The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series) (4 page)

An hour, a day, an eternity later I awaken to All Smiles shaking my shoulder.

“Up and at ‘em, Ms. Engles. Rise and shine. The day is young.”

“Huh? What?” I’m so disoriented I don’t know where I am. I sit up and wipe the dried saliva off of my cheek and stare blankly around the room, trying to reorient. “What time is it?”

“It’s time for you to get up. You have visitors.”

Again, he says this like I’m a tot about to greet my playgroup. I imagine the expected response is to squeal with glee and clap my hands. Instead, I mumble, “Who is it?”

“It’s your family. Go wash up and meet me outside your room.”

My family? My lying, betraying family?
By the time I get out of the bathroom, I am hopping mad. I’m surprised steam isn’t spewing from my ears. I pull the door open so hard it whacks against the wall.

“Easy, there, Ms. Engles. Let’s preserve the facilities.” He takes off down the hall, whistling.

I shuffle along behind him. He unlocks the door at the end of the hall and holds it open for me. “Is this a locked psych ward?”

“Yes, it is. You’re right on the money. We have patient
s in this ward who present a danger to themselves or to others. We have to keep everyone safe.”

“Where do I fit in this picture?”

His face grows serious for the briefest second. His dark chocolate colored eyes flick over to me. He then resumes his smile. “You fit just about anywhere, Ms. Engles. Just about anywhere.” He gestures to the room we’re about to enter, no doubt certain that he’s cleverly skirted the question.

We enter the visitor’s lounge
, and I spy my sister Jill and my not-so-dear aunt. They rush towards me, cooing and clucking.

“
What the hell did you do to me?” I shout, or at least I think I shout. I stomp toward them or at least I think I stomp. I catch my reflection in the big mirror on the wall. I look stupid. I look like an idiot. I look pale and lethargic and ridiculous. I have neither shouted nor stomped. I have shuffled and mumbled. Me, the kick-ass Light Rebel, has been reduced to this.
Drugs. Doubt. Misperceptions.

“Ladies, here we are,” All Smiles says cheerily. He waves to a blue couch and chairs positioned around
a coffee table with a vase of flowers in the center. “Why don’t you sit here, get comfortable, and visit. I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

“Thank you, Matthew.” My Aunt Topaz perches at the edge of the sofa.

Jill sits next to her. She wrings her hands. Her face is lined with concern and worry. “Hey,” she says to me.

Jill and I had always been the closest. She and my other sister, Cira, had already moved out when I went to live with Aunt Topaz
, but Jill still stayed in touch with me. We had a bond that Cira and I didn’t share. At least I thought we did. “Hey,” I respond. The word shatters like an icicle when it leaves my mouth. I shake my head at my sister. I can’t even acknowledge my aunt.
Betrayed, betrayed, betrayed.

“How are you?” Jill asks.

“How do you think I am? I’m in a goddamned mental hospital for something you swore to keep secret.”

Jill and Aunt Topaz glance nervously at one another. “You
were a mess a couple nights ago,” Jill continues. “I was frightened. You were talking about a sorcerer and having flown on some big mythical bird to get home and how you killed someone by stabbing them and…” Tears sprang from her eyes. She grabs a tissue out of the box placed handily next to the sofa. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, but it can’t be good. I think it may have been Daniel who made you snap.”

“What makes you say that?”

Jill flicks her eyes at Aunt Topaz and then back to me. “Jason called us. He said he was in Brazil to keep an eye on you. That you were dining together and you just ran out the door and got in a cab, heading for the airport. You were screaming that you had to be with Daniel in Brazil. That nothing was going to stop you.”

“Are you fucking shitting me?” I blurt.
Jason is my blond-minded tool of an ex. He is a lame-ass student of Tantra spirituality who has no boundaries, lots of girlfriends, and seems to float through life with a lucky charm stuck to his cheek.

All Smiles stands up and moves a few steps toward us. “Everything alright, ladies?”

“It’s fine, Matthew,” Aunt Topaz answers. “She’s just a little confused.”

“I am
not
confused. I’m furious.” I stand up and begin to pace. “Jason is the one who drove me to the airport. He was working for the guy who kidnapped me.
Kidnapped
me. Did you hear what I said? I was kidnapped!” I stomp over to the couch, for real this time, and flounce back on the cushions. “Ask anyone in Sweet Things. They’ll tell you. Ask my waiter friend Karl. He was the waiter. Ask him,” I plea.

