Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller) (10 page)

I’m so nauseous and upset that tea doesn’t even sound appealing. “I’m okay, Jack. I just need to process all of this.” I wipe my nose with a tissue, still feeling an adrenaline rush from the events of the morning. “I can’t get Nathan’s face out of my head. He was really hurt that we did that to him.”

Jack grabs the teakettle and fills it with water, ignoring the fact that I’ve declined it. He looks out of the kitchen window and folds his arms over his chest. I know he feels bad too, even though he hasn’t admitted it.

“It feels like a rotten thing to do, Rose, but what else could we have done?”

“I’m not sure what to tell Rusty when he gets home from school.”

“You tell him the truth.”

Jack finally sits down and eyes a picture of Nathan, Rusty, and me that I have on the refrigerator. We came back to the house after Nathan was taken away, partly because I couldn’t stand to be there, and partly because I wanted to be in the comfort of my own home after something like that.

“He’s gonna be angry. He thinks I’ve betrayed Nathan by not standing by him.”

The teakettle begins to whistle, and Jack pulls two mugs from the cabinet, along with some tea bags, and pours the hot water over them. He scoots one of the mugs toward me, and the aroma wafts toward me. Maybe tea will settle my stomach. 

“You’ve gotta look at it this way. Had we not done anything, that’s betraying him. How long could he have gone living like that? It’s just been a couple of weeks and look at how he is. It’ll all start becoming clearer when Nathan gets on medication and things get leveled out. It’ll take some time for both him and Rusty to see it, but it’s like Nathan has this fog around him right now. Once it starts lifting, everything will appear differently.”

I’m surprised at how smart Jack is. I regret all of the years of not getting to know him, but there is so much in his and Nathan’s past that will take years to rekindle, especially now. I’m glad he is here now. He could’ve easily turned his back again.

“I guess I just want instant results. I want Nathan to walk through that door right now and be back to the way he was. All of this is gonna drive me insane too.” I take a sip of the tea and it is perfect. The caffeine helps alleviate my headache.

“When does Rusty get home from school?”

I look at the clock on the stove. “Any time now.” Butterflies shoot through my stomach, and the nausea is back. “He’s so much like Nathan, I can already tell you how he’s gonna react.”

“Do you think I should be around for it?”

“That’s a good question. I’m thinking, since he doesn’t really know you, it’s probably best that you’re not. I don’t mean that rudely, but he’s already on edge. Is that okay, Jack?”

He nods. “Makes perfect sense to me. I better get going. Call me if you need anything or if you hear anything, okay?”

“I will. Thanks so much for your help. You’ve been a godsend.”

“I might’ve not been here for Nathan like I should’ve been, but I’m here now. I’ve lost another son and a wife. He’s really all I have left.”

I walk him to the door and swear I see tears in his eyes, but he’s quick to look away and hide it. Waving, I close the door and take a deep breath. If hospitalizing Nathan isn’t hard enough, telling his son what we did is going to be ten times worse.

I finish off the tea and put the mug in the sink. My heart skips a beat when I hear the door open and turn to see Rusty. He’s already very angry with me, so it’s like an act of congress to get him to even stay in the same room with me.

“Rusty, we need to talk. Can you please join me in the living room?”

He’s halfway up the stairs, but much to my surprise, he doesn’t put up a fight and comes back down, throwing is backpack on the floor. He doesn’t sit next to me, but in the chair where Nathan usually sits.

“What I’m about to tell you isn’t easy, Rusty. I want you to think about it before you react, okay?”

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

“We had your Dad put in the hospital today.”

He lets out a sigh. “He finally decided to go?”

I shake my head. “No, he didn’t. We had to call the crisis line and intervene. But he’s safe at Sunset Canyon. They’re gonna get him some therapy and some medication and get him better.”

“So dad still didn’t want to go?”

Here’s where the outburst will happen. I brace myself as I think of what to say. “No, he didn’t want to. It was against his will.”

“How can they do that? People refuse medical treatment all the time.”

“Yes, Rusty, you can refuse medical treatment, but psychological treatment is a bit different. He was a harm to himself, and possibly to others. I don’t really understand all the laws, but everything we did today was legal.”

