“Hello Kristen,” a voice says to me as I awake from my drug-induced slumber. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“I feel like scratching out your eyes, roasting them on skewers, and dining on them simply out of spite.”
“That’s the spunky woman I’ve come to know, even if you are a smidge more violent than I recall.”
“Tragedy. Death. Loneliness. Sadness. It seems these things bring out the best in me.”
“Yes, I can imagine how all of it has brought you to this point.”
“After I dine on your eyes I’m going to track down each person who helped you bring me here and it will be more of the same: scratch, skewer, roast, dine, repeat.”
“Kristen, would you like me to come back at another time?”
“I want you to let me go so I can go back to my life. I'd just found something good again when you broke into my home, kidnapped me, and brought me here.”
“Kristen, you know I’m only trying to help. It was in everyone’s best interest for me to come and get you. You were becoming a menace to society.”
“I’m a menace to society? I believe you have that backwards. It is society who menaces me! All I have ever tried to do was be good and yet, since The Event, society hasn’t done a damn thing for me!”
“I’m sorry that’s how you feel but that’s simply not true. We have worked diligently to do what’s best for you. That’s why we brought you here. We want to help make things better. We want to bring you into the fold, help you become a regular part of society.”
“Those may be your plans for me but I must inform you I have no interest in becoming part of your so-called society. How naive do you think I am? I know how all of this works. You go out of your way to convince people you have their best interests at heart and once you’ve duped them into believing you, you use them as pawns for your own sadistic amusement. So, you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t show my gratitude for what you’re trying to do for me.”
“Kristen, you are still quite angry and I don’t think you’re in a place where you’re willing to think logically, so for now, I’ll leave you. We can continue our conversation another time. However, I want you to remember, I only want to help. I want what’s best for you.”
He gets up to leave and my rage explodes. I am going to make good on my promise to scratch out his eyes. I lunge at him but I am restrained to the bed. I was so focused keeping this charlatan from getting into my head I didn’t notice the straps buckled to my wrists. I strain anyway, just so he knows I mean business, and before I know it, someone is injecting me once again.
As consciousness is taken from me I think to myself, “I will make all of them pay for their transgressions.”
When I awaken, it is dark, both inside my room and in the world outside my window. I look around, checking to see if they have a guard hidden in the room somewhere. As far as I can tell, they do not. There are some nooks I cannot see into, but for now, I feel safe enough.
I’m still tethered to the bed with wrist and ankle restraints. I pull my hands toward me and lean forward, hoping I can use my teeth to free myself, but they kept the straps short enough that I would not be able to do such a thing.
Regardless, I will get out of this bed, find Danyelle, and get the Hell out of Dodge. I know we’ll have to relocate, this town is no longer safe for either of us, but that won’t be a problem. We still have her car and I have every confidence I can find us a place to call home once we find somewhere to settle down.
I survey my surroundings but can’t find a single item within reach that I can use to free my hands. Luckily, I’m resourceful. The one thing I can reach with my teeth is the IV line running the length of my arm. I grip the plastic tubing with my teeth, as far down as I possibly can, and jerk my head up and away. Unfortunately, with the IV taped to my forearm, it doesn’t give much, but with a little perseverance, I’m positive I can make something happen. I perform the same grip-with-teeth, pull-with-head maneuver a half dozen times before the tape starts to come free. On the seventh try, the tape pulls the hair out of my arms but is no longer holding the tubes to my skin. After two attempts, the IV doesn’t pull all the way out of my arm, but is no longer in the vein. A few moments later, the infiltration monitor begins to beep. Now all I have to do is wait.
A minute or so passes before a nurse enters the room. She flicks a switch on the wall and the lights come up. I’m pretending to be asleep. I’ve turned my body away from the IV rack so she thinks the line was pulled out when I tried to roll over. They clearly haven’t told her she should be wary of me, or they have, and she’s too thick-headed to take the warning seriously. As I feel her hand on my arm, I have just enough range of motion to grab her wrist. Her eyes shoot open with surprise. I give her what probably looks to her to be an evil grin and then give her arm a quick yank.
Being wholly unprepared for the moment, that small but unexpected movement is enough to knock her off balance. She tries to keep herself upright but because I have a tight grip on her hand, she is unable to use it to steady herself and she falls to her knees beside the bed. Her head is now close enough to my hand that I move it quickly from her wrist to her hair. I grab a nice full handful of hair, close to the scalp, and pull just enough to cause a bit of pain.
This has happened in such a short amount of time, she has yet to make any noticeable sounds.
“I don’t want to hear peep from you,” I whisper between clenched teeth,” do you understand?”
I can feel her nod more than I can see it. She is definitely a little bit scared about what I might be capable of doing.
