Page 39

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

ERIN

I struggle to get comfortable on Doctor Warner’s lumpy couch. Faded landscape paintings hang on his beige office walls, and a metronome swings back and forth on his desk. The ticking is supposed to be relaxing, but it only makes me fidget more.

“Why do you think you’re here, Erin?” Doctor Warner asks, reclining in his chair to study me.

People say talking about your problems helps, but it doesn’t change the facts: Sarah’s missing, Dad’s a psychopath, and I’m… well, I guess I’ve always been whoever my father wants me to be. I’ve tried so hard to be the perfect daughter. Until now.

“Because my dad found me looking for Adderall,” I lie. “I’ve been under a lot of stress recently with schoolwork.”

“Hm…” He scratches his chin. “I understand it was recently the anniversary of Sarah’s disappearance. Has that added to your stress?”

“Yes, it was—the anniversary, I mean—but that’s not why I’m stressed,” I say. “College is coming up, and I’ve had a lot on my mind. I was only looking for pills to help me study. I’m sorry to be wasting your time. You should be speaking to people who are actually sick.”

Do I sound convincing enough?

Doctor Warner scrawls something in his notebook while the metronome ticks on. His unreadable expression gives nothing away.

“Why don’t we talk about your sister?” Doctor Walker suggests. “It must be difficult having so many unanswered questions. It’s natural for emotions to get repressed during times of immense trauma.”

“I’ve already spent hours speaking to professionals about what happened,” I say, putting an end to the subject. “There’s nothing more to say.”

I don’t want to share my precious memories with another stranger.

I want real answers, not hearsay speculations or cryptic clues from my psychopathic stalkers.

Aiden claims I’ll find out the truth about what happened to Sarah at Sunnycrest, but where do I start?

He should have given me her diary. There must be something useful in there, if they went to the trouble of obtaining it from Officer Blackwell.

Yet, as usual, Aiden seems intent on seeing me suffer.

“Humor me,” Doctor Warner says. His impenetrable stare tells me he won’t let this go. “What was Sarah like?”

“She was fun,” I say. “She liked having a good time and always spoke her mind, even when other people didn’t like it.”

“Are you similar?”

“Me and Sarah?” I laugh. “No, we’re opposites. I follow the rules, and Sarah liked to break them. She was the life and soul of the party, and I’d rather stay at home. She had lots of friends, and I’ve never been popular.”

“I see.” Doctor Warner takes more notes. “Your father claims you’ve been acting out of character recently. Has anything unexpected happened?”

“Nothing,” I say. Well, unless you include three hot guys escaping from an asylum and invading every aspect of my life. “Dad’s probably referencing a party I went to. I drank too much, and he was mad. Nothing out of the ordinary, though. Just normal teenage stuff.”

“Hm.” He nods. “I see.”

“It was a mistake,” I say. “It won’t happen again. You can tell him that.”

Doctor Warner puts down his pen, and his glasses slide down his nose. I squirm, uneasy under his scrutiny, and tune into the metronome. Tick . Tick . Tick. The noise slows my breathing, and I stifle a yawn.

“You’ve done talking therapies before, so perhaps a different approach will be useful,” he ponders. “Have you ever undergone hypnosis, Erin?”

I shake my head.

“Let’s try it,” he says, taking out a tape recorder and clicking the record button.

Who even uses tapes anymore?

“You’re recording our session?” I ask.

“There’s a procedure to follow,” he replies. “Lie down and get into a comfortable position. I’ll dim the lights, and we can get started.”

I shrug and do as he asks. Hypnosis can’t be all bad, if it means not having to talk or answer more questions. He turns down the lights, and a mellow tune plays. It’s comforting, almost lullaby-like, with gentle chimes.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs. “You’re in a safe place. All I want you to do is listen to the sound of my voice…”

He starts by taking me through a guided meditation.

I visualize a golden orb hovering above the top of my head.

His dull tone causes his sentences to drift into nothingness.

