"I appreciate that."
"Take another look," Shelley said. "You've read the file, you're better prepared. Now's your chance to get through to her. Write down everything you see, everything you feel is important. We'll meet in my office on Monday."
--8--
The next few days passed uneventfully. But when Jess Chambers reached the hospital for what would be her fourth session with Sarah, she was informed by the admitting secretary that Dr. Wasserman had gone to attend a psychiatric conference in New York. He had left instructions for her.
I am allowing you to continue with your sessions while I am gone on one condition: that you hold them only in Sarah's room and only after she has received her medication. She remains in restraints for the time being at my request. If you are alone with her, be alert and do not allow her to touch you.
The staff has my instructions and will follow them to the letter. I do not want Sarah moved while I am gone for any reason. Maria is perfectly capable of handling any request. She is aware of the situation and will decide what is reasonable.
Please record in your notes everything that occurs. If you have any questions I may be reached through my secretary.
Jess did not know whether to feel angry or relieved that Wasserman was gone. He had hovered over her for much of the week, and pushed her a bit after her last visit, asking her in detail about her observations and theories. She hadn't had much to say; each of the hour-long sessions since the first had been spent in silence. Sarah had not moved or made a sound, and after long periods of note-taking, sketching, and the occasional unanswered question or thought, Jess had left to go home again, her frustration levels growing.
She knew it would take time for Sarah to get used to her presence. And there was always the chance she'd never respond to anyone or anything again. But still, it was a depressing experience. She had begun to wonder if Sarah mouthing those words during that first visit had been her imagination playing tricks on her. Muscle spasms could sometimes look like attempts at speech.
Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I just saw what I wanted to see.
She made her way down to the basement, feeling the chill of the place settle into her bones. Do not allow her to touch you. A strange warning indeed. She wondered whether it was simply Wasserman's way of lending a greater importance to the proceedings. His instructions made her feel like a child left home alone for the first time, and of course that was exactly the way he wanted it. Goddamn it if I'm going to play his games.
Maria was out from behind the desk before the elevator doors fully opened. Her voice was tense and her face and neck rigid, and sweat stood out on her forehead.
"She is not still," the big woman said. "The way she looks, it is not right."
"Has she had her medication, Maria?"
Maria shook her head. "Soon. I do not like to go there. I let you in the hall, no further." The woman nodded again. "You go see what I tell you."
***
This time at Sarah's door was subtly different than the last. The hallway seemed darker than before. A bulb was out and the lights farther down the hall cast strange shadows. Jess stopped for a moment before swinging the door open.
Sarah was crouched against the far wall, rocking slowly back and forth, her long black hair sweeping across her face. She still wore the straitjacket. At the sound of the door closing she jumped, and then continued rocking from the heels to the balls of her feet.
Any change is a good sign, Jess told herself. Something is better than nothing. She examined her own state of mind, reaching deep down inside where cold things grew. On the way here she had been jumpy for some reason, nervous enough that she checked for sweat stains under her arms. But now that she was in the room with Sarah she felt her anxiousness subside. Wasserman's instructions had made her angry, and the anger helped her focus.
Establish trust, Jess told herself. The first goal. "I'm going to release your arms now, Sarah. Do you hear me? I'm going to release you." She reached over, slowly, slowly, undid the buckles. Slipped the girl's arms from the jacket and let it fall, and stepped back. Through it all Sarah remained limp, pliable as soft clay. The rocking had ceased abruptly as soon as Jess touched her.
Later she would admit to herself that releasing the girl had satisfied the small, petty part of her she had allowed Wasserman to reach. Now she only thought of it as an attempt at a connection.
The signs of schizophrenia. Disorganized thinking, unstructured thoughts. Bizarre and illogical behavior. What else had Professor Thomas said? Study the facts and make your own determination.
Crouching by the girl's side, she spoke once again of her reasons for coming, trying to be as honest and straightforward as possible. She told Sarah that they could be seeing each other a lot in the future, and that they could be friends if she wanted that. She reassured the girl that all she wanted to do was help.
Then she spoke of anything that came into her head: her classes, her cat Otto's unexpected arrival on her doorstep last fall, her family. Jess concentrated on keeping the words coming, keeping her voice calm and even, letting the sound soothe the girl who was rocking once again back and forth at her feet.
Eventually her thoughts began to go off onto new tangents, so that it was several moments before she realized something else had changed. She heard a single sound, slow, muttered, unintelligible. The rocking had slowed; Jess kept her voice close to the same pitch while she shifted gears.
"I know you've been treated badly by some people in the past. It's just you and me now."
Sarah did not look up, but her hair had fallen away from her face, and she had stopped moving. Silence lasted for what seemed like hours. Then, in a remarkably clear, quiet voice, she said, "They're looking at me. Staring at me. All the time."
Bingo. A thrill ran up Jess's limbs. "Who, Sarah? Are they with us right now?"
Sarah did not move or indicate that she had heard. Jess got the sudden idea the girl had been talking to herself. Still, she glanced around, more to satisfy Sarah than anything else. All she saw were the ash-gray walls and ceiling, and the padded metal door.
She took this opportunity to examine the girl's face more closely. A plain face, pale and broad, but her eyes were large and set widely apart above a long nose. She was the sort of girl who might have been pleasant-looking, under certain circumstances; but here under the blue-white lights she looked like a dog that had been kicked too many times.
Of course she was drugged. And judging from the way the skin stretched across her skull and limbs, Sarah had not been eating well.
Jess tried again: "Who's watching you, Sarah?"
Sarah looked up from beneath a black slash of hair. Jess was pinned by the sparks of light dancing in her eyes. Those eyes did not belong to that face. She felt like a burglar caught in a searchlight, exposed, naked, open to ridicule.
Don't be silly. She's just a child.
"I could kill you. Stop your heart if I wanted. If you're lying." Suddenly Sarah dropped her gaze from Jess's face and turned, muttering, "No. No. No. She isn't one of them. Not that one. No." Her voice had quickly become rhythmic, almost a muttered incantation. A method of coping with something that cannot be faced. A defensive tactic meant to soothe the mind. Meaning to distract her, Jess moved quickly to her briefcase for her notepad, but as she moved she felt the girl's eyes seize her again, and for a single, groping moment a hand tightened inside her chest.
And then it was gone. She froze with her fingers on the notepad inside the case, her heart fluttering.