Page 42

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

ERIN

Doctor Warner tips his metronome. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine,” I lie.

Internally, I’m still unpacking what happened last night. A conflicting mass of emotions swirls around my head, from horror and confusion to desire. And, most worryingly, being plagued by one question. If I don’t regret what happened with Lex, what does that say about me?

“You seem distracted.” He frowns. “You’ll only prolong your stay if you’re not being honest with me.”

“I slept badly,” I say, feigning a yawn. “That’s all.”

He scratches his chin. “I heard about an unfortunate incident last night. I assure you that accidents are rare here, and your father is dealing with it.”

“That’s good to hear,” I say, having to bite my tongue to stop myself from sarcastically questioning how many other patients have had their penises turn into fireworks.

Despite the sickening display of violence, knowing Lex hurt my attacker to protect me makes me feel…

wanted? I clench my aching thighs. On one hand, Lex’s ruthless, but he hides a more vulnerable side that I caught a brief glimpse of.

I’m intrigued to learn more about him. I didn’t know it was possible to be terrified and turned on by someone at the same time.

“Why don’t we try another regression?” Doctor Warner suggests, retrieving his tape recorder. “Looking back often helps us look forward.”

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” I grumble.

“This is for your own good,” he says. “You’ll see.”

I recline on the sofa and shut my eyes. Relaxing music with twinkling chimes and gentle waves fills the room. It has a familiar, comforting tune, and I follow it, finding it easy to be lulled into a trance by Doctor Warner’s dulcet drone.

My mind drifts away.

“Take me to a time when you were happiest,” Doctor Warner says, cutting through the noise.

“The piano,” I murmur, thinking of my safe place. “Before we moved to Pasturesville, we had a grand piano in the middle of the house. I used to play it for hours, looking out of the window across the garden.”

“Very good,” Doctor Warner says. “What was your life like then?”

“Every day was the same,” I reply. “Home, study, piano, then swimming.”

“What about school?” he presses.

“I spent most of my time in the library,” I say. “That’s where I ate my lunch.”

“What was the library like?” he pushes. “Describe it to me.”

“Nothing special. Lots of shelves… books…” I recall. “The air conditioning always broke, so it had a funny smell, kinda musty. No one else liked to hang out there.”

I sought sanctuary between the shelves, hiding away from other people and nibbling on whatever salad Mom packed for lunch. Long gone were the days of her sneaking sweet treats into our brown bags without my father’s knowledge.

“Did you have many friends?”

I shake my head, scrunching my eyes in concentration.

Everything before we moved to Pasturesville seems foggy.

My memories are within touching distance, yet they’re fuzzy.

My life is split into two parts: life before Sarah went missing and after.

It must be my brain’s way of protecting itself.

Imagining her around is too painful to linger on.

Before Sarah disappeared and we moved to Pasturesville, Dad commuted to and from Sunnycrest. However, when the time he spent at the asylum kept getting longer, it made sense for us all to move closer.

Sometimes I wonder whether we’d have all been better off if he left on his own and we stayed behind.

“What about Sarah?” Doctor Warner probes. “Did she have friends?”

“Yes,” I say. “Loads of them. She went to every party.”

A pounding bass suddenly pulses through my brain.

Strobe lights fill my vision, snapshots of people dancing, flitting from one scene to the next, too quickly to make out any details.

I laugh, throwing my head back.

Shots.

Liquid sloshes down my throat to the delight of a cheering crowd.

Clapping.

More laughing.

Dancing.

Twirling.

My hair swings around my shoulders.

I recognize a face in the darkness. A hockey player…

Max. That’s his name.

His muscled arm wraps around my waist. He leans in.

I smell his aftershave, the liquor on his breath, and then I see it over his shoulder…

A white van.

“I have to go…”

“What is it?” Doctor Warner prompts sharply as the memory melts away. “What do you see?”

“I…”

Another image appears.

Dad.

He’s shouting, red in the face.

For a change, he doesn’t seem angry—more panicked. Hysterical, even. He’s saying something. The same thing. Over and over.

“No. No. No. God no. Help me!”

He’s not alone. There’s another man. I can’t see him properly, but I sense his presence. He’s speaking, but his voice is garbled, like he’s underwater.

My eyes crack open. The stark white room is so bright that my retinas burn.

Cold metal chills my spine as I turn my head.

It can’t be…

To my right, Sarah lies on a metal-looking bench.

Her chest is still.

Her skin ghostly pale.

Her eyes frozen open in a haunting stare.

“What do you see?” Doctor Warner’s voice rings through the haze. “Tell me.”

I reach for her, extending my fingers, using all my strength, but Dad grabs my arm.

“It’ll be okay, Erin,” he says, stroking my cheek. “You’ll see.”