“All I want you to do is undo the restraint on this arm. If you do, I will let you go. I’m only violent if driven to it, and as far as I know, you’ve done nothing to warrant such an action on my part. Once this one restraint is loose, I will let you go and I will take it from there. You, on the other hand, can go alert whomever you need to that I am trying to make my escape. Again, I won’t hold it against you because it’s part of your job. That being said, if you do anything other than the things I’ve mentioned, I will consider our little pact null and void and there’s no telling what might happen to you. Understood?”
“Yes,” the nurse whispers, tears forming in her eyes.
She reaches up and unbuckles the restraint. Once it is no longer around my wrist, I let go of her hair.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Sometimes one has to do what one must.”
She nods at me then hurries from the room. Within thirty seconds I am free of all of my straps as well as my IV. I go to the far side of the room, pick up the chair sitting in the corner, then hide behind the door the nurse left open on her way out. I’m starting to think the nurse didn’t inform anybody about what I’d done when I hear booted footsteps hurrying down the hallway. The moment the Sad-Man enters the room far enough for me to kick the door shut, I do so and whack him with the chair. He crumbles to the ground but more out of surprise than anything else. Before he has the chance to figure out what’s going on, I reach down, unbutton the strap keeping his firearm in the holster, and pull the gun.
I give him a push with my foot, causing him to fall onto his side, and then I am out and into the hallway. There are five hospital employees coming at me from multiple avenues, but the moment I flash the weapon in their direction, each of them halts.
I join the nurse - the one who is already far more acquainted with me than she ever wanted to be - behind the nurses’ station.
“Where is the woman that came in with me? Her name is Danyelle.”
“I-I-I don’t know,” she stammers.
I motion to the computer.
“Look it up. Her name is Danyelle Pellner.”
“Dr Pellner?” the nurse asks.
“Yes. Where is she?”
“She’s not here. She doesn’t usually work nights.”
I shoot the nurse a look.
“Listen, I'm not asking if she’s working, I’m asking where you’ve put her. She was brought in with me this morning, so it stands to reason if you have me restrained in one of these rooms, you’ve done the same to her.”
The nurse gives me a worried look. She glances around. I can tell she doesn’t want to give me the answer that’s on her tongue.
The Sad-Man, who came into the hallway shortly after I did, stands idly by. I recognize him. Once again it’s the Sad-Man whose fingers I slashed a few weeks back. I motion with the gun for him to come closer.
“Okay, hot-shot, you have first-hand experience of what I’m capable of, so tell me, where are you holding Dr Pellner.”
“It’s Kristen, right?” he asks. “Amber’s telling you the truth. Dr Pellner is not here. I don’t know where she is, but you are the only person in this hospital being held and monitored by law enforcement.”
I don’t necessarily trust him, and yet, there’s something in his voice that makes me think he’s telling me the truth. I slowly make my way out from behind the nurses’ station, down the hallway, and into another. The moment I’m out of sight, I take off running. I find a stairwell and instead of going down, like they would expect me to do, I go up. Without my gear I can’t really get out of here without using one of the doors, but I can do my best to confuse them.
The hospital only has four floors; I was on the second. I run up one floor, exiting on the third. It’s fairly quiet. I have to duck inside a room once to keep from being seen, but otherwise, I find a service elevator without too much trouble. I take that elevator to the basement, find a staircase, and take it up to the ground floor.
Before entering the ground floor hallway, I peer through the glass in the door. I’m surprised when I don’t see anyone around. I do my best to open the door silently, but the latch clicks loudly as I depress the lever to open the door. I wait a minute before opening it, but nobody seems to be responding to the sound. I crouch down and slowly pull the door inward. Pushing my head through the opening, I look both ways. Not a single person is visible. I step into the hallway and turn left. I’m going toward the rear of the building. Most likely there will be someone outside waiting for me there, but there’s guaranteed to be someone at the front entrance.
Trying to follow the blueprint in my head, I go straight down this hallway, hoping the door at the far end leads into another stairwell which will also house the exit to the exterior of the building. At the door, I use the tall, narrow window to check the area beyond. All is clear. I step into the stairwell and right where I expect it to be there’s a door with a red exit sign above it.
From above, the sound of a door opening and footsteps coming down the steps reaches me. I push the crash bar on the exterior door and exit. An alarm goes off and outside the door are three Sad-Men with their guns drawn. Part of me wants to go down in a blaze of glory but I’m not really ready for that kind of finality just yet. I hurl my gun at the Sad-Man on the left and bull rush the one to the right. The misdirection is enough of a distraction for me to take my guy to the ground. As this particular Sad-Man and I skirmish, I try like Hell to disarm him but there must still be traces of various drugs in my system because I feel lethargic and not as strong as I typically am. Nevertheless, though I’m unable to pry the weapon from his grip, I manage to straddle him and pin him to the ground. I have him right where I want him. Yet, just as I’m about to remove his eyes so I can cook them on skewers later, I am whacked on the back of the head with what I can only assume is the butt of a gun.
