Chapter 7
CHRISTY PACED behind the table, chewing on a fingernail she’d already worn to a nub. Austin sat, nervously tapping his fingers, staring at the wall. They’d been led to the same room in which she’d been profiled by Nancy Wilkins. At the time the therapist had seemed reasonable and understanding. But wasn’t it Nancy who’d concluded that she was mentally cracked?
“Do you mind sitting down?” Austin glared at her. “You’re going to wear out the carpet.”
Austin had remained quiet, lost in thought, which was his way when he became engrossed. To say he was single-minded didn’t begin to describe just how cut off he could become when he put his mind to a task—anything from reading a thick textbook to watching a boring lecture, one leg bouncing, eyes fixed on the screen.
How often had she told him things in his flat only to learn that he wasn’t even hearing her? Nothing short of yelling seemed to yank him out of his fixation. In this way, she’d always been invisible even to Austin, her closest friend. She’d always known that she didn’t belong to anyone or anything, and Austin’s preoccupation with his own inner world only reinforced that certainty.
Christy ignored his request to sit.
“We have to get out of here, Austin.”
He said nothing, which only increased her anxiety. He was hearing her perfectly, and it wasn’t like Austin not to have some answers. She’d never seen him quite like this.
She could understand most of the logic behind most of the events that had put them both in the psych ward. But something seemed out of balance in her mind, something that prevented her from shaking the one thought that had buried itself in her mind like a stubborn tick.
What if the administrator was right?
What if she was delusional?
“Austin?”
He offered her a halfhearted grunt.
“I’m worried.”
Austin looked at her for a few seconds. Took a long breath.
“I know you are. But it’s going to be okay. I’ve already explained that.”
“Tell me again.” When he hesitated, she said, “Please? Just for my reassurance.”
He closed his eyes briefly and then glanced up at her.
“You stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. I followed you and stumbled into something no one was meant to see.”
“Alice.”
“Yes, Alice. Fisher needed to get rid of Alice and get rid of me. So he made you Alice, which takes care of her—”
“He killed her.”
“No, we don’t know that. But he got her out of the picture. Don’t make things worse than they are.”
“Sorry.”
He continued. “He took care of me by admitting me as a patient who suffers from delusions of grandeur, given to fanciful stories. Nobody on the inside or outside is going to believe a word I say. Nor you. So now we have to figure out how to either get out or get word out before anything worse happens to us.”
“What if we can’t?”
“We will. It’s only a matter of time. But we have to play it smart, and that means keeping our heads on straight.”
Her mind stalled. And what if my head isn’t on straight?
Austin saw her hesitation.
“How many times do I have to tell you, you’re not schizophrenic or delusional, Christy.” His voice was stern yet calm. And he anticipated the subject of her greatest concern without waiting for her to ask yet again.
“Everything that happened in Lawson’s office has a perfectly logical explanation. Knowing that unstable patients might try to get out, they set up the reception room to fool them, like it fooled us. The door without the exit sign is the way out to the main hospital. The buzzer opened one that leads to Lawson’s office.”
She nodded, pacing still. “There’s another buzzer or something that opens the real exit.”
“Of course. But getting out that way will probably be impossible. They’re too smart to let anyone out through the front door.”
“And the closet is just a mechanical trick,” she said.
“A false closet that slid into
CHRISTY PACED behind the table, chewing on a fingernail she’d already worn to a nub. Austin sat, nervously tapping his fingers, staring at the wall. They’d been led to the same room in which she’d been profiled by Nancy Wilkins. At the time the therapist had seemed reasonable and understanding. But wasn’t it Nancy who’d concluded that she was mentally cracked?
“Do you mind sitting down?” Austin glared at her. “You’re going to wear out the carpet.”
Austin had remained quiet, lost in thought, which was his way when he became engrossed. To say he was single-minded didn’t begin to describe just how cut off he could become when he put his mind to a task—anything from reading a thick textbook to watching a boring lecture, one leg bouncing, eyes fixed on the screen.
How often had she told him things in his flat only to learn that he wasn’t even hearing her? Nothing short of yelling seemed to yank him out of his fixation. In this way, she’d always been invisible even to Austin, her closest friend. She’d always known that she didn’t belong to anyone or anything, and Austin’s preoccupation with his own inner world only reinforced that certainty.
Christy ignored his request to sit.
“We have to get out of here, Austin.”
He said nothing, which only increased her anxiety. He was hearing her perfectly, and it wasn’t like Austin not to have some answers. She’d never seen him quite like this.
She could understand most of the logic behind most of the events that had put them both in the psych ward. But something seemed out of balance in her mind, something that prevented her from shaking the one thought that had buried itself in her mind like a stubborn tick.
What if the administrator was right?
What if she was delusional?
“Austin?”
He offered her a halfhearted grunt.
“I’m worried.”
Austin looked at her for a few seconds. Took a long breath.
“I know you are. But it’s going to be okay. I’ve already explained that.”
“Tell me again.” When he hesitated, she said, “Please? Just for my reassurance.”
He closed his eyes briefly and then glanced up at her.
“You stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. I followed you and stumbled into something no one was meant to see.”
“Alice.”
“Yes, Alice. Fisher needed to get rid of Alice and get rid of me. So he made you Alice, which takes care of her—”
“He killed her.”
“No, we don’t know that. But he got her out of the picture. Don’t make things worse than they are.”
“Sorry.”
He continued. “He took care of me by admitting me as a patient who suffers from delusions of grandeur, given to fanciful stories. Nobody on the inside or outside is going to believe a word I say. Nor you. So now we have to figure out how to either get out or get word out before anything worse happens to us.”
“What if we can’t?”
“We will. It’s only a matter of time. But we have to play it smart, and that means keeping our heads on straight.”
Her mind stalled. And what if my head isn’t on straight?
Austin saw her hesitation.
“How many times do I have to tell you, you’re not schizophrenic or delusional, Christy.” His voice was stern yet calm. And he anticipated the subject of her greatest concern without waiting for her to ask yet again.
“Everything that happened in Lawson’s office has a perfectly logical explanation. Knowing that unstable patients might try to get out, they set up the reception room to fool them, like it fooled us. The door without the exit sign is the way out to the main hospital. The buzzer opened one that leads to Lawson’s office.”
She nodded, pacing still. “There’s another buzzer or something that opens the real exit.”
“Of course. But getting out that way will probably be impossible. They’re too smart to let anyone out through the front door.”
“And the closet is just a mechanical trick,” she said.
“A false closet that slid into
Similar Books
