//------------------------------// // All Speculation // Story: False Memory // by TypewriterError //------------------------------// “I felt so relieved to wake up.” I finish then look up at the clock, “Have I honestly been talking for fifteen minutes straight?” I look at Dr. Cruebel. Now that I’ve finally stopped babbling I have a chance to study him. He looks terrible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with his shirttails untucked when he’s wearing a sweater vest. The collar also lies as if he just threw clothes on to be decent. While his eyes look at me, they’re somewhere else entirely. He seems to register that I’ve stopped speaking. “Oh...uh...yes. I’m sorry, what happened then?” “That was it...are you feeling alright?” He shrugs helplessly, “What’s wrong?” “Ah. No. I ask the questions.” he corrects before a rather loud yawn. “Dr. Cruebel...are you ok?” “Well, I’m,” he sighs, “Ashlyn, I am sorry. I’ve been preoccupied with so many things lately—“ “Like what?” “While I appreciate your concern, it’s unprofessional of me to share my personal life with you. I believe you can understand.” “Right... Well, I’m sorry for taking up your time. I’ve been babbling.” “Sometimes it helps to just talk it out.” he says with a sigh, “Well, I’ll see you next time.” he says, groaning as he arches his back in a stretch. I want to stay there and try to convince him to talk. But, he’s right. It’s unprofessional and he could even lose his job if he got too personal with a patient. “I’ll see you next time then.” I say, rising from my chair. His only response is a quick nod. As I exit, a stream of music trickles in before I close the door to leave him in silence. The notes from a piano tiptoe around the hall; coming from the room I heard them in a week ago. It’s very pretty. While something about it is sad I still feel...I feel like it’s home. I lean against the corner of the wall where the hallway before me meets the hallway where I stand in a “T.” I’ll just wait until the music ends. The performance is still shaky, halted, but resolute to finish; to be completed. I hope Dr. Cruebel is all right. Sarah seemed no different this morning when I went to breakfast and got my medication from her. It’s probably coincidence that he’s so different the day after I had nightmares about him. There could be any explanation. With all the patients he has to help everyday, its no wonder he hasn’t been more moody before now. Footsteps approach me from my right I look down the hall to see Sarah walking towards me. She looks tired. She gets tired these days occasionally though. “Afternoon, Ashlyn.” she says before a yawn cuts her off, “What are you doing here?” “Sorry,” I push myself off of the wall, “I was listening to whomever is playing in there.” “Why don’t you go outside?” she says and takes my arm. “I kind of wanted to hear the end of this.” “You can’t. She’s very shy. She doesn’t like it when people listen to her.” Sarah pulls on my arm. “But she doesn’t know I’m here.” “Ashlyn, come with me. You shouldn’t stay around in these hallways.” “But...” “You are being disobedient. Do what I say and come with me.” She grips my elbow even tighter and pulls me away towards the next corridor. Soon I can’t hear the notes. She doesn’t let go of my arm until I’m back in my room. “You don’t need to grip me so hard.” I say as I rip my arm from her claw. “You are a patient here, not staff. When you disobey us you cause damage to the other patients. You need to stay here until you are ready to behave. Is. That. Clear?” Her eyes shoot shards of ice at me. “It’s clear.” “Good.” she says and leaves, closing the door behind her. I hear an extra click when she does. Did she lock me in my room? I test the doorknob. It doesn’t let me out. Why was she so adamant to get me away from the other room? I would have had plenty of time to leave as soon as the music stopped. I doubt the other patient would have bolted from the piano to the door before the last note faded. What right did she have to speak to me like that? Oh. Right. I’m crazy. I’m sick of this. I feel under my pillow for a note. Nothing. So, nothing to do for who knows how long. Soon, whether caused by the yawns I’ve seen or the bed beneath me, my eyes fall closed and I fall asleep. “Woah, Nutmeg.” I pant to the crackling air, patting his neck. I run my gloved fingers through a sandy mane. Flakes melt from my touch and string his hairs together. Clouds of breath spill from my lips and his nostrils. I seem to be enjoying this ride. I also stand off to the side and watch myself. This has to be a memory. It’s so crisp and bright to me. This is real, familiar. A dog barks in the distance outside of the woods. Both of us turn to look. It’s not unusual for dogs to bark at nothing. I look back to me and see myself lift the reigns again. “All right, let’s head home, huh?” I say to my horse before clicking my tongue. Nutmeg takes off at a controlled gallop, leaping through the snow with majesty. I’m breathless as I follow them. I know the exhilaration I’m feeling while riding. I think I’ll stay in this dream. It’s nice here; peaceful, even with the crashing and panting from horse and rider. I follow after myself with ease, enjoying the feeling of running without the snap of December air in my throat. It’s easy to run for miles without feeling tired if you’re exploring something. The darkening woods provide the perfect adventure for me to run. Yes, I know it’s December. It has to be December; I can almost taste Christmas in the atmosphere. Why can my dreams not be this all the time? My happy memories? These are memories where I wanted to be alive to enjoy every moment. The only pain I had was physical. I had no time to be worried or upset. Nutmeg and I stop short and I catch up to them. There are lights on in my house and a car is parked outside. Not this. Please, I just want the memory to stay happy. I follow myself as I lead Nutmeg forward cautiously. “Don’t go, you idiot! Don’t go!” I scream. My words snap in the air and shatter at my feet. They never reach me, to warn me. I shouldn’t have tried to be a hero. Nutmeg carefully crosses to the open garage where I dismount. I watch myself take the gun from its hiding place. I cross quickly to Nutmeg. I can’t see this happening again. I can almost narrate the entire event now that it’s so clear. I’m walking to my