“A harm to others?” Rusty stands up and his fists are balled. “Dad would never hurt anyone. You think he’d do something like that?”

“He’s sick, Rusty. Things going on in his brain aren’t what he’d do in a normal situation. Please don’t be mad. We did this to help him. We want him to get better. You want your dad back home, right?”

He starts toward the stairs. “I want him home more than anything. I want this all to go away. But Mom, you know what?”

“What?”

“If you put him there because of him hallucinating, you better put me in the bed right next to him, because I’ve seen it all too.”

I’m caught off guard and before I know it, he’s slamming the door to his room, leaving me in shock on the couch. It can’t be true. He’s rebelling because of what I’ve done to his dad. It’s his way of getting back at me. No, my son is not going through this too.

He can’t be, can he?

Chapter Ten

Nathan

“I think he’s waking up.”

“He’s been out a few hours. Let’s go get the doctor.”

I hear the voices, but it sounds like they are in a tunnel. Slowly, I open my eyes. What is it with the light feeling like a nail driving through my skull? It’s so bright, and my eye sockets ache. I try to rub my face, but something is preventing me from moving my arms. I try to jerk them away from my body, but whatever has me restrained is tight, or I’m just extremely weak.

I fight through the pain and fully wake up. It feels as if the sun is beating down on me and I have no clue where I am. I am on the floor, and I look down to see that I’m in a straightjacket. You’ve got to be kidding me.
A straightjacket?
How did I get here and what happened to make them do this to me? It’s like I’m waking up in the middle of a horror movie where I’ve been kidnapped and locked away to be tortured.

I slowly start to remember bits and pieces of what has transpired. Some kind of worker had me arrested. Rose and my father were there. I vaguely remember signing some paperwork and that’s all I can remember.

I scoot across the floor and make it to the far wall and sit against it. Of course the walls are padded. Wherever I am, it fits the cliché of a place where they throw crazy people, from the straightjacket, to the padded walls, to the dull white color that surrounds me.

I lick my lips and my tongue feels like sandpaper. I can’t remember the last time I had something to drink or eat, but I’m not hungry anyway. I have lost all sense of time and without windows, I can’t tell if it is night or day. I know the ordeal at my dad’s house happened in the morning, but who knows how long I’ve been passed out and drugged up.

I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. I know I could sleep more, but I’m terrified, and my mind is going a mile a minute. I feel like I’m stuck in a fog and that my body weighs a thousand pounds.

The door on the far wall creaks and a man in a white coat steps inside. He’s balding and has a beard – typical psych doctor at its finest. I bet he’s a Freud fan just by his appearance. He has a clipboard in his hand and finally looks at me as he approaches.

“Mr. Gallagher?”

I don’t say anything. He knows who I am. With as dry as my throat is, I doubt I can talk well.

“I’m Dr. Clint. I’m going to be assessing you and getting to know you a bit. I’ve been hoping you’d wake up soon. I’d really like to talk to you.”

I adjust my weight and am getting more annoyed with the straightjacket by the second. I hate not being able to move around and if they think I’m going to cooperate, they’re stupid. “Your name is Dr. Clint?” My voice cracks and I cough to clear my throat.

“Everyone around here calls me by my first name. My name is Clint Sanderson.”

“You’re okay with that?” I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but I feel snarky, so why the hell not? I’m sitting here, vulnerable, in a padded room for Christ’s sake. Who the hell cares?

“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

I shrug as best as I can and the metal on the jacket clanks. This is the first time I’ve been put in one and I feel like I’m going to suffocate. “Doctor’s are usually assholes. Most wouldn’t think it was respectful to do it.” I’m not sure why I’m trying to get a rise out of this guy, but it’s going to prove harder than what I thought, especially since he laughs at my comment.

“I’m not an asshole, Nathan. Can I call you Nathan?”

“Well then I wouldn’t want to be construed as an asshole either, now would I?” I’m shocked to hear myself laugh considering the situation, but it quickly fades. It’s hard to be happy when I think about what Rose has done to me. “And just for the record, I know that you’re analyzing me. You’re watching every tick I have, everything I say,
everything.”