“Good morning Kristen,” the voice says to me.
“Good morning, Dr Lindeman,” I reply indignantly.
“Are you feeling any better this morning?”
“I’m still angry, if that’s what you’re wondering?”
“In a manner of speaking. But what else are you feeling? How is your head this morning?”
“It hurts like Hell. Let me forcefully clobber you with a blunt object and see how you feel!”
“I think you know that’s not what I was referring to.”
“Possibly, but it’s what I am referring to. As far as I can tell, because I cannot reach up and actually feel it, I have a large bump on my head where I was assaulted by a so-called police officer. Is that not of concern to you?”
“I sympathize with you, but you know my concerns lie elsewhere. I'll ask you again, how is your head?"
"Hurting."
"Kristen..."
“Perhaps you should be more specific in your questioning, doctor.”
“Very well, how is your mind today?”
“Clear,” I respond tersely.
“Good. I’m happy to hear that. Is there anything else you want to add?”
“I am in control of my thoughts and actions.”
“Excellent. Kristen, I am sorry about yesterday morning. We had no intention of restraining you and knocking you out but you lost control almost immediately. I told Dr Pellner that reacting the way she did during the raid would cause you a great deal of stress, but she insisted we do things her way.”
Up to this point I have been staring through the window at the outside world, not wanting to give Dr Lindeman the satisfaction of my full attention, but this information causes me to whip my head around, shooting daggers at him.
“What are you talking about?!” I demand to know.
“She was the one who told us where you were.”
“I don’t believe you. You may have followed us but there’s no way she gave up my location.”
“I’m sorry, Kristen, but she did. However, before you become angry with her, I want you to know she did it only because she was concerned about you and wanted to help you.”
“If she gave me up, she betrayed me, and she’s no better than the rest of you.”
“Kristen, we have known each other for many years. There was a time you trusted me completely. Why can you not do so again?”
“I will tell you why, Dr Lindeman. Because I realized you weren’t helping me, you were brainwashing me. You were making me believe in things that could never be just so you could control me. So I would conform to this ‘normal’ version of society that you, and the Sad-People, and all of those under your collective thumb, claim exists. I won’t have it anymore.”
“I see. I am really sorry you feel this way; you’re carrying a heavy weight. Look, Kristen, I know you think the world has changed, but it hasn’t. Your life has changed, and your perspective, but the rest of the world is just as it was.”
“You and I both know that is not true. The world got flip-turned upside-down1 and once it did, unlike the rest of you, I refused to be its puppet.”
I can tell the good doctor is getting frustrated with me and a spark of joy settles inside my chest. No longer will I succumb to the will of others.
“Kristen, you are no one’s puppet but your own.”
And just like that the spark flames out. This guy is good. He knows exactly where to hit me. That is frustrating to no end. My only option at the moment is to resort to pettiness.
I turn away from him and say, “I do not want to talk to you any more.”
“Very well. I do not want to upset you, so I will go. For now. Think about what I said though. You know there’s some truth to it.”
Dr Lindeman rises from his chair and walks out.
I can feel the warm dampness of Beau’s tongue on my forehead. There resides no better reassurance in this world than the loving kindness of one’s furred companion. I reach up to stroke the fur along the side of his neck but can’t reach him for some reason. Instead, I feel someone else’s hand take mine and feel their lips gently kiss my fingers. This other hand then lays my hand on my stomach and then I feel Beau’s reassuring lick again.
When I open my eyes, it is not Beau’s tongue providing the warm dampness but Danyelle. She holds a wet washcloth in her hand and tenderly wipes my face. I am angry with her but I need this touch from her more than I do the release of an angry tirade, so I close my eyes, hoping she’ll think I’ve fallen back to sleep. I want to be able to relish the care she’s providing me.
Unfortunately, she must have seen me open my eyes, because she says, “I’m sorry.”
I want to ignore her, yet, I can’t.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I say.
“Okay. Do you want me to go?”
I say ‘Yes’ but quickly follow it with a ‘No’ when she gets up to go.
“Can I have some water?” I ask.
Danyelle pours some water in a cup and puts the cup to my lips. I take a sip.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“Worn out,” she says, following it up with a, “but still beautiful.”
I smile half-heartedly.
“Where are my things?” I wonder aloud.
“I believe most of it is at the police station. I don’t know for sure, but I think they’re holding it as evidence against you.”
‘They probably have twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy photographs2 to go along with it as well.”
