Read Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller) Online
Authors: J.R. Tate
“Nothing has been set in stone, Mrs. Gallagher. The doctor has final say. I don’t want to tell you things that might not happen, but since you’re in the medical field, as Nathan claims, I’ll go ahead and tell you. We might have to resort to electroconvulsive therapy.”
Electroshock therapy? Nathan’s fears were accurate. “They still do that, Riley?”
“Last resort, but yes, especially for patients that just aren’t responding to anything else. Look, Mrs. Gallagher, Dr. Clint hasn’t said too much about that option yet. I know he tries not to do it if he can avoid it. I just want you to know that it could be a possibility, but we’re not giving up on the Seroquel just yet. Nathan is stubborn. He’s a fighter. It’s going to work out.”
I feel the tears flow down my cheeks and any attempt at hiding the fact that I’m upset is useless. “Thank you so much for letting me know what’s going on. If there’s anything to be positive about, at least Nathan has agreed to taking the medications.”
“You’re right, ma’am. I’ve gotten to know Nathan. He can be a pain in the ass, but I’ve said it from the moment I saw him – he doesn’t belong here. I’m going to make sure I’m along side him, fighting whatever this is and that he is able to walk out those front doors on his own two feet with a hopeful recovery in front of him. Believe me when I say that, Mrs. Gallagher.”
“Thank you. I’ll call back in a few days for another update.”
I hang the phone and the crying is now uncontrollable. I slide to the floor and curl up into the fetal position as I yell out. I really want to see him. I can tell a lot about him by just how he looks.
I’m so mixed up inside. Rusty is claiming to see stuff. I could have possibly experienced it too, but I still am telling myself that it was a very vivid dream.
“Please, Nathan, start getting better. We need you home.” I speak out loud as if he can hear me. “Please be okay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Nathan
I sit in Dr. Clint’s office for what seems like the millionth time. It’s been almost two weeks since I was brought to this damn place, and I don’t feel any better than I did before. In fact, I feel worse. Out of the three hallucinations, as the staff calls it, they’ve all been back more often, not to mention a few new “visitors.” The woman used to be the only hostile one, but now with things happening so fast, I can’t pinpoint who is doing it to me.
Dr. Clint stares at me, his hands clasped as he studies me. I’ve learned a lot about him, as I’m sure he has about me. One thing I know for sure – nothing goes unnoticed. Every blink, every swallow, every twitch my body makes, he’s documenting it.
“You’re taking the medication as prescribed?” he asks, pen poised to document my response.
I nod, and it feels like my brain is sloshing around in my skull. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I’m hanging on by a thread, and it’s to the point where I can’t sleep at night, even with the sleeping meds to go along with the crazy pills.
“Three times a day, Doc. I’ve been told that’s the max before I’m deemed a lost cause. You agree with that?”
He shakes his head, takes his glasses off, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Stumping Dr. Clint was a game I started from the beginning, but lately it’s been a lot easier than it was during our first few meetings.
“You’re not a lost cause, Nathan. I’m not going to give up on you.”
“So what’s next then? Everything is getting worse. I’ve done your song and dance. I’ve taken the damn pills and I’ve come to therapy. What’s it done for me?” I slam my hands down on his desk and raise my voice. “What’s it done for me, huh?” I wave my index finger at him and stand up, pacing in front of his desk. “I’ll tell you. More of the damned hallucinations.” I make quotation marks with my fingers. “More self mutilation. More sleepless nights, and now I’ve got the damned side effects that go along with those pills.”
Dr. Clint arches his eyebrow. “What side effects have you been experiencing?”
“I’m nauseous. I’m having horrible stomach pains. I want to sleep but I can’t.”
“Why can’t you sleep, Nathan?”
I rake my hand through my hair and chew on the inside of my cheek as I continue to pace. “Are you kidding me, Doc? Would you be able to close your eyes if you’ve seen the shit I’ve seen? Would you be able to relax enough with the constant fear on your mind that something is lurking in the shadows, ready to tear into you?” I rest my hands on my hips when I’m finally able to stop walking back and forth. He doesn’t say anything, but I didn’t intend on him answering me. “I want to close my eyes and dream of something amazing. I want to turn the light off and not be terrified. I want this all to stop.”
“I’m working on it, Nathan. I’m really trying.”
I let out an exasperated laugh, though none of this is funny in the least. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ve taken the medicine, knowing that it won’t make a dent. I’ve talked to you about everything. Why is it all worse? What do we have left? A change of meds?”