The corners of Dr. Clint’s mouth turn up in a smile as he jots something down. “You think you got the place wired, don’t you, Nathan?”

“This how you treat all new arrivals? Jab a needle in our side, chunk us in suicide watch, and let the drugs do the hard work for you? Thorazine at nine AM, lobotomy at noon? That on your schedule for me?”

Dr. Clint finally sits across from me. Finally, it appears I have gotten somewhat of a rise out of him. His smile isn’t quite as bright and he takes a deep breath before responding to me. “Look, Nathan, I’ve read over your information. It’s obvious you’re an intelligent man. I know you have preconceived notions of what a psychiatric hospital is. You’re not the first patient I’ve had who goes off of stereotypes, and you won’t be the last.”

I rest my head on the wall. The padding is actually quite comfortable. “So far you’ve proven me right. A padded room and a straightjacket – isn’t that the start of a psychological thriller? You ever see
Shutter Island
or that Jack Nicholson movie? I wanna be like him. I wanna take you people head on.” I try to snap my fingers as I think of the title. It’s amazing how people don’t realize how much they use their arms until that is taken away from them.

“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,”
Dr. Clint replies. “That’s the problem with mental health. Hollywood does a fantastic job of stigma, rather than accepting it as a real problem just like diabetes or hypertension.”

“I have hypertension. What I don’t have is whatever you’ve got written on that paper right there.” I motion toward it with my head. “I’m not sure what you want me to tell you, Doc. You want me to bare my soul so you can slap a diagnosis on me? Not gonna do it. I’ve told the person who matters most to me in this world and she turned on me. How the hell do you expect me to do it to a man I’ve just met, who drugged me up without my consent, and is now sitting here like he’s my best friend?”

Dr. Clint adjusts his glasses and is quiet for a few seconds. I love stumping him and am probably having way too much fun. “Nathan, I know you’re a firefighter for the city. I know how important mental health is for your job and how important it is to keep your job. Being hospitalized here won’t end your career, but if you don’t improve and we don’t get to the bottom of what’s happening, you’re gonna retire long before I know you’re ready to.”

“Is that a threat?” My voice is low, but he hears me.

“No. My job is to get you treated and better. How can I do that if you don’t work with me?”

“And how do I convince you people that this is all real? It’s not some hallucination that my brain is causing from an imbalance of chemicals. You just said that there are issues with mental health, yeah?”

“More than I’d like to admit.”

“Wanna know another problem that I’ve seen?” Dr. Clint nods and I continue. “Quick diagnoses of disorders and mental health issues just so doctors can pad their wallets with multiple counseling sessions and prescriptions to keep people drugged up like fucking zombies. Whatever happened to natural remedies? Whatever happened to actually
listening
to a person and believing their story?”

Again, I’ve stumped the doctor. The room falls silent and I know that he’s probably documenting my resistance to treatment, even during this initial assessment. I don’t care. I’m not in the mood. I want my bed. I want my wife. I want to go out in the backyard and shoot some hoops with my son. I want things the way they were just a few short weeks ago.

“You’re a lieutenant?” Dr. Clint asks, not looking up from the paperwork.

“You asking me or just stating it, cause I know it’s all wrote out right there in front of you.”

He looks up, right into my eyes. “Some believe sarcasm is a character flaw, Nathan. I kind of like it. You’re quick witted. You’ve got a fast comeback for everything I’ve said. You always like this with everyone?”

I scoff and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Is this your way of politely saying I’m a dick? I know you gotta keep it professional, Doc, but call it like you see it. Don’t sugar coat it.”

Again, his smile returns. “Your assumption of me was that I’m an asshole because I’m a doctor. Wanna know my assumption of you?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Well, this was my first assessment of you. I’m taking you on as a patient. Would you like to know?”

I shrug again and I’m quickly reminded of the damn straightjacket I want to rip out of. “Do tell.”

“There’s something going on inside that head of yours, Nathan. You’re highly intelligent and you certainly know the right things to say to keep me guessing. I don’t think you’re a bad guy and I certainly don’t think you’re a dick.” He stands up and adjusts his lab coat. “I really do wanna help you. I’m not here to torture you or turn you into a zombie. Next time we meet, let’s talk about some of your experiences. That’ll be a step in the right direction.”

