Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller) (9 page)

I feel like I’ve swallowed a ton of bricks. This obviously isn’t getting better. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine now. He probably needs to get medical attention, but you know how that went over with him. He finally told me what’s been happening. His story didn’t change from what he’s told you. He still thinks he’s really seeing the ghosts.”

“And I’m assuming he told you he doesn’t want to get help.”

“Yes, he still refuses. Listen, Rose, I’m not sure what you wanna do about this, but I feel like if we just stand by, we’re gonna watch him eventually kill himself.”

I begin to cry again and I try to hide it, but my whimpers are loud and if Jack doesn’t hear it, it is a miracle. “What can we do?”

“There are crisis hotlines we can call. They send out a worker that will assess the situation. I think in cases like this, even if he refuses, they can transport him to a facility to get treatment. Especially if he’s hurting himself.”

The thought of taking Nathan somewhere against his will isn’t appealing, but Jack is right. A part of me is hoping it’ll blow over and he’ll snap out of it, but from the sound of it all, every day gets a little worse. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t try to help him, even if it feels cruel.

“What do you think, Jack?”

“You’re his wife. You know him better than I do. I don’t want to put pressure on you, but like I said, we can’t just stand by and watch him push farther away.”

I kick my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the warm tears flow. “I’ll come by first thing tomorrow morning. I need to digest all of this. Keep an eye on him until then.” I hang up the phone and look at the alarm clock again. It is going to be the longest night of my life.

Chapter Nine

Nathan

I’m exhausted as I lie on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. I’m scared to turn the light off. I’m terrified to even move. I imagine the hand gripping my leg again, but there’s nothing there. My imagination is powerful and I can’t decide if I’m really hearing voices again or if it’s just me expecting to.

The bedroom door creaks open and I’m on guard, not sure what to expect on the other side. My father peers through and says nothing. He has never looked in on me this much before.

“I’m turning in, Nathan. You need anything?”

“No. And you’ve talked to me more today than I can ever remember. You’re up to something, aren’t you?” Acting paranoid doesn’t help my case, but it really feels odd. He’s looking at me differently than just earlier today.

“Come get me if you need anything.” He ignores my observation and shuts the door.

I’m so exhausted but my mind won’t rest. I look at the doorframe I slammed into earlier. There’s some damage, but nothing extreme. How would someone go about doing that to themselves? Turning on my side, I close my eyes, but the image of the two children and the woman flash before me, and it’s so alarming that I lose my breath.

I need something to help me relax. I want them to visit me again, but without the hostility. I want to talk to them. I can’t go much longer living this way and I hope eventually they just go away.

Walking down the stairs, I try to hit each step lightly. The floor creaks under me. My father usually sleeps like a rock, but something tells me he isn’t tonight. He’s watching me for some reason. I pad to the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets, finally coming across where he stores his liquor. He has several choices, ranging from whiskey to scotch, and of course, a cold bottle of vodka in the freezer.

I grab the scotch and twist it open, not even bothering with a glass. It’s top shelf stuff and it goes down as smooth as velvet. Before I know it, it’s almost gone. Screwing the lid back on, I put it back where I found it. He’ll notice how much is missing, but I’ll explain it later. Right now, all I want to do is sleep.

Trudging back up the stairs, I feel the effects of the booze hit me, and it feels like someone is sitting on my shoulders. It takes every last ounce of energy I have to make it to the bed, and I slam my body down into the mattress. I relax and begin to drift off. I know someone is whispering at me, but I’m too tired to give a damn. It’s obvious that they’re not going away. I’ll get a restful night’s sleep and handle it tomorrow. No more excuses.

When I wake up the next morning, I’m shocked to find out that it’s already a little after nine. I hear talking downstairs and at first, I figure it’s the TV. My father doesn’t get many visitors. Sitting up, I feel the remnants of the alcohol. Sleep didn’t help me any, and I’m sore from my altercation with whatever was in the house last night.

Maybe a shower will refresh me. Stepping into the hallway, I grab a towel from the closet and hear the talking, louder now. I can tell it’s not the TV. It sounds like Rose, but why in the hell would she be here? She’s told me on more than one occasion that she doesn’t want anything to do with my dad.

