Revelations (7 page)

Anthony continued into the living room. Nothing in there except some little dents in the carpet where the furniture
used to be and a cleaner square on the wall where a picture used to hang. Suddenly Anthony felt like running over
and slamming his fist into that pale square. But he didn’t. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead. Why?

Because it had finally sunk into the pile of meat that was his head that slamming your fists into stuff when you were
pissed only made you more pissed. At first the pain made you forget everything else, but before too long, you were
totally pissed off at whatever you were pissedoff about and also pissed off at yourself. “Ms. Abramson would be so
proud,” he muttered. “That’s a very good realization, Anthony,” he added in a high voice that actually didn’t sound
that much like Abramson.

Guess I can take impressionists off my list of pos sible career choices,
he thought. That and private detective, he
decided as he headed into the cleaned-out bathroom. Although maybe not even the best PI would be able to find
any way to track down Aiden in a place this empty. There wasn’t a sliver of soap in the shower. There wasn’t even
an empty toilet paper roll left on the back of the john.

Still the bedroom and the kitchen to go,
he reminded himself. Although it almost seemed pointless to bother
checking them out. Aiden had obviously been ultracareful about not leaving the tiniest clue behind. If it
had
been
Aiden who did the cleanup job. It didn’t seem like he’d have left the door unlocked after going to all this trouble. Had
someone yanked him out of here, then hauled everything out? Had someone else come in to search the place
before Anthony came in the first time and left the door unlocked? Was it the other searcher-if there was one-who’d
taken the last piece of toilet paper?

Whoever it was had done a hell of a job. Theonly thing in the bedroom was a spiderweb in one corner of the
ceiling. The kitchen was just as useless. Not even a drop of water in the sink or a cracker crumb on the counter.
I’m

surprised they didn’t pull the phone off the wall,
Anthony thought as he headed back toward the front door.

An idea speared into his head just as he was turning the doorknob. Anthony spun around and hauled butt back
into the kitchen.
Let this work. This has gotta work,
he thought. He grabbed the phone and pressed redial. He
smiled as he heard the little beeps that told him the phone was dialing. His smile became a grin when he heard the
way the person on the other end of the phone answered.

I may just have you, Aiden,
he thought.
You didn’t leave me much, but whether you know it or not, you did leave

me something.

Rae stared at the hospital. It looked like such a nice place, the paint a light, warm yellow instead of sterile white, the
front lawn a wide stretch of grass so green and perfect, it wouldn’t be out of place on a ritzy golf course. But this
was the place Rae had spent the worst months of her life. Just looking at it dried up all the saliva in her mouth and
increased the pace of her heartbeat.

“Uh, we’re here,” Yana said. And Rae realizedthat Yana had already gotten out of the car.
Not even back inside and

I’m already acting like Queen of the Walnut Farm,
Rae thought, a hot, painful blush spreading up her neck. She
scrambled out of the Bug so fast that she slammed her elbow on the side of the door, causing tears to spring to her
eyes. Rae blinked them away fast as she slammed the car door, then she shot a look at Yana. Had Yana seen Rae’s
eyes get all weepy? Did she think it was because-

Yana has her own problems,
Rae reminded herself.
And those problems
-they
are why you’re here. This visit has

nothing to do with you, so get a grip.

“I hear you can score some really good drugs here,” Rae joked as they headed up the quaint cobblestone path-probably carefully chosen to make patients’ families think of a charming hotel instead of a very expensive mental
hospital.

“Really? Maybe I should be trying to get in instead of stay out,” Yana joked back. But she sounded as freaked as
Rae felt. Well, why wouldn’t she? Yana knew exactly what it was like to be a patient here. Or almost exactly. She’d
never actually been a patient, but she’d done community service here, community service assigned by the court
after some underage-drinking debacle. So she knew aboutthe restraints, the ice baths, the bathrooms without
doors. She knew enough to be terrified.

Which was why even though both of them had made jokey little comments, neither of them was laughing as they
stepped inside the hospital. Rae got her first nose-hair-burning whiff of the pine-scented industrial-strength cleaner
that filled the air.

There is absolutely nothing humorous about this place,
she thought.
It’s a hellhole. Yeah, the doctors and the

nurses and everybody are okay. But it’s still a hellhole.
Which was why, no matter what Yana had done, Rae had to
keep her from ending up here.

“I guess we should go straight to Dr. Hachin’s office if we can,” Yana said. She picked up her pace and led the way
toward the elevators without stopping at the reception desk.

“Excuse me,” the guy at the desk called out. “I need you two to sign in.”

“I don’t know him. Do you?” Yana whispered as they turned around.

Rae shook her head. “Sorry,” she told the guy when it didn’t seem like Yana was going to say anything. “My friend
used to volunteer here. She’s used to going straight in.”
Maybe that tidbit will make it a little easier for us to move

around without supervision,
Rae thought.

“Really? I’m a volunteer myself,” the guy answered.

Rae lowered her voice. “Community service?” she asked as Yana signed them in.

The guy frowned, a prissy little frown. “No, grad school assignment.”

Nice work, Rae,
she thought.

“Who are you here to see?” the guy asked.

“Samantha Todd. One of the nurses,” Yana said quickly. Quickly enough that Rae didn’t have the chance to
possibly squeeze her foot into her mouth again.

“I’ll buzz her,” the guy said, punching an extension into the phone. “Yana Savari is here,” he said, getting Yana’s
name off the sign-in sheet. “For Samantha.” He listened for a moment, then hung up. “She’ll be down in a few when
she gets a moment,” the guy said. “She wasn’t expecting you.”