Dr. Clint thinks about it for a second. “We’ve tried Seroquel and Haldol. The CT on your brain didn’t show anything, so we’ve ruled out a possible tumor being the culprit. You are not responding like a typical patient.”
I forgot about the CT scan. It must’ve happened during one of my major drug induced states, but I’m thankful my memory is failing me. Most of this stuff is better forgotten. “So again, I ask, what is next?” I can tell that he’s hesitant, which makes my fuse shorter than it already is. “Come on, Doc. Am I going to end up a statistic? Am I going to be one of the patients who ends up blowing his head off because he can’t handle it?” I’ve never been suicidal, but if my life continues this way, there’s no telling what will eventually happen. If I don’t do it to myself, the hostile woman might do it for me. “Maybe all those people didn’t kill themselves. Maybe the demons they faced did it to them, but no one believed them, and it was all assumed they did it to themselves. Physically, my body is done. Mentally, I’m almost there too.”
A look of sympathy flashes on Dr. Clint’s face. “You ever hear of electroconvulsive therapy? ECT for short?”
“Electroshock therapy?” I feel the bile form in my throat, and another wave of nausea hits me. I’m not sure if it’s the medication or the sudden fear from just the mention of the word.
“Yeah, that’s what it is known as to most people. Before you start thinking about Hollywood and the perception you get from the stereotypes, I want you to think about it. It’s perfect for instances like this, when a person just doesn’t respond to other therapies.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not agreeing to that. I’ve done everything you’ve wanted. I’ve jumped through every damned hoop you’ve put in front of me. I’m not doing it.”
“It’s something to think about, Nathan. You’re concerned about becoming a statistic. If you don’t try something else, it’s inevitable.”
“I thought you weren’t giving up on me.”
“I’m not, which is why I’m suggesting this. You’ll be sedated and won’t feel it. We are basically causing a brief seizure to make changes in your brain chemistry. You will be monitored by medical staff the entire time.”
“Change my brain chemistry? Isn’t that what the Seroquel and Haldol was for? A lot of good that did.”
“I’m not expecting you to make a decision right this instant. Think about it. I’ll have Riley give you some information on it so you can read about it. This is what we have left, Nathan. I really want to do this. I think you are resistant to the meds, but this will really make a difference.”
I stand in front of his desk, looking down at him. I’m trying so hard to stay calm, but something inside of me flips out, and my anger makes me see red. I ball my fists as I stand over him. Hitting him won’t solve anything. I know he’s here to help, but I’m at my wit’s end. Any fear I had of insane asylums is coming true with his current suggestion.
I slide my arm over the surface of the desk, knocking everything to the floor with a loud crash. I never make contact with Dr. Clint – he’s quick to step back and get out of the way, despite the fact that it is never my intention to lay my hands on him.
“Nathan, please calm down.”
Before I can cause any more destruction, two orderlies barge in and pin me against the adjacent wall. My head slams into it and I’m already bracing myself for the needle sting that I know is soon to follow. Instead, I hear Dr. Clint yelling out to not drug me up. I try to push off of the wall, but there is a reason they hire big, strong men to do this job.
One guy pulls my right arm behind me, much like a police officer that is apprehending a suspect. We fall to the floor and I’m so pissed at this point that I’ve pretty much lost all track of where I’m at and what is going on. My body and mind are both tired, and I feel the straight jacket pull around me, restraining my arms.
Dr. Clint is now standing over me, visibly shaken. “Think about all of this, Nathan. You do that for me?”
“I wasn’t going to hurt you, Doc.”
“I know.”
He nods at the two men, and I’m quickly brought to my feet. They escort me right back to the padded room, and I’m confused as to why I’m taken there. Dr. Clint follows me in and they lay me on the floor. With as little energy as I have, it’s impossible to even sit up. I rest my face on the floor, embarrassed and defeated.
“I hate to put you in here, Nathan. You’re just too upset to be put back with everyone else right now.”
I look at him, but stay quiet. I don’t even know what to say. I’m done talking. I’m done listening.
“You going to think about this next option?”
“You mean… only option, right? It’s my only option left.” My voice is low, but since we’re the only two in the room, Dr. Clint hears me.
“I didn’t say that, Nathan.”
“You didn’t have to.” I shift my weight, but there is no way to get comfortable when you’re in a straight jacket. Sadly, I’ve learned that all too well in the past two weeks. “I’m done, Dr. Clint.
