Point Horror: Identity Theft Part 17

"Jamie Thomson-Thurm," he announced. He leaned down toward me. "Jamie, I'm Dr. Taylor, and I'll be taking care of you. Let's get her inside."

The two orderlies half pulled me to my feet. I caught a whiff of salt in the air. We had to be near the ocean. But I knew I wasn't going to get a chance to actually see it. Surrounding me was a series of two-story cottages arranged around a large rough-hewn wooden structure, reminding me more of a summer camp than a mental hospital, which is what it was. It had to be. After all, the property was enclosed by a wrought-iron gate. The very few people I saw wandering around the lawns were either wearing scrubs or had a wristband on their arm. Just like the one on my own arm that must have been placed there while I was unconscious.

Dr. Taylor seemed unfazed by the commotion of the orderlies trying to drag me toward the building.

"I hope you had a good sleep, Jamie," Dr. Taylor said, falling into step beside me. I kept blinking to try to get my contacts to slide back over my pupils and make everything slip back into focus. "Welcome to Serenity Point. I know that you had a couple sleeping pills, so you're probably feeling a bit groggy. That's normal. I've been talking to your doctor back home about your medication, and we might do a few tweaks here and there, depending on your response. It's very important that you keep us abreast of any new feelings or changes that arise as we do, is that clear?" he asked.

"Yesh ... I mean, yes," I said, correcting the lisp that had come out of my mouth. My legs felt like jelly, and I was winded even though we'd only walked a few hundred yards from the entrance to the main building.

"Good. Let's bring her to my office," Dr. Taylor commanded once we stepped inside the lobby immediately past the building entrance. It was empty except for one couch, and a coffee table with pamphlets spread along the surface. Frequently Asked Questions about Electroshock Treatments, read one of the brochures. But before I could read the other t.i.tles, the two orderlies dragged me down a small corridor. From the outside, I'd a.s.sumed the building would look like a hospital, with long, polished linoleum floors and an antiseptic smell. But the walls were covered with terrible paintings of landscapes and the floor had a dingy blue carpet on it. Finally, I was unceremoniously deposited into a small, spare room.

"Sit down," one orderly grunted, nodding toward a couch with a thin, stained cushion.

"Let the nurses' station knows she's here so we can make sure her room is ready," Dr. Taylor said as I tried to get my bearings. The tiny room seemed similar to one of the ones in the guidance suite. But instead of piles of papers, Dr. Taylor's desk contained only a laptop and a single sunflower in a bud vase. The walls were bare and I felt a sudden longing for Miss Keeshan's stupid hang in there! sloth poster. Anything that would make this place seem more human.

Dr. Taylor perched in the chair behind the desk, steepled his fingers together, and stared at me. "Now, tell me why you're here, Jamie."

I glanced up at the ceiling. A watermark looked like an oddly shaped heart. The sound of the white noise machine whooshed in my ears. Think, I urged myself. My brain used to gear into overdrive under pressure. Not anymore. All I could think about were James's eyes. The terrified look Aidan had shot me when he mentioned his guinea pig. The fact that there truly wasn't anywhere to escape to.

"Jamie?" Dr. Taylor prompted.

Trapped. Trapped trapped trapped, my mind screamed. I twisted the hospital ID bracelet around my wrist.

Dr. Taylor leaned his elbows on his knees. "That was an unfair question. I apologize."

I glanced up gratefully into his beady pupils.

"Why don't you start by telling me a little bit about yourself. As you can see, I have some notes, but I'd much rather hear it from you. In your words." He rapped against the stack of manila file folders with his fingers. I leaned forward, trying to see what was inside them, but they were rubber-banded together, making any chance of reading an impossibility.

"I'm not Jamie," I said finally, my voice husky and unfamiliar to my ears. "I'm her twin. I'm Hayley. I went to Brookline this morning because I knew that was where my father lived. And I needed to explain what she's been doing for the past few weeks. But that means she's in Bainbridge, and I'm just ... I need to stop her. And now I'm stuck. And I feel like that's what she wanted."

"You're not Jamie." He glanced at his pad of paper and made a note. "All right. Then why don't you tell me a bit about who you are."

"I'm Hayley," I said again, trying to mask my frustration. "Hayley Westin, from Bainbridge, New Hampshire. I never knew I had a twin. I always thought I was an only child. And then my mom told me that I did have a twin, but that she had died. And now ... well, now I don't know. I mean, my mom lied to me. But I don't know why."