“Do you think he was expecting the bug that has clearly crawled up his behind?” Yana asked as they walked over
to the big padded chairs along the wall across from the desk.

“I think he sent it an invitation,” Rae answered. Yana gave a snort of laughter as they settled into chairs. Which
made Rae giggle. Which made them both completely crack up.
God, that felt good,
Rae thought when she managed
to get control of herself. Even here, in the fringes of hell, laughing like that felt good. No one could make Rae laugh
the way Yana could.

Which made what Yana’d done so much worse.

How could you laugh with someone? Shop with them? Trade secrets? And then stab them in the back and pour
lemon juice and salt into the gaping wound? Because what else would you call Yana showing up with Anthony as
her boyfriend at Rae’s
sixteenth-birthday dinner?

“You’re thinking about Anthony-about me and Anthony, aren’t you?” Yana asked, casting a glance at Rae’s
expression.

Rae had never been able to hide what she was thinking from anyone. Kind of ironic, considering.

She could lie. But what was the point? “Yeah, I was,” she admitted. “I think about it a lot.”

Yana scooted closer to Rae. “I know I’m never going to be able to make it up to you, but-”

“Yana! And Rae, too! This is great.” Samantha Todd rushed over to Rae and Yana. “I didn’t know you guys kept in
touch.” She gave Yana a quick hug, then moved on to Rae. Rae liked Samantha and everything, but all she could
think about was Samantha’s hands handing her medication. The taste of the medication suddenly filled her mouth.

Sweet, but then bitter. The sugar coating never lasted long enough for the pill to get all the way down. And the
noxious aftertaste lasted the whole day.

“You look great,” Samantha told Rae when she released her.

“So do you,” Rae answered automatically. Maybe that wasn’t the right response. Maybe it was supposed to be a
given that Samantha would look great. Samantha wasn’t the returning nutcase, after all.

Stop it, okay?
Rae told herself.
You don’t need to be analyzing everything you say. No one else is. There’s no chart

Samantha is going to be filling out later. Nothing you do today is going to get thrown in your face by some doctor.

Rae should never have been released . She should still be on meds. I can see it in her eyes.

Where… where did those thoughts come from?
They sounded like something Samantha could be thinking. But
Rae wasn’t touching one of Samantha’s fingerprints. Rae glanced down at her fingers. She wasn’t touching
anything.

Just forget it,
Rae told herself. It was one of those mind burps, the kind that happened when you were really tense.

She had to relax. Rae locked her hands behind her back tight enough that her nails dug into her skin. She could feel
little half-moons of pain on the backs of her hands, and the pain pulled her out of her panic attack. At least enough
so that she could smile at Samantha and give a decent impression of a sane person.

Yana was talking.
Okay, so listen to her. That’swhat a normal person would be doing right now,
Rae coached
herself.

“… we’d go upstairs and visit,” Yana concluded.

Rae shouldn’t be visiting. She should be checking in. I should go call her father and tell him that.

Oh my God. Oh my God.
Rae’s breath caught in her chest, and it took all her concentration to remember how to
exhale. But she did it, then pulled in another breath.
In, out, in, out. You can do this,
she thought as she followed
Samantha and Yana over to the elevators. One or both of them had said something more, something after Yana had
mentioned the go-upstairs-and-visit thing. But Rae had no idea what.
Got to stay focused,
she ordered herself
. Got

to be able to respond like a human.
So why was she losing it? Why did she feel like she was about to break down?

There was a ding, and the closest elevator opened. “So, anything new, Rae? How’s your dad? Still teaching at the
U?” Samantha asked as she ushered Yana and Rae into the elevator.

I should call him . He needs to know that there is still something wrong with her . Bad wrong.

Answer her!
Rae screamed at herself.
She’s already thinking there’s something up. Answer her!
But what was the
word she was looking for? It was at the tip of her tongue. It was itching in her brain.

But she couldn’t quite get it.
I have to answer,
she thought, a trickle of sweat slithering down her spine.

“Yes!” she blurted. That’s the word she’d been looking for. Such a teeny, tiny, ridiculous little word. “Yes,” she
repeated. “He’s still teaching his medieval literature.”
There. There. I got out a hard word. Medieval. That should

make it okay. That should show that I’m okay.

The elevator came to a stop with another ding, and Rae stepped out, out onto her old ward.

Maybe an ice bath would help Rae. Or a sedative. She’s teetering. I need to get her admitted ASAP.

“No!” Rae exclaimed, the sweat gluing her silk shirt to her back now. Yana and Samantha both turned and looked
at her.
Now I’m answering the voice in my head,
Rae thought frantically. That was the worst possible, most stupid-

Damage control,
she told herself.
Go to damage control.
“And, um, no, nothing’s really new,” Rae said, forcing a
smile that probably came off like one of the Joker’s classic grins. The Joker. Crazy. Insane.

“Well, I guess it hasn’t really been that long,” Samantha said. “Although I imagine it would feel like forever ago to
you.”

“Sam, we need you in room seventeen for aminute,” another nurse-the one who had examined the contents of
Rae’s luggage on her very first day-called.

Does she think I’m still crazy, too?
Rae wondered.
Can she see it in me?
It didn’t look like she did. She followed
Samantha down the hall without a backward glance.

“Be right back, you two,” Samantha said over her shoulder.

I’ll get Rae checked in when I get back. I won’t let her leave.

I should just run,
Rae thought.
Maybe I could make it before
-

She pressed her fingers against her throbbing forehead.
You’re not picking up thoughts,
she reminded herself.