Soft lighting coming from a desk lamp illuminated a wall full of books to the right. There was a sofa against the wall opposite the desk, but they tossed me into a chair to the right and tied my ankles, wrists, and elbows to the chair’s legs and arms.What the fuck?I turned my head as much as possible to view the books on the wall. Psychology.Oh, my God. What have I done?“Is this a psychiatric ward?”
“Dr. Laurent will be with you as soon as possible.”
Scanning the room, I found no clock to tell me how long I’d spent alone, trying to break free of the leather belts tied around my arms and legs. What if I needed to go to the bathroom? Thiswas insane. I was so thirsty and hungry, my stomach was eating itself.
I stared at the brown carpet.Dad and Mom put me in a nuthouse? What did I do that was so bad?Oh my God. What did I do? What did I do?
Daddyyyyy!
I kept trying to lift myself from the chair, to gain even a sliver of space I could use to free myself. It was a good distraction, anyway. By the time I stopped, my body hurt and the restraints were tighter, not looser.
After what felt like an eternity of holding my pee so hard my belly hurt, the door opened, and I gasped.
“Miss Michaelson?—”
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I blurted.
“Oh, I’m sorry. How long have you been here?” he asked, hurrying to untie me.
“Please hurry…” I stood as he unbuckled the last clasp, making it almost impossible to hold it any longer, then ran to a door behind the chair to where I guessed was the bathroom. After peeing, I stayed in there for a long time, washing my hands, staring at my unrecognizable reflection in the mirror. I was so skinny, my hair was a mess of knots and tangles, and deep black bags shadowed my eyes.
I lifted my shirt, showcasing the multiple scars on my belly.What the hell had happened? What had they done to me? How long have I been here?With my arms crossed over my tummy, I sauntered from the bathroom, trying to stay calm while feeling completely violated.What else had they done to me?I stayed behind the chair, needing another layer between us even though he was sitting behind his desk.
“Why… Where did these scars come from?” I cleared my throat.
With thick rimmed glasses, he was reading some paper resting on an open file, then lifted his attention to me. “Scars?”
“On my stomach.”
“Your appendix ruptured?—”
“That’s not where my appendix is.” He glared at me in warning, but I wouldn’t be quiet for his comfort when there were unexplained scars on my body. “What am I doing here, and who the fuck are you?”
“Language, Miss. Michaelson. I am the director of this psych ward, so I think you should calm your attitude and sit down.” The last two words were delivered through his teeth, then an intense staring contest commenced.
“I want to go home. Now.” I did know how much of a brat I sounded like but didn’t care.
“Well, that’s the thing about psych wards, Miss Michaelson. We concentrate on what you need, not on what you want.” He paused, and I glared at him. There was a golden envelope opener glinting off the light straight into my eye. I swore it was a sign from God for me to grab it and stab his eye with it. “Have you considered that what you want might be the thing that got you here? Perhaps you’re asking for the wrong things.”
“I want to go home.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“What about Killian?” he asked, throwing a pack of cigarettes on his desk, then pushing himself away from the desk and leaning his chair back. He lit the cigarette and released the smoke right above him. He looked like a fucking potato. He was bald, and his face was fat and long. His eyes were as round as buttons. His white business shirt with thin lines had buttons that were begging to break free, like me.
I already knew his angle, could tell what he wanted. This guy enjoyed fucking with minds. This is why he brought up Killian.He wanted me upset. He wanted me to lose it.Well, fuck him.Although I was crumbling inside at the mention of his name and not knowing what had happened, I refused to show it to him. I glared at him while he stared at me, inhaling smoke and then releasing it oh-so calmly. It made me want to grab the stapler on the desk and slam it on his head until his brain bled out. I prayed for the poor lady that ever had to be married to this man. May God forgive her and have some mercy on her soul by making him die of lung cancer as soon as possible. Hopefully, she’s home fucking the gardener.
The smile fought to be freed, but I kept it hidden.
“You haven’t answered me, Miss Michaelson. Did you forget about Killian?”
Forget? Why would I—Wait, what did I remember?Killian… Not remembering how I had gotten here was bad but realizing there were significant events I’d forgotten about him was much worse. Memories of Killian were like gold coins from a treasure box for me. They were precious and I needed them.Don’t talk about Killian.I needed to protect everything about him. Somehow, I knew I needed to protect my memory of him but not how or why.
As I searched my memory for simple unforgettable events, I realized so many details were missing. The panic began to settle in. The doctor had won. There was a whole side of my memory I couldn’t reach.“W-what’s going on? What did you do to me? Why am I here? I need to talk to my parents.”
“Sit down, Magdalena.” He said my name as if we’d known each other for a long time, as if we were familiar. And then that accent. That was not a French or Monaco accent. I gasped. He’s American.Where the hell am I?The blood rushed from my head, and the air became too thick for me to fill my lungs all the way. A drop of sweat trailed down my temple as I backed away whilehe inhaled the smoke of his cigarette so casually, then his left eye narrowed when he exhaled through his nostrils.