A low, single chime sounded and Dr. Taylor stood up and strode around to the front of the desk. He reached down and held his hand out toward me.

I looked away. I didn't want to speak to him, much less touch him. He dropped his hand to his side.

"Well, Hayley, it's nice to meet you. Unfortunately, we don't have a full session today, but we'll make sure to get the schedule sorted out so you'll have a full forty-five minutes with me tomorrow, and every day following."

"No!" I screamed. "I don't need that. I need you to believe me." The pills had worn off, unleashing my panic. "I need to get out of here and call the police. Jamie is impersonating me, she may have killed someone, and if I don't get out of here, then everyone will believe her. Seriously, people are in danger."

Dr. Taylor nodded impa.s.sively as he tapped his pen against the folder. "It sounds like you have a lot of anger, Hayley. That's understandable, and we'll discuss it in detail. But the one thing I ask, if that makes sense, is that you bring Jamie to the session tomorrow."

"How can I do that? She's not here. She's in New Hampshire, pretending to be me!" I screamed. A hint of a smile crossed Dr. Taylor's face. "I mean," I said, trying to calm down my breathing and my hammering heart, "I think there's been a terrible mistake. What could I do to get you to believe me?"

Dr. Taylor rose to his feet. "We're out of time. I know you're upset. And I feel that after a rest, you'll be better able to talk to me about what's really bothering you."

"I don't need a rest. I'm Hayley. Look me up. You'll find me."

"I'll find your sister," Dr. Taylor said tersely, impatience weaving into his voice. "And we will talk tomorrow, Hayley." At this, he pressed a b.u.t.ton. A chime sounded, and a bleached-blond nurse wearing a set of hot-pink scrubs walked in. "You have to come to terms with who you are, so you can move beyond it."

"Hi there. I'm Nanci, the nurse a.s.signed to your cottage. Come on, Jamie doll, we'll get you settled," she said, bustling toward me. She had a hint of a Southern accent and her blush was unevenly applied, giving her moon-shaped face a lopsided look.

Dr. Taylor cleared his throat. "The patient mentioned that she'd prefer to be called Hayley for the time being."

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled. If I fought, I'd only be branded crazy. I needed another plan, one that didn't depend on anyone. I just needed to be able to think.

"All right, Hayley, let's hop up to your room. Your roommate's so excited to meet you!" the nurse clucked, as though she were a nursery school teacher trying to convince a child to share the art supplies.

I helplessly trailed behind the nurse, through the long corridors of the facility, then out into the open air. This would be over in a matter of hours, I reminded myself. It had to be. I was too smart to be trapped. It had been a good try on Jamie's part. But I was smarter than her. I was stronger than her.

We trudged along the gravel path, and I wondered wildly if it'd be possible to escape: to sprint from the path, scale the fence, and spring to the nearest town.

Finally, the nurse stopped in front of one of the six cottages that flanked the central building. She walked up the sagging porch steps and unlocked the door.

"You'll be with Sheila." She motioned for me to follow her up a winding staircase toward the second floor. It seemed that the hospital was on the grounds of a former hotel. The main facility was the actual hotel proper, while the buildings flanking it had been family vacation cottages.

The nurse pushed open a door to a room that was bare except for two twin beds. A girl sat cross-legged in one of them, staring into the distance with brilliant aqua eyes. She'd obviously cut her reddish-blond hair herself, and chunks stuck out haphazardly around her pointed, angular face.

"You!" Sheila exclaimed, pointing at me.

"Yes, Sheila. This is your new roommate, Jamie," Nanci said in a singsongy, infant-soothing voice.

"Where's Jenny?" Sheila blurted out.

Nanci pursed her lips as though she'd sucked on a lemon. "Oh, Sheila. Don't you worry about Jenny. She's in a better place right now. How about you focus on getting to know Jamie?"

"What happened to Jenny?" I asked, turning toward Nanci.

Nanci shook her head and gestured to the empty single bed.

"That's where you'll be sleeping. Everyone here wears hospital-issue clothing. That way, there's one fewer thing to think about. Don't you agree, Sheila?" It was only then that I realized Sheila was wearing a pair of shapeless black pants and a gray baggy T-shirt. The nurse squinted at me.

"I think you're a small. I'll get some clothes and some medication, and then you should be right as rain." She turned and left the room. She closed the door, but I realized it didn't matter. The room had a huge picture window looking into the hallway. I noticed a camera in the corner as well, an unflickering red light trained at me. We were being watched all the time.

