More Than an Echo (Echo Branson Series) (3 page)

I held my hands up. “No more drugs for this girl. I’ve had my fill for the rest of my life.”

“Good. Now, what did I tell you to do?”

“Relax. Breathe deeply. Stay calm.”

“Thatta girl.”

“Big George?”

“Yeah, sweetpea?”

“Am I going to jail?”

He stepped back into the room. “I wish I knew, but you can’t be worryin’ about that right now. Whatever happened to you today needs to be taken care of. Focus on that.”

And so I did. When that door closed and locked, I took several deep breaths as I climbed onto the hard bed. Relaxing was difficult. What was happening to me, anyway? What had I done to Todd? Where was Danica? What did my foster parents think? And, more importantly, was I going insane?

These questions banged around in my very tired mind as I closed my eyes. I was still feeling the residual of the drug they had pushed into me. I was exhausted, scared and alone in a psych ward. Still, it didn’t take long for sleep to claim me even in the midst of cries that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

My first cold sweat happened the first week I was in the Johnson unit. The Johnson unit is the nickname for the loony bin. I’d been there a couple of days and done little more than eat, sleep and answer question upon question. As kind as Big George was to me, I just didn’t have anything left to give. He was always trying to get me to go out into the day room, but one nanosecond in there and I thought I would go insane. Imagine what it would be like to feel
all
of the emotions of a room full of whackos, depressed lunatics, schizos, suicidals, split personalities and generally disturbed people. I could have fallen down the rabbit hole forever.

Instead, I stayed in my room and slept until it was time to talk to a doctor or eat.

The first morning I was there, Big George came in to report that Todd had a concussion, but he would live. Except for his bruised reputation, he had come out of this with just a few stitches here and there. No one was pressing charges because they were all pretty clear that I had lost my mind and might never get it back. My foster parents had already kicked me to the curb. By noon, I was once again a ward of the state.

“And what about Danica? She’s my best friend. Has she come or called?”

“She’s called a dozen times, sweetpea. If you want to see her, you’re gonna have to cooperate with the doctors more. They’re just trying to help.”

Nodding, I sighed. My head was pounding, as it had been since I arrived. I was exhausted from the night terrors, and I couldn’t stop feeling emotions which obviously were not my own. I knew I was sliding into the mental abyss but I was too afraid to share it with anyone. After being shackled to a bed, you’d pull off your own ears to keep from experiencing that again.

“I’m trying, Big George. I don’t know what she wants from me.”

“The truth. Always the truth.”

That
sounded
easy enough, but I didn’t know what the truth was. Was I insane and didn’t know it? Had something happened in my brain chemistry that made me susceptible to other people’s emotions? What was I supposed to say to her?
Hey doc, I know what you’re feeling. You’re bored, you hate your job, and you wish you had gone to Miami with your sister
. Yeah...that might work if I wanted to be locked away forever.

“I just don’t know what truth she wants from me.”

Big George cocked his head and leaned against the wall. “You sure you don’t want to talk to Big George about it? I don’t judge people, sweetpea.”

I looked away and nodded. “Thank you for that, but right now, I don’t have any truths for you or for the doctors. And believe me, I wish I did.”

He left me alone that morning pondering my fate with my door open and my mind closed. I’m pretty sure he meant for me to go through it, not for someone else to slip on in, but that’s what happened.

“Yo. You the newest nut on the block?”

Opening my eyes, I was staring at a girl about my age with fuchsia hair sticking up like little spikes from her head. Her head reminded me of a flower. “Excuse me?” I quickly sat up; the energy from her was practically knocking me off the bed.

“I’m the Welcome Wagon for all incoming psychos. I’m Celeste. I’m a carver.”

“A what?”

“I’m here for carving up my body like a fucking turkey. And you are?”

“Echo.”

“Echo? Super cool name. I always wished I had a cool name, but my parents named me after my grandmother, which wouldn’t be so bad if she had one remotely nice bone in her body. What a bitch.” Celeste took a deep breath before continuing. “What brings you to our humble abode?”

“I beat up a football player with my geometry book.”

Celeste’s eyebrows rose and she took a step back. “No shit? Cool. I know a few football players I’d like to take a math book to. Why did you do that? You got violent tendencies? Tourette’s? Schizo? Manic depression?”

“I thought he was going to hurt us.”

“Oh.” She stepped back into the room. “Cool. Get to them before they get to you, I say. So, did you kill him?”

“No.”

“You going downtown?”

“Downtown?”

“Yeah. You know...jail. They get you for an A and B?”

I shook my head. She had the energy of a half-dozen puppies and it made my head hurt.

“Even better. So, how come you don’t come out? Scared of all the cuckoos out there?”

“I keep having these horrible headaches and I just don’t feel like visiting, that’s all. How come you cut yourself?”

“My version or theirs?”

“Yours.”

“My girlfriend wouldn’t come out so she dumped me. According to my shrinks, to cover up my broken heart I cut myself. You know, one pain replaces the other, and voilà, here I am. Wanna see?” Before I could say no thank you, she had her wrists and forearms in my face. “It fucking hurt like hell. That’s the point.”

“You said you had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gay or anything, so don’t think I’m all, you know, hittin’ on you or something. I just liked her, that’s all.” Celeste squinted as she studied me. “You’re kind of normal, aren’t you?”

Forty-eight hours ago I might have said yes. “I guess that depends on what abnormal looks like to you.”

“Bummer. You know what happens to normal kids in psych wards? They go fucking nuts. If you weren’t a whack job when you got here, you sure as shit will be when you leave.”

“Is there any way out?”

