Chapter 18
“How are you feeling today, Hallie?”
I peer out the barred window at a bluebird sitting on the bars.
He’s outside while I’m inside, for how many days, weeks, years…I don’t know.
“I’m okay.”
Dr. Sangallo nods, her dark hair brushed back behind her ears. She always looks so composed. She’s been my doctor since I arrived here at Orange Lake Hospital, a place designed for people like me.
The night at Jack Bloom’s house taught me many things.
The first is that I was Jupiter Lemmings. I did some really fucked-up things to cope with the trauma I experienced that night in the woods.
And second is that Kit Rivers loves me.
That seems far more important than anything else because even after he found out my secret, he refused to give up on me. Detective Crawley, who arrested Jack, was a client of his from the garage.
She was the only cop who wasn’t crooked in this town. She worked for the SVU. He confided in her and showed her the proof of the women’s confessions. He told her she needed to act immediately, for fear of my mental health.
Kit had placed a recording device in Jack’s home before I arrived to record Jack’s confession. Kit knew my plan to kill Jack all along. It was like he knew me better than I knew myself. That explains all the secrecy between him and Dandy.
He didn’t intervene, as he knew this was the only way for me to see the truth.
The truth that Jupiter was never real.
“You’re making great progress,” Dr. Sangallo says. “We’re looking at supervised day trips very soon.”
Hooray…
I quash down that cynical voice in my head, as I don’t want any more of those. At least it’s mine, however.
“To support your recovery, we need to review what occurred so that you’ll know how to respond if it happens again.”
I’ve heard this a thousand times before.
“You’re not evil, Hallie, regardless of what you believe.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I made up a ‘friend’ who murders people.”
“Was Jupiter made up?”
I ponder over her question and shrug. “I saw her. Spoke to her. I felt her.”
She nods calmly. “When you were sixteen, you experienced something so horrific, so overwhelming that your brain couldn’t process it.
It couldn’t understand how you survived.
So it did what traumatized brains sometimes do.
It divided you…into two people. Hallie is the part that endured the assault, and Jupiter is the part that needed to fight it. The part that protected you.
“Your control was taken away. And you were scared. The brain compartmentalizes with cases of trauma such as this. One part holds on to the fear, and the other holds on to rage.
“Jupiter is the part of you that refused to be powerless. She protected you.”
“Yes.” I nod, my lower lip quivering. “She punished them.”
Dr. Sangallo writes something down in her notes. “Jupiter acted on impulses you consciously could not allow yourself to do. This is why you’re not evil or a monster, Hallie. Neither is Jupiter. Your brain created a protector.”
“But I made up a person, a real-life person I spoke to, a person I had feelings for,” I state, feeling the panic rising. “How is that not insanity?”
“That’s not insanity. That’s dissociation. Jupiter dealt with things Hallie could not. This is common with people with your diagnosis.”
Whenever she uses that word, it makes me believe that I’m crazier than I already feel.
“The rage and need for control are understandable—they were taken from you. In trauma, violence becomes a familiar language. But understanding why Jupiter existed does not excuse what she did.”
“I know that.” I lower my chin in guilt.
“You are a young woman who survived something horrible. Your mind adapted the only way it knew. Jupiter was not born evil. She was born from terror. You needed her to do the things you couldn’t. She was who you wanted to be and did the things you wanted to do, but was too afraid to.”
Her words remind me of the kindness Kit showed when my life was falling apart.
“Hallie, Jupiter wasn’t a monster…she was your guardian. Jupiter learned how to survive in a world that hurt her. Hallie is the girl who endures, while Jupiter is the girl who protects.”
He’s right, according to Dr. Sangallo.
“Jupiter liked it. Doesn’t that mean I liked killing?”
“You are not a monster,” she says again, attempting to reiterate the fact. “You are traumatized. Jupiter did what she did as she believed she was protecting you.”
Dr. Sangallo would never call me evil or crazy. I think she believes it. However, I am still on the fence.
“I’m nothing without her,” I confess. “Nothing but a scared little girl, still trapped in the woods. I don’t feel like I ever left. I don’t know who I am without Jupiter.”
“No, Hallie, you are the part that survived. The part that fought back.”
“I still feel like she’s inside me.” I know this isn’t the right thing to say to get out of here, but I want to be better.
