parish did what he did; what matters is the damage he’s caused. This kind of behavior cannot be overlooked. I can easily do what you’re doing and delude myself into thinking that Parish’s actions are justified, but what good would that do for the boy?”

Parish stiffened next to me. His breathing, which was already so soft before, was practically inaudible now. If anything, it sounded like he’d given up on breathing altogether. I didn’t blame him.

He knows what’s coming. A small voice in my head whispered.

I tried to ignore the fact that it sounded a lot like the voice that had saved me in my nightmare the previous night.

“I’m doing what’s best for him, Michelson. The doctors at the hospital I’ve contacted are better equipped to deal with a patient like him. We, unfortunately, are not. The Administrator of St. Elizabeth’s will be here tomorrow night to take him.”

My blood ran cold.

St. Elizabeth’s? St. Elizabeth’s?

That name echoed in my skull, over and over again. It horrified me; left me in total and complete shock. My mind couldn’t process what I’d just heard. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.

St. Elizabeth’s was a federally run psychiatric hospital situated in Washington, somewhere overlooking the Potomac. I didn’t know that much about it, except that, at some point, it was abandoned. In 2009, it began functioning again; this time as a facility for adolescents and adults who were deemed highly unstable and unfit to live amongst society because of the threats they posed to themselves as well as everyone around them.

I turned to Parish.

It was true that he was temperamental, rude, somewhat anti-social and a bit of a tool in general. But he could also be pretty nice if you didn’t get on his nerves. He was, by no means, a threat to society. I couldn’t imagine why Larkson wanted to ship him off to a high security institute. That place would ruin him.

That place would break him.

“So that’s it? You’re not even going to listen to what I have to say about this?” Darren spat angrily.

“The matter wasn’t really up for discussion.” Larkson replied coldly.

“Then why the hell did you call me down here?” Both Parish and I raised out eyebrows at Darren’s outburst. Evidently, neither of us had really pegged him for the type of guy with a temper. It was funny, really. He knew so much about our lives, our thoughts and our feelings. How much did we know about him? Virtually nothing.

When Larkson answered him, a few heavy seconds later, her tone was deadpan. “You would do well to remember that I’m your superior and talk to me with some semblance of respect, Darren.” The venom in her voice when she said his name practically burned through the door. I thought I even saw Parish flinch slightly. “I won’t warn you again.” There was another pregnant pause. “And to answer your question; you’re his doctor. I had to notify you before I actually went through with the transfer.”

My heart sank. Nothing was going to change her mind. I was instantly gripped with a mind-numbing fear for Parish. How could I stand by and let her send him to that place?

I reached over uncertainly, hoping that maybe a friendly pat on the shoulder might help console him, but Parish had evidently heard enough. He stood up in one fluid motion before my hand had even gotten close to him, and walked around the corner. My hand flopped uselessly in the air.

I was about to stand up and follow him when Darren’s dejected voice piped up from behind the door once more. “What about his father?” He asked.

“Mr. Feltman is well aware of his son’s mental state. I haven’t been able to reach him as yet, but I’m thoroughly convinced that he’ll have no objections to my decision.” Larkson answered evenly. I felt a light go off in my head. If Parish could contact his father and tell him what was going on, wouldn’t there be a way to avoid this whole thing? Wouldn’t he be able to stop Larkson from sending Parish away to St. Elizabeth’s? “He does, after all, have the boy’s best interests at heart.” She finished.

Yes, I thought smugly, standing up quickly to go talk to Parish. He does have Parish’s best interests in heart.

I took a confident step forward and felt my foot violent jerk back against the movement. I stumbled and my other foot came down heavily to stop myself from falling flat on the floor. Mortified, I glanced down at my relenting foot, only to discover that my sock had gotten caught in a nail in the floorboard.

My heart rate quickened as I silently prayed that Darren and Larkson had been too caught up in their conversation to notice the noise. In front of me, I could sense movement in the shadows; Parish had heard me. Frantic, I knelt down and tried to disentangle myself from the nail.

I’d almost gotten the material out from the nail, when the hallway suddenly flooded with a bright yellow light. I shook my head at Parish, who was standing in front of me, unseen, deliberating whether or not to come to my rescue.

For once, he didn’t argue. He simply just stepped back round the corner.

“Well, well…” Larkson’s snide voice penetrated the tense silence. “Isn’t this a lovely surprise.”

I closed my eyes for a second, to regain my composure, and then stood up to face her.  “Look, I can—”

“Stop.” She silenced me with one word, holding up a steady hand. She turned to Darren, fixing him with a twisted smile. “Could you give October and me a little privacy, Michelson?” she asked, “We need to have a little talk.”

I saw a quick flash of alarm on Darren’s face. It was gone as soon as it came. “What about our discussion?” He asked, deflecting.

“Oh,” she waved her hand dismissively. “We’re done talking about that.”

