Chapter 5
As the other caretaker, Anna, leads me out of the building, the cold, crisp air jolts me back into myself.
I didn’t realize just how strange I was feeling in that room, with Martina, until now. My knees feel watery, and there is a strange lump in my throat.
I’m not scared, I tell myself as we walk toward the pond. She’s a fraud, not a monster.
It would be more soothing if I could make myself believe it.
The sun has begun its slow journey toward the treetops, the light turning from searing white to a softer yellow, the surface of the pond shimmering in the late-afternoon sunshine.
Trying to shake myself from my reverie, I ask Anna:
“Was the pond here when the place was built? Or did Martina have it … installed?”
Anna laughs. She’s got a slightly different vibe from Belinda, I notice now; less meditative, more energetic. Or maybe it’s just the fact that she’s taller and has broader shoulders than her colleague.
Armin once told me I was prone to making assumptions about character based on looks, something that deeply offended me, mostly due to the fact that he was completely correct.
“I don’t know,” she responds, sounding genuinely amused. “But putting a pond here because she thought there should be a pond here feels like a very Dr. Martina–like thing to do.”
“Yeah, she seems very…” I search for the right word, something to capture the force of her personality without giving away my true feelings.
“… determined.”
“That she is,” Anna agrees.
As we pass by the first cabin on the right, I look up at it, taking in the neat red tiles on the pointed roof and the lingonberry bushes crowding the corners.
There is a flash of a shadow behind one of the windows. Someone moving inside.
One of my fellow “patients”? Or a Himlafall employee?
I can’t help but wonder what brings someone to a place like this. Despite the idyllic surroundings, the soft, velvety silence hanging over the surface of the pond, the cool, crisp air, there is a quiet whisper in the recesses of my mind. Like a warning.
Is Anna feeling it, too?
“How long have you been working here?” I ask her.
“Just a few weeks,” Anna says. “Belinda has been here for a couple of months, I think.”
This lines up with what I’ve been told.
“They can’t keep any staff members for longer than a couple of months. People just keep rotating in and out of there. There is no continuity. I think it’s by design.”
Sandra’s voice, echoing in my head.
“And do you like it?” I ask.
Anna looks out over the pond for a few seconds, the glimmering light bouncing off the water reflected in her gray eyes.
Then she smiles, bright and sudden.
“It’s intense,” she says. “Really intense. But it’s good. I think you’re going to like it here.”
“Well, my experience will probably be a bit different,” I say. “I mean, I won’t be working.”
At this, Anna turns to me, her smile turning into a smirk.
“Trust me,” she says. “It’s definitely going to feel like work.”
A small chill runs up my spine.
“What do you mean?” I ask, light and breezy. Just making conversation.
“Nothing,” Anna says. “Just that it’s hard work. Becoming the best version of yourself.”
Is there a hollow quality to her voice? Did she say that slightly too quickly, as though regretting her initial comment?
For a moment, a name hovers on my lips, a question fueled by the doubt I can almost convince myself I hear in her voice.
But then she adds:
“But I’m sure you are going to love it!”
My resolve dies, and I swallow the question. I remember, once again, what Sandra told me before I left.
“The staff worships her. They are not your friends. Don’t trust them. They will tell her immediately, and you’ll be out on your ass, and we’ll both end up either destitute or in prison.”
When we get to the fourth cabin, Anna reaches into her pocket, pulls out a little notebook, checks one of the pages, and then says:
“Here we are! Welcome to your home for the week.”
She fishes a key chain out of her pocket and unlocks the door.
As I step in, I notice that, just as I was told, my bags are stacked by the bed.
The space is small but impeccable; the walls are covered in cream wallpaper with sage-green leaves hanging off lazily twirling vines, the bed is made up with pristine white sheets, and there is a nightstand next to it, gleaming dark wood with brass detailing.
I do what everyone does when first entering a new room: I walk up to the window and look out.
The cabin is slightly raised above the walking path, so that I can see all the way across the pond to the woods on the other side.
Even in the soft, dreamy late-spring sunlight, the dark, dense forest looks forbidding. All too easy to get lost in.
“There is a welcome dinner for all the new patients in about an hour and a half,” Anna says. “It’s in the big house at the other end. There’s a map in the nightstand, if you need help getting there, but you should have no problems finding it. Just follow the smell.”
“Oh,” I say. “That’s nice.”
“It’s mandatory,” Anna adds, as a breezy sidenote. “So just make sure to be there on time.”
“Huh.”
“People usually enjoy it,” Anna hurries to assure me. “It’s a chance to meet everyone and relax a bit before diving in. Kind of like summer camp.”