I lean over the railing, trying to get a better vantage point, but I can’t see anything. There’s a voice I don’t recognize and it’s no mystery that I’m the topic of their discussion. It suddenly becomes crystal clear. They’re talking to a stranger about me. With all the reading I’ve done, I’ve learned that a person can be taken into psychological treatment against their will, which is the main reason I’ve avoided it. Would my father and Rose really do that to me?

Panic sets in and I stand there a few more seconds, attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“He’s got gashes all over his arms and face. He claims to hear voices and sees things.”

“Are they command hallucinations?” the unfamiliar voice asks.

“He hasn’t said. Has he said that to you, Jack?”

“I’m not quite sure what that is,” Jack replies.

“They are hallucinations that tell someone to do something. Murders, suicides, and violent acts are a few examples. They can be as small as going for a walk. It just depends. We need to make sure they aren’t telling him to do anything. Regardless, we have enough here to speak with him and probably get a bed arranged for him at the facility. With the self-mutilation and the hallucinations, that is more than enough to meet the criteria to get Nathan the help he needs. I do need to talk to him first. If I can get him to voluntarily go, we can avoid any magistrate’s orders and law enforcement getting involved.”

I’m not sure what to think. I take a few steps away from the railing and my back hits the wall behind me. I slide to the floor, hoping that I’m dreaming. I can’t let them take me. I pull myself from the state of shock I’m in and take the stairs down two at a time. I almost make it to the door before my dad puts his hand on it, hindering me from opening it. I know I’m stronger than him, but with the physical state I’m in, I’m not sure I can beat him.

“Nathan, please sit down.” His voice is stern.

“Nathan, my name is Anna and I’m with the state mental health authority. Your wife and your father called me because they are very concerned about you. Can you take a minute to talk to me?”

I turn to look at her. She’s a small, petite woman with a clipboard in her hand. “What good is that gonna do me? I heard you talking. You’re ready to go lock me up.”

She flashes a smile so sweet, but I know it’s an act. “We’re not going to lock you up, Nathan. We’re here to help you. We want you to feel better. We want to make everything right.”

I shake my head. Rose and my father are staring at me and I feel like a sideshow freak. “I knew I never should’ve told either of you what’s going on. I trusted you and you go and call them anyway?” I turn to Rose. “Why don’t you believe me? We’ve known each other forever. I wouldn’t make something like this up. I would never put you through this just because I wanted to.”

She looks away, unable to keep eye contact with me. Anna intervenes, trying to divert my attention. “We know you aren’t making it up. Your brain is experiencing chemical imbalances and we want to get it all fixed. Why don’t you sit on the couch and we can get this all figured out?”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to trap me. Only a sane person would realize that, and I’m sane. There’s nothing wrong with the chemicals in my brain.”

I start for the door, but when I open it, two cops greet me on the porch. I try to shove past, but as expected, they are able to block me from getting anywhere. Anna hands them a paper and they look over it.

“Signed by Judge Archer. We’ve got it all squared away to get him to Sunset Canyon for treatment immediately,” Anna says, looking back at me with sympathy in her eyes. “We are here to help you, Nathan.”

I’m not able to get through the cops, so I turn on my heel and start for the kitchen. I make it almost to the back door before I crash to the floor. One of the cops is on top of me, and within a split-second I’m handcuffed and restrained. I kick and thrash, trying my hardest to get him off me, but he’s got almost fifty pounds on me and he’s healthy.

“Sir, I advise you to stay still. We’ve got a judge’s order to take you in for treatment.”

I grit my teeth. “Am I under arrest?”

“No. It is a magistrate’s order which means it’s for yours and your family’s protection.”

There’s no use in fighting it. They have me right where they want me. I might as well comply so they can actually see the truth when I don’t respond to whatever hell they’re going put me through at Sunset Canyon. The cop helps me to my feet and guides me toward the front door again. I stare at Rose as I pass by and she is still unable to look at me.

“Just wait, Rose. You’ll see. If this is what it’s gonna take for you to see what is really happening to me, then so be it. You think about the shit I’m going through when you’re at home in our bed.”

The cop doesn’t give me a chance to say anything else, and shoves me outside. The cuffs dig into my wrists, but it’s just a small discomfort compared to what I’ve gone through and what I’m about to experience next.

I zone out during the drive over, and we get there before I know it. I’m not even sure what I should be feeling. I’m nervous, but I’m so angry with Rose and my father that the only thing I can think about is how they have completely ruined my trust.

