Dying to Tell (8 page)

The Baptist church popped into view, dozens of cemetery markers standing in rows to honor the dead, faded flowers swaying in the wind.

Her parents were buried there beside her grandmother. She wished their images were more vivid, but she’d been so young when they died that all she could remember was her mother’s voice singing a lullaby.

The trees rustled in the breeze, and another memory surfaced. She was twelve years old, shivering from fear as she was baptized in the cold creek water behind the tiny white building while the church members sang and prayed with all their might.

At every church service Preacher Bartholomew used to comb the aisles, determined that all the sinners repent before they let Satan steal their souls.

That day, as she’d stood in front of the parishioners in a soggy homemade dress, her Papaw had begged God to spare her the sickness that had possessed her sister’s mind. Gran told her afterward that two months before, Papaw had carried Amelia to a shaman for an exorcism because he thought she was possessed.

Amelia had had nightmares for weeks afterward, which left her so terrified she would crawl into bed with Sadie.

Sadie had tried to reassure her sister, but the truth was that she herself lay awake, staring at the ceiling, for hours, unable to sleep, afraid the shaman would come for her. And when she fell asleep, images of a witch doctor dominated her dreams.

Night shadows plagued the winding mountain road, and a horn honked ahead, dragging her back to the present. A rumble of thunder reverberated through the spiny trees and the hollow
below as she passed Slaughter Creek, which threaded through the hollow and between the hills. Worn, rotting shanties tilted lopsided on the ridges above, a few newer cabins interspersed among the ancient ones, a sign that maybe one day progress would come to this godforsaken backwater town.

On a cliff above, Sadie spotted a lone wolf silhouetted in the moon’s light. Stories of werewolves inhabiting the forests, searching for prey, resurrected more old fears, reminding her of the stories her sister had invented about monsters living underground.

As she rounded the corner, she spotted the sanitarium, an ancient stone structure built miles from nowhere, surrounded by tall, craggy ridges, the creek, and an electric fence, all designed to keep the patients inside and safe.

Not for the first time, Sadie sensed that this building was more of a prison than the jail cell where her sister had just been.

Memories of visiting Amelia in the hospital as a child haunted her, and her stomach began to churn. She could hear the tormented screams of the patients who’d been trapped inside these walls, like the haunting cries of the Indian warriors at Slaughter Creek. She sensed their pain, their disconnect with the world.

Their shame.

Amelia had claimed that Satan was at the sanitarium. That he came in at night and hurt her and Grace. Sadie had told her grandfather, but he’d assured her that Amelia was simply making it up because she didn’t want to go back for treatment. And she was delusional.

Jake stopped at the security gate to announce their arrival, and a second later, the massive steel gates opened. Giant oaks flanked the mile-long drive, the crooked branches bowing and overlapping in a tangle to create a natural tunnel.

The parade of cars parked in front of the building, and Jake climbed out. Doc Tynsdale led Amelia inside. Chad hung back, waiting for Sadie, and they walked in together.

Jake and the doctor paused at the receptionist’s desk while Dr. Tynsdale conferred with the woman in charge. A moment later, Dr. Tynsdale introduced them all to Mazie, the head nurse, then instructed Sadie to wait while they settled Amelia into a room.

“Let’s talk for a minute, Sadie.” Chad indicated the sofa in the waiting room, and she claimed a faded plastic chair. He joined her, his hands clasped. “Did your sister explain to you what happened?”

“No.” She gnawed on her lip. “How much do you know about her condition?”

Chad shrugged. “I understand she’s been ill for some time, that her official diagnosis was DID.”

“That’s right.” She paused, debating how much detail to offer, then decided to fill him in. He needed to know about the alters, in case one of them appeared to him.

Skepticism laced Chad’s expression when she finished. “You’ve talked to them? Seen them?”

“Yes.” She gripped her hands in her lap to keep from twitching. “When my sister transitions into one of her alters, she behaves and talks as if she’s become that other person. Her voice changes pitch, her mannerisms are different.”

Chad’s frown deepened. “Dr. Tynsdale can confirm this diagnosis?”

“Yes. He’s been treating her for years.”

Behind them a loud beeping sounded. Footsteps pounded past, and nurses shouted and began running down the corridor.

Sadie rushed to the desk. “What’s going on? Did something happen to my sister?”

The nurse shook her head. “She’s settling in a room now, but Dr. Tynsdale had to leave her for a minute. Another patient flatlined.”

“Which patient?”

“Grace Granger.” The woman rubbed at a knot in her shoulder. “Odd, too. Yesterday she showed signs that she was coming out of her coma.”

“When did she go into a coma?” Sadie asked.

The nurse frowned. “Two months ago. She tried to escape one night and fell and hit her head. She had some brain swelling, so they called Dr. Tynsdale in, and he induced the coma to allow her brain time to heal.”

“Were they able to revive her?” Sadie asked.

The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

Amelia’s head swam with the voices. Ever since Dr. Tynsdale had opened the gates to them, they wouldn’t leave her alone.

She was so exhausted all she wanted to do was crawl inside herself and sleep for days. Let the others run her life while she rested, for once.