I think the summer camp comparison is meant to denote fun and life-long memories, but it doesn’t have the desired effect.
Rather than long, lazy days in the sun, I immediately flash to an old slasher film. Camp counselors being picked off, one by one.
I smile.
“That sounds great.”
Anna still isn’t making any move to leave. I switch my weight to my other foot, feeling a mild twinge in my lower back from the long car ride.
“Is there anything else?” I ask her.
The silence seems to stretch between us, thick and ragged. Anna’s smile grows wider.
“Don’t want to give it up, huh?” she says.
Her tone implies it’s a joke, but her posture contradicts it.
I feel my pulse quickening.
“I’m sorry?” I tilt my head to the side, palms open, signaling confusion, trying to radiate innocence.
A beat passes. Two.
Anna is still staring at me.
She knows.
No. There is no way. How could she know? How could they?
“Your phone,” Anna clarifies, and it takes me a second to understand; when I realize what’s happening, I start laughing in pure relief.
Anna joins in.
I stick my hand into my back pocket and pull out my cell phone.
“Here you go.” I hand the iPhone to Anna, and she tucks it away.
“Any iPads? Computers?” she asks me.
I shake my head.
“Thank you,” Anna smiles. “I promise we’ll take good care of it.”
“How is the reception up here?” I ask her. “I mean, I won’t have my phone, so I guess it doesn’t matter. I just want to make sure my mom can reach me if she needs me.”
Isobel Anderssen has a mother who is very worried about her. The phone number I’ve given them goes to Armin, who knows that I’m here, as opposed to my actual mom, who has no idea.
“We have a signal booster,” Anna assures me. “Best coverage this side of the Baltic.”
“Must be nice for you guys,” I remark, and she laughs again.
“Don’t I know it,” she says. “I have to get that Bridgerton fix at the end of a long day.”
With a quick wave, she turns around and leaves, shutting the door behind her.
I remain standing in place, waiting as I hear her steps winding around the house, and then, sneaking a peek out the window, I see her growing smaller as she walks the path back to the main building.
It’s only when she’s almost out of sight that I sit down on the floor quietly and unzip my bag.
I push past the rolled-up ball of underwear, the poorly folded T-shirts, and the plastic grocery bag full of toiletries, and finally I find what I’m looking for, hidden inside a knitted sweater.
Two hard rectangles.
My backup phone. And my portable recorder.
I exhale with relief. They didn’t search my luggage after all. It was a rookie mistake, packing them in my bag; I should have snuck them into my socks, or the back of my jeans.
I can’t afford to make mistakes like that. Not now.
Up until today, it all seemed, still, like a game. Dr. Martina Hastings, the evil, beautiful queen; the Himlafall Clinic, a secret enchanted kingdom, full of dark and dangerous secrets.
But now that I’m actually here, it is all quickly becoming achingly real.
This is not a game. What I do in the next seven days might come to determine the rest of my life. If I pull this off, it could open up the world for me and ensure that no one else is ruined by this place.
But if I don’t … it won’t just be my name and reputation on the line.
After all, I wouldn’t be the first person not to return from Himlafall.
Taking one final look out the window, I pull out the recorder, turn it on, and begin speaking quietly into it.
“Arrived at the Himlafall Clinic. First impressions are of a beautiful place, full of beautiful people. Everything is perfectly tailored to set you at ease.”
I pause.
“The staff seems small. I’ve met two so-called caretakers.
The information I had going in seems to be accurate in that neither of them have worked here for very long.
I can’t tell whether they have bought into the premise of the place.
If they are true believers, or just here for a paycheck.
Do they know about the bankruptcies, the broken marriages?
About Susannah Wallin? I can’t tell yet. ”
I bite the inside of my cheek, and I grimace. It’s a bad habit, and the skin inside feels raw and tender. I’ve been doing it too much lately. Gnawing on my cuticles, grinding my teeth, my body manually breaking itself down from the weight of stress and anticipation.
“The doctor…” I begin, and then I realize I can’t quite find the words.
I can’t describe Martina Hastings, even to myself.
“I met Dr. Martina, too.” My voice sounds halting, unsure. “She is … interesting. A character.”
Alone in this room that isn’t mine, this hostile place pretending to be home, the words that have been my comfort and my companions all my life are letting me down.
“I hope to find out more about her. I think she is going to be at dinner. My first session with her will be tomorrow.”
I turn the recording off, the click of the button too loud in the small space.
A sour taste fills my mouth, and I swallow.
“Welcome to Himlafall,” I say softly to no one at all.
Maybe just to hear a familiar voice. To not have to sit in the silence.
To not have to wonder whether that sour taste is the taste of fear.