“But—”

“I hope you’re not about to disrespect my authority, Michelson” She interrupted dangerously. “That wouldn’t end well for you.”

Darren’s face flushed and he looked like he was about to argue, but I shook my head. What was the worst she could do to me? Call my parents? Lock me in solitary again? No matter what she did, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as bad as what she had planned for Parish.

Seeing the look on my face, Darren refrained from arguing. “No.” He said thickly. “Not arguing. Good night, Dr. Larkson.”

“Good night, Michelson.” She smiled. It was a sickly, sweet one. She watched Darren walk over to the East Wing, where his room was, before turning to me.  “Come on, October. I want to have a little chat with you.”

She turned on her heels and walked briskly back into her office, leaving the door opened for me to follow. Swallowing, I stepped into her office. “Close the door behind you please.”

I did as she asked, and stood nervously near the closed door. What did she want to talk about?

“Sit, sit.” She told me, waving her hand at the single chair in front of her desk. I walked over to it and sat down. In front of me, she did the same, seating herself elegantly in the large desk chair. “So,” she started, resting her elbows on the desk top and smiling at me in feigned friendliness. “I hear you’re making progress with Dr. Michelson?”

Confused, I nodded. “Yes, we are.”

“What do you talk about?”

“Um,” I scratched my head. “Am I allowed to discuss this with you? Seeing as how I’m Dr. Michelson’s patient now?” I mentally commended myself for referring to Darren as Dr. Michelson instead of using his first name. No need to raise any red flags.

“Nonsense.” She waved me off. “I’m his boss. He’d have to report to me anyway. I thought I’d hear it from you.”

“Oh, okay.” I mumbled. “We just talk about the accident mostly. And the stuff that happened afterwards.”

“And you’ve told him the same things you’ve told me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Liar.

“And he still hasn’t convinced you that these voices of yours are all in your head.”

Whoa. Where had that come from?

I paused in uncertainty. “Um. We’re taking it one step at a time.” I answered, decided that it was the best answer I could give. What else could I have possibly said? Something along the lines of “no, I’m actually more convinced of their reality than ever?”

Didn’t think so.

Her smile faded instantly, and a scowl took its place. “So, you still think they’re real?”

I hesitated. “Not really.” I half-lied. I didn’t think they were real. I knew they were real. “I think… I think things are slowly starting to make sense.”

She pursed her lips, momentarily silent. I tore my gaze from those steely blue eyes and focused instead on the red carpet under my feet. Somehow, the intense crimson fabric was less stressful to look at than Larkson’s calculating gaze.

“Call them.”

I looked up, blinking. “Huh?”

“The voices.” She said. “Call them.”

“What? No.” I couldn’t stop the bubble of panic that crept into my words. “Why?”

“I want to see how much progress you’ve made.” She explained calmly. “If you’re really getting better like you say you are, then you shouldn’t have a problem facing these demons of yours. If, however, you refuse, I’ll know that Dr. Michelson’s methods aren’t what’s best for this Institution.”

I stared at her, transfixed with horror. She was evil. Was she honestly threatening to fire Darren if I didn’t do what she asked? I felt as if I was being smothered, choking on the ultimatum she was giving me. If I called the voices, I’d a few moments of torture and a possible confirmation of my psychosis. If I refused, I’d get Darren fired and have to live with a lifetime of guilt.

Shooting her a look that, I’m fairly curtained, told her how much I wanted to pummel her, I exhaled deeply. “ Fine.” I spat. “I’ll call them.”

Smiling smugly, she leaned back in her seat, waiting. Unsure of what I was supposed to do, I looked up at the ceiling. “Um, are you guys there?”

Nothing.

“Hello? Old lady? Boy?” I called stupidly. “I don’t know your names… Are you guys there?”

Nothing.

I tried one more time before the sounds of Larkson’s laughter stopped me from trying again. “well,” she said between chuckles. “That was certainly entertaining.”

I frowned. “Are we done now? Can I go?”

“Of course you can.” She said. Relieved, I stood up and made for the door. “Just as soon as you admit that you are, in fact, mentally unsound and in need of help.” I halted in my tracks, turning around slowly to face her.

“What?”

“We can’t help you unless you’re willing to be helped, October.” She said. “I think the first step you need to take is admitting that you have a problem.”

“No.” I sounded as calm and even as she had earlier, when she’d been trying to make it seem like what she was planning to do to Parish was justified. “I’m not going to say that.”

She tsk-ed. “Come now October. I thought you were making progress.”

“This isn’t progress. You’re not trying to help me.” I said. “You’re just trying to get me to conform to your beliefs; your theories. I won’t.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Just admit it and you can go.”

“And if I don’t?” I raised an eyebrow, challenging her. I didn’t even notice the chill bumps that had risen on my skin.

“Then you and I are going to have a problem.”