Sheila coughed and I realized that she, too, was staring at me.

"Hey," I said awkwardly, perching on the edge of my own bed to face her. "So, I'm not here for very long, so ..."

The radiator hissed and I jumped. Sheila emitted a low, loud cackle that seemed far too loud to have come from her tiny body.

"Everyone says that. Everyone's here forever. Unless they're like Jenny. Jenny escaped. Jenny's not coming back."

"Where did Jenny go?" I asked urgently. But just then, the door reopened and Nanci walked in, balancing a round tray that contained a tiny plastic cup and a large gla.s.s of water. Inside the cup were half a dozen multicolored pills. "Here are your meds," she said, holding the tray out toward me. "You'll feel much more comfortable when you take them."

"No," I shook my head. A lie formed in my mind. "I was a wreck when I came in because of the medications. I know Dr. Taylor wants me to get better. The only way I'll get better is if I can talk to him without taking anything."

"You can take it up with him. I'm just doing my job," Nanci said firmly, shaking the cup so the pills rattled together. "Come on, be a good girl. They'll go down easy, and you'll be nice and relaxed." She put the tray on a wooden dresser, picked up one of the cups, and pushed it closer to my mouth.

I panicked, visions of myself becoming an unblinking robot like Sheila coursing through my head.

"I said no!" I swatted her hand away, and the pills - a collection of hexagonal, trapezoidal, and rectangular capsules that reminded me of the blocks I'd once played with as a child - clattered to the floor and rolled under the bed.

"She was bad!" Sheila exclaimed, clapping her hand to her mouth in horror.

"Yes, Sheila, Jamie was very bad," Nanci said through gritted teeth. "All right, we'll try this again." She reached underneath the bureau and pressed a b.u.t.ton.

"I'm really fine! I'm sorry!" I chirped, desperate to stop the situation from escalating. "I'll be good!"

"Well, we'll have to hope so, won't we?" Nanci muttered. "But you'll learn soon enough, it's best if you do what you're told. We want the best for you, Hayley."

"I'm not Hayley! I mean, I am. But I shouldn't be here. I just really need to figure this out." My voice broke into a half sob.

Nanci's gaze softened. "Everyone's here because they need to figure something out. And you'll learn that you can't do it on your own. Dr. Taylor will help. So will the meds. You just have to trust us."

Just then, another nurse burst into the room.

"What's the problem?" she asked.

"Judy, can you get her some more meds? We had an incident," Nanci said, gesturing to the mess on the floor.

"Of course." The tiny nurse disappeared out of the room. I looked back at Nanci.

"You know, I'm not staying here. This is a horrible mistake that will be fixed, and you'll be sued. You don't want that, do you?" I asked, trying to rationalize.

"Every patient says they'll sue. None of them ever do. Threats are a waste of time, honey." Nanci shook her head. "Now, you can either take your meds like a good girl, or we'll have to resort to other measures."

I gulped. I couldn't imagine what the other measures would be.

"Here you go," Judy said as she reentered the room, holding an identical tray filled with the same tiny plastic cup. I glanced at the capsules.

"I'll take them," I said.

"Smart girl," Nanci murmured.

I picked up the tiny cup and tipped it into my mouth, holding the pills under my tongue and hoping I could hold them there long enough to spit them out.

"Good. Now, take a nap like a good girl," Nanci said.

As soon as the door clicked closed, I lay facedown on the bed, knowing the camera wouldn't capture the angle. Then, I spat into my hand and wiped the half-dissolved lump of medication on the sheet under my pillow. Sheila was watching, wide-eyed. I knew either she'd tell the nurses or a housekeeper would discover the multicolored mess, but I'd be long gone by then.

"Can you keep a secret, Sheila?" I asked.

Sheila nodded, unblinking. "I kept Jenny's secret."

"What was it?"

"I can't tell you," Sheila said proudly, rocking back and forth. Sunlight was still spilling through the window, creating large patches of light on the floor. Even though there were no clocks anywhere, it was probably only midday. But the encroaching dread surrounding me made me feel as if darkness was fast approaching.

"Did Jenny ... die?" I asked finally.

Sheila laughed, the loud cackle that made her sound older and more evil than seemed possible, given her appearance. "No. She only wished she had."

At that, the door clicked open again. Nanci strode in and grabbed Sheila by the shoulder.