“Oh, dear,” Jill says. “Baby sis, I don’t know what’s happened to you
, but I’m so glad Aunt Topaz suggested bringing you here. You’ll get well in here. You’ll be fine.” She reaches out to pat my hand.

“I will not be fine in here.”
My voice comes out in a ragged whisper. “I don’t belong here. I need to see Daniel. I need to get back to Sober. What are you managing to do to my dog?” I snarl at Aunt Topaz, still unable to look at her. “And why can’t I remember anything from the other night? From when you brought me here?” I slowly turn my gaze to my aunt’s bird-like face. I am shaking. Trembling. Tremors of light and heat are rumbling inside of me. I’m not sure I can contain it this time. I clench my fists so tight I wonder if I’m going to break my own bones. I grit my teeth. And I feel very, very, satisfied when I look at Aunt Topaz. She’s pale as morning fog. She looks like she could be blown away in the morning breeze. She’s frightened of me. She should be. I want to make her pay for what she’s done to me.

“Sober is fine, Marissa. He’s fine. He’s a good dog. He misses you. He’ll be happy when you’re well again.” She smoothes her
neat gray pants with her palms. Swallows. Blinks.

“And?” I keep her pinned with my eyes.

“And?” she asks, confused.

“And why can’t I remember anything about you bringing me here? I’m not a brain dead idiot. What did you do to me this time?”

Aunt Topaz jerks as if I have slapped her. Her brown eyes are wide and fearful. “I just…I had some…” She looks at Jill.

“You had some of the concoction Armando gave you to suppress my memories when I moved in with you? Is that what you were going to say?” I smile sweetly. It’s a razor sharp smile, I’m sure.

“I…no…I…”

The electricity has managed to subside. I think it’s because I feel in control now. I’ve needed to assume a position of power and control with my aunt. I need to not be her victim.
No more. “I know what you did to me.”

Jill looks to our aunt, confused, questioning. “What did you do to Marissa?”

“She and Daniel’s dad gave me some voodoo concoction when I was 15 to remove my memories. I wasn’t joking when I showed you what I can do, Jill. You’ve got to believe me.”

Jill looks perplexed. She turns her gaze to my aunt. She turns back to me. “I…you…”

“I can do what I said I can do, sis,” I say gently. “Why would I lie about that?” My gaze darts over to All Smiles and back to my sister. “Only if I do it in here, they’ll lock me away as a science experiment. I’ll be shut away for the rest of my life.”

Jill reaches up to scratch her head.
She’s got the angled, refined facial features of our German-Irish dad. Her light brown hair is shoulder length and always held back in a ponytail. She’s got a toddler who loves to grab her hair. “It’s not possible to do what you said you could do.”

I take after my mom’s Spanish descent. My skin is darker than my sister’s. My dark brown hair is wild and unruly. My eyes are hazel, the color of nut-butter
or polished agates or so I’ve been told. Jill’s are blue, like cornflowers. I take her hands in mine. They don’t spark. Maybe we have some kind of sister immunity. “I showed you what I could do. You
saw
it with your very own eyes.”

“I…well…” She flicks her eyes nervously over to Aunt Topaz.

My aunt’s mouth is pressed into a crisp, baked slit, like the peanut brittle smile of Dr. Beasley.

Jill pulls her hands away. “This is for the best, sis, I know it. You’ll get better in here, I promise.”

Tears pool in my eyes. “I’ll get better when someone believes me, and I get out of here. They’re giving me Haloperidol, Jill. That’s for schizophrenics. I am
not
a schizophrenic. You
know
that. I’m sensitive, I keep to myself, but I’m not crazy.”

Aunt Topaz stands up. “I think we’d best get on our way. Jill?”

“Get better, sis,” Jill whispers in my ear.

“Believe in me,” I whisper back.
I’m desperate for my sister’s acceptance of who and what I am.
There’s got to be someone in the family who will believe in me.
“Please. Please. Believe in me.” We give each other one last tearful gaze.

“I’ll show you out, ladies,” All Smiles says
, striding up to us.

I glance over at him and notice Rafe sitting in the corner with his visitor. He’s sitting with a guy around his same age. They’re
hunched forward, leaning into the space between them and having a heated conversation.

He must feel me staring at him because he looks over at me. His face closes down
, and he positions his back to me.

