She laughed. “It’s not like that—he’s older.”
“How old? Ancient? Decrepit? Not young and handsome like me, right?”
“Nobody’s handsome like you.”
“Or young.”
The phone rang impatiently.
James rolled his eyes and tumbled out of bed. “Sorry. You can only ignore my mother for so long before the talons come out. I’ll keep it brief, and we’ll talk over dinner, okay? I really want to hear about this ancient, creepy, ugly old guy you met.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Say hello for me.”
He gracefully stepped into his jeans and went charging into the living room. Kate heard him pick up the phone and say, “Hey, Mom.”
She wasn’t sure how much to tell him about her conversation with Detective Palmer Dyson. It felt as if she’d opened Pandora’s box, and all the monsters of the world had come flying out, never to be put back again. She needed time to compose her thoughts. She would tell him tomorrow. Tonight, she would stay like this, safe and snug beneath her guilt.
25
MADDIE’S CONDITION HAD WORSENED over the weekend. Kate drove to the hospital early on Monday morning, knowing that a sudden downturn could precipitate a complete mental breakdown. She hurried through security and waited with growing impatience by the elevators.
Upstairs on the second floor, Yvette filled her in on Maddie’s status as they approached Room 212. “She won’t get out of bed. She refuses to join us for breakfast. Not even Tamara could persuade her.”
Kate knocked on Maddie’s door.
“Come in.”
Sunlight weak as lemongrass tea filtered in through the windows. Lost in a tumult of blankets and pillows was Madeline Autumn Ward, age fourteen, possible differential diagnosis of schizoid personality disorder. She looked like a small blond smudge.
Kate dismissed the nurse’s aide who had been watching the girl, and who seemed relieved to get a break, then studied Maddie’s chart and said, “How are you feeling this morning?”
“My neck hurts.”
“Where?”
She pointed.
Kate examined the girl’s slender neck. “Would another pillow help?”
“Yes, but they won’t give me one.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do,” Kate promised.
Maddie sat up in bed. Her eyes were bloodshot. There were fresh-looking scratches on her arms—not a good sign. She gathered several plush toys around her, gifts from Tamara and Yvette, who often spent their own hard-earned cash in the hospital gift shop. Forbidden acts of compassion.
“I don’t like her,” Maddie said.
“Who? The nurse’s aide? Susie?”
“She’s been spying on me.”
“It’s called one-on-one. She’s keeping an eye on you for your own safety.”
“They’re all spying on me.”
“It’s hospital policy.”
“Why? Because I’m evil?”
“No, Maddie. Nobody thinks you’re evil.”
She began to cry softly. “Maybe I am.”
“Whoever said you were evil?”
Maddie peered at Kate between her wet blond eyelashes.
“Does your stepfather tell you that?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think you’re evil?”
“I have bad thoughts sometimes.”
“Like what?”
“Like I want to hurt myself.”
“Okay. But why does that make you evil?”
Maddie blinked. “I don’t have a sister. What’s it like to have a sister?”
Confusion fell over Kate like a cloud. “It was nice,” she answered truthfully. “I loved her very much.”
“But she died.”
“Yes.”
“How come?”
A shiver passed through Kate, soft as a purr. “I can’t talk about that now, Maddie. It’s too sad for me.”
“Why do people have to die?”
“I don’t know. But it’s a harsh fact of life.”
“I don’t want Mommy to die,” the girl said softly.
“You love her very much, don’t you?”
Maddie nodded. “Your mother drowned in the river, didn’t she?”
Kate’s stomach knotted up as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Who told you that?” When the girl didn’t respond, she realized there was no sense in hiding the truth from her, so she took a deep breath and said, “My mother passed away when I was ten. Then my sister died six years later.”
Tears sprang to Maddie’s eyes. “That’s sad.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Is it painful to drown?”
“I don’t know. I’ve read different things about it.”
“I heard that it really hurts at first… but then it feels natural, because there was water in the womb.” Maddie hugged one of the furry toys to her chest, as if she were trying to merge with its softness. “I’m going to die soon,” she whispered.
Kate drew back. “Why do you say that?”
“That was dumb,” Maddie muttered.
“What was?”
“I shouldn’t have said that about your mother.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind answering your questions.”
“Oh God,” she choked. “How stupid of me.”
“You’re just curious. Everybody’s curious.” As tears rolled down Maddie’s cheeks, Kate handed her a box of tissues.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Maddie blurted. “Stupid. Die. I’m going to die.”
“What makes you think you’re going to die?”
“Die. Die. What a stupid thing to say. What does it even mean? Die. Die. If you say a word over and over again, it loses all meaning, right? Die. I’m so stupid.”
“You aren’t stupid,” Kate said soothingly. “Far from it.”
“I am!” Maddie shrieked. “I’m stupid!”
Kate hesitated to make the comparison, then forged ahead. “Your mother calls herself stupid. Is that why you call yourself stupid? Does the voice inside your head sound like your mother? Is it your mother’s voice? Or your stepfather’s?”
The girl looked stricken. A person in the midst of a psychotic break had a tendency to view everything through a distorted lens. Reality lost all meaning and became perverted. They grew afraid. They felt disembodied. Maddie was on the verge of losing her grip on reality.
“Sometimes, we punish ourselves,” Kate said quickly, reaching out to stroke the girl’s hand in a deliberate grounding motion. “We punish ourselves by internalizing other people’s anger. For instance, if your stepfather calls you stupid, you might start to believe him. You might start calling yourself stupid.”
Maddie tilted her head as if she were listening, but something had changed behind her eyes. “My head hurts,” she complained. “I’m scared.”
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Suddenly the girl dug her nails into her scalp, drawing blood.
“No!” Kate tried to grab her hands, but Maddie struggled violently in her arms, screaming and flailing, kicking the blankets and plushies off the bed. Needing more leverage, Kate stood up and dropped the clipboard on the floor, and Maddie kicked her in the stomach. It happened so fast Kate didn’t see it coming. She bent double. As she straightened, Maddie struck her across the face, arm whipping out like a snake. Kate stood frozen for a moment, stunned, then hit the call button for the nurses’ station.
Seconds later, Tamara came running with a needle in her hand. Protocol was to offer the child a choice—needle or pill. But Maddie refused. She was too far gone.
Kate made the decision for her, and Tamara injected a sedative into Maddie’s backside as the girl struggled. Years of experience and training had taught Kate that it would’ve been far worse—even ridiculous—to let Maddie’s hysteria play itself out.
After Tamara had inspected Maddie’s scalp and applied antibacterial ointment, she left them alone. Kate sat next to the bed, waiting for the medication to take effect. After a few minutes, Maddie’s pupils became dilated and her heart rate eased. Kate’s heart was still pounding.
“Sorry,” the girl whispered from her nest of blankets.
“Don’t worry about it. Comes with the territory.”
“My head hurts,” Maddie whispered.
“Do you have a headache?”
“No. It hurts from thinking too much.”
“That’s okay.” Kate put away her stethoscope. “It’s going to hurt.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re starting to feel. And feelings can hurt.”
“Can’t you make them stop?”
“Hurting? No. I don’t want to make your feelings go away.”