Back in reality, Doctor Warner’s firm hands shake my shoulders.

I sit bolt upright, gasping for air.

“What happened?” he asks, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

“I…” I steady my breathing, knowing I can’t tell him. How can I? “I saw Sarah and Dad arguing. She came home from a party, and he wasn’t happy that she was late.”

“Are you sure that’s all you saw?” Doctor Warner probes. “You can trust me.”

I put my hand to my head. “I think I’ve got a migraine coming on.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then decides against it, and nods.

“Very well,” he says. “I’ll see you at the same time again tomorrow.”

I hurry out of the room, unable to shake the vision. Has hypnosis unlocked a hidden memory? Can I really have known what happened to Sarah all this time? Or am I really going crazy? How do I know if what I saw was real?

I pace across the cafeteria, which I have to cut through to return to my room. I don’t pay attention to where I’m going, flying out the door and colliding with a figure, who is rushing in the opposite direction.

“S-sorry,” the guy stammers, then freezes as soon as he realizes who he’s walked into.

It’s him. The guy who called me Sarah and has been trying to avoid me since.

Before he has the chance to get away, I grab his arm.

“Wait!” I say. I’m taking a risk, but I can’t let him slip away again. “Don’t go.”

His eyes dart around in fear. “I can’t speak to you.”

“It’ll only take a second,” I say. “Please.”

“Do you know what they’ll do to me?” he hisses, tugging himself free. “If they find out we’ve been talking?”

“Aiden and the others won’t hurt you,” I insist. “I’ll explain that you were helping me. All I want is to find out what really happened to my sister.”

“You already know,” he whispers. “You don’t need me to tell you.”

“I can’t remember—not properly, anyway,” I confess. “You called me Sarah. That means you knew her, right? Was she here? Did you spend time with her?”

A slamming door ends my interrogation.

“Erin.” My father’s voice makes my blood run cold. “I hope you’re not upsetting my patients.” His stare lands coldly on my, now cowering, companion. “Return to your room, Alfred.”

Alfred bows his head, half trembling, taking any hope of getting more answers with him as he hurries away.

Two orderlies brandishing clipboards flank Dad, who marches toward me like a sergeant heading into battle. The temperature seems to drop a few degrees with each step he takes. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since I arrived, and his expression is filled with blatant disapproval.

“Doctor Warner informed me that you left your therapy session early,” he says. So much for our sessions being confidential. “I was on my way to check on you. However, you must be feeling better, if you’re fraternizing with male patients.”

“I have a headache,” I say. “I was going back to my room when I stopped Alfred to ask when lunch was served. He did nothing wrong.”

“You should have checked your schedule,” Dad says, unconvinced by my story.

“I forgot,” I say lamely.

Dad glowers at me, his mouth settling into a frown that draws his eyebrows together.

“Can we talk?” I ask. “Alone?”

The orderlies gape, like I’ve requested something inconceivable. God forbid they be parted from their master for a single second.

Dad sighs, then reluctantly nods at the others to disperse. They remain close, hovering just out of earshot.

“Well?” he prompts, tapping his foot impatiently. “What is it?”

“When can I go home?” I plead. “I know you’re mad because of what I did, but keeping me here seems… extreme.”

“Extreme?” He scoffs. “Surely you can feel that you’ve not been entirely yourself lately? You will stay for as long as it takes to complete your treatment. Sunnycrest turns people into the best versions of themselves.”

As well as making them suffer and torturing them, I think.

“How is Mom?” I ask. “Does she even know I’m staying here? I’m not like the other patients. I’m not crazy!”

“Your mother is happy you’ve finally admitted you need help,” he says. “In fact, she is coming to visit this afternoon. You’d know that if you checked your schedule.”

“She’s coming?” I blink in disbelief. “Here?”

“This isn’t a prison, Erin.” He narrows his eyes. “Although, if you’re too ill to complete therapy, perhaps you’re unfit to see her?”

He’s caught me in my lies and he knows it.

“I’ll be okay after I take some aspirin,” I say hastily. “I want to see her.”

He pauses, deliberating whether he wants to punish me more. Finally, after a strained silence, he checks his watch and addresses one of his minions. “Escort Erin to her room. Administer medication. Ensure she swallows all her pills.”

“Is that all you have to say?” I ask. “Dad?—”

He doesn’t look at me.

“See to it that she gets a personal escort during visiting hours,” he continues, pretending I’m not there. “Her mother will be here soon.”

The orderly nods obediently.

Dad turns, his white coat swishing behind him as he glides away. A few patients jump back, pressing themselves into the walls like they’re trying to hide as he passes them.

The orderly grabs my wrist.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I say, wrenching it from him. “I can walk perfectly fine by myself.”

At least I’ll be seeing Mom soon. That gives me hope. Maybe she can get me out of here.