“What?” Danyelle inquires, confused.
“Nothing,” I reply. “Evidence for what?”
“You’re the prime suspect for a rash of crimes that began about seven months ago.”
“You believe them?”
“ I think I do.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I don’t know. So I can help? So you have someone to lean on? Because I like you?”
“Right,” I say, disbelief in my voice.
“I do,” she replies, softly.
“Nothing like a bit of pity to win over the affections of a pretty doctor.”
“Stop it!” Danyelle scolds, surprising me. “I don’t pity you. You seem to have suffered from some unfortunate traumas with which I sympathize, but I do not pity you. I am here by choice. Now, if you want to have a little pity party, let me know. I’ll go out, buy some decorations and edible goodies, and I’ll help set it up. We can invite all of the nurses, and doctors, and police officers, and we’ll have a grand, old time. Is that what you want?”
“No,” I respond, embarrassingly.
“Good. Now, whether you want to or not, I think we should get this uncomfortableness out of the way. I am sorry you are here and I’m even more sorry that I had a hand in making it happen. If you feel betrayed, that’s understandable. In fact, I’m sure I would feel the same way were the roles reversed. Here’s the thing, though: I considered all of the consequences beforehand and still took the risk of turning you in because I thought you needed help. Of course, you weren’t going to accept it willingly, so I did what I did. Now, I’ve said my piece. You can either forgive me or not. I won’t demand an answer from you but the ball is now in your court.”
Other than the time Danyelle told me it was her plan or no plan regarding her breaking into the hospital, I haven’t really seen this side of her. I’m slightly offended, because I’m still angry about her betrayal, yet, it’s an attractive quality.
“Very well,” I begin. “I haven’t had the proper amount of processing time to make a final determination on whether or not I forgive you, but I promise you will be the first to know once I do. Can I explain to you why I’m angry though?”
“Fair enough.”
“I know we don’t know each other very well, not really. We’ve known each other a total of what, five days? Yet I feel like if there was one thing you knew about me it was how much I despised these people and how it was my one singular goal to not fall into their hands. Why do a sister like that?”
“Because you needed help. I know you think you were doing fine, but you weren’t, and there were people whose lives were being affected because of it. Frankly, I’m disappointed with Dr Lindeman for telling you I was in on it. You weren’t supposed to know yet. I wasn’t going to keep it a secret, but I did want to wait to tell you until you understood we were all trying to help rather than hurt you.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”
“Is there any chance you would have agreed to give yourself up? Even if I did have a logical reason for you to do so?”
I shake my head no. I’ve known all along I never would have let her convince me to turn myself in. In fact, even the act of her suggesting such a thing probably would have set me off and caused me to do something I might have regretted. I think these are some of the reasons I haven’t told her to bugger off.
“Danyelle, is Dr Lindeman here? In the hospital?”
“I’m sure he can be tracked down.”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Do you mind if I come back later, after you meet with him?”
“If it’s okay with you, I would like you to be here with me while I talk to him.”
“I’m not sure if he’ll…”
I cut her off.
“Don’t worry about him. Just come back with him and I’ll make sure it’s okay for you to stay.”
“All right.”
Danyelle hurries out the door. It appears my reckoning awaits.
“I still don’t think having someone here who barely knows you is a good idea.”
“Forgive me for disagreeing with you Dr Lindeman, but I think it’s a splendid idea. Why? Because her presence calms me. That should be enough for you. But since it isn’t for some reason, let me put it another way. Earlier today you asked me why I no longer trust you, why I seem to have forgotten that you have my best interests in mind. I’m not sure I have a great reason for you but I do know that if you allow her to stay in the room with us, so she can provide me some much needed comfort and support, that might be a great first step in earning back my trust.”
“Very well,” Dr Lindeman submits, “you win.”
I flash him one of my mischievous smiles that I know bothers him tremendously.
“How is your head right now?” he asks.
“Do we have to do this again? It hurts like Hell.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Specifics, Bob.”3
He sighs. I love when I exasperate him.
“How is your mind today?”
“Clear,” I reply. “I am in control of my thoughts and actions.”
“I am happy to hear that,” he says with honesty. “Who are you?”
“My name is Kristen Natalie Blackwell. I am twenty-nine years old and I suffer from paranoid delusions.”
I hazard a glance in Danyelle’s direction but she doesn’t really react to this information. She was either told or had guessed on her own.
“It’s really good to see you today, Kristen. What do you want to talk about today?”
“The Event.”
“Are you sure that’s where you want to start? We can begin somewhere less... monumental, if you prefer.”
“No, that’s okay. Let’s dive into the deep end.”
“Tell me about The Event.”
“It occurred on January 27, 2023. Beau and I were curled up on the couch…”
“And can you remind me who Beau is?”
