Chapter 46
The courtroom was silent. I sat beside my attorney with my hands folded on the table in front of me. The chains around my ankles felt heavier now than when I’d walked in. The judge removed his glasses and asked us to rise.
“Ms. Tate. You have been thoroughly and extensively evaluated by Dr. Isabella Bondi. The evidence and her reports establish that, at the time the murders occurred, you were suffering from a severe mental illness that greatly impaired your ability to distinguish reality from your actions. This court also recognizes that you continue to require extensive psychiatric treatment in a secure environment. It is therefore the order of this court that you continue your stay at Bellevue Hospital’s secure psychiatric unit until such time as this court is satisfied that you no longer pose a danger to yourself and others. ”
There was no release date. Just until someone decided.
Court ended, and two guards cuffed my wrists, gripped my arms and escorted me out of the courthouse.
“Katherine.”
I turned and looked at Detective Walker.
“Can you give us a moment?” she asked the guards.
They stepped to the side but stayed close enough in case I bolted.
“I’m sorry. I do understand it’s not your fault, and I really hope you get the help you need.”
“Thank you, Detective Walker. I plan on it.”
She stared at me for a moment. “You seem different.”
“You’re very observant. The name is Dahlia.” I smiled. “I’d shake your hand, but—”
Her brows furrowed. “Dahlia? How—”
“Katherine didn’t want to leave the cottage. She’s happy there with her husband. Oh, and she’s having a baby. Everything that happened was my fault and my fault alone. So, I’m doing what I do best. Protecting Kathrine.”
“We have to go, Detective Walker,” one of the guards said.
“Yeah, sure. Would it be okay if I visited you sometime at Bellevue?” she asked me.
“Sure.” I smiled. “Have a good day, Detective.”
Dr. Bondi was kind enough to buy me a box of hair color so I could return to my blonde locks.
Something I desperately missed. Now that this was my life, I needed to look like me and not Katherine.
I reintroduced myself to the other patients as Dahlia.
No one even gave it a second thought. They just smiled and welcomed me.
I wasn’t surprised. All our minds were fractured in this place.
I was placed in a new room. A slightly bigger room.
The one I stayed in for weeks prior to the trial was temporary.
It’s what they called that specific hallway of rooms. They were more for seventy-two-hour holds up to a month.
But because of the length of the trial, they kept me there until the final sentencing.
A twin bed. A wardrobe. A small window high up that let the sun shine through.
A desk. A lamp. And a small table with one chair.
And the best part. It had its own bathroom complete with a shower, a toilet, a sink, and a mirror.
Definitely an upgrade. No more banging on the door in the middle of the night when I needed to use the bathroom.
I went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. As I patted it dry with a towel, I stared at myself in the mirror and smiled at my new hair color.
“It looks good, Dahlia.”
“Thanks, Sydney.”
“Can you ask Dr. Bondi for some paint supplies and an easel?”
“Only if you promise to paint me beautiful paintings to hang on the walls.” I smiled.
“I will. I promise.”
“Then I will ask her.”
“Are you going to be okay in here?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ll be fine.”
Then, she disappeared. I heard the lock click and the door open. Walking out of the bathroom, George was standing there.
“It’s dinner time, Dahlia.”
“Oh good. I can’t wait to get my hands on some of that chocolate pudding.” I smirked.
“I think today it’s tapioca.”
“Ugh. Really?” I cocked my head.
“Maybe I can try to find some chocolate and sneak it in here.”
“You’re too good to me, George.”
Three Months Later
A soft knock on my door echoed through the room.
“Dahlia?” Dr. Bondi slowly pushed the door open. “May I come in?”
I looked up from the book I was reading. “Sure.”
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.” She smiled.
“I don’t think you can call a psychiatric unit a neighborhood.” I laughed.
“No? I’ve spent enough time here that it feels like one.” She winked.
She looked around the room, noticing the little succulent she’d given me during our horticultural therapy had doubled in size.
“That little succulent has really grown,” she said.
“It has. Hasn’t it?”
She turned and stared at the wall where my desk sat. The last time she was in my room, there were three paintings on the wall. Now, there were a dozen, arranged in a perfect gallery across the wall.
“I see Sydney has been busy,” she said.
“She knows how much I love art.”
“They’re beautiful. How’s Katherine doing?”
“She’s good. The baby is due soon. It’s a girl.”
“Oh, how wonderful. Did she pick a name yet?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Rebecca.”