As Dead As It Gets

“Alexis,” I said.

“So…do me a favor,” she said. “Just don’t try to stab me in the middle of the night, or anything, okay?”

I didn’t know how to react to that. Was it a joke? Had her previous roommate tried to stab her?

“You know…” she prompted, “if the voices say, ‘Stab your roomie,’ at least give me a head start. Maybe we should switch beds so I can be closer to the door.”

“Voices?” I said. “What voices?”

Now she looked alarmed.

Then I remembered what our cover story had been when Kasey was locked up: that she had schizophrenia and heard voices in her head telling her what to do. That was probably what the kids here were being told about me.

Don’t worry, I thought about saying. I’m not schizophrenic. I’m just being stalked by the ghost of my boyfriend’s dead girlfriend. Yeah—that would make me sound sane.

“I mean…I don’t hear any right now,” I said. “I’m on a good run.”

A few minutes later, as Haley and I were getting ready for bed, Nurse Jean came back with a tiny paper cup. “This just got called in for you,” she said, handing it to me.

I caught Haley trying to get a glimpse at the contents of the cup.

I gazed down at four pills—a blue one, a pink one, a black-and-white one, and a tiny white one. Quite a mix. “What are they?”

“I don’t have that information,” Nurse Jean said, shaking her head. “But I’m sure your doctor discussed it, didn’t he? And you can always ask him about it tomorrow.”

“I don’t have a doctor,” I said. I had a government agent who was trying to lock me away like a problematic mouse in a trap.

Jean gave me a quick smile, and I realized she thought I was just being crazy. Of course everyone here had a doctor. That’s how you got here—if you were a regular person, that is.

“But what if I don’t want to take any pills?” I asked.

She sighed. “First, we have a little talk about what our shared goal is here at Harmony Valley. Which is healing, naturally.”

Or shutting people up. “And then?”

“Then I inform you that, as an involuntary patient, you are technically required to take any medication prescribed to you by your doctor.”

It made my skin crawl to think that Agent Hasan had decided that I had to take these pills—and I didn’t even get to know what they were.

“And then?”

“And then we strap you down and deliver the medication by injection.” She said this last bit with the same unbending cheerfulness as the rest.

I swallowed the pills.

Haley seemed relieved.

I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. By the time I got back to the room, my thoughts were turning fuzzy, and I was practically swaying on my feet. Nurse Jean saw me and came to help me into bed.

“What was in those pills?” I asked. “What are they for?”

“I imagine your doctor will discuss those details with you,” Jean said, checking the chart on the door. “Most likely just a little help getting to sleep.”

I nodded. They were working, all right. My mind was loose and slow. “Feels like being drunk.”

“I don’t know about that.” Jean smirked as she helped me lie down. “I guess it depends on what you’ve been drinking.”

“Wine?”

“Maybe if you take your wine with a shot of tranquilizers.” She pulled the covers over me and tucked them under my chin.

The next few days were uneventful—or maybe they only seemed that way because the drug-induced lethargy never seemed to leave my system. I spent a lot of time feeling unmotivated and loopy. Apparently, whatever it took to be accepted by Haley and her friends, I wasn’t doing. So I ate, lounged, and watched TV alone. But it didn’t bother me.

It also didn’t bother me that I could never quite get my mind to focus on Laina. Every time I tried to think about it, I got distracted. Usually by a TV show, which turned into a string of TV shows, which led to mealtime and bedtime and the usual succession of distrustful looks from Haley and then my cup of pills.

Still no sign of Agent Hasan.

My parents came for a visit, but it didn’t stand out in my memory. Pretty much a lot of sad-dog faces and apologies, even though they hadn’t done anything wrong. They brought me presents—a couple of books, raspberry-scented lotion, comfortable T-shirts, and yoga pants. Kasey sent her love, they said—looking disappointed in my sister’s apparent callousness at not showing up in person. But I was glad she’d stayed away.

No therapy for me, group or otherwise. And while I was too drugged to be acutely worried, it did occur to me that if this went on much longer, I might really go crazy.

But at least Laina seemed to be appeased. A week into my stay, there had been no new missing girls, and I hadn’t had any purple dress dreams. Maybe my being locked away was just as good as my being dead.

On the seventh or eighth day, I was sitting on the couch, dividing my attention (poorly) between a talk show and a game of checkers that was progressing a couple of feet away from me, when the nurse called my name. “Alexis?”

I looked around, my eyes finally settling on her.

“Visitor,” she said.

My parents again? Maybe Kasey? I shot to my feet, glad to have a distraction from the endless lack of distractions.

But it wasn’t my family. It was Jared.

In spite of my loneliness and boredom, I stopped at the threshold of the visitors’ lounge and considered turning back. All I could think when I looked at him was that wherever he was, Laina would be too. And she would be waiting and watching for a chance to get rid of me—or somebody else.

But his smile was so warm, his eyes so sweetly anxious—and I was so close to falling into a pit of loneliness—that I found myself disarmed. I walked toward the love seat where he was waiting. He stood up and moved to hug me.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said. “No physical contact.”

“Of course,” Jared said, like he was an old pro at this. “Sorry.”

I was already sitting. I didn’t really like to be on my feet too long. My meds made me dizzy.

Jared turned to me, his face etched with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Who told you I was here?”

“Your sister.”

Right. Except…there was something wrong with that, wasn’t there?

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said.

“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s fine here. Totally…fine.”

I was a little light-headed and a lot confused. I had a pretty distinct memory of Jared booting me from his house when he thought I was defaming Laina’s memory, and yet here he was, acting as if we were right back to normal. And what exactly was “normal” for us, anyway?

Did he know about Elliot? Yes, of course he did. Why didn’t he ask about her? Or tell me how sorry he was?

Why didn’t he ask why I came to Harmony Valley?

Ask me why I’m here, said the back-of-my-head voice.

Or maybe…was I remembering wrong? Had there been a text, a phone call?

No—there hadn’t been anything like that. He’d been furious that night.

So why wasn’t he mad anymore? And—Wait, what was the other question?

My cupful of pills was doing more than just putting me to sleep at night. It was stirring my thoughts like cake mix.

Jared reached out and took my hand. I stiffened, waiting for the nurse to say something, but she didn’t notice.

“When you get out,” he said, “things are going to be different. I know I’m over the top sometimes, but it’s really important to me to try to work things out.”

I stared at him, thinking, Why? I knew how crazy it must have sounded when I’d gone to him to talk about Laina. And I could only imagine how much it had hurt him to hear me accuse her—her ghost—of being a murderer. If the shoes had been turned—I mean, if the tables had been turned—stupid pills—I would have been just as angry.

So why wasn’t he angry anymore?