"Sheila, I think it's time for a little talk, what do you say?" she asked, glaring at me as she dragged Sheila out the door.

Finally, I was alone.

And I was terrified.

One day. Twelve pills. And even though I'd spit them out whenever a nurse's back was turned, I knew the medication was seeping into my system, and that the craziness surrounding me was seeping into my pores. I felt slow and shaky, with a second or two going by before I realized anyone was talking to me. The Ainsworth final interview was on Monday, less than twenty-four hours away. But all that seemed light-years ago. Now, all my attention was focused on getting through each hour without losing my Hayley-ness. And it was hard.

Even though I'd been there less than twenty-four hours, the routine was clear - and it was clear I'd go crazy if I actually had to follow it for longer than I already had. All meals were at a long, cafeteria-like table, with nurses sitting at each table to ensure every bite was eaten. Nurses monitored each shower door. Group therapy sessions happened in the morning and the afternoon, and there was a mandatory nap when the doors were locked. Sheila continued to stare at me. I'd learned she was sixteen and had been living at Serenity for almost a year. She liked it, she said. I couldn't tell if she was incredibly smart or incredibly out of it, but her wide-eyed stare unnerved me. When I'd fallen asleep the previous night, I'd woken up to her face inches away from mine. I'd screamed, and a night nurse had dragged Sheila back to her side of the room before slowly and methodically strapping her wrists and ankles to the bed with Velcro restraints.

"That'll keep you in one spot," the nurse said.

Sheila bleated a single cry of terror, but then the nurse must have given her medication, because her breathing had slowed into soft, deep snores that had freaked me out even more than seeing her face inches away from mine. Drugs were always used to calm people down, to keep them quiet, to make them obey the draconian rules. I knew it was better for me to stay under the radar and cooperate, but I couldn't help but feel my heart go out to Sheila. Had she gotten better in a year, or far worse? Judging from the way I felt after only one day, I think I knew my answer.

"Jamie?" Dr. Taylor asked, snapping his fingers in front of my face. It was my second therapy session with Dr. Taylor. Sessions occurred every day, with one on weekends and two each weekday, and it was clear that playing along was key to getting anyone to listen to me. "Tell me about Aidan."

"What about him?" I asked. Each session with Dr. Taylor was like playing verbal charades. I'd latch onto a name that sounded familiar and try to pump Dr. Taylor for clues. I figured that until I escaped, the best thing I could do was get as much information about Jamie as possible. I knew my father had adopted her with Deborah, and that Aidan was born only a few months after. I knew she'd been to a few different boarding schools and had a long record of shoplifting. I knew she blamed Aidan for everything.

"They're in the same grade?" I'd asked when Dr. Taylor probed me about the time I locked Aidan in the kindergarten coat closet, prompting a full-on panic when everyone a.s.sumed he'd been kidnapped. Apparently, the entire town had spent the night searching for him everywhere, while I'd contentedly sat on the couch, watching Sesame Street and hugging my stuffed polar bear.

Dr. Taylor had shot me a funny look. "Yes. You're in the same grade as your brother. Is that difficult for you?"

The question had given me pause. Because I could see how much it would suck. It'd be like having a twin with none of the benefits. Even in my brief time at the Thomson-Thurm house, I'd seen the adoring way James and Deborah had looked at Aidan and the accusatory glances they'd cast at "Jamie." Of course, her behavior warranted it. But what if Aidan had always been the favored child? If I had been her ... well, maybe if I'd been in a similar situation, I'd have locked him in a closet, too.

That had been the last significant piece of information I'd gleaned about Jamie's family. It was as if Dr. Taylor had sensed that he'd overstepped, that I was eager for any drops of knowledge, and he'd retreated, relying on headshakes and nods.

"Jamie?" Dr. Taylor prodded, snapping me back into the moment.

"I'm not sure what to say about Aidan," I said slowly. The thick file on his desk had the answers.

"Tell me about how he makes you feel," he prodded.

I glanced at the model of the brain on Dr. Taylor's desk. I knew he performed electroshock therapy, and I knew that's where Sheila went when the nurses pulled her out of the room.

"Sad," I suggested.

"All right, anything else?"

"Mad?" I felt like we were playing a game of Mad Libs.

"I wonder if you can go deeper," Dr. Taylor mused, picking up the brain and turning it with his hands. I wondered if his subtext meant that he wondered whether a shock to my brain could make me go deeper.