22. Olly #2
“Because I’m not sick. I’m psychic, and so is my baby.
They want to run experiments on us, try to crack us open and see what makes us work, because that’s what they do.
The Mental Health Inpatient Unit has been infiltrated by a cult of evil, and they won’t stop until they can safely move me from one location to another, which I think would be one of their own facilities somewhere, probably right after the baby is born.
But then, I also had a vision where it looked like I was dead at eight months, outside somewhere near a forest, but that Bea—my baby—survived, so it must have been somewhere close by if they need to do an emergency C-section or something.
I don’t know. Most of my medical knowledge comes from Grey’s Anatomy. ”
I saw the look of indulgence on his face, and a pinch of sympathy.
“You don’t believe me. You think I’m crazy, and probably empathize with Dr. Bell, having to care for the type of patients she does.
Hell, you got that cut up your arm from a crazed patient from mental health, so why would you ever believe any of us again?
You are my last chance to get this message to the outside world, so I’m going to say it anyway.
Psychics are real, and we live among you.
We generally do not want to hurt you, like plundering your minds or taking over your bodies, or any other favours Hollywood has done for us over the years.
I was a freakin’ records manager, Doctor.
If you can find any way to track down a Clark Evans who may be in Montréal, and let him know where I am, I would be gratefully appreciative.
And I’m grateful to you, Doctor, and your technician, for letting me see and hear my baby.
It’s the first time I have. Prenatal care wasn’t on their list of priorities when they kidnapped me, essentially, and tossed me in here.
And listen to me. I’m monologuing like I’m the villain, like I’m the one to watch out for.
This isn’t working, so you might as well attach the restraints now.
Because we’re going into restraints as soon as we get back on the unit. ”
That last bit seemed to take him aback, and I think I got through, at least to the point where he believed me about the restraints.
“What exactly isn’t working, Olly?” Dr. Collins asked, placing my chart down on the desk in the room.
He took the stethoscope off from around his neck.
I lay back down, and he listened to my heart and various places around my abdomen.
“The part where I get in touch with someone in the outside world, and they believe me. They don’t see me as severely mentally ill, and are able to rescue my child and me, while Dr. Bell faces the consequences for malpractice.”
He nodded slowly. “And the cut on my arm, what do you know about that? I’m wearing my lab coat, so you can’t even see it.”
Well, fuck, was my first thought, and my second was this might be a chance to convince him of my abilities.
“I saw it in my mind when you came into the room. It was just the kind of surface thought that leaks out, and anyone with abilities like mine would hear it. I didn’t dig deep into your mind.
It’s against my code of ethics. Anyway, you were still a resident, and you were assigned to the unit for a week or so.
On your first day there—your first hour, to be more specific—a patient had made a pretty damn good shiv from a toothbrush and their lighter, and got your arm when you went to restrain them.
I guess this is why you aren’t too sympathetic when I tell you that they mean to put me into restraints.
Because if your patient had been in them like you recommended when you were reading their chart, you wouldn’t have needed somewhere around forty stitches.
Though I think there was a bit of misogyny involved there, because your boss didn’t see her as a physical threat based on her gender. ”
Dr. Collins’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in surprise.
Had I been more on the ball, I could have realized that this was a moment to seize, that for the first time since coming into this hospital, I had real leverage.
But all I felt was an increasing despair, which the doctor must have picked up on when he saw me sit up and my shoulders sort of fell in toward my chest, like I was trying to make myself a giant ball of sad.
“And no one told you about this? You just picked all that up as I came into the room?” He didn’t sound standoffish, which I expected. Instead, he sounded curious.
Curious. Now, that I could work with.
“Yes.”
He paced the room with my chart again, looking over every page carefully, all of that bullshit Dr. Bell and her team had so meticulously assembled, and I knew it was the furthest thing from the truth.
As he paced, I felt my lower lip begin to tremble, and The Organization nurse noticed, too, because she stood a bit straighter with a cat-who-ate-the-canary look on her face.
“Olly,” he began, standing strategically near the door. “I don’t believe you mean to lie to anyone. You are very adept at telling a story. But—”
Before I could tell myself to shut up and listen to the man, I started to panic and burst out with, “Dr. Collins, please! Please believe me, please if you can’t, then find Clark Evans, either in Halifax or Montréal.
Oh! And my baby’s father, Shepard Smythe in Halifax.
He was having a show at Brightside Gallery when I was admitted here.
They’d have his cards with his number. I’ve just been so foggy I can’t remember it exactly.
He’s probably going crazy wondering where his best friend and child have gone to. ”
“I’m sorry, Olly, but these notes show that a conversation was had with Mr. Smythe the day after you were admitted, and he was pleased for you to receive care under Dr. Bell until the birth of your daughter.” My jaw headed for the floor, and I wrapped both my arms around my torso.
“Shepard would never, ever abandon me to a place like this. If you could contact him yourself, you’d get that.
Fiction, I swear, that’s what you are reading.
He and I were discussing a water birth with a midwife, for Pete’s sake.
He’d never just leave me in here, at least not without coming to visit all the time.
I haven’t heard from him the whole time I’ve been in this hospital. ”
“That’s probably because it also says here that you’ve been denied phone privileges.”
“Of course I have. Dr. Bell knows there’d be a fight on her hands if she let me talk to Shepard. As it is, he must be under the influence of an Asset in The Organization—the cult—because he would have me reported missing to the police, and he’d have my face on freaking billboards.”
“Olly, I’m sorry, but I can’t spar with you all day. I’ve already spent more time with you than my usual—”
“Your first dog’s name was Spot. You never learned how to swim or ride a bike because your nanny thought it wasn’t in the scope of her job. You were a huge fan of the Beatles. Ringo was your favorite. And you are so freaking far in the closet that you’re living in Narnia.”
With that, Dr. Collins put my chart on the desk, refused to meet my eyes, and left the room as if a pack of coywolves was chasing him. Instinct and precedent told me that I would never hear from him again.
The Organization nurse was fuming as she wheeled me back to mental health. “You know I’m going to give Dr. Bell a full report on what was said in there, as will Dr. Collins. You think you’ve gotten away with something, but you haven’t. This isn’t over.”
I didn’t give her the satisfaction of replying, and made her be the one to knock on Dr. Bell’s door. We heard an annoyed, “Enter.” She wheeled me in, waited on me to stand, and then left the room.
I didn’t want to be at another standoff with Dr. Bell, not after the disappointments of the day so far.
I had the ultrasound photo in my pocket, and told myself that it was worth its weight in gold and made all the bullshit worth it.
I just hoped that Dr. Collins wasn’t going to report anything to Dr. Bell that would make life in here just a bit more... unpleasant.
“Sit, girl.” I knew she knew how much I despised it when she poked at my gender like that.
She was going to take every cheap shot she could to show me that she was winning our war.
“I had a discussion with Dr. Collins today about our little understanding that you were to go into restraints today.” She coughed into her hand, and it was a wet, ugly sound which made me wonder if she had contracted a chest infection, COVID, or pneumonia.
Come to think of it, she had been coughing for almost two days.
How had I missed that? If she was sick physically, it would weaken her psychically.
Perhaps she might be open to suggestion.
That went against what I believed in, but it could have great payoff with minimal interference in her mind.
Ugh, no, I couldn’t. If I sank that low, I might as well just sign up for my Organization initiate badge and pledge right now.