Unravel (10 page)

That’s what I came here for. But now that he was next to me, I was nervous and still scared that he would tell on me.

I looked away from Lachlan and tilted my head back as far as it would go. I nodded slowly.

“I’m going up.”

I gripped the wooden steps with shaky hands. When I peeked through the opening I smiled and hefted myself up. Lachlan was behind me. He immediately walked to the corner, looking bored. I was anything but. I was only a few feet up from the ground but I felt like I was in the clouds.

“How are you doing over there?” Lachlan asked.

“I love it,” I breathed.

“You don’t get out much,” he murmured.

My shoulders tensed. “I do too.”

“I’m just kidding.” He walked around. The wood creaked underneath his feet. Finally, he rested his elbows on the ledge next to me and stared out into the sky. “So all you want to do is come up here and sit?”

“Yes.”

He said nothing.

“I was right,” I finally said. “It’s beautiful up here.”

The two of us sat in silence, but I was okay with it.

“If that’s all you want to do, then you can come up here whenever,” he said.

My eyes widened before I anxiously turned toward him. “You mean it?”

Lachlan shrugged. “Sure. But I don’t know if sneaking out in the middle of the night is a good idea for an eight-year-old.”

My chin went up in defense. “I’m ten.”

He didn’t look impressed.

“You’re outside too,” I said. “And you’re not that much older than me. Aren’t you thirteen?”

Lachlan’s eyes narrowed. “Fifteen.”

I ticked him off but this was the most fun I’d had in so long.

“Well, have fun up here,” he said. “I’m going inside. And to bed. Like normal humans.”

“Hey, wait!” I said urgently. Lachlan stopped and looked at me expectantly. “What did you used to do when you came up here?”

“A lot of pointless games really.”

“Like what?”

He sighed loudly and sat down. “Stupid games. I’d shoot invisible guns, and then climb down to make runs to the house for more ammo. Sometimes this would be my spaceship. A few times this was my secret agency headquarters. Most of the time, I’d make this place my secret hideout. Or a stranded island.”

I saw all the games he described perfectly. My imagination ran wild, seeking and grabbing everything he was saying with greedy hands. If I looked to the left, I could see mountains with plush green grass and flowers sprinkled throughout. Directly in front of me were palm trees and clean blue waters that touched the sand. To the right were ruins of a castle that once stood tall in Germany. I could see it all.

“That’s why I always came up here,” he explained. “I could dream up anything in this treehouse.”

I nodded and tried to keep the huge grin off my face.

“Dream up anything,” I repeated in awe. “I want to do that.”

“You don’t do that stuff? You’re ten! All ten-year-olds do that.”

Not all.

There were limits that I never crossed. I played board games, Barbies, and rode horses. I rarely used my imagination. It never ran wild like Lachlan’s did.

“No.” I looked down at the wooden floor with shame.

“Not once?” he asked.

I said no again.

He persisted. “You’re lying.”

I cleared my throat and looked at the sky.

“I’ll create a story for you. But you have to keep it going.” He stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankles. I couldn’t tell if he was staying solely because he felt bad for his strange, ten-year-old neighbor, or because he might actually enjoy my presence. I’d accept either option.

“Okay. The world has been invaded by aliens. And now the CIA is relying on you to protect the human race.” He continued on with his storytelling, painting the perfect picture for me to imagine.

I watched him with fascination.

“What’s your name?” he quizzed.

My eyebrows drew together tightly. “Naomi.”

“No. What is your name?” He emphasized slowly. “Just imagine and you can be anything.”

I smiled, grasping onto the meaning of his words. The possibilities were endless. “Claire… no, I like Julia. Oh! No!” I excitedly sat up onto my knees. I couldn’t keep up with my brain. It was exhilarating. “I want to change it to Elliot Kid! I like that!”

“Nice,” he said, and then he smiled. It was true and honest. Nothing deceitful about it. I earned that smile and I’d do just about anything to earn another smile from Lachlan Halstead.