What is that guy’s secret?

All Smiles unlocks the door leading to freedom, and my sister and aunt disappear through the opening. He strides back to me. “Wasn’t that nice to see your family?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“What would you say?” he asks, smiling. He unlocks the door to the inner sanctum for us freaks who abide there. “After you.”

“I’d say it was necessary, it was a beginning step
, and I am
so not
finished talking to them and giving them a piece of my mind.”

“I see,” he says non-committedly. He smiles and nods at staff as he tramps down the hall. When he gets to my doorway, he opens the door
, and beckons me inside. Following after me, he says, “I believe in you, Ms. Engles. I just want you to know that.” He fluffs my pillow and smoothes the white covers with his large, dark hands.

“Why would you say that?” I ask, perplexed.
“I seem to be the big ticket freak around here. I’ll bet people are laying odds at how well I do or when I’ll snap and end up in isolation.” We’re interrupted by a staffer who wanders in with the dreaded blue tray and paper cups of sedation.

“Afternoon, Debra. Here to see to Ms. Engles?”

“Good afternoon, Matthew. Yes, I am. Dr. Bellows has requested a medication change for you, Ms. Engles.”

A lightning quick flash of concern passes over All Smile’s face. It is replaced by his big
, generous smile. “I see. Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” He gives the covers one final pat and makes his way to the doorway. Before exiting he turns, looks at me, and opens his mouth as if to say something. His mouth shuts, his head gives a small shake and he disappears, leaving me with Debra, new drugs, and a whole lot of hurt and rage at seeing my sister and my goddamned aunt. Someone is going to pay.

The food here is tolerable, at best. I’m used to lots of wholesome, natural fare, prepared simply. I’m sitting at a dining table, picking at the warmish canned peas and carrots, stirring them into the sorry-looking instant mashed potatoes, when Rafe comes over and sits down next to me.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I say. “How are you?”

“I’m in a mental hospital. What can I say?” He smiles at me.

“That’s my line.” I return the smile. He’s got white, white teeth. A clean, fresh complexion. He looks a little pale, but then don’t we all when stuffed full of a pharmacopoeia of substances? “How’s your life of subterfuge and intrigue?” I shovel a mushy bite of veggies into my cotton-filled mouth. These drugs make my mouth feel like the Sahara desert.

“Intriguing.
” He carefully positions his plate, his silverware, and his glass on the table. “Dr. B is going to have a private session with you tonight.” His eyes dart around the room. “Watch yourself.” He forks a bite of turkey and chews it thoughtfully. “Your visit today seemed pretty intense.”

I sigh. “Yeah. Yours did, too.”

“That was my brother. I was telling him what goes on in here. He didn’t like what he heard, but then, well…” He shrugs. “He put me in here.” He stabs another morsel of turkey and holds it in the air. “That was the first time he’s been to see me.”

“In how long? You never did tell me how long you’ve been in here.”

His face snaps shut like a shutter closing over the window for winter. He puts the bite of turkey in his mouth and chews. “A while…” he says, through the chewed food.

“So what happens in a private session? What should I watch for?”

Rafe’s eyes scan the room again. “Anything can happen.”

“What kind of anything?”

“Just watch yourself, Marissa. These opportunities aren’t always what they seem.” Rafe eyes me thoughtfully, biting the inside of his cheek. His eyes flit to the doorway behind me, and he, and everyone else in the room, sits up taller and quiets.

I pivot my head to see Dr. Bellows marching in the room, a benevolent smile stretched across his face
, like he’s the pope. I wonder if we are expected to kiss his ring.

“Eat, eat,” he says to us all. “Don’t let me stop you.” He makes a beeline over to my table. “Ms. Engles. How are you adjusting?”

I frown and push my plate away. “Adjusting to what?”

“Life here. Your new medications.” He leers and places his palms on the table, effectively putting himself between me and Rafe like a barrier.

“Y’all are obsessed with how I’m feeling, adjusting, and getting on around here. I’m not happy being here. It’s that simple. My story hasn’t changed.” I stand and prepare to carry my dishes over to the window to the kitchen. There are workers in there, swiftly grabbing the soiled plates, food remains, crumpled napkins, and shoving the dishes and silverware into an industrial dishwasher.

Dr. Bellows grabs my arm. “I haven’t finished what I was going to say.”

