Page 74 of Shattered Hearts

I stumble.

“Zarah?”

“I’m okay.”

I step into the room, but I’m not with Gage any longer. I’m sitting in a wheelchair, and I start to tremble inside. The chair is still here, secured to the floor in the center of the room. Gage shines his phone’s bright beam onto it, but the doctor lowers the overhead light to calm me down. They can’t start if I’m agitated, they said it skews the results. The tests. I don’t know what they’re testing me for.

A burly orderly picks me up and places me in the chair. It looks like a dentist’s chair, curved to fit my body. My wrists are strapped to the armrests, my ankles to the foot of the chair, and I know what’s coming next.

Tears drip down my face.

“She’s already crying,” a nurse says as she sticks sensors to my forehead.

“That’s good. She’s learning we’ll punish her if she lies.”

“Never lie,” I mumble.

“That’s right, sweetheart. You know what happens when you lie.” The doctor caresses my cheek, wipes the tears off my skin.

“You’ll hurt Zane and Stella.”

“That’s right, Miss Maddox. We hurt the people you love. And we hurt you, too, don’t we? You must be punished if you lie. Tell the truth like a good little girl.” He looks at the nurse. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Yes, Doctor. I’ll turn on her music.”

“Thank you.”

The classical music my mother used to listen to fills the room, and I relax, let thoughts of her fill my mind and heart. I can hide in the music, in the memories of my family.

“Miss Maddox, we’ll start slowly today. What is your birthdate?”

I don’t know. I struggle to remember my birthday, even while vivid flashes of birthday parties my parents used to throw for me flick through my head. I say nothing.

“Miss Maddox, these are the easy questions. You need to tell us your birthdate.”

I start crying again. “I don’t know.”

“That’s the wrong answer, Miss Maddox.”

A jolt runs through my body, and I cry out. “Please!”

“You know what happens when you lie. Tell us your birthdate.”

“I can’t.”

Another zap goes through me, and my back arches away from the chair.

“Give her a moment,” the doctor says, noting something on a clipboard.

He lowers the lights further.

“Miss Maddox, what is your brother’s middle name?”

I should know this. I should. I should know Zane’s middle name, but when I try to say it, when I try to bring it to the tip of my tongue, I can’t. Something so simple, and I don’t know it. I struggle against the straps holding me down. I need to get out of here, I need to run. They’ll accuse me of lying if I can’t tell them.

Tears pour down my cheeks. “I don’t know.”

A zap stronger and longer sizzles through my body, and I pee in my pajama pants.

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