bedroom upstairs, peeking around every corner. The damage here is minimal. They were looking for stuff in the open, obvious things. I hear the crashing from the kitchen and check my gun. It has three shots left. There is silence. I descend the stairs. I enter the kitchen. The shot goes off, useless. One intruder has already grabbed the gun from me and discarded it. The other one is pressing on my neck and my back. My right hand slips on the diver in the sink into the bowl of berries I was thawing. It’s only my left arm that keeps my face centimeters from going into the filled section of the sink. Splashing. I can remember the water catching in my throat and nose. I cough, trying to keep my face above water but I can't breathe properly. My head is forced under again. The edge of the counter presses into my collarbone. I can almost hear the moment my mind breaks. Panic. I remember it. Nutmeg neighs violently and I back away. He can’t hurt me but he is terrifying. He rears on his back legs and stomps the ground. His braying rings in my ears. He rises to stomp again and I'm in the striking path. Before I can defend myself somehow, everything clouds over in black until I’m staring at the ceiling again. At least I had some happy memories before the nightmare played out. I pull the fabric of my blanket over me and roll onto my side, sliding my arm under my pillow. Nothing there still. I’m not scared by my dream. I just feel...cold. Also, I don’t feel like the nap did anything to make me more alert. I can’t recall a single night here where my non drug-induced dreams have not left me uneasy. Still, at least my dreams seem to be getting less terrifying. I close my eyes again and savor the sensation of my head sinking into the pillow as my hair cascades over my face, tickling it. Why would they throw the gun away? My eyes open again. They could have easily killed me. They just threw the gun away and tried to drown me, something that intruders don’t ordinarily do. Why drown me? Did they find it pleasurable? I pull my pillow close with a shiver. I just want to sleep. What if they didn’t want to kill me? What if they just wanted me unconscious? They could have taken the frying pan from my stove and struck me on the head. Why drown me? A gun could have also subdued me without killing me. They could have threatened to kill me. I would have listened. I think. My doorknob grinds and clicks before turning, letting Sarah back in. She’s been crying and tries to hide it. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are still somewhat red. “It’s dinner, come on.” she says before a sniff. “Did something happen?” “I’m ok. I shouldn’t talk about it.” I let it go. Not because I’m hungry, but I because don’t have much of a choice. Besides, I still have my own questions to be bothered about. Mel and Thalia join me. They don’t often have dinner when I do, but they join me when they can. We don’t talk beneath superficiality and gossip but I’m not offended. I’d rather not make friends again. “Have either of you heard from Charlotte?” They shake their heads. “Do you know if you’re coming back into group therapy with us?” Thalia asks. “No idea. How’s group therapy?” “Emptier. We got that one girl over there with the teddy bear now, but that’s it. Also, Dr. Morgan leads the group. Is Dr. Cruebel ok?” Thalia says as she reties her hair up in a ponytail. “Why are you asking me?” “You’re the only one he meets with now, or so I’ve heard.“ Mel says, speaking for the first time. Her blue eyes turned to me with a hint of accusation. “What Dr. Cruebel chooses to do is none of my business. He said he’s been dealing with family issues.” “With Sarah?” Thalia asks. “What?” I ask. “Sarah’s his only family that I know of. She’s his daughter.” “Makes sense.” “Makes sense? You didn’t know?” Mel asks. “I guess I never really cared to think about it. That might explain why she was crying today.” “Make sure you’re eating.” a male orderly commented, walking by. I guess they do talk, just not often. We each take a stab at our salads and chew the sub-par lettuce. “Well,” I continue, “I’m just saying, I don’t know what’s going on.” “Fine," Mel grumbled. “By the way, the first time I did group therapy with you all, what was that about Kerry? Do you think she’ll come back?” “The first time?” “I mean after my...accident.” “I don’t think she’ll come back. I don’t know why. All we knew is that she scared us.” Thalia says. Mel does not break her gaze with me. “But, what have you heard?” I ask her. Mel flexes her jaw. She knows something but wants to take her time for some reason. “Well, it’s a rumor I’ve heard,” she begins, “I mean, I don’t exactly know what your accident was. All I know is that you and her were starting to spend a lot of time together and you spent less time with Charlotte. Dr. Cruebel seemed...worried about that.” She leans a little closer towards me across the table, “I suspect that Kerry had something to do with your accident. All I know is that Dr. Cruebel wanted to keep you two separated after that. I haven’t seen her since.” she says, sitting back. “I wish you wouldn’t be so creepy all the time.” Thalia says, poking her salad and taking a halfhearted bite, “She never even tried to get better. She treated us like we weren’t even there. I didn’t really like her. I think she was dangerous.” "Why would you say that?" I ask, almost laughing as I sit back. Thalia isn't one for logic. "It was...whenever she would look at Dr. Cruebel or Sarah...she had this twitch in her face. The way she looked at them...it was somewhere between a laugh and murder." "That ridiculous. If she was dangerous, she would be in a different section and not with group therapy." "I saw her fight another patient once." Thalia says,rubbing her arm deliberately. She's defensive. Her voice shakes when she continues with difficulty, "It was like watching two wolves trying to kill each other. Dr. Cruebel sedated Kerry but the other one ran off, literally barking. I'm telling you, Kerry's dangerous. She might have killed the other patient if he han't stepped in. She wasn't scared to use her teeth." "You made that up." Mels scoffs. "I saw them outside. I didn't make it up and I didn't imagine it. Kerry stayed outside and the other woman ran in. Sarah went running after her." I can't say anything after that. I'm sick to my stomach. source of image