“Beau is, or was, my psychiatric service dog.”
“Continue.”
“On this particular evening, Beau and I were watching a movie in the living room of my family’s home on Rosewood Dr. At 12:13 am, the doorbell rang. Though we have a doorbell whose volume starts low and increases gradually, hearing it ring at that hour caused me immediate anxiety. Luckily Beau, recognizing my discomfort, pressed his body to mine and licked my hand. These small gestures calmed me enough to allow me to answer the door. When I opened the inner door, I saw a Sad-Man standing on the opposite side of the outer door.”
“What’s a Sad-Man?” Dr Lindeman inquired.
“A self-appointed deputy.”
“Specifics, Kristen,” he says with a smirk.
“It is a person who selfishly assumes the role of a trusted official in order to use their power to sow chaos.”
“Is this an accurate description?”
I look out the window. It is a beautiful early fall afternoon. The leaves are just beginning to change color at the edges. I love this time of year.
“Kristen?” I hear Dr Lindeman speak my name. “Kristen, is that description of a Sad-Man an accurate one?”
I look back at him. He is smiling, but with genuine concern on his face.
“It is not,” I reply.
“Tell me again, what is a Sad-Man?”
“A Sad-Man is a bearer of bad news. Typically, they wear a uniform of some kind. When they speak, their words reach into the depths of your world and rend it in two. On January 27, 2023, this Sad-Man’s words did so for me.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Ms Blackwell?’ When I confirmed it was I, he continued. ‘Ms Blackwell, I am sorry to have to inform you, but your family has been in an accident. They were struck by a tractor trailer that lost control in the snow on Rt 7 outside of Millingford. Both of your parents died before help arrived and your sister is in critical condition at the Medical Center. I can take you there right now if you’d like.’”
“Did you go with him to the Medical Center?”
“I did, but not because he offered. When the officer finished telling me what had happened, I collapsed on the floor. I was conscious, but that kind of information, received unexpectedly, is more than I can process. Beau came over to me and I hugged him close. I believe the officer asked if I was okay, but I’m not positive. If he did, I doubt I answered him. As far as I know, there came a point when he was worried about my condition, so he helped me into his squad car and brought me here.”
“What happened next?”
“One of the nurses saw my mental health awareness bracelet and called you.”
“That’s excellent, Kristen. I’m really surprised how well you remember the details.”
“I never got to see her.”
"What? Dr Lindeman asks.
"I never got to see her."
“To whom are you referring?” Dr Lindeman inquires.
“Kiersten, my sister. As far as I know she was still alive when I arrived here but by the time I was stable enough to see her…”
My words trail off. Danyelle places one of her hands on top of mine, squeezing it reassuringly. I feel tears tracing salty trails from the corners of my eyes to my chin. Each droplet hangs there momentarily before letting go.
“Kristen,” it’s Dr Lindeman, “let’s take a break. Would you like me to get anything for you? Something to eat or drink?”
I shake my head in the negative and Dr Lindeman walks out. As soon as he’s out of sight, Danyelle moves from her chair to my bed. She slips in beside me and puts her arms around me. I lean my head against her breast and dampen her shirt with my tears.
“Why couldn’t I have just held it together for a few hours so I could have been by her side?” I ask no one in particular. “I know it wouldn’t have changed anything, but maybe she would have known she wasn’t alone. She wouldn’t have had to leave this world without someone by her side.”
“How old was she?”
“Twenty-one. She was my best friend. For most of our lives, I was the big sister always looking out for my younger sister, but after my diagnosis seven years ago, things kinda flip-flopped. Not that I wanted it to, it’s just the way it was.”
“I take it your family was close.”
“Yes. I don’t know how they put up with me before we knew what was going on, before my medication helped level me off and Beau took some of the weight off of their shoulders.”
“If you were close, then Kiersten knew you would have been there if it had been possible.”
“Maybe.”
I go silent, and while Danyelle holds me, I perform my breathing exercises for a while. I know this was a long time coming, but I still feel unsettled away from the safety of my bunker. In a way, I’m lucky Danyelle turned me in. Had I been caught at any other time, I most likely would have been alone. At least right now, I have someone beside me who seems to care whether I come through this okay.
After half an hour, Dr Lindeman returns. Even though I asked him not to, he’s brought me a cup of hot cocoa (he knows I don’t like coffee), a turkey sandwich, and a chocolate pudding. I’m glad he didn’t listen to me. I’m famished. Though I like to give him the business, he really is okay sometimes.
“Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to be so familiar with her?” Dr Lindeman questions Danyelle.
“I don’t see why,” she replies. “After all, she is not my patient. She’s a new friend who benefits more from having a personal relationship with me rather than a professional one.”
