Dead Girl Walking (7 page)

“Do I represent a father figure to you?” the man asked, pulling up a yellow plastic chair. He flipped open a notepad and jotted something down. “Typically patients refer to me as Dr. Hodges. I’m intrigued you called me ‘Dad,’ as I bear no resemblance to your father.”

Oops. Calling a shrink “Dad” was a bad move.

But when he’d walked into my room, carrying a briefcase and looking like an important businessman, I’d assumed he was Leah’s father. I’d already met her mother and her brother, so “Dad” was the next logical visitor. Dr. Hodges didn’t even look like a shrink. No beard or dignified glasses; instead, he had acne scars and large ears that poked out from thinning brown hair. Kind of like a grown-up nerd.

“Let’s just talk about anything on your mind.” He bit the end of his pen and tilted his head expectantly, clearly waiting for me to say something fascinating.

“Um …” I blinked. “My memory is fuzzy.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.”

“Do I know you?”

“Do you think you should know me?”

“Yes … I mean, no … I don’t know.” My head started to ache and I leaned wearily against my pillows.

He leaned forward, his pen sticking up between his fingers. “You’re making remarkable physical progress.”

“I don’t feel—” I paused to swallow “—remarkable.”

“It takes time to recover, but I can assure you your prognosis is highly encouraging. You’re going to be just fine.”

I shook my head, despair washing over me. How could I ever be fine again?

“Don’t think of me as your doctor, consider me your friend.” Dr. Hodges leaned forward, his tone intimate like we were best friends. “How are you feeling?”

“My throat … hurts.”

“Then by all means, let me offer you some water.” He reached for the pitcher on my table and poured a cup.

I accepted the cup, soothed by the cool liquid. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m here to help you.”

“Really?” I bit my lip and blinked back tears. Since I’d woken up, almost everyone had treated me with accusations and hostility. I desperately needed someone who cared enough to listen.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you through this,” he said kindly. “I know it won’t be easy, but trusting me is your first step to recovery. It’s natural to experience initial resistance, but you’ll quickly discover that I have your best interests at heart. I assure you that anything you say to me will be completely in the strictest of confidence.”

“I’m afraid …” I hesitated. “You won’t believe me.”

“Belief begins with your willingness to trust.” He gave my hand a reassuring pat. “Let me help you. Tell me everything about the real Leah Montgomery.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Refusing to cooperate reinforces negative behavior and hinders recovery.”

I sighed, too tired to pretend. “I’m not … not who you think.”

He showed no surprise, although his expression softened sympathetically as he wrote quickly in his notebook.

“I only look like Leah.”

“How do you usually look?”

“Like Amber.”

“Who is she?”

“Me. I’m Amber, not Leah.”

“You have an alternative personality called Amber?”

“No. I am Amber.”

“A nickname?”

“No. Just me.” My words trailed off in a whisper and I wasn’t sure he heard me as I added, “I’m in the wrong body.”

“I see.” He straightened, his gaze sharpening with interest. Finally, I was saying something fascinating and had his full attention. But did he believe me?

“Rest assured, I am completely on your side and will guide you through this traumatic time.” He leaned forward, writing in his notebook. “Are you experiencing feelings of detachment, as if you’re physically inhabiting an unfamiliar body?”

I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but it was close enough, so I nodded. My head throbbed and it hurt to talk. Everything was so complicated. I didn’t know how to say the right things. Dr. Hodges sounded sincere, like he truly understood and wanted to help. With his support, I could sort out this mess and return to my real family. He’d said he was my friend, and I really needed one right now.

“This could be one for the case books,” he murmured with a bright light in his gaze. Not the heavenly kind of bright light; more like the kind of flashing lights that go off when a game-show contestant wins a jackpot.

Instead of being reassured, I had a bad feeling that I’d just made another very wrong turn.

No one else came to visit, except a different nurse who gave me pills that dissolved the boundaries of reality. I escaped into a sleep so deep that the rest of the day was a blur. If I had bad dreams, I didn’t remember them.

Gradually, voices crept into my consciousness. I was aware of lights and movement and a strong scent of lavender. I resisted waking, not remembering exactly why this was a good idea, just feeling safer in sleep. But cool hands were lifting me …

I fought the hands, instantly tense with fear.

“Leah, honey,” a woman’s soft voice pleaded. “Don’t make this so hard.”

My eyes jerked open. I stared into the stranger face of Leah’s mother.

“Go away,” I told her.