“Oh, dear me.” The familiar voice hissed in my ear. Typical. They couldn’t show up when I actually called them, but when I needed them to stay away.  “Why don’t you just admit it? Tell her what she wants to hear.” The woman urged. “Tell her you’re crazy. Maybe you’ll get to accompany your friend to that new hospital.”

“Go away.” I hissed under my breath.

“Excuse me?” Larkson raised an eyebrow. The amused twinkle in her told me that, despite the confused expression on her face, she knew I wasn’t talking to her.

“Go on.” The woman urged again. “Admit it, and you’ll get to spend the rest of your days in here, with your friends.”

“I said go away.”

“Go away? But we’re having so much fun together.” The woman’s voice echoed in my head, as if she’d crawled into through my ears and lodged herself in my brain. “Tell her you’re crazy. Tell her about the twisted thoughts I’ve seen in your mind. Tell her about the dreams. Tell her about the cuts and the scars.”

“Stop it.” I shut my eyes and sat down on the ground, no longer caring that Larkson was watching. “Stop it. Leave me alone.”

“If you don’t tell her you’re crazy, we’ll show her how insane you are. Remember your uncle and your aunt. Remember your parents. Remember what we’re capable of.” She hissed.

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of you.” I chanted to myself, willing myself to believe the words. Wishing desperately that I was somewhere else.

Suddenly, everything around me went black.

A split second later I’m standing in a ring of fire, choking on thick, heavy smoke. My uncle and my aunt are screaming. In front of me. I can see them. Screaming. Screaming. Begging me to save them.

Your fault. A voice chants. Your fault, your fault, your fault.

I’m screaming. I gasping for air and screaming. “Stop. Stop. Leave them alone.”

The voices don’t listen. The house explodes.

Everything fades again and I’m standing in a red room. Not Red. White. Covered with red stuff. Blood. I smell the rust and salt. It’s nauseating. I want out. I take a step forward. Crunch sounds. Boot on bone. Horrified, I look down. It’s Kara. I’ve stepped on Kara.

I scream again and step aside. I crash right into Sid. His face is sliced. He’s bleeding, vomiting blood. I’m still screaming. I can’t stop. I trip over something. Parish. Parish’s head. No body. Just his head. I still can’t stop screaming. Darren rushes over to help me, and a knife goes through his chest. I did it. I held the knife. He falls over. Dead.

“Your fault. Your fault.” My parents voices chant.

I was suddenly jolted back into reality by the feeling of a cold hand grabbing my wrist. I pulled away instinctively, faintly aware that I was still screaming, but another hand grabbed my other wrist. In front of me, Dr. Larkson wore a somber look.

“Let me go!” I shot her a pleading look, still struggling against whoever it was that was holding me.

I didn’t need to see the unsympathetic set of her face to know that she wasn’t going to listen to anything I had to say from that moment onwards. I should have done what the woman told me to do. I should have just admitted that I was insane. Instead, I’d refused, and she’d thrown hallucinations at me. She’d made me relive all my nightmares in front of Dr. Larkson, and I’d fallen for her trap.

While I’d been facing a slew of nightmarish images, all Dr. Larkson had seen was an insane teenager, sitting on her office floor, screaming at nothing. In her eyes, I was, for all intents and purposes, insane. Out of my mind. Mentally unstable.

I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks as I continued to struggle against the nurses who were holding me. “I’m not crazy. Please, please believe me.” I begged her, my voice hoarse from the screaming. “Let me go. Please. Let me go.”

“I’m sorry October.” She said. I was surprised to hear a slight note of fear in her voice. What was she scared about? I’m the one who was going to be locked up now. “I can’t do that.”

“Please!” I begged, louder, more urgently this time. “Please! I’m begging you. I’m not crazy. They’re real! They’re real.”

She shook her head, silently denying my request. When she moved her head to the right I noticed, with utmost horror, that she had three bleeding scratch marks on the side of her face. I suddenly understood why she’d sounded scared. I’d done that. Somewhere during the hallucination, she must have come up to me, and I’d scratched her.

I’d scratched her.

I’d hurt someone. Parish wasn’t the one that was dangerous to society, I was. Something about this realization must have caused something inside me to snap, because the next thing I knew, I was laughing.

And I couldn’t stop.

“Take her to solitary, boys.”

The last thing I felt was the sharp stab of a needle in my neck before I blacked out. I fell asleep laughing.

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AN:  St. Elizabeth's hospital is an actual federally run institution in Washington, somewhere overlooking the Potomac. And yes, it DID fall into disrepair at some unknown point in time and was abandoned. But that's where the similiarities stop. I made up the rest about it being ressurected in 2009 and beng converted into a mental asylum for adolescents and adults that  are dangerously unstable. I'd also like to note that this entire book is a work of fiction, so me fudging the details on the hospital is allowed. Haha.