Page 214 of On a Fault Line

Her eyes follow mine as I look behind her and pray there is someone else here to check me in. It shouldn’t be this hard. If I have the money to pay for the hefty facility and medical fees, then why bother with the interrogation?

“Please let me stay. I need to be here.”

She types onto her keyboard, looking at her screen. Then she hums.

I decide to throw her a bone. “I’m hallucinating.”

And as if there’s a major aha moment when she pulls up my file, she smiles endearingly at me. “Yes, okay, sure. You can stay.”

There must be something starred on my file for her to suddenly be accommodating.

“Good.”

“I’m going to page Dr. Radinsky though so she is aware. She’s our on-call doctor.”

“Fine,” I say hurriedly. “I know her well.”

I honestly don’t care who they inform. I just need to clear out my sick mind. It’s being infiltrated with a looming evil that I doubt I’ll ever be able to exorcize from my system—at least not completely.

“I’ll see if there’s an available room in the main wing. Otherwise, you can stay in the overflow space.”

I nod. I don’t really have a preference. I just need help.

“As you are aware, all of your personal belongings need to be placed inside a locker. Here’s a bin.”

I place my handbag into the plastic tray. Then I place my connection to the outside world—my phone—into the bin. It’s useless anyway without a charge. I have a habit of forgetting to plug it in at night when I cry myself to sleep, and I drained the battery at the charity fundraiser.

Grabbing a bag down from a shelf, she hands it to me. “This is a set of clean garments for your comfort. There are more items in your room for you to use until your family can drop off some personal items.”

“Thank you,” I say, clutching my new supplies to my chest.

Doubt seeps through my conscious thought.

Am I doing the right thing coming here?

Should I be here without any tangible connection to my family who will probably worry about me?

“Follow me,” the worker says.

She uses the keycard around her neck to access several locked hallways.

It’s now late into the night and everything is calm and relaxed here, just as I remember it to be during my long-term placement.

But something is different this time around.

For one, I don’t remember ever checking in the first time. I definitely don’t have any recollection of handing over my personal items, although it makes complete sense. It’s just that there are huge chunks of time that have dissolved in the recesses of my mind. They are grayed-out memories I may never get back.

But it’s in my nightmares that I gained back the memories from the night Mark drugged me. I remember those vivid details now.

I don’t even know how long I’ll stay this round. I just know that I can’t keep going through life thinking that every man standing in the shadows is Mark Tanner. I refuse to be haunted by him forever.

Maybe a doctor here can hypnotize me or offer some kind of reprogramming.

I actually feel like I’m going insane, as if Mark is lurking around a corner just waiting to pounce when I least expect it.

“Here we are,” she says, glancing at her watch. “Lights-out is in fifteen minutes, but I’ll send Dr. Radinsky down to visit when she gets here. She’s on her way now.”

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks.”

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