But she didn’t, and neither did the male nurse who stood beside her with a wheelchair. They wanted to take me somewhere unknown. No! I wouldn’t go with them. Leaving would take me further from my family. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to make them understand who I was. But I couldn’t find the words, and crumpled inside. Instead of speaking rationally, I lost it and burst into tears.

“I-I want … my-my mom.”

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

Soft hands reached for me, but I pushed them away.

“NO!” My shout slammed painfully against my throat. “You’re not my mother—I don’t even know you!”

“Leah, don’t be like this.”

“No! I’m not Leah. Can’t you see?”

“I can see you’re sick, but I’ll help you get better.”

“I want to … to go home,” I sobbed.

“That’s where I’m going to take you, if you’ll just get into the wheelchair—”

“No, no, NO! I want my real mom!”

I wrenched away from her, intense pain hammering my head. I could endure the pain, but not being taken somewhere my parents couldn’t find me. This was all so wrong! I just wanted to climb into my own bed in my own bedroom and feel Mom’s comforting arms around me. I’d been holding onto hope that my family would rescue me, or that I’d wake up suddenly to find myself in my own body.

If I left, I might never find my way back home.

“Leah, be reasonable,” the woman begged. “You know very well I’m your mother. You must stop talking like this … it’s not safe. You’re only making things worse.”

“It can’t get worse.”

“Oh yes it can—horribly.” She pursed her lips and lowered her voice. “Be a good girl and get into the wheelchair. Please, Leah.”

“Don’t call me that! This is all a big mess and I can prove who I really am if you just get me a phone. I’m not your daughter.”

The nurse narrowed his gaze at me, moving around a small table to stand beside the mother. He never took his eyes off me as he whispered to her, “Mrs. Montgomery, would you like me to call Dr. Hodges?”

“That won’t be necessary,” she told him, lifting her shoulders and chin and speaking with refined authority. “I can handle my own daughter. We’ll just need a private moment together, if you don’t mind.”

“Is that wise?” The nurse shot me a suspicious glance, as if I might grow fangs.

Mrs. Montgomery waved her hand, diamonds sparkling off the overhead lights, and insisted that the nurse leave. Once the door was shut and we were alone, she bent over me with an anxious expression. “Leah, you have to cooperate.”

I pursed my lips stubbornly.

“I realize you’re punishing me, and I’ll admit that I may deserve it, but this is not about me. I’m fighting for your life and I can’t do it alone. You have to help, too.”

“Give me a phone.”

“You think your friends can help you more than I can? Well, you’re totally wrong. I’m the only one between you and a long, unpleasant stay in a mental hospital.”

“Mental—” I gulped. “—hospital?”

“That’s what your doctor recommends. He thinks you’re deeply disturbed and need months of psychotherapy.” Her fingers trembled as she grasped my hand. “Is that what you want?”

I shook my head, fear rising like waves threatening to drown me.

“Then behave sensibly. It took all my resources to get the authorization to have you released into my care, but if you don’t cooperate, they’ll send you away for a long time and I won’t be able to stop them. Dr. Hodges has this ridiculous notion that you have multiple personalities and he wants to study you in a confined environment. Your father was ready to go along with this plan, but I insisted that all you need is your mother.”

“I’m … I’m not crazy,” I whimpered.

“Of course you’re not. But whatever you said to Dr. Hodges convinced him that you have disturbing mental issues and could be a danger to yourself and others.”

I bit my lip, tasting salty tears. My nightmare was careening out of control, spiraling down a black hole. Mom, Dad … where are you? Please come get me and make everything better.

But it was the other mom who brushed away stray hairs from my face and squeezed my hand. “Don’t be scared, Leah.”

“I’m not Le—”

She didn’t let me finish. “You don’t have to be brave for me. I know you so well, even if you don’t think I do. I realize I’ve been emotionally unavailable, but I’m changing. You’d be proud of how I stood up to your father, just like you’ve always wanted.” She paused, looking down at me as if she expected me to congratulate her.

I closed my eyes, wishing this unreal world away.

“You’re my miracle.” She spoke gently, still stroking my hair. “You came back from that coma even after the doctors said you were gone forever. I will not let them take you from me. But you have to do two things right now.”

I arched my brows, silently asking,
What?

“First, I want you to climb into this wheelchair so I can get you out of this place. Second, it’s imperative for you to behave normally. No more wild talk about not knowing your own family or they’ll lock you away. Can you do that?”