“I suppose there’s a logic to that,” Dr Lindeman concedes.
“You didn’t think to bring me any refreshments?” Danyelle asks Dr Lindeman.
Dr Lindeman gives her a snarky grin and goes into the hallway. I smile at Danyelle as I inhale my food. I know she’s messing with him simply because she can tell I enjoy it when he gets flustered.
Upon his return he looks at Danyelle and says, “Paul will bring you something shortly.”
“Thank you,” she says.
“Do you want to talk some more or should I come back tomorrow?” he asks me.
I swallow my last bit of sandwich and take a swig of cocoa before I respond.
“Let’s get it over with,” I say.
I’m feeling brave due to Danyelle’s presence. It’s odd for me to think she might actually like me, but even if she’s here just for educational purposes, she’s infused me with confidence.
“You were brought here the night your parents died,” Dr Lindeman reminds me where we left off, “and you did not manage to see your sister. How did you find out that she, too, had died?”
“A Sad-Man told me. He wore a dark-green shirt, khaki pants, and a long white lab coat. It is the second most common uniform worn by Sad-Men after law enforcement blue.”
“Do you remember what happened following the disclosure of this information?”
“Not very well, although I do believe, I may have become violent.”
“You did but it was self-directed. You tried to jump through the window.”
I look at the window in my room and think to myself, “that was a stupid idea”. Of course, it’s easy for me to say that now. I’m being medicated, I have others around me to keep me calm, and, most importantly, I’m not being told some horrible, unexpected piece of information.
Finally, it’s my turn to ask a question: “Why did you send me home, Dr Lindeman?”
“Kristen, I’m sorry. I miscalculated. You were here for over a week and I thought you were feeling better. Plus, I knew you had Beau to keep you stable. As hard as I try, I don’t always get it right.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m not proud of it, but I think I tricked you into it. I think I knew I wasn’t ready but I didn’t tell you because I was tired of trying to go on with my life like everything was okay.”
“I never said you had to pretend like nothing was different and everything was okay. Nobody could have done that after having their entire family taken from them in an instant. I was just trying to give you confidence that as bad as things were in the moment, there would come a day when the hurt would reach a level where living normally would feel okay again.”
“You know, Dr Lindeman, I think I knew that, but I think I just didn’t want to live in a world where that was an option; to go on living as if everything was okay when awful things were happening to people all around the world on a daily basis. So, the moment I got home, I packed some things, left the house, and took Beau with me to live in the woods. I figured, while I was out there, the pure ignorance of the occurrence of awful events would be my shield.”
“So you stopped taking your medication all at once?”
It was Danyelle asking me.
“Yes. I put it all in the cupboard and left. I knew my uncle had the bunker out in the forest, so it seemed like a logical place to go. And I knew the only people who knew about it were my now dead family members.”
“He didn’t have it built because he worked for the government, did he?” she asks.
“No, he also suffered from paranoia. He never would have worked for the government because he was convinced the government was attempting to find him and use him for nefarious purposes. You know, it’s interesting, some people receive athletic skills from their ancestors. Uncle Jack and I won the lottery with a debilitating psychiatric condition.”
“Didn’t you suffer withdrawal symptoms after quitting your medication cold turkey?”
“Very much so. It was awful. But what better place to detox than a tiny bunker with your furry companion by your side. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d make it through withdrawal, but at the time, I was okay with that. Death didn’t seem such a bad option.”
“When did you suspect she wasn’t well?” Dr Lindeman asks Danyelle.
She answers him but speaks to me.
“I knew when you told me what you’d heard on the police radio. The only thing coming from it was static but you told me you heard police chatter specifically relating to you.”
I know this shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. This is one of the reasons why being on medication is important for me. It keeps the voices quiet, especially the ones whom I’m convinced are out to get me.
“Okay, okay, I know what this looks like, but if there weren’t people out to get me, or they were but had no intention of harming me, who shot Beau?”
“Someone shot Beau?” Dr Lindeman asks with surprise.
“Look, I know I imagine some things but I did not imagine that. The clothes I was wearing when he was shot are still back at the bunker. And if you need further corroboration, I’m sure I could take you to the spot where he died. There would definitely still be blood there. I go a bit loco from time to time, but I did not imagine someone shooting at us two weeks ago at three o’clock in the morning on the ridge above Maple Grove Farms.”
“She told me all about it Dr Lindeman,” Danyelle puts in, trying to help him understand that this was not one of my hallucinations.
“I was waiting for the right moment to ask you what had happened to him,” Dr Lindeman says to me.
“In fact, that’s how I met Danyelle. I was up at Vita Falls, ready to take the plunge - because there was no way I was going to make it without Beau - when she heard me and asked if I could help her.”