I wrench my arm free before sparks fly. “Finish then. I’m sure I have something else more interesting to do.” I rub the place that he grabbed.

“That’s just it. I’ve scheduled a private, one-on-one session with you.
You’ll find me in my office. Come in…” He glances at his watch. “Come in 30 minutes.” He pushes away from the table, satisfied. “Rafe,” he says, acknowledging him for the first time. “Your session will be after hers. We need to work more on restoring your wholesomeness through therapy. You’re coming along nicely.” He smiles, but it’s just the muscles of his face moving into a new position. There’s no warmth there.

Rafe’s cheeks flame red
, and he stares at his plate. “Be nice to her,” he mumbles.

“I’m always nice.”

I stare at the two men, sliding my eyes from one to the other. Rafe is contemplating his uneaten food. Dr. Bellows is contemplating Rafe. His expression is neither wholesome nor therapeutic as far as I can see. “Well, then,” I say. “I’ll see you in 30. See ya, Rafe,” I add, and saunter out of the room.

I enter my room and pace.
A private session with that prick? What if I skip it? What can he do?
I’m starting to wear a trench into the floor when All Smiles enters. He looks like he’s about to go to a funeral.

“Ms. Engles?” he says.

I’ve never seen him look so sad. “Who died?”

He must not have been aware that he look
ed so gloomy. The smile resumes, his face brightens, and he gestures to me to follow him. “I’m sorry. Lost in thought. I’m here to escort you to your appointment.”

“Ugh. I was going to skip it if you don’t mind.”

His face falls for a second, but then that cheery smile returns. “Oh, that’s not a good idea, Ms. Engles. You don’t participate, you don’t get to leave. Or you go somewhere far, far less desirable. It’s that simple.”

My shoulders rise and fall to the tune of a sigh. “Understood. Well, then. Let’s go.” I follow him out the door.

When we arrive at Dr. Bellows office, two locked floors away, he pauses before knocking on the door. “You be careful,” he whispers. “Be strong.”

“What?”

He ignores me and knocks.

“Enter,” a voice calls.

All Smiles opens the doors and steps aside for me to enter. “Evening, Dr. Bellows. I’ll be back to get her in 50 minutes.”

“Fine, fine,” Dr. Bellows answers.

I wander in and look around. It’s a huge office with rows and rows of certificates, accomplishments, and education winking from the walls like beacons to this man’s self-importance. I’m not impressed. You can be educated and still be an asshole.

“Come in, come in,” Dr. Bellows says. “Enter. Sit.” He points to a brown couch next to a stuffed chair.

I start to sit on the chair, but he stops me.

“That’s my seat. Make yourself comfortable on the sofa.” He makes his way over to the stuffed chair and settles into it, as if it’s his throne.

“Can I just stand?”

“No. Sit. Please.” He waits.

I eye the sofa suspiciously before perching at the edge.

“Settle back.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“You know fine is not a feeling.”

I smile.

He glares. “Let’s proceed then, shall we?” He steeples his fingers beneath his chin.

It’s the same gesture Dr. Beasley made on “orientation night.” They must train them to make that gesture in college. I look at the walls, the photos, the books…everywhere but at him.

“Let’s explore your childhood, shall we?” he begins.

“Why?” I ask, still not meeting his gaze.

“Why not? It’s a good place to begin. Were you accepted as a child?”

I frown. “My mom and dad adored me, if that’s what you mean.”

“So, they accepted you?”

“What do you mean by accept? I was loved. Isn’t that the same as acceptance?”

“Marissa, look at me.”

My gaze meets his, defiantly.

“You’ve clearly got some issues with anger
, and we want to get to the heart of it. Only through accepting and acknowledging what we are feeling will we release our wounds.”

“The only wound I have right now is the betrayal at being put in this place to begin with. I don’t belong here. And, if your little theory were true, you wouldn’t have tried to placate me when I ‘expressed’ myself in the group today.” I make air quotes around the word “expressed.”

“You were clearly out of control,” he says, as if that answers everything. “You were putting yourself and the others in harm.”

I roll my eyes, sit back
, and drape my arms over the back of the couch. This new drug combo makes me feel aroused, dizzy, lethargic, and very, very heavy. It’s a strange sensation.

“You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that.”

I ignore him.

“Let’s try something, shall we?”

I shrug.

“Close your eyes.”

“No.”

“Please, dear, this is a therapeutic exercise I want to try with you.”

