Page 71 of Shattered Hearts

“Nothing. They would wheel me in here, and I would sit in a corner. I’m not sure I could have joined in even if I had wanted to. The day Zane brought me home, Dr. Reagan looked at my medication list and he said they shut my brain off. That’s exactly what they did. They turned me into a doll. That’s all I was and that’s all I could be.”

“The longer we’re here, the more I’m beginning to hate your brother.”

Gage’s eyes hold a dark fury I would not want aimed at me.

I grab his hand and ask him to meet my gaze. “Don’t. You saw the video of me breaking down at the Lyndhurst. He thought he was helping me. He thought I was getting care here. He thought Stella had abandoned him, and he was grieving her. What would you do if I suddenly disappeared?”

“I would search every corner of this earth until I found you. I mean it, Zarah. There is no way in hell I would let you go that easily. Zane should have fought. He should have fucking fought for Stella and for you. He gave up.”

“Yeah, he did. Our parents hadn’t been gone a year, and he was drifting. Not everyone is as strong as you. Are you going to punish him for his weakness? He’s done plenty of that on his own. It’s why Stella forgave him. Hating him for what he did wouldn’t only hurt him. It would hurt her, and me.”

He breathes through his nose and stares out the window. Baby paws at his thigh, and he absently rubs her head. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and I wish I could take his pain away. Finally, he turns to me. “Is this all there is? Do you have anymemories of the girls who would sit with you? Any glimmers of anything?”

I try to force my thoughts to the places my mind doesn’t want to go. “I don’t know. I would need to see pictures of the girls you’re talking about. The girls who have died. This place, there were a lot of patients in and out, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything because all I could think about was Ash selling Stella, men abusing her, and Zane trapping me here.”

“Okay, I don’t want to push you—that you came is enough. We can go, if you’re ready.”

“There’s another place we have to see.”

“Where? I think this is it, unless you have a movie theatre in here?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

His presence steadies me but doesn’t prevent tears from clogging my throat. “I love you, Gage.” It comes out low and sad.

“Sweetheart, you tell me that like one day I’m not going to say it back. I love you, too. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.”

He kisses me, soft and sweet, and I almost forget I spent hours in this room, sitting in a wheelchair, waiting for someone, something, to rescue me.

Reluctantly, I pull away. I want to finish this tour so we can leave. I’m sorry I haven’t been a help, that being here hasn’t brought back any memories. Not the kind of memories he’s looking for. Names and faces. I was never invested in the people here, never cared enough to get close to anyone.

A trickle of sweat rolls down my back. I’m still wearing my jacket, and I’m getting warm.

“Where are we going next?” Gage asks.

“The basement.”

“Have you been down there?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

That’s the crazy part. I know there’s another area of the facility. I know there is, because I remember being strapped to a chair, someone hooking me up to a machine that, I don’t know what. Read my brainwaves or something. If I try to remember details, then the whole thing feels like a nightmare and I begin to doubt myself.

“How do we get there?”

I bite my lip. “I’m not sure. Gage, I don’t want you to think I’m a freak.”

“The last thing I’m going to think is that you’re a freak, but you were under a lot of strain, a lot of pressure, and a lot of drugs. Maybe what you remember is real to you, but it’s not. Do you know what I mean?”

He means I believe my own hallucinations. The stories my brain made up because of the medication.

“I know what you mean, but it will help my recovery to know for sure, right?”

I’m determined to find the rooms I’m thinking about if only to prove him wrong.

There’s an area of the sanatorium we haven’t seen yet. Not the basement part I’m thinking about, but the wing where the doctors kept their offices. I lead Gage down another hallway full of doors that aren’t marked, the nameplates pried off leaving only the dark outlines of slim rectangles. Out of curiosity, I push one open revealing a large office. There’s an expensive-looking desk that’s empty, and bookcases made of real wood and not cheap particle board line the walls. Those too are empty, except for a stray book or piece of paper. Thick carpeting covers the floor, and a plastic, dusty plant hangs from a hook screwed into the ceiling.

Poking my head into two other offices, I find the same.

But it’s the elevator at the end of this hall that piques my interest.

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