The Rasner Effect (18 page)

The stare-down lasted several tense moments. No one spoke. There wasn’t even a rustle of paper. “Okay, you may go,” Royal finally said.

Clara moved again, still without looking at her teacher. Rick lifted his arm so she could pass under. It seemed as though neither of them breathed until that classroom door snicked shut.

“How’s everything?” Rick asked as they walked toward the therapy suite.

“Not good at all. I’m going to wild out if he calls me crazy or psychotic one more time. I swear.”

Clara’s full understanding and insight into her own feelings and emotions impressed Rick. She articulated them very well. If only she could control those emotions as well as she understood them.

“Hold it together, Clara. Don’t focus on the negative, stay cool and calm no matter what you may be feeling inside.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rick noticed Miller standing by the door of the main office. She had her arms crossed and observed the two of them.

“Did you talk to Miss Miller about…you know?” Clara whispered.

“Yes.”

Although Rick didn’t out and out answer the question, his tone of voice must’ve answered for him. Clara let out a loud sigh. “I knew that bitch would say no!” She spoke loudly, not in her usual low voice.

Rick spun his head around to see if Miller had heard. The director still stood in the doorway, but she was now having a conversation with Sharon Hefner, who nodded her head with vigor. From there, he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

A door opened near them and a female staff aide led an older boy through the hallway. Rick recognized the boy as Tyrell Birkins, the one who had challenged Miller on his first day in the facility. He now wore a blank stare as the aide helped him compensate for his stiff joints as they walked.

Almost to the therapy suite, and into safe territory, Rick realized Miller had broke off with Hefner and strode in their direction. He found himself speeding up, like a child in the schoolyard trying to prevent the bully from catching up to him.

“Mr. Rasner!” Miller barked just before he reached his office.

Clara cursed. Rick cringed, stopped, and turned Miller’s way. Clara did the same. Miller’s heels made no sound on the cement floor as she marched ever closer. She came to a halt in front of them. Clara took a half-step behind him. He didn’t blame her, he wished they’d reached his office and locked the door. Sweat gathered under his collar.

“Yes, Miss Miller?” Rick asked, hoping the conversation would end quickly and painlessly. The appearance of her eyes suggested otherwise. Her cheeks tight, her lips—which he just realized were pretty shapely—downturned. As the silence stretched, his nerves jangled inside his head. He pressed two fingers to his temple, expecting the throbbing to begin at any moment. Clara’s arm rested against his and he felt her tense up. What sort of role model was he being for Clara? Wasn’t he doing the same thing as her by standing there waiting for the bomb to drop? What else could he do?

Miller’s gaze shifted over his shoulder. Though he didn’t turn to look, he knew Clara rolled her eyes in defiance. Damn, the girl had more balls than him.

“I hope you informed this child,” Miller said, “that we will not be bending the rules by moving her to another class.”

“We’re on our way to my office now, Miss Miller. We will be discussing just that.”

Miller sensed his uneasiness. He could tell by the smirk that decorated the corners of her mouth. And she reveled in it. Rick wondered if Obenchain had really been taken in by her smooth niceties.

“Well, you do so immediately!” Miller’s bark made both he and Clara jump. “While you’re at it, discuss her homicidal ideations.”

“Ma’am?” What the hell was she talking about?

Miller turned her gaze to Clara. “Step out here like the adult you keep saying you are.”

Clara did as asked, moving from behind Rick. She shot the woman a look of unvarnished disgust. Rick wanted to smile. At least someone tried to stand up to the director. Trouble was, standing up to her wasn’t the right way to handle things. Rick shot Clara a warning look—be calm.

“I believe,” began Miller, “that during your last visit, you informed Mr. Rasner you want to ‘kill that bitch so bad’, referring to me?”

How the hell did she know what Clara had said to him? Their talks were supposed to be in strictest confidence. Clara was thinking the same thing. She took a step away from him and now eyed him. Her breathing turned erratic—fast and shallow.

Miller waited a moment, probably expecting an outburst. Truth be told, so was Rick. “That sort of insolence will not be tolerated in this facility AT ALL.”

“You told her what I said?” Clara shouted at him.