I imagine an orb of light warming me, sweeping from my forehead to the tips of my toes.

My tense limbs relax one at a time, releasing all my lingering tension, and I sink into the cushions below.

“Now, tell me what you see,” Doctor Warner encourages. “Take me back to after your sister disappeared.”

My mind wanders, rewinding back in time.

I’m in my bedroom, pressing my ear to the door to listen to my father and Sheriff Brady talking.

Sarah didn’t come home last night. She went to a party, and no one has seen or heard from her since.

It’s summer vacation. She’s probably spending time with the guy she’s dating, a jock from the hockey team.

Dad doesn’t know about them, and it’s best it stays that way.

I can only make out snatches of their conversation, but they both sound worried, despite Dad’s earlier assurances that Sarah will turn up.

“Very good,” Doctor Warner says. His voice sounds far away. “Why don’t you take me to an earlier time? A memory from childhood?”

I’m transported back again, watching my life like a movie.

Sarah and I are playing hide-and-seek in the park. We must be around six or seven. Mom waves at us to join her, beaming.

I haven’t seen her smile like that in years. When was the sparkle in her eyes extinguished?

We race to be the first to reach her. Sarah wins, as usual, but I don’t mind. We collapse in a giggling heap. Our chubby hands greedily reach for a slab of cake, stuffing it into our mouths and guzzling it down.

I can still taste it on my tongue.

Sweet vanilla sponge, a gooey strawberry jam, and sprinkled with extra sugar.

The picnic blanket is laden with an assortment of goodies that Dad doesn’t let us eat. This is a special treat.

Sarah talks in a silly voice while she eats, spraying crumbs everywhere.

“I wish I were like you, Sarah,” I say between laughs. “You’re the funniest person in the whole wide world.”

“Come on, Sarah. Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mom chastises, but she’s not angry. She wipes jam off Sarah’s chin fondly. “Where are your manners?”

“I don’t have any,” Sarah declares proudly. “Watch me do this, Erin!”

She jumps up to do a cartwheel, not caring that she’s showing off her pink frilly panties. Unfortunately, she messes up her landing and skids, leaving a grass stain on her new pretty dress.

I clap my hands, then I turn to Mom.

Instead of smiling, Mom’s expression changes. Her smile fades as she spots my father storming across the park. He must have come straight from work because he’s wearing his smart suit.

Sarah, oblivious to Dad speeding up behind her, continues parading around. She twirls and dances like a clumsy ballerina, while I giggle behind my hands.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dad yanks Sarah’s arms and spins her to face him. “You’re making a fool of yourself!”

Sarah’s face falls.

Our fun is over.

“What is this, Jocelyn?” He surveys our picnic in disgust. He picks up a bag of chips then launches it into the distance, making Mom flinch. “Junk! Pure filth!”

Mom’s shoulders slump. “They’ve been good today. A little cake won’t hurt them.”

“We’re going home at once,” he snarls. “Throw this garbage away.”

Sarah wails, and fat tears roll down her cheeks. “You’re hurting my arm, Daddy!” she yells.

“Behave yourself,” he hisses, dragging her away. “Why can’t you be more like your sister?”

Mom smiles sadly, stroking my hair, then winks. She quickly wraps two slices of cake in a napkin and stashes them in her purse. “We’ll save these two for tomorrow.” She puts a finger to her lips. “It’ll be our little secret.”

I nod seriously. “Our secret.”

The memory surprises me, and I feel a pang of sadness. I can’t remember the last time my mother disobeyed my father’s orders. Over the years, he must have stamped out her rebellious streak.

“Very good,” Doctor Warner says as I recount the story. “Why don’t we fast-forward to, say, high school? Tell me about that…”

Unlike recalling childhood, my memories are murkier the older I get, like they’re shrouded in a dark smoke. I can recall vague events, but they’re not vivid. The more I search for details, the blurrier they become.

“I don’t want to do this,” I blurt out. “Don’t make me.”