“Nope.”

He huffs.
“Remember what I said about opportunities. They
can
be revoked by me.”

“Asshole,” I say under my breath.

“I’ll let that outburst slide. This once. Now close your eyes.”

I let them fall shut. It would be
so easy
to just lay my head down on the arm of this couch and fall into dreams or the bleak, bleary sleep-scapes of the sedated. I have to work to keep my head from falling back against the wall.

“That’s it. That’s good,” Dr. Bellows coos. He sounds like he
wants to rock me to sleep. “Now see yourself facing a doorway. It leads down a long set of stairs. You’re going to walk down that set of stairs, okay?” He sighs. It’s a deep sigh, like a lover’s caress. “One. You take the first step. Two. You take another step. Three. Four. Keep stepping, one at a time. Five. Six. Your body is very relaxed. Seven. Eight. Your body is very heavy. Nine.”

As he speaks, sure enough I see myself wandering down a long flight of stairs.
I take step after step after step, entering a world of darkness. I zone Dr. Farty Pants out. He doesn’t exist down here. I wander deeper and deeper. I arrive at two dimly lit doorways. On one door, a red square is carved into the wood. On the other door, a purple circle beckons. Both of those are the colors I associate with Daniel. I crack open the door with the red square, peer inside and see nothing but darkness.
Should I enter?

Marissa.

Daniel? Where are you?

I’m with…

Who are you with? What’s going on?
The connection between us is still faint but at least I can hear him. I don’t even have my earrings on, and I can hear him. This is good news as far as I’m concerned.

I take a tentative step into the gloom. It’s pitch black down here. Complete absence of light. I could turn mine on, let my light flow
, but Dr. Farty Pants is still somewhere around here. In the dark, dark world Daniel commands, bursts of breath punctuate the air. There is nothing, nothing, nothing, and then a sigh. More emptiness and then a growl. The hair on the back of my neck bristles.
I shouldn’t have come in here.
The stench of rotting bodies, decay, and death greets me the further I step. I press my hand over my mouth and gag.
This was a bad idea. Bad choice to come in here. These are the things that Daniel draws forth. This is the world that he commands. Is he in there?

Marissa, don’t. My father will…

A hand shoots out of the darkness and grabs my neck. I scream, shake the hand off, and quickly back out of the room, slamming the door shut tight.

Marissa.
Come. I need…

I can’t tell
where his whisper is coming from. I am
not
going back in door number one.

Marissa.
You must…

Are you okay? Where are you?
I don’t know where he is. All I know is that suddenly I feel very aroused. Maybe I should take a wander through door number two. I’m filled with the soul bound sensations that bind us, that connect us, that let me know he’s alive - when I’m not completely sedated, that is, and when he’s not wherever the hell he is.

My awareness zeros in to
my soft cotton t-shirt against my skin. It rises and falls with each breath. I shift a little to the right and it rubs against my neck, pushing tiny hairs out of the way. I want to drag my palm languidly along my breasts, stroking and caressing them. My focus lands on the satiny fabric of my bra. The cotton shirt slides along the slick surface as I inhale and exhale. My nipples stiffen and begin to ache. I want Daniel’s mouth around them, sucking, licking, gorging on the light that streams from them like a mother’s milk. He likes to drink my light. He draws it into his mouth and swallows, feasting, growing stronger from the electrical nourishment I give. He says it goes down like a hum, a strong vibration pulsing against his insides. He told me that it fills him like a lightning bolt entering and exploding. It buzzes through his veins, making his muscles bulge. It kick-starts his cock into rock solid readiness. I want that cock inside of me. I pulse my core muscles as if I am milking his erection. My hand lifts to open the door with the purple circle.

Marissa. Stop.
You’re…

Why? I can feel you. I want you. I need you. I…
My mouth drops open, yielding to the kiss that I know is awaiting me. My lips soften, ready for Daniel’s pillow-soft lips to connect with mine. I frown as skin touches skin. Something isn’t right. These lips are not Daniel’s. My eyelids fly open. Dr. Bellows is leaning over me, violating my mouth with his.

Without thinking
, I let electricity rip through my body. I push him, hard, and he flies across the room, his head colliding with the back wall. His skull bounces against one of his important certificates, photos, or degrees like a ping pong ball, shattering the glass and frames. Air flies from his lungs in a sick moan. He slides to the floor, knocked cold.