“No! I never—I…don’t…”

“The members of my staff are not here to appease a patient’s psychotic threats of murder and violence!” Miller poked Clara in the shoulder with her left forefinger.

Clara may or may not have heard the words. Her wide brown eyes locked on Rick. His thoughts clouded with words trying to escape his mouth—some to protest Miller’s behavior, others to assure Clara he had not been disloyal to her. Any moment he expected her to break away from them and take off. But where would she go? Officer James stood permanent guard at the exit.

“It is
this
violent attitude of yours that will assure you never see the outside of this institution.” Miller poked Clara again. Miller’s demeaning tone was loud enough to be heard throughout the hallway. Royal appeared outside his classroom. James closed the distance between them while the aide helping Tyrell stopped to watch the “show.”

Clara gazed down at the shoulder Miller had poked. Her jaw clenched. Rick feared that any moment she’d slug the woman.

Finally, Rick found his voice. “Maybe we all need to calm down…”

“If you are going to get anything out of my facility, Clara, it will be the concept of respect.” She reached up to poke Clara again.

“Don’t touch me!” Clara slapped Miller’s hand away. It was just the reaction Miller had been waiting for.

Miller nodded at Officer James, who was more than halfway to them. The large officer stepped up to Clara, put his chest against her face, and backed her away. “You’re getting on the floor right now,” James said in a growl.

“This really isn’t necessary,” Rick pleaded.

Clara’s breathing became heavier, her body shook in a way that expressed a combination of anxiety, rage, and helplessness. Rick stepped between Clara and the guard, anxious to lead her away before things went totally haywire.

Officer James placed his massive hand on Rick’s chest and shoved him backward. “Excuse me,” he said as he nudged Rick back.

Clara began with a mumble. “Leave me alone. Leave me alone! LEAVE ME ALONE!” She ended in a shout that reverberated along the brick walls.

“You are a sick young lady, Miss Blue,” Miller shouted, “and it is our job to help you gain a semblance of control before you hurt yourself—or others.”

Clara’s fists clenched. She took a step back and then tried to charge past Officer James. The huge guard’s arms shot up. His big hands wrapped around her skinny arms and pinned them to her sides.

Clara struggled against the restraint; her eyes on Miller. “I want to hurt
you
, bitch!”

James slammed Clara against the wall. He removed his left hand from her right arm and placed it across her throat.

Rick tried again, to calm things. “Listen, everyone, if we could all please stop for a moment and just…”

But no one was listening.

“Ms. Hefner.” Miller said. “Get Doctor Barnes out here immediately. I want the patient sedated and placed in seclusion. She will remain in there until I decide she is ready to be released.”

The head of security was already on her way to them. “I’m on it, Miss Miller.” Hefner unclipped her walkie-talkie and pressed the button. “Doctor Barnes, code four,” she said into the mouthpiece, “Meet us in the hallway.” Hefner released the button and re-hooked the walkie-talkie. Then she hurried toward them.

Clara somehow managed to slip away from her grizzly bear-like aggressor. She spun away and tried to run. But after just two steps, she twisted around and charged at Hefner, propelling her shoulder into the guard’s midsection. The impact sent both off balance. Hefner tumbled against the wall, her head taking most of the impact. The much lighter Clara dropped to the floor where Officer James tackled her. He managed to flip her onto her stomach and coiled both arms behind her back.

“Doctor Barnes, over here.” Hefner shouted, one hand holding the back of her head.

The doctor hurried from his office, loaded syringe in hand. Clara screamed. Her words were mostly incoherent, but there was no doubt what she was saying. Saliva poured from the corners of her mouth; the teen looked like a rabid dog. Her strength seemed to have no end as she struggled against James’ confinement. Hefner recovered enough to heave herself atop the thrashing girl also.

Doctor Barnes ran to them as he had done many times with many patients. He jabbed the needle in Clara’s outstretched arm and released the liquid into her bloodstream.

It didn’t take long for Clara’s fight to abate. James stood up, stretching his spine, and rubbing it with one hand. He then bent and took hold of Clara’s right wrist. Hefner stood, took Clara’s left wrist, and lifted her up. The two dragged the comatose Clara toward the seclusion room, her faded pink and white Nike heels scuffing the floor. Rick followed, wishing he’d done, or tried to do, more. This whole situation shouldn’t have happened. If only they’d been able to get into his office.

