Chapter 8
It’s almost impossible to pay attention to Dr. Radley while she talks today.
I’m so close to getting out of here that all I want to do is bounce off the walls in preparation.
Though I’m sure the only place that would get me is here.
For a longer period of time, at that. So I manage to force myself to look somewhat calm, as if I’m not vibrating at the seams to get the hell off this mountain and away from the creepy asylum.
They’re starving .
I can’t get Hattie’s words out of my head. I’ve even considered bringing it up to Dr. Radley, to ask her about those words or about what could be up here that’s hungry. But then I risk sounding delusional, and I’d really rather not.
Though I’m nodding along with her, when she makes eye contact with me, I realize with a jolt that I honestly have no idea what she said. So when she stops speaking with an expectant look on her face, all I can do is stare at her and try to recall the last five minutes of conversation.
Which, unfortunately, I can’t seem to do.
But Dr. Radley catches on fast, and her lips curl upward in an indulgent, amused smile.
“I won’t get mad at you for not paying attention.
I know how much you want to go home, Fern.
” She even eases back in her chair, like she’s trying to give me the impression of being relaxed.
She definitely doesn’t look like she is, however.
It seems put on, and I wonder if she’s even capable of not looking fully aware at every moment.
“Sorry.” I sigh, quick to apologize as I hunch my shoulders in an instinctively guilty reaction, like a child who was caught doing something she shouldn’t.
“I’m not trying to be rude or anything. It’s just that I’m just really…
looking forward to going home.” I figure it’s better not to insult this place by making it clear quite how much I want to get the hell out of Bluebone Ridge.
But she only smiles again, still looking indulgent.
“You’re not supposed to love it here. It’s supposed to be a safe place for you to get the help and coping mechanisms you need to make good choices.”
“And to not cut into my palm with first aid scissors?” I ask dryly before I can stop myself. But she only snorts instead of looking disdainful or irritated.
“Yeah, that too. Tell me, do you have anything you want to talk about before you leave in the morning? Any questions or concerns for me? Anything you’d like to bring up?
I think it would be a good idea for you to continue seeing someone, but I can’t force you to.
” She puts her iPad to the side and places her hands in her lap, which makes this feel like a much more casual conversation than a mandatory therapy session.
I bite my lip as I watch her, trying to judge her reaction to the question I haven’t asked. But hopefully, if she does get mad, I can just backtrack my way out of it. “How long have you worked here?” I inquire finally.
“About six years now,” she answers without hesitation. “I also run a practice in town, though. I believe in the same town you’re from.”
“You have a practice in Whippoorwill?” My brows lift slightly in surprise, but I push that away. I wouldn’t have thought the town is big enough for a therapist. But what do I know? Clearly it’s big enough to have at least one accidentally self-harming peasant in need of temporary inpatient care.
Emphasis on the temporary .
She nods, and I blink back in surprise, adding, “Okay, I know this one is going to sound weird and concerning. But if you’re familiar with the area, you have to know the reputation Bluebone Ridge has.
” I let my words sink in, but she doesn’t look perturbed by them, so I continue.
“Have you ever seen anything weird here?”
“Anything weird? Like patients with concerning behaviors, or ghosts roaming the halls?” The touch of unexpected amusement in her words helps convince me she’s not about to have me committed longer.
“The second. Ghosts, or monsters, or stuff like that. I’ve heard a lot of stories.
Umm…I guess everyone has. I’m not talking about literal werewolves popping out of the trees or ghosts re-enacting their deaths in the halls.
Just anything you can’t explain?” I hope I sound casual and not too interested, but I’m not sure if I’m successful with that or not.
“No, unfortunately.” She shrugs, looking almost apologetic at the words.
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything here that I can’t explain.
But that doesn’t mean I’m ruling out the existence of such things.
It’s a big world after all, Fern.” Dr. Radley turns to look out the window, and for a few moments, it seems like she’s gotten distracted looking at the distorted view through the thick glass.
“What about you?” she asks at last, surprising me after such a long silence.
“Me?” I repeat, my eyes meeting hers when she turns back to look at me. Her brown eyes seem interested, though not overly so. I force myself not to get worked up over the fair question. I’d asked first, after all.
For a moment, I consider telling her about the thing I saw outside on more than one occasion. About what Hattie said, her repeated warnings of they’re starving and they’re coming, they’re here. I even consider mentioning the word hi on my window that Hattie somehow knew about.
I think about the possibility of sharing all that with the doctor, before shoving the notion away very firmly.
There is no way in hell I’m going to volunteer any information that could get me stuck here for longer than the next seventeen hours.
I’d rather stick scissors in my good hand, I decide in that moment.