I can’t explain my reaction. Aside from Sarah’s disappearance, I’ve not been through anything especially traumatic, and my mind shuts off, stopping Doctor Warner from poking around in my head like a defense mechanism.

“Keep going, Erin,” Doctor Warner insists. “Tell me what you remember.”

“Piano,” I say, settling on a safe memory. Yes, the sweet piano. The constant among the chaos. My salvation in sadness. Remembering music calms me instantly. “I remember playing piano.”

“What else do you remember?” he presses.

“I spent a lot of time in the school library, reading books.”

“What else?” he pushes.

“Swimming,” I say. “I competed in a swim meet.”

“What about outside of school?”

“I…” I struggle to remember, wading through the misty blur. I see snatches of family life, but can’t pinpoint anything.

“Keep trying, Erin,” he says. “Think.”

Suddenly, I’m in the asylum again.

I’m in one of the rooms that the guys showed me during a previous visit, only it’s not Lex tied down. It’s me. Binds hold my legs and arms in place.

“Let me go!” I scream.

Dad doesn’t listen.

He lowers a metal helmet-like object onto my head while someone else straps electrodes to the side of my face.

I thrash around to make their job as difficult as possible, but it’s no use. I’m exhausted, and fighting is draining what’s left of my strength.

“This is for your own good,” Dad says.

“Don’t do this,” I whimper. “Please.”

It’s too late.

Zap!

Electricity courses through me. My body convulses. Someone shoves a rag into my mouth to stop me from biting off my tongue.

Zap!

“Tell me what you see,” Doctor Warner commands. “Speak to me.”

Say nothing, a voice in my head whispers. He can’t know what you’re seeing, or you’ll be trapped here forever.

“I’m in math class,” I lie. A bead of sweat drips down my brow. “I’m trying to get the hang of algebra, and I drop my pencil. The guy I have a crush on picks it up.”

“That’s enough for today.” Doctor Warner sighs, sounding almost disappointed. “I want you to follow my voice as I count you out of the trance. Five, four, three, two… one. Open your eyes.”

I sit up slowly, wiping my clammy palms on my pants.

“Are you okay?” Doctor Warner asks.

I nod. “I’m fine.”

I mentally shake myself. I remember learning in psychology about unreliable memories. Eyewitness accounts are one of the least reliable forms of evidence in a court. People see what they want to. Whatever I thought I saw under hypnosis can’t be real.

“Very good,” Doctor Warner says, pushing a paper cup of pills toward me. “Here’s your medication.”

“What are they?” I ask, suspiciously eyeing the red and purple capsules.

“They help with stress and anxiety,” he says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “They’re very similar to the medication you’re already taking. Your father prescribed them himself.”

I swallow them without question and open my mouth for him to check under my tongue.

“Very good,” he says, satisfied. “You’ve had a busy morning. After lunch, I’ll make sure your schoolwork from Stonybridge Academy gets delivered to your room.”

I rise from the sofa. “Thanks.”

“We’ve made progress today,” he says. “You should be proud. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I smile meekly, unsure what we’ve really achieved, aside from making me question my sanity.

As I exit, a boy, who is leaving an adjacent treatment room, crashes into me. We’re around the same age. He’s painfully thin with tufty yellow hair, sunken eyes, and weeping scabs from skin picking.

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t see you.”

“Sure you didn’t, Sarah,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?” He has my full attention now. “What did you call me?”

His shoulders tense, and his eyes widen like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

“N-nothing,” he stammers. “I didn’t call you anything.”

“You called me Sarah.”

“Did not,” he says, then scampers away.

“Wait!” I call after him. “Don’t go!”

It’s too late. He zips around the next corner, moving as fast as his scrawny legs can carry him, desperate to get away.

Doctor Warner appears behind me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder to stop me from following.

“Your room is that way,” the doctor says. Where did he come from? I didn’t hear him approach. “Hurry along.”

Doctor Warner’s stare burns into my back as I walk away.

Aiden said I’d find answers in Sunnycrest, and this is my first clue.