He talked to me for hours. Until the sun was up. Until my eyes were threatening to quit on me. Until I absolutely had to leave.

That night, Lachlan Halstead woke me up and pulled my mind into a whole new world. I was way too young to know that at the fresh age of ten, I had willingly handed my heart over to Lachlan Halstead.

“Did you get any sleep?”

I glance at Mary. “I got some.”

She tilts her head, a sympathetic look on her face and I can tell that she knows I’m lying.

We’re close to Dr. Rutledge’s door when a nurse stops in front of Mary and pulls her away. I’ve seen this nurse around. She’s the same age as Mary, but she has a permanent frown on her face and wears scrubs in dark, solid colors to match her rigid personality.

My eyes narrow and I watch the nurse’s lips move rapidly. I can only make out bits and pieces but I watch her form the words, ‘suggests’ and ‘group therapy’.

It suddenly becomes hard for me to breathe.

Group therapy.

No way. No how. I’d rather have a lobotomy than sit in a circle and talk about all my problems.

Mary looks at me over her shoulder. You know it’s going to be bad when your nurse, the sane one, doesn’t look happy. I should’ve run from that look alone.

The uptight nurse walks away, leaving Mary and me in an awkward silence.

“Change of plans,” Mary announces.

“What do you mean?”

She gently grabs my elbows and we do a quick U-turn. “Dr. Rutledge wants you to try group therapy.”

I stop walking and face her.

“I don’t want to do that.”

She tugs on my arm. “Why not?”

“I just… I just don’t want to do that.”

“Group therapy is very effective,” she reasons.

“Maybe for someone else, but not for me.”

Mary doesn’t answer.

“I saw the way you looked at me when the nurse told you! You think it’s a bad idea, too.”

“Give it a shot. You have nothing to lose.”

Translation: Your options are becoming really limited. If you don’t start improving there’s nothing left for you.

I move one foot in front of the other, feeling like I’m walking toward my demise.

“How long is it?” I ask.

“Just an hour.”

We arrive at Room 62. A large open room where most group therapy sessions are held. Blue plastic chairs are in the center of the room. It looks like a cozy little circle, like we’re in kindergarten, getting ready for show and tell.

I stand in the doorway and watch everyone. One girl stares down at the carpet, whispering to herself. Next to her is a middle-aged woman. I’ve seen her a few times during dinner or in the rec room. I call her Pretend Mommy. She wears red silk pajamas, with a fur coat wrapped around her, almost every day. She always has makeup on and smells like lilac. In her arms she rocks a plastic baby back and forth. She stops rocking the baby and sings it a lullaby as if it’s crying.

Clearly she’s crazy.

And clearly I’m on the fast track to following her down that road because her presence is comforting to me. She appears so motherly to me. If I close my eyes and forget, I’m no longer in a mental hospital. Pretend Mommy is a real mom, who’s holding a real baby.

On the opposite side of Pretend Mommy is a skinny girl named Amber. She is the resident anorexic. She sits there, staring at everyone with resentment.

I go to turn around. Mary grips my shoulders and says in a gentle voice, “You will be fine.”

“Can I have your confidence?” I say weakly.

She squeezes my shoulders. “Everything will be okay. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

Mary’s not going to leave until I sit down. I walk into the room. It feels like everyone is looking at me. They have their own problems and issues but I swear they’re whispering to each other, “Do you see her? Look how fucked up she is. She’ll never be able to leave Fairfax.”

I choose the seat closest to the door. If shit gets weird, I’ll be ready to bolt. But that seat happens to be next to Amber. Her lip curls in disgust.

Fuck you too, skinny bitch.

I cross my arms. My legs bounce up and down. I wait for that nervous feeling in my gut to fade but it gets stronger the longer I sit there.

More people come into the room. The chairs are filled up.

A male doctor and two female nurses walk in. I watch them carefully as they talk quietly near the door.