I bite my bottom lip. “You didn’t really tell me anything I already didn’t know. And Doc, I guarantee, with one hundred percent certainty that you will not believe a word I say. I know you’ve seen the cuts and wounds on me. I know you’ve jotted down that I’ve done this to myself. If I tell you what really happened, you’d write down words like denial in all caps. So, how about this? How about we skip all of the therapy bullshit and just deem me as a lost cause and move on, because my problem is far beyond anything a doctor or a hospital can fix. If you think you have that kind of power, you’d be labeled the anti-Christ.”

Dr. Clint is caught off guard again. I’m sure he’s seen people like me before, but I can tell I’ve got his mind reeling with everything. “Get some rest, Nathan. You need anything, just let us know.”

“You can start with getting this damn straightjacket off of me.”

He takes one last glance at me and shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone in the padded room. There’s something about him that makes me feel like he might actually care, but who am I kidding? If I start thinking the hospital staff is on my side, then what they’re thinking about me is true – I am crazy.

I’m not sure how much time passes before a male nurse comes in. He’s much bigger than me – they probably sent him because I’m labeled a problem patient. He doesn’t speak to me, but helps me get to a standing position. He unfastens the leather strap, freeing me from the restraint. I let out a deep breath at the freedom.

“What’s next?” I ask.

“I’m showing you to your room. You gonna make me need to put that back on you?”

“No, not right now.” I can’t straight up promise anything to them, but my arms are so sore from being in the same position, that I’ll behave just for the comfort right now.

He leads me out and I’m met by two other nurses who help escort me. I feel like a convicted felon, and I guess in their eyes, I’m as big of a risk. They take me down a long hallway and through an area where several people are watching TV and playing games. There are several rooms, and they open the door to a single room with a bed in it. At least I won’t be sleeping on the floor with rats and roaches crawling all over me.

“You won’t have a roommate for right now. This floor is high risk,” the nurse says. “Three nurses to one patient.”

“High risk? Why am I high risk?”

“They don’t give me those reasons. I just put you where I’m told. After some therapy and treatments, you could be downgraded, but right now, this is where they have you. Where we just walked through is the common area – you can watch TV, play games, and there are phones. It’s also where medication pick up is. When it’s time for therapy with Dr. Clint, you will be escorted. Lights are out at eleven PM and there are half hour checks to make sure you’re where you need to be. Breakfast is served at seven thirty. If you sleep through it, we usually save you a plate. I’m the charge nurse on this floor and my name is Riley. You need anything, you come to me first.”

I stare out into the hallway, where another man walks past. He’s just like I described to the doctor. He’s in a catatonic state and that’s precisely how I don’t want to become. What kind of life is this man living? What is the point?

Riley slaps me on the shoulder. “You know, it’s crazy how mental illness can target anyone.”

I stare at him. “I’m not sure I’m understanding you.”

“You look like you should be in the movies. You don’t seem to be the type of guy that’d be here, but here you are. Just goes to show that none of us are safe from it. It doesn’t choose a certain demographic or race. We’re all susceptible.”

I don’t say anything back. How in the hell am I supposed to respond? Instead, I sit on the edge of the bed and feel my stomach growl. I’m starving, and I dread to see what kind of food they’ll give us. I think about what Riley said – I don’t seem like the type to be here. Probably because I
shouldn’t
be here. This is all one big, giant mistake and hopefully, just a quick detour. A quick detour that has been a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

I feel dirty. I don’t even know what day it is or what time it is, and the fact that Riley the nurse is still standing in my room, staring at me, makes my skin crawl even more.

“Any chance I can get a shower?” I don’t have much energy, but maybe a shower will make me feel better.

“Yeah, there’s time before supper. Follow me.”

He grabs a pair of sweats and a white shirt – I’m assuming that’s what I’ll be wearing since it matches what I have on now. I don’t even remember them taking my other clothes away, and it suddenly dawns on me that I don’t have any of my personal belongings.