Dr. Sangallo writes something more in her notes. I arch my neck in hopes of seeing what.
“That’s a common experience. Jupiter was with you for many years. Over time, you will teach her that she isn’t needed anymore. You’re safe. You don’t need her protection anymore. Have you heard any voices or seen her?”
I shake my head, which is the truth.
She disappeared the night at Jack’s, and I’ve missed her ever since.
“That’s good. Such progress. We’re done for the day. See you next week.” She turns to her laptop and begins typing.
I stand and walk out of the office.
I’m not shackled.
No guard waits to escort me back to my room.
The stigma associated with hospitals such as this is something you see in the movies or read about in Gothic horror novels.
It’s pleasant here.
Calming.
But it’s not home.
I walk past the arts-and-crafts room and see patients happily engaged in the sip-and-paint class. Their sip beverage is orange juice, of course.
“There you are,” Raquel, a young nurse, says as we meet in the hallway. “I’ve been looking for you. You have visitors waiting for you in the gardens.”
“Thank you.” I walk toward the beautiful gardens in the glasshouse.
I look like shit.
We’re not in white gowns or slippers. But belts, shoelaces, and jewelry are prohibited for safety reasons—just a reminder that this isn’t Club Med.
We’re here to get better.
I run my fingers through my hair, which has grown longer. I’m in gym shorts and a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. I wasn’t expecting visitors, but I know who they are. So my appearance is the least of my worries as I quicken my step.
I turn the corner and enter the glass dome filled with aromatic plants and flowers. It’s beautiful in here.
Peaceful.
Dandy stands by the water fountain of three cherubs, water shooting from their musical instruments. Seems appropriate because he’s been my angel throughout this entire thing. He looks better.
Healthier.
Gone is the darkness in his eyes.
It makes me happy that he’s visibly well.
He holds a plastic bag. I wonder what’s inside.
My stomach drops, however, when I see Dandy alone.
Has Kit finally had enough?
Not that I can blame him. His girlfriend is locked inside a facility treating people with all kinds of disorders. He deserves better.
“Cupcake, is that my shirt?”
And just like that, everything is right in the world.
Kit Rivers is the boy who shook things up beyond repair, and I am so here for it.
He stands before me in a white shirt with the buttons of course halfway undone, exposing that broad sliver of inked chest and neck. The silver chain he wears accents the soft hair between his pecs. He’s in ripped jeans and boots.
The light streaming in accents the blonder strands in his dark hair, appearing as if a forever halo is around him, but those intense eyes will always be my demise because the look in them reveals nothing, for he has not changed.
He still loves me.
He wraps his hands around my waist, drawing me into him.
And just like that…I’m home.
His smell envelops me in a tight bubble.
I’m safe.
“I see how it is,” Dandy teases on the sidelines.
Kit doesn’t let me go. He hugs me tight. “Hello.”
I laugh. “And what a hello it is.”
Eventually, Kit lets me go so I can hug my best friend.
Moments like these make being in here worth it.
I want to get better for myself.
But most of all, I want to get better so I can live a life outside these walls without being afraid.
We walk toward the table and chairs and take a seat. My cheeks heat at the way Kit looks at me. Has he always been this hot?
When he sits back in his chair, his broad shoulders becoming more prominent, I know the answer is yes.
How lucky I am to call him mine.
“So what’s new?” Dandy asks me.
“Hmm, let me see, I learned how to knit.”
Kit’s lips twitch, while Dandy nods with a wide, animated smile.
“Maybe I’ll knit you a hat and a matching scarf,” I offer as I’m impressed with my knitting skills.
“Ooh, that sounds like what I need living in Texas.”
“Ungrateful much?” I tease, rolling my eyes. “What’s in the bag?”
Dandy passes it to me over the table.
I open it with curiosity, but arch a brow when I see what’s inside. “A cactus?”
Dandy nods. “Yes, according to Google, gifting a cactus symbolizes that the person is a fighter. And I am acknowledging that you’re strong and you’ve overcome challenges,” Dandy recites like he’s been sitting in on one of my therapy sessions. “It’s also durable and won’t die.”
The moment he says the word, he pales.
Kit takes my hands, and the silver rings on his hands cool on my skin. “You hear that, Cupcake, something you can’t kill.”