Get this over with!
I want to scream.

I bite down on my lip.

The doctor clears his throat and the room grows quiet. He introduces himself as Dr. Cooper before he goes into this whole spiel of group therapy and its benefits. He says that this is a safe place. An outlet for us to really open up and let everything out.

I stare at him doubtfully.

He continues to talk and that’s when I start to hear another voice.

It’s distant at first, but it comes closer and closer until the voice is right next to me, and I hear, “You’re a filthy bitch.”

My skin breaks out into hives. My fingers grip the blue plastic chair I’m sitting in as I look around the room frantically. Did they hear Lana’s dad? Could they see him behind me?

But everyone is staring at Dr. Cooper with boredom.

So I try to follow their lead, thinking it will distract me. I focus on the doctor’s lips. He’s talking about cognitive behavior… I think.

“I really want you all to focus on positive traits you possess.” He looks in my direction. “Amber. Would you like to say what positive traits you have?”

She stops picking at the dead ends of her hair and glares. “None. I have no positive traits.”

My fingers drum anxiously and I keep looking all around the room. The doctor clears his throat. “That’s not true. I’m
positive”
— See what he did there?— “that you do.”

I look behind my seat. I tilt my head to the side and glance at the chairs stacked in the corner. He could be hiding over there.

Amber looks at me. “What the fuck is your problem?” she snaps.

“Now, Amber,” Dr. Cooper says. He stands up and walks over to us. Before he opens his mouth, he kneels down to look Amber in the eye. His bones pop loudly.

The sound echoes in my ears.

I know Dr. Cooper is talking. I see his mouth moving. But I hear no words.

Radio silence.

My eardrums start to ache.

The silence gets stronger and more powerful. I rub my ears, trying to ease the intense pressure. It feels like my head’s about to explode.

And that’s when I see him.

Lana’s dad peeks out behind Dr. Cooper. He’s kneeling down. Elbows resting on his thighs, in the exact same position as Dr. Cooper.

But he gives me a sadistic smile. That’s the same smile he makes before he attacks. My breath is stuck in my throat.

I react instantly.

I lean back in my chair. It tips over. I fall to the ground. I scramble away from him. I don’t stop moving until my back touches the wall. He stands up and makes his way toward me slowly. He’s dressed in a navy suit, white dress shirt and a navy, striped tie to match. He looks harmless, but it’s those cold eyes that stand out. They’re eyes that don’t feel. They reveal that he has no heart and never has.

“You’re a little bitch,” he says.

A choked sound escapes me. I squeeze my eyes and try to focus on my breathing. He’s closer. I can feel his steps vibrating the ground beneath me.

“Go away. Go away.” My voice becomes stronger. “Go away!”

He grabs onto my ankle and I kick him off. My hands curl around my head.

“Leave me alone,” I scream.

He keeps saying my name and grabbing at my ankles. I fight back but my muscles ache. I’m getting weaker and that makes him stronger. That makes his grip more painful.

Distantly I hear a feminine voice.

Dr. Rutledge.

“What happened?” she demands.

Someone answers but I can’t understand what they say. Everything has become muted.

“Naomi.”

I open my eyes. Her face is blurry. All I can make out is the outline of her body. But right next to her I see Lana’s dad.

I shove my head back. It slams into the wall painfully.

“Can you hear me?” Dr. Rutledge asks.

He doesn’t care that Dr. Rutledge is next to me. He keeps touching. He grips my jaw until it feels like it will snap in half.

“You’ve ruined everything,” he shouts. “Your fucking life is mine!”

Dr. Rutledge says my name loudly this time. “Breathe,” she commands. “You need to breathe.”

I focus on her words and the pressure on my jaw lets off before his hands disappear altogether.

I open my eyes and it’s just Dr. Rutledge in front of me. Mary stands behind her with a panicked look.

“Take a deep breath,” Dr. Rutledge urges.