He shakes his head and places his hands on my shoulders, gently pushing me back down. “Mallory’s dead.”
“We have to search the river again. She’s there.”
His brow furrows, pain in his eyes. “No. She’s not. It’s been a year.”
He doesn’t understand, and how am I supposed to explain the last three days to him without him thinking I’m talking nonsense? I’ve already dealt with people not believing me in the past, and I can’t handle him telling me it’sall in my head. I know it’s true. Mallory jumped off the bridge and she’s out there somewhere.
I try to sit up again. “I want to talk to Myles.”
“You can’t.” Confusion deepens on Dad’s face as he looks at me.
“I need to,” I say.
Myles is the only person who understands. He’ll know what to do. He has to.
Dad shakes his head, stepping back. His hand runs down his face, and I know what’s going through his head—I’m not thinking straight; I’m having another episode.
But it isn’t true.
I reach for my IV like ripping it out of my hand will allow me to run away and find Myles.
“Emma, stop!” Dad yells, trying to keep me still, but at this point it’s useless.
My arms are flailing and I yank the IV out. Blood drips across the white sheets. “I need to get out of here! I have to find Mallory!”
“Mallory is dead!” he yells back.
“No! She’s not!” She’s somewhere. I know she is, and I just need to find her. I can’t accept she’s really gone when I just saw her. It seems like moments ago she was in my reach, jumping off the bridge.
I push harder, kicking, and drops of blood scatter across the sheet like polka dots.
A nurse runs into the room and helps Dad hold me down. Then more nurses rush in, and it all blurs together. I’m screaming, Dad is crying, and the nurses are trying to reason with me.
At some point they hold my arm down long enough to give me a shot. My body slowly begins to feel too heavy tomove, and it’s like my mind detaches from everything around me. I want to kick and scream, but I can’t. I feel numb and tired. My mouth closes and I lie back down because I can’t fight the nurse anymore.
One nurse runs off and comes back with a new bedsheet. Another nurse lifts my hand, cleaning the area and reinserting a new IV, but it doesn’t feel like me. It's as if I’m watching an episode on TV, not lying here myself.
Dad sits back in his chair, head hanging low.
I need to find out what happened to Mallory, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. Every time I blink it’s harder to open my eyes again, and then I can’t open them at all.
I lie on my hospital bed, staring out the window. My body is curled up in the sheets, away from everyone. No one’s said it to my face, but I can tell by the look in their eyes they think I’m unstable.
They brought in Dr. Lennon, the same doctor who took my psychiatric evaluation after I saw—or thought I saw—Mallory die. As soon as I saw his face, I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone the truth. It would be pointless. The only way out of here is to pretend the last three days never happened.
“I ran away because I was upset about Mallory,” I’d said. I said it because it’s what they wanted to hear. It's simple, an easier explanation than me telling them I went back in time. Who’d believe me? If I told them that, I’d have to stay here longer.
A woman comes into the room. She’s wearing gray slacks with a navy blue shirt under a dark blazer. She walks up toDad and holds out her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Adler.”
Dad shakes her hand and greets her.
“Do you mind if I have a minute alone with your daughter?”
He looks between the two of us but doesn’t argue. He’s barely said anything over the last day, so when he doesn’t reply I’m not shocked. He nods and leaves the room.
The woman pulls a chair closer to my bed and sits cross-legged. “Hello, Emma. I’m Detective Amato. I was the lead detective in your missing persons case.” She says it with too much enthusiasm like she wants a prize for finding me alive.
If she wants a prize, she should find my missing sister.
