"Now, now, don't be afraid," Doctor Scanlon said. "We're here to help you, Laura. We won't let anything bad happen to you. You know, you have a grandmother, too, and she would be even more upset than your parents if we did anything to harm you," he added with a cold smile.
"My grandmother?"
Flashes of an older woman standing outside a car, looking in at me, shaking her head with disgust, returned. She had sent me here and I couldn't recall any expression of love in her angry face. What had I done to displease my whole family?
"NO!" I cried. "Stay away from me. Leave me alone." I held my hands out.
Arnie came around behind me and swiftly brought my arms down to my sides. I had little strength to fight him and soon he held me tightly in his grasp. Doctor Scanlon rushed around the desk and Mrs. Kleckner pulled up the sleeve on my blouse. I struggled and squirmed, but Arnie was too strong. Doctor Scanlon poked me with a syringe.
"You're going to be fine. Everything will be all right," he murmured. "Take it easy. Relax. That's it."
"My head," I moaned, "feels so heavy. It's felt so heavy all morning."
"That's right. Close your eyes. Get a wheelchair," he ordered.
Moments later, I felt myself being lowered into a wheelchair and then a strap was pulled tightly around my waist. Arnie's strong hand kept my shoulders back when I tried to sit forward.
"Just take it easy," Mrs. Kleckner said.
"Put her in three-oh-seven," Doctor Scanlon said.
As they began to wheel me away, I had barely enough strength to utter one last request.
"I want . . . Doctor Southerby. He can help me. I want to see him."
"I want, I want, I want," Mrs. Kleckner chanted behind me. "That's all you patients ever say."
Arnie laughed. I heard an elevator door open and opened my eyes as they wheeled me in. The door closed. Mrs. Kleckner smiled down at me.
"I knew this one belonged upstairs," she said.
And then, all went black.
15
I Remember You
.
When I opened my eyes again, I thought I was
still asleep, still dreaming. I felt like I was floating, hovering just above my bed, looking down at the empty shell of my body. My surroundings were white and sterile, more like an examination room. The walls were bare and the small windows had their dark gray curtains drawn closed so tightly they looked sewn together. The door of the room was slightly ajar and through the crack between it and the jamb came the only light, a dull, yellowish glow.
My bed smelled strongly of starch. The sheet was stiff and tucked tightly around me. Because my pillow was so soft, my head was barely raised. When I turned to look around the room, I saw there was a table with a long top drawer and a counter of some imitation wood beside the bed. On it was an ivorywhite bedp
an and a metal bowl with a washcloth draped over the edge.
When I tried to sit up, I was shocked to discover I was strapped down, thick belts of leather across the top of my body, just under my breasts, my arms tucked against my sides, and another belt across my legs. I could barely move.
It put a hot ball of panic in my stomach that rolled from side to side.
"Help me!" I cried. "Someone, please."
I waited, but heard nothing, no footsteps, no voices, nothing. I cried out again, waited, and cried out once more. The silence was maddening. Wasn't there anyone else here? My struggle against the straps was futile, even painful. I sighed deeply and gave up, closing my eyes and whimpering softly.
I must have fallen asleep again, because when I opened my eyes, I heard water running in the sink. There was someone in my bathroom.
"Who's there?" I called.