“Out?” Celeste grinned. “Now you’re talking. I don’t know if there’s a way out, but it might be worth looking into. You stay here, and you’ll be drooling and twitching in no time. Take my advice and whatever you do, do
not
take any of the meds they give you. Here.” Celeste pulled a button off her shirt and handed it to me. “They always look under the tongue but they never check between your cheek and gum. Practice putting the button there in case they decide to start drugging you. Once the drugging starts happening, kiddo, you’re fucked. So practice, okay?”

I took the button and nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

“If you aren’t going to cooperate, then at least pretend to.”

As I  lay there working the button around my mouth with my tongue, I turned Celeste’s words over in my mind. Normal people go crazy in the psych ward? That, I could believe. This place was unlike anything I had ever experienced in any nightmare.

Little did I know my nightmare was just beginning.

“So, I’m back to being a ward of the state again.” I was sitting across from Dr. Knowles when she told me what I already knew.

“And how do you feel about that?”

I shrugged. “Who could blame them? I beat a kid to a bloody pulp. At this point I am more of a liability than an asset. I’d get rid of me too.”

Doctor Knowles’ eyebrows rose. “Is that how you see yourself?”

“They cut their losses. End of story.”

“How are you sleeping?” Dr. Knowles liked to change subjects quickly. I had a teacher who used to do that because she felt our responses were more sincere.

“Actually, I’ve been sleeping really well.”

Dr. Knowles waited, her sharp blue eyes piercing mine. She knew I was lying, though I didn’t know how I knew she knew. “I seem to be having nightmares or something. Of course, I’m living in one so I shouldn’t be surprised that I have one at night.”

“I’ve studied your tapes, Jane, and what you’re experiencing isn’t a nightmare. They’re called night terrors.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Nightmares and night terrors can be differentiated both biologically and psychologically. Nightmares occur largely in REM sleep in the second half of the night. Night terrors usually occur in the first hours of sleep, and the sleeper typically doesn’t remember the episode. Night terrors occur during non-REM sleep and don’t occur during the dream cycle. They’re often accompanied by physical manifestations of the terror.”

“Physical manifestation?”

“You’re fighting something or someone in every episode.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s on the tape, Jane. Every night. Is this news to you?”

“Gee, Doc, I don’t know. I’ve never had twenty-four hour surveillance in my bedroom.” It bothered me that I was doing something I couldn’t remember. Apparently I was losing my mind in the nighttime as well as the daytime.

“So you have no memory of your episodes?”

I wished she would stop calling them that. “None at all.”

“Well, I’ve prescribed you a sleeping pill. You must be exhausted.”

The truth was, I felt pretty good and even well rested. I didn’t need a sleeping pill, and was thankful Celeste had given me The Magic Button. I was pretty sure I could hide a cereal bowl in my mouth, I had practiced so much.

As if on cue, Dr. Knowles brought up Celeste. “I understand you and Celeste have become friends.”

I shrugged. “The only friend I have has come by every day and still I haven’t gotten to see her. I would clean every bathroom in here with a toothbrush for only five minutes with Danica. Why can’t I see her?”

“It’s complicated,  Jane, really. You’ll get to see her soon, though. I promise. Now, let’s talk about your last foster parents.”

For the next half-hour, we talked about all my foster parents and how it made me feel to be unwanted. It’s funny; I’d never really
felt
unwanted. I felt more uninterested than anything else. Unwanted was for sissies who sat around feeling sorry for themselves because they hadn’t been adopted out. I never had time to feel sorry for myself.

Apparently, I was too busy going insane.

My session over, I was heading back to my room when a huge commotion broke out in the dayroom. Normally, I ignore all of the hourly outbursts, but today something drew me closer.

Orderlies were yelling, people were scattering, and someone ran by me with shackles. It was the shackles the drew me closer. I hated those things more than anything else on the planet, but whoever they were intended for actually
feared
them.
That
emotion came through loud and clear and rang in my head like one of those stupid canned horns people use at football games. The feeling was so intense, I didn’t even notice when Celeste approached me.

“Come on, J, let’s DD outta here.” Celeste grabbed my arm.

“Wait.”

“For what? The Mute’s gone bad, man. She’s gonna blow and you don’t want to be there when she does.”

“The Mute?”

“You need to get out more. Yeah, the Mute. She’s gonna do something stupid. Come on. I’d rather not watch her stab someone with scissors or something.”

I pulled my arm away and started back to the dayroom.

“What’s the matter with you, J.? Have you fucking lost your mind?”

“Probably.” When I got to the dayroom, Big George, Tall Tommy and Small Sal were all cornering the girl known as The Mute. To my horror, she held a pair of scissors to her own neck. She had every intention of pushing them in, too. She wasn’t bluffing.

“Get back, Jane!” one of the nurses ordered.

“Stop!” I yelled over them. All three orderlies turned to me. When Big George saw that it was me who was shouting, he muttered something to the other orderlies before approaching me. “Let her through.”

The nurses let me go.

“What you doin’, sweetpea?”

“She’s not bluffing, Big George. Please. If you guys get any closer, she
will
shove those scissors into her neck.”

Big George looked hard at me and whispered, “How do you know this, girl?”

“I...I don’t know.” I lowered my voice. “I just do. You have to believe me, she’s not kidding.”

Big George peered into my eyes so long, it made me uncomfortable. Finally, he turned back to the dayroom. “Hang on a second, guys. Back off and give her a little breathing room.”

One of the younger doctors pushed through the crowd. “What’s going on here? I thought I said to sedate her. Can’t the three of you handle her? She’s just a girl.” The doctor was a smallish Asian man who weighed all of one hundred pounds.