Dr Lindeman looks at Danyelle and she nods.
“Let me see if I can find out any information about this,” he says, rising from his chair. As he leaves, Paul, one of the nurses on my floor, walks in carrying a tray that contains some food and a cup of coffee for Danyelle.
“Here you go Dr Pellner?”
“Thank you, Paul.” As he turns to leave, Danyelle asks him, “Paul, can you wait a moment?”
“Sure,” he says turning around.
Danyelle looks at me and asks, “Do you remember what night you and Beau were shot at?”
“It would have been during the early morning hours two Mondays ago.”
Back to Paul. “Paul, could you do me a favor and find out if anybody came into the hospital two Mondays ago with a gunshot wound?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
While Danyelle and I wait for Paul to return, she eats her meal. Not only is she hungry, the gears in her mind must be turning because she doesn’t pay me much attention. I don’t mind as it provides me a moment to look at her. I estimate her age to be in the mid-thirties, she is extremely poised while ensconced in this environment she knows so well, and she is very nice to look at. Though her features would typically be described as masculine - tall, broad-shouldered, angular jaw-line - she has been blessed with flaming locks of auburn hair, ivory skin, and eyes of emerald green.4
I must be staring because when I notice her looking at me, she says, “You okay there?”
“Yeah,” I respond, “right now, I’m doing all right.”
Next thing I know Paul is back again.
“There was a Chad Forman who came in around four in the morning that day. Said he’d been cleaning his gun when it went off. Of course, the wound didn’t match the caliber of his gun and it would have been nearly impossible to shoot himself from the angle he was shot, but he refused to change his story. Also, who cleans their gun at four in the morning?”
“Paul, as always, you are a superstar.”
“Thanks Dr Pellner. Tell Hank I deserve a raise.”
“Will do.”
As Paul exits, Dr Lindeman comes in.
“As of now, I haven’t found any…”
“It was quite possibly a guy named Chad Forman,” Danyelle says, cutting him off. “Maybe we should have someone look into it.”
“Where did that name come from?” he asks.
“Men,” Danyelle says to me. “How have they come to rule the world for so long?”
We laugh while Dr Lindeman frowns in our direction.
“You two are quite proud of yourselves, huh?”
Neither of us replies, we just continue to flash him our winning smiles.
“I see. Well, it looks like I’m no longer needed today, so I’m going to head home. I’ll give the police station a call on my way. What was the name again?”
“Chad Forman,” Danyelle says. “Came in the same night Beau was shot to have a gunshot wound of his own attended to. Odd coincidence, don’t you think?”
“I would say so. I’ll be back tomorrow, Kristen. Both of you have a good evening.”
Following Dr Lindeman’s parting, Danyelle and I spend the evening just chatting. It is honestly the first normal conversation I have had in months and it feels good. But before she leaves, she does have a few questions for me.
“So that house we were sitting and watching. That’s your house?”
“My parents’ house, yes. Of course, I was living there as well. As much as I didn’t want to be there anymore because all I could think about was my family, I also missed it. Those things I told you I could picture, I’d witnessed each one in real life with my own family. My sister and I chased each other around that pool. I threw balls for Beau to chase in the backyard. I spied on my parents sipping wine by the moonlight on the back deck, every once in a while reaching across the space between them to touch hands. I guess it just didn’t hurt as much picturing myself doing those things with others rather than remembering my family doing them.”
“And the paths that went by the house, those were the three named after your parents and your sister?”
I nod. It made sense for those three paths to take me by my home.
When Danyelle decides she needs to go home and get some rest, she crosses over to me and gives me a kiss. Maybe I’ll have to forgive her after all. I like her too damn much.
I was in the hospital two weeks before Dr Lindeman signed off on my release and even then, it was conditional. Danyelle had to agree to act as a guardian of sorts so I went to live with her for another two weeks. After a month went by, I was allowed to return to my own home. Some days I find it terribly difficult because both the good and bad memories exist so strongly here, but I try really hard to view it all in a positive light. I’m back on my regular medication regimen, I meet with Dr Lindeman twice a week, and within the next few weeks I’m supposed to be getting a new psychiatric service dog. I know a new companion will be helpful to me in the long run, but initially, I’m going to find it difficult because it won’t be Beau. I miss him multiple times every day. As much as I enjoy having Danyelle around - I see my special...my lady friend5 every day and believe we might have something significant happening between us - Beau was the love of my life. Nobody understood me like Beau and I hold no misconceptions that anyone or anything ever will again.