But someone was talking about Grace. Said Grace was dead.

Grace her friend...the girl she’d met years ago when Papaw first brought her here. She’d heard Grace screaming...Then she’d looked through that glass and seen them tying Grace down...They’d hurt Grace so much...

Bessie’s terrified sob echoed in her head.
I wanna go home
.

Shut up, kid
, Skid barked.
I’ll handle everything
.

I could help
, Viola offered in her flirty voice.
Maybe cozy up to that sheriff. He’s a looker.
Viola sighed.
I ain’t been laid since I don’t know when
.

No!
Skid shouted.
Your whoring around won’t help. Just be quiet
.

Well, you sure as hell aren’t helping
, Viola hissed.
Maybe we should let Sadie in on what went down.

Fuck that shit, Viola
, Skid snapped.
Nobody’s gonna talk to Sadie
.

We have to protect her
, Amelia shouted to them all.
I have to tell
...

Tell them what
? Viola asked with a nervous twitter.
We haven’t done anything wrong.

Amelia felt as if she were drowning. As if the pain was tearing out her lungs. The others had her by the throat, choking her. She needed air. Needed someone to pull her up from the bottom of the well of darkness. Needed to remember everything.

But she was too weak...
Yes, we have to tell what they did to us in here...

Won’t nobody believe you, Amelia
. Skid’s sharp laugh rent the air. ’
Case you’ve forgotten, they all think you’re cuckoo
.

Amelia sank deeper into the quicksand. Her arms felt heavy, laden. Her lungs wouldn’t work.

Skid was right. Papaw hadn’t believed her when she’d told him. Neither had Sadie. And Dr. Tynsdale...he said she was delusional.

She closed her eyes. Willed away the image of her granddaddy’s blood on her hands.

Voices sounded around her again. That loud, shrill beep. The hospital alarm.

The chimes
...

Someone was dead.

Grace. Poor Grace...she’d gone away a long time ago. And she’d never come back.

They’d killed her. Amelia knew it.

The chimes began to ring in her head again. Then the incessant
ticktock
. Over and over and over...

She covered her ears and begged them to stop.

I wanna go home
, Bessie whispered.
I’m scared
.

Bessie had a right to be scared.

I want a goddamn drink
, Viola muttered.
Where the hell is the vodka
?

Amelia sank lower, so low she couldn’t see the light anymore. So low she could drown out the sound of the chimes.

But Papaw’s big eyes stared up at her from the black pit.

The crack of the gun firing split the air. And Papaw’s choked cry.

Then the blood was everywhere. Splattering her clothes and hands and face. She tasted the coppery taste. Gagged and spit it out. She had to escape.

Had to forget.

Yes, forget. Go to sleep. Sleep for days.

Skid was young and strong and tough. He’d always been there for her. He’d take over for a while. He would protect Sadie and the others.

If he didn’t, they’d kill her like they had Grace.

I
rritation plucked at Jake as he stepped back into the waiting room. Chad Marshall was standing way too close to Sadie. The rich jerk thought he could charm any woman he met with his money and fancy car.

And he obviously intended to wield that charm on Sadie.

Not that Jake gave a damn. They could do whatever the hell they wanted.

But he didn’t trust Marshall, and he didn’t like the idea of Sadie confiding her sister’s secrets to the bastard.

Sadie jerked her head up as he approached; she took a step away from Chad. “Jake, that patient who died—Grace—do you know what happened to her?”

Jake shook his head. “No—why?”

Sadie worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “My sister...Amelia knew Grace. Amelia used to talk about her all the time.” She paused, glancing at the nurses at the desk.

“A few minutes ago, I heard one of the nurses say that Grace had started to respond. They thought she was finally snapping out of the coma.”

“And?” Jake said.

Sadie cut her eyes toward the door. “Amelia said they did bad things to Grace in here. She used to worry about her at night, and she begged Papaw to come and get her out.”

Jake frowned. “Did she say who did those bad things?”

“The nurses, doctors, an orderly.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Did anyone ever file a complaint?”

“No.” Sadie lifted her chin. “No one ever took Amelia seriously.”

Jake’s sigh reeked of weariness. “Because she was ill?”

Sadie nodded. “Yes.”

Suddenly a woman in her fifties rushed in, wiping tears from her eyes. She stopped at the nurse’s station. “My daughter, Grace, you called...what happened? I thought she was getting better.”

Mazie came around the desk and curved her arm around Mrs. Granger’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Elma. Dr. Tynsdale will be here in a minute to talk to you.”

Jake watched as Mazie tried to comfort the woman.

“I feel so bad for her,” Sadie said.

Dr. Tynsdale rushed from the back a moment later to meet Mrs. Granger in the waiting room. Jake and Sadie stepped out of the way to give them some privacy.

A few minutes later, Dr. Tynsdale led Grace’s mother back to see her body, and Mazie returned to the desk.

“Amelia’s going to be upset about Grace,” Sadie said quietly.

Jake refrained from comment. Amelia was so out of it, he thought, that he doubted she would even understand that her friend was gone.