The Dead House

“Don’t! Don’t put me back there!”


She continues to struggle and groan, and eventually falls limp. The health-care assistant gets up and gently pulls down her hospital gown, which had ridden up to her waist.

“Poor little girl,” he says, in a surprisingly gentle voice. “She is calm now. She will sleep.”

Dr. Sparrow and Dr. Lansing—who seems harassed and alarmed—both stare down at Kaitlyn, who does now seem to be very calm indeed.





56


48 days until the incident




Inpatient Therapy Notes

Dr. Annabeth Lansing

Patient File [Johnson-C-0399524], Session #72

Thursday, 16 December 2004



Carly Johnson has been unconscious for fifty-six hours. After the intended twenty-four-hour period, we were unable to wake her. With little other choice, both amantadine and Ritalin were administered, but to no avail; I fear that we may have triggered a new catatonic episode. Carly Johnson seems trapped in unconsciousness. I question my judgment in sedating her now. I am alarmed by her final words before going under, and our inability to wake her. I confess I am at a loss as to my next course of action.





57





The Johnson Claydon Diaries



Twenty-first Entry

What did they do to me? God, Dee. I am lucky to be here. The Dead House descended like music curdling into time; and as it did, I grew wet and cold, and it was dark, and I was so alone…

It had devoured me. Eaten me.

You belong to me. The Voice was ancient as stone and fleeting as the wind, yet familiar and intimate as a caress. It rumbled through the walls and floor, and shook me and stirred me.

I ran for the door, but the corridor changed, stretching on and on; my cries echoed and carried forever. Always the door stood, tiny and hopelessly appealing, at the very end. A speck of hope the house knew I couldn’t stop seeking. I ran for days, weeks, centuries. I died and revived, and still the door stood, waiting.

And then I heard her.

Carly.

She was calling for me. Screaming. She was in agony! The moment I realized it, I was out. Out and awake and coughing up water from my lungs. Only it wasn’t water, it was vomit, and I was choking.

I went to the window, and I stared at myself—and the dead girl—until the sun began to rise over the sill.

“Carly?” I kept calling, waiting for her reflection to show.

Crazy Kaitie, crazy Kaitie.

Those dicks forced me back into the Dead House, and now it has something. It got a bite out of me as I ran, a little shadow of a bite, but it will have a piece of me forever.





58




Inpatient Session Recording #74 [Ref: Johnson-Inp-0033]

Friday, 17 December 2004, 5:17 PM

Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility, Somerset

Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL) and Carly Luanne Johnson (CJ)

(AL): So why do you think you’re afraid?



(CJ): You ask me questions that I… that I can’t— [Breathing]



(AL): Tell me what you want.



(CJ): I want Carly.



(AL): You want more than that. [Pause] Would you like to stop talking?

[Rustling]



(CJ): Yes. No.



(AL): Why don’t you take a breath, sit for a moment, and when you feel like you want to start talking, then talk.



(CJ): About what?



(AL): Whatever’s on your mind.



(CJ): You want to talk about Elmbridge. The roof that night. Why I was up there.



(AL): Why did you go up there?



(CJ): [Loudly] You won’t believe me.



(AL): I believe that you think Carly is gone. I believe you think your Voice is somehow responsible. Aka Manah.



(CJ): Don’t say his name.



(AL): Why not?



(CJ): Just don’t. Everything’s different.

[Heavy breathing]



(AL): Carly? [Sigh] How about we try talking again? Let’s just try. Last session we failed, but maybe this time we’ll succeed.

[Pause]



(CJ): Okay.



(AL): Okay. Tell me the first thing that comes into your mind.



(CJ): The Viking.



(AL): The Viking?



(CJ): He… he was a friend. From… before.



(AL): Excellent! Tell me about him.



(CJ): [Takes breath] The Viking… he used to give me sunflower seeds. [Pause] “You’re a fucking bird,” he’d say, holding them out. “This is bird food.” The first time he did it, I tried to knee him in the nuts. [Laugh] He just picked me up and dumped me on his shoulder, laughing as he carried me away. “A fucking pesky bird, at that. You’re a tiny little falcon hawk, always nipping at something.” He always said that. I was a falcon hawk. It became our thing. My big Viking friend bringing his pesky little falcon some seeds. [Pause] I haven’t had seeds since my parents… died.



(AL): Why did he stop?

[Silence]

Try to articulate that emotion.



(CJ): [Voice low] You know why.



(AL): You blame being admitted into Claydon?



(CJ): He didn’t know where to find me. You never let me say good-bye. You took him away from me—



(AL): Carly… I only began work on your case after you were admitted here. How could I personally be responsible? Hm?