Speaking of Beau, it turns out Chad Forman did indeed, shoot my dog. And no, he was not a Sad-Person. (Or rather, a police officer. I need to stop using Sad-People terms.) It turns out he was engaged in some illegal night hunting. Because he shot Beau accidentally, the biggest crime he committed was hunting on posted land without the landowner’s permission. In essence, he was trespassing. Mr Forman received various fines and a one year suspension from applying for game licenses of any kind. According to Officer Barnett - the poor guy whose hand I sliced up - Chad Forman wanted to apologize to me in person, but I declined. I didn’t know how I would react to having Beau’s executioner in front of me. Consequently, I asked Officer Barnett to tell him I accepted his apology and left it at that.
Luckily for me, I was not charged with shooting Chad Forman either. Though I admitted I shot at him out of rage, Sergeant Hillsborough (the Sad-Woman I encountered at the station the night I pilfered the radio) said she would tell Chad Forman it was self-defense so no charges would be filed against me. That being said, I have many, many hours of community service to complete over the next couple of years due to the quantity of the vandalism, breaking and entering, trespassing, theft, and other crimes I committed. Judge Killeen, who presided over my many cases, took pity on me and lumped my many cases together into one large case. Normally, people shoveling pity upon me upsets me, but for once I happily accepted it. The other thing that worked in my favor is that each private residence I broke into was owned by people who were fairly well-acquainted with my family, so I received a great deal of leniency regarding those situations. (It also explains why it was so easy for me to find my way in and around each house I entered.)
Over the last month, I have become friendly with Officer Barnett and Sergeant Hillsborough. I’m amazed at their compassion regarding my situation because these were two of the officers I assaulted during my time on the lam. Not all of the local law enforcement are happy with the consequences I received, but I’m extremely lucky to have a few kind and understanding officials going to bat for me. I know the trouble I caused, and for some, it was a terrifying experience until they knew the reality of the situation, but I truly did believe the world had changed and what I was doing was the only way I could survive.
Later tonight, Danyelle will be dropping by for dinner, but for now I have work to do. It’s been a bit of a struggle getting back into the swing of things but I’m doing what I can. I’ve only sold one song since returning to work, but it’s something. I grab Brandi, my acoustic guitar, and write a silly, little ditty. Originally I was intending to sell it but once I was finished I realized I’d written for myself.
Out in the middle of a little ol’ galaxy
Resides a pale blue dot
So I thumbed a ride on a little, yellow taxi
Just to found out what they’ve got
They got weird little creatures, and big ones too
Wandering all around the lot
Some fly, some swim, but what most of them do
Is walk from spot to spot
There are plants and rocks and the oceans abound
Lending color to this tiny ol’ speck
Yet overall there was only one reason I found
To visit this self-destructive fleck
It’s a funny, little concept they call love
Just the thought of it makes them hot
And it’s the only little concept they’ve agreed to adopt
All over this pale blue dot
They write songs and poems - innumerable words
About this weirdest of odd, little things
And though it can cause insufferable pain
They worship it for the joy it brings
It’s beyond comprehension why they continue to hold
Onto this wackiest of insane thoughts
Yet as strange as it is, it’s why I recommend to you
A jaunt to this pale blue dot
Danyelle walks in the door around 6:30 pm. I greet her with a hug and a kiss and return to the kitchen to finish making dinner. I’m making cheddar and black bean enchiladas smothered with tomatillo salsa verde and a tangy Mexican slaw as the side.
As Danyelle and I dine on my surprisingly tasty fare, we bask in the contentment of sharing boring stories about our days with someone whose company we’ve come to crave. Together, we wash, dry, and put away the dishes, then retire to the living room. Danyelle curls up with her legs under her on the loveseat and I cuddle up next to her. For someone who hasn’t felt contentment in years, being this close to someone whom I trust and adore is the epitome of joy. While we watch Jeopardy and a few mindless sitcoms, I collect each moment and savor it. I know I will have many bad days ahead, eternal peace is not sustainable for any person much less one who suffers from a severe mental health issue, but I’m starting to believe there’s a chance the bad days won’t render me hopeless each time they arise.
Around 10 pm, I peel myself away from Danyelle’s side and go into the kitchen to refill my water bottle. I find staying properly hydrated helps me sleep better at night. I turn on the faucet and listen to the metallic sound the water makes as it hits the side of the stainless steel bottle. I look out the window, and though it is quite dark outside, there is a faint glow from the waxing crescent hanging in the sky above. The glow is just enough, in fact, for me to see a shadow dart across the backyard.
As I think to myself, ‘was that a deer that just went through my backyard or was it a person,’ I say, “Um, Danyelle, can you come here for a moment?”
1 Random pop-culture reference #1. Anybody?
2 Random pop-culture reference #2. Anyone?
3 Random pop-culture reference #3. Any clue?
4 Random pop-culture reference #4. Any idea?
5 Random pop-culture reference #5. Any guesses?