A hush falls over us, and just as Dandy seems on the verge of tears, I suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Dandy appears relieved while Kit chuckles beside me.
It’s nice to laugh even though the subject matter is totally messed up.
“Thank you, Dandy, I love it and will ensure its longevity.”
“Better than a knitted hat,” he quips.
This is why I love them so much. They make me feel like I’ll be all right.
“What’s going on out there?” I often refer to the outside world as an alien world because I don’t live in it—not yet anyway.
Dandy has the worst poker face—ever.
“What?”
Kit shuffles in his chair, while Dandy was one to never keep a secret. “There’s talk that Jack Bloom’s charges will be dropped.”
Kit sighs, irritated that Dandy didn’t begin with a bit more subtlety.
“Is that true?”
Kit nods. “Yes, his defense says your claims are false because—”
“Because I’m in here?” I finish for him.
He doesn’t need to answer.
His attorneys would be having a field day. It’s been made public what I did and that I am the XY Killer. I haven’t been charged due to a plea of insanity. Dr. Sangallo is a big part of why I’m not standing trial.
Although I know that Jack’s legal team is pushing to overturn her diagnosis.
Being in here is merely a stopover because once I am deemed fit, I know I must pay for my crimes.
In what way, however, I don’t know.
The air is suddenly tense.
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
Dandy soon stands. “I’m going for a walk.”
He leaves, which means that, whatever is happening, he believes Kit should tell me.
When we’re alone, Kit brings my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. He rubs his faint stubble against my flesh. It sends goose bumps down my spine.
“I miss you. I miss every single thing about you. I miss your stubbornness. I miss your humor.” His voice drops low. “And I miss you in my bed.”
My heart threatens to burst from my chest.
He has needs, needs that I can’t tend to right now, and if he wants to see other people, then I understand. But he’s made very clear from the beginning that he wants no one other than me.
But hearing him say these kinds of things sets me on fire.
“I miss you too. But stop stalling. What’s going on?”
Kit smirks with that damn dimple that should be illegal. He sits back in his seat but never releases my hand. “There’s a copycat killer.”
“A what?” I ask, confused.
“It seems Hollow Banks has a killer among us, a killer that seems to be using your handiwork as their handbook.”
“You’re joking?” This sounds like a plot for a sequel to a movie or a book, but what a book that would be.
Kit shakes his head. “The police want to work with you in hopes of getting inside the killer’s mind, seeing as they’re using you as their muse. They hope you’ll help them understand the killer’s psyche.”
“I’m not a criminal profiler. I’m someone who made up an imaginary friend.”
“And what a baddie she was,” Kit counters, always making me feel better about this situation. “If you do this, you may not serve time. They’re willing to negotiate.”
“Why don’t I know any of this?” This is all news to me.
“Doctor Sangallo is a good woman. She’s looking out for you. Trust her.”
I purse my lips in thought. “And why do you know any of this?”
Kit’s husky laugh has me almost forgetting what we’re talking about. “’Cause I’m your next of kin, and with you being in here, I’m informed.”
“Oh yes, I forgot I made that decision,” I mock, faking a deep sigh.
“It’s going to be okay. We’ll work this out together. Whatever happens.”
Kit stands and takes me with him. We walk toward the fountain, needing to do something as sitting feels so stagnant.
His warm chest is pressed to my back. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing the side of my neck.
With eyes half-mast, I reply, “I love you too.”
I don’t know how long we stand in silence this way, but we’re both deep in thought.
Hollow Banks has a killer of its own, and it’s not me.
Oh, the scandal.
A familiar scratching soon happens, one I haven’t felt since the night she disappeared. I don’t let on what’s happening because I’m not afraid. She never scared me. Only comforted me.
I didn’t create a monster.
I created a protector.
And that protector learned how to survive in a world that hurt her.
But maybe, just maybe, she went a little too far.
In Kit’s arms, everything is perfect…but one thing is missing, the thing which I have kept hidden in the shadows.
But she won’t stay hidden any longer. If the police need me, then they need her.
The water pools in the fountain where I see my reflection. I see myself in the arms of the man I love more than life itself. But suddenly, things blur, and someone else stands beside me.
Jupiter Lemmings smiles. “Let’s play a game…I dare you.”