So I look at her, eyes wide and plaintive, and with all the sincerity I can muster, I shake my head and give her an apologetic grin of my own. “No,” I lie, and shake my head. “No, I can’t say I’ve seen anything weird at all.”
I walk past Cairo before I realize that I have, but once I register his presence, I stop in my tracks while considering if I want to start a conversation.
Yesterday’s interaction in the shed was the last time I saw him, and I’m still unsure of how I feel about it.
But I can feel his attention, his gaze on me, even as I look up and study the high ceilings of this hallway that haven’t been dusted in probably a decade.
It’s a good thing I don’t really have allergies.
When I turn, I’m unsurprised to see him looking at me, and the tilt of his head combined with the curiosity in his eyes makes him look almost like a lost puppy.
It disarms me easily enough, but when I take a step back toward him, that open curiosity fades and he straightens a little, with his arms still folded loosely over his chest. He makes the powder-blue of our matching outfits look good, I decide, especially with a black long-sleeved shirt under it.
“Hi,” I greet, moving to mirror his stance and lean against the tall window in front of him, though I’m definitely not obstructing his view. Cairo turns to look outside again, searching, before letting out a sigh and giving me an almost baleful look.
“Coming from therapy?” he asks, in a voice that sounds as tired as he looks. “Your last therapy session, right? Since you’re getting broken out in the morning?” I swear I see a small smile on his face, and the fading surprise that I stopped to talk to him.
“Dr. Radley pronounced me all good to go.”
“Did she really?”
“Well, no, but we all have problems.”
He snorts at that, smiling in spite of himself, and turns to gaze out the window again.
I look out the glass as well, wondering if there’s something to see.
But all I find is the courtyard one floor down, with a few patients milling around or talking.
Two orderlies sit outside as well, deep in conversation while one gestures animatedly with the book she’s holding.
I can’t see any of their faces clearly, of course.
Not with the ancient window between us. “It’d be better if you could go tonight,” he remarks offhandedly, and I huff out an agreement.
“It would be better if I was never forced to come here at all. But then I wouldn’t have met you, and my life would be just a shade less interesting.”
His eyes find mine, and Cairo gives me a once over.
“You’re brave today. It must be from the excitement and the fact you’re almost out.
” He’s surprisingly spot on, though I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
Still, it makes me check myself, and I don’t respond.
I only watch him, still leaning against the window like he is.
“How long have you been here?” The question is out before I really think about it, but I suppose the worst thing he can do is not answer.
Cairo rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know.” The words are a breathy sigh. “I don’t really keep track. Feels like I just showed up here one day, and that was that.”
“Want me to smuggle you out with me?” The offer is a joke, but he looks at me with surprise on his face, like he wasn’t expecting it, so I continue with a few nods.
“Yeah, I’ve seen a few movies where someone gets smuggled out of jail.
We could put you in a laundry hamper? Or, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your ability to hold on to the bottom of a bus all the way down the mountain? ”
“Low.” His voice is flat, and he rolls his eyes, but I swear I can see the humor in them from my words. “Very low, in fact. And we have laundry machines here, so why would they send it out on a bus?”
“Well, I don’t hear you coming up with anything.”
“Maybe I don't need to leave.” He goes back to looking out the window again, and worries his lip between his teeth before adding, “Or maybe I don’t need help to do it.” His eyes dart back to my face, judging my reaction, and he finishes with, “Perhaps between us, I’m the one with a better rescue plan and if the roles were reversed, I’d be breaking you out with me. ”
“And Moro,” I say instinctively, though my stomach twists when I think about the dog. “We’d have to get Moro out, too.”
He doesn’t answer that part, only shrugs and looks back out the window again.
“Do you have therapy?” I can’t imagine why he’d be on this side of the building, unless he does. I rarely see anyone hanging out here for fun.
“No.” His answer is absent as he stares out the window once more. “I don’t have therapy, Fern.” The way he says it seems more like he doesn’t have therapy at all versus not having it right now. But I know that can’t be the case.
“I won’t say I’ll miss you.” The silence stretches between us after I say it, though once again I see the little hint of a smile on his lips. “Because I barely know you, and you’re a little weird.”
“Just a little?” His gaze flicks to mine, showing his amusement. “That’s very kind of you.”
“I know.” We lapse into silence again before I push off of the window with a sigh. “See you later, then. Probably not, but—” He catches my arm suddenly, and my words trail off as I look at Cairo, even though he’s not returning the attention. Instead, he’s still gazing out the window.
But he doesn’t say a word. He finally glances at me, with an expression I can’t read for the life of me, before letting go of my arm and dropping his gaze back outside. “See you later, Fern,” he agrees with a sigh. It’s a clear dismissal, and I take it as one.
I walk a few steps backward before turning, trying not to notice the feeling of his eyes on me as I flee.