Clara’s eyes remained wide and accusing—at him. She was right, he should’ve done something. James let go of her long enough to unlock the door of the seclusion room, reach in, and come out with a straitjacket. Clara’s eyes widened further and she sobbed.

Rick watched with a sense of uselessness. Miller stood near his right side with her arms folded just under her breasts. Breasts that he just noticed sagging.

Why had she deliberately set out to provoke the girl?

Before James finished buckling her into the jacket, Rick had to speak, had to let Clara know he hadn’t betrayed her. “Was that really necessary?” he said, realizing any challenge to her authority would be dealt with firmly—and for the first time, not caring. “She was perfectly calm. Why would you antag…”

“Clara Blue is criminally insane, Mr. Rasner.” Miller shouted. “She’s a sociopath. I cannot understand why you fail to see this.”

“She’s not an angel, but she wasn’t causing a problem. She was totally calm and rational, until you…” Rick’s better judgment took over. This wasn’t the place for such accusations. “This was all over nothing.” His hand shot to his forehead. Dizziness had overshadowed all other thoughts.

“She assaulted my head of security. And, after making a threat on my life, she attempted to assault me.”

“No…” Rick truly wanted to make his point, but he could barely hear his voice over the pounding in his head.

“That is why she’ll be scheduled for a psychiatric evaluation with Doctor Barnes. Then she can be provided with a permanent intramuscular drip. She has gone beyond our ability to help her at this point. I cannot and will not have my staff endangered.”

Rick looked over Miller’s shoulder to see Tyrell Birkins, a victim of the doctor’s IM drip. The aide, who’d stopped to watch the altercation, now decided to turn Tyrell around and continue walking him to their destination. Tyrell, Rick remembered, had been all mouth when he arrived at Brookhill Children’s Psychiatric Residence. Loud and aggressive about being physically touched. Now, he was led, like a puppy dog, down the hallway with slow steps, drool dripping down his chin.

“You want to turn her into one of the zombies?” Rick realized immediately his description was not well received by their head director. “Is that really necessary?”

“You wish to judge what is necessary? It was
necessary
that you report to me immediately when your patient made threats in your presence. You chose not to do that! As a therapist, you are a mandated reporter. If a patient’s intentions could lead to harm, it is negligence not to report it. Keeping such information to yourself makes you incompetent at your job and as much of a threat as these children.”

“But…but she was only venting her feelings.” He still had no idea how Miller knew anything Clara had told him. “It was not a real threat. As a therapist, it’s my job to get them to release their…”

“You felt it was not necessary for me, the director of this facility, to know a mentally unstable and violent patient had homicidal tendencies toward my life! You allowed her to make these statements without consequence, repercussion, or even reprimand. This is an incompetence on your part that I feel I cannot fix.”

Rick was unable to respond. The dizziness increased, his eyes blinking uncontrollably.

“I find you to be as emotionally impaired as the patients here! Perhaps you should have a room upstairs—with them!”

He opened his mouth but the dryness in his throat made it impossible for him to speak. He found himself frozen in place, both overwhelmed by what was happening and by the pounding he felt at the front of his skull.

“By not responding to Clara Blue’s threat, you are teaching her she does not have to respect
my
authority in this building. I cannot have that.” Miller no longer screamed. She now spoke in a calm voice, which Rick found to be even more chilling.

“I hired you because one of our biggest benefactors asked a favor. I strongly suggest you return to him and ask him to find a place for you to work elsewhere.”

Rick was both startled and horrified by her remarks. He realized his mouth hung open and shut it with an audible snap.

“If you have not resigned within the month, I will terminate your employment with this institution. I will be expecting your letter of resignation soon. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work I must attend to.” Miller unfolded her arms and strode away, leaving him standing in stunned silence. He felt as though he’d received one of Barnes’ hypodermics.

James and Hefner dragged Clara into the seclusion room. Clara’s equally stunned gaze stayed with him even after they’d slammed the door and Rick had turned away.