I’m done.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Just let the woman kill me. Just let me die. Move on to someone you can save.”
Dr. Clint reaches down and squeezes my shoulder. I know my words hurt him, but it’s exactly how I feel. What kind of life is this? I don’t want Rusty seeing this, and Rose doesn’t deserve it either. I don’t want to do that to them.
“No sir, we’re not giving up. Not after everything.”
He walks to the door and a nurse I don’t recognize replaces him. He’s holding a syringe and I don’t even fight it. I try to pretend that it’s a lethal dose of potassium being plunged right into my vein, much like they do to death row inmates, but that would be too easy. Instead, the familiar heavy feeling overtakes me, my eyelids feel like they are weighed down, and the straight jacket is suddenly comfortable.
“Get some sleep, Nathan. You’ll feel better soon.” It’s the last thing I hear before my body drifts off.
***
Rose
“They want to do electroshock therapy on Nathan.” Jack and Rusty are sitting across from me at the kitchen table. It’s good to see Nathan’s father again, but I really hate that it is under these circumstances. I wish Nathan could see how much his father is worried about him and how much he cares.
“You can’t let them, Mom.” Rusty’s emotional outburst startles me, but I should expect that from him. “What does Dad say about it?”
I wipe my nose with a tissue. It’s hard to have a calm conversation with him, especially about this. With the information I got from Sunset Canyon, it’s enough to make him sick like it has me.
“The head nurse on Nathan’s case called me this morning to give me an update. He’s not doing well at all. They’ve tried two different medications and he’s just deteriorated more. The nurse told me that ECT isn’t like it used to be. He’ll be drugged up and won’t even know it’s happening.”
“You didn’t answer me, Mom. Does Dad agree with it?”
“Not yet, but since he put me on all of the paperwork, I have a say in his treatment too, especially since he’s not really in his right mind right now.” It terrifies me to make these decisions. What if it is painful and the nurse is sugar coating it? What if it’s like all of those movies about it? I don’t know if I can live with myself if I agreed to it and it hurt Nathan.
“I can’t believe you’re even considering it. You gonna do that to me, too?”
Rusty stands up and I don’t even argue for him to stay. He’s not thinking clearly and is extremely worried about his father. He slams his door to his room and I look at Jack, trying to read him.
“Jack, I didn’t want to say this in front of Rusty, but they tell me he’s giving up. He told the doctor to just let him die.” My voice cracks and tears stream down my face. I didn’t want to cry in front of Nathan’s dad, but I can’t stop it. “What do you think we should do?”
Jack puts his arms around my shoulders, but his face stays expressionless. “He doesn’t mean that. He’s in hell right now. He’s going to say things he doesn’t really mean.”
“How do we know that? I haven’t even got to see him.” I bite my bottom lip. “What if this is real?”
“What do you mean, Rose?”
“Rusty is claiming to see and hear stuff. I thought I was dreaming the other night, but it’s happened since. What if this is all real? What if he’s not responding because there are
real
ghosts right here?”
Jack takes a deep breath and releases his hug on me. “Wanna know what I think? I think you’ve all got a ton on your minds and that’s powerful in itself. It’s playing tricks on you. Give consent for the ECT. It’s got a high success rate for people who reject pills. Why not try it?”
“What if it really hurts him?”
“As opposed to where he’s at right now?” Jack asks. “I don’t think he could be in any more pain than he’s already in. There’s nothing left to lose.”
“And what if the ECT doesn’t work?”
He hugs me again. “Cross that bridge when you get to it. You’re not quite there yet, and you may never even get close.”
“If he finds out I’m the one who said yes, he’s going to be pissed. He’ll be angrier than he already is with me, if that’s even possible.”
“Probably so, but at least he’ll be alive.”
***
Nathan
I wake up much like I always seem to lately – with a pain so sharp it’s like a nail is being driven through my forehead, and with people hovered over me, watching my every move. I try to move, but my arms are restrained. I don’t think I’m in the straight jacket anymore, and when I finally come to, I realize that I’m in a bed with both my legs and arms tied to the railing. I jerk and lash out, but there’s no way to get free.
I spot Dr. Clint in the corner, and he approaches the bedside with caution. There is that damn clipboard. What would this man look like without it?
“Nathan, we are going to prep you for an ECT treatment.”
Am I hearing him right? Did he just say ECT treatment? At first I think I’m still having drug induced dreams, but the cloth digging into my wrist is too much of a blatant clue to let me know that this is reality and he really did say what I think he said.