The outside of the facility looks like a typical asylum. The architecture is gargoyles and something you’d see in Gotham. The trees and grass are well trimmed, and there are even flowers in the flowerbeds. Maybe it is there desperate attempt at trying to make it look more inviting, but to me, it is hell on earth, and I haven’t even stepped through the doors yet. The sign outside reads
Sunset Canyon Mental Health Facility.
In laymen’s terms, that means insane asylum, but they have to be politically correct.

The cops park near the admissions door and help me out, but keep me in restraints. We are taken to the admissions desk where apparently, they were already expecting me. The nurse has paperwork with my name all over it ready to go. Lord knows how long they’ve all been planning this against me.

“Mr. Gallagher?” The nurse waits for me to respond, but I’m busy watching the cops. They sign another piece of paper and leave. Their job is done. They must enjoy pawning crazy people off at the doorstep. I’m not their headache anymore. “Mr. Gallagher?”

I want to correct her and tell her I’m Lieutenant Gallagher, but I bite back my tongue. I don’t want people knowing I’m a firefighter. I probably won’t be after this whole ordeal.

I finally acknowledge her and she slides some paperwork toward me. I’m still in my handcuffs, but I’m able to hold a pen. I hadn’t noticed the security guard standing close by. I guess it’s necessary to have their own security staff.

“What’s this?” I ask, looking over all of the fine print. I’m levelheaded. Did they expect someone who was actually insane to do this?

“It’s a consent form. We won’t release your records to anyone if you don’t’ want us to, but if there’s someone specific you want on there, now’s your chance to allow them access, otherwise, everything that is happening will be kept private.”

“Even with my employer?”

“Yes, even with them.”

I find that hard to believe. With the type of job I have, mental health is important, but I don’t press the matter. I’m not in the mood. I contemplate the form. Do I want people knowing?

“Are you married, Mr. Gallagher?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes people put their spouse or parent on there, but you don’t have to. We won’t even tell them if you don’t want. It doesn’t work like other medical records. These are protected even more.”

I hold the pen, ready to write, and face a dilemma. I’m to the point where I don’t want Rose knowing anything about me, but at the same time, I want her following along every step of the way so she can see that whatever treatment I’m about to get isn’t working. That would be the only reason I’d want her having access. Yeah, that would be a good reason why.

I jot her name down and sign it, sliding the clipboard back to the nurse. I look down the hallway, trying to get a better glimpse inside, but it’s impossible. There are so many hallways and doors, it’s like a maze. The security guard hasn’t taken his eyes off me. It’s likely the other cops informed him of my resistance, and I’m sure they’ve flagged me as a potential problem patient.

“Okay, Mr. Gallagher, I think we’ve got you squared away. Josh is one of our orderlies. He’s going to escort you to Dr. Clint’s office.”

“Why do I need to go there?”

“It’s your initial assessment with us. It’s to track progress in your treatment.”

Josh approaches me, and the security guard isn’t far behind. “I don’t need to be assessed. I don’t even need to be here. The cops followed the judge’s order. Can’t you say I came and now I can go?” I’m trying hard not to panic, but the shit is getting real. I’m about to be taken into the hospital with no idea of when I’ll be able to see daylight again. “I’m gonna be wasting everyone’s time.”

The nurse flashes a strained smile and hands the clipboard to Josh. “Tell that to Dr. Clint, Mr. Gallagher. That’s what he’s here for.”

The security guard closes in on me and grabs my arm. I pull away, but the handcuffs don’t allow me to do much else. The way I see it, it’s my last chance to get out of here before it’s too late. How is this even legal? People don’t get forced to go to medical hospitals. Why is this different?

Acting fast, I head-butt the guard and am able to knock down Josh, the skinny kid who probably won’t last at this job anyway. I hobble toward the door I just came through, feeling confident that I’m about to make it out when again, someone tackles me from behind. I feel the needle puncture my side and my body instantly stops flailing, despite the fact that I’m trying to keep moving. It’s like I’m in quicksand.

“Mr. Gallagher, calm down. Everything is going to be okay.”

It’s the last thing I hear before I give in and pass out.

***

Rose

“Rose, do you need anything?” Jack places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I can make some tea or coffee.”