A fancy wooden desk sat on the right, with a grim-looking woman behind it, typing away at a computer. She didn’t look up, and Taylor’s nod went unanswered.
“What does that mean?” Brent asked. The doctor hadn’t questioned the identity of Taylor’s companions. He didn’t seem to care.
“It means we’ve had a few cases like this over the years,” Doctor Herman said as they walked. His heels clomped on the hard wooden floors, echoing in the wide-open foyer. They arrived at a wide staircase that wound up in two different directions. The banisters were a deep dark brown – ornate designs carved by hand, Taylor imagined. Her dad would love this building. He’d always tried going to places like this with her when she was younger. Not mental wards, per se, but old fancy houses or buildings. He said it gave his writing inspiration, and as she walked through Gilden Psychiatric Hospital, she could understand how.
“What kind of cases are you referring to?” Taylor asked softly.
“Her mother didn’t tell you?” the doctor asked, and Taylor shook her head. “He’s afraid of the dark. No, that’s not entirely true. He’s afraid to have the lights off, because of the shadows. Not quite the same as being scared of the dark. He’s more afraid of a conservative amount of light. We’ve had him in total darkness for a time, and he’d seemed happy enough, though that was early on, and he was quite heavily sedated.” Doctor Herman was rambling as he led them up the stairs and to the right.
He unlocked another solid oak door. There was no window or screen in it, so they couldn’t see in, nor could anyone on the other side see out. As soon as it opened, Taylor could hear classical music playing, and voices talking.
“What is this place?” Isabelle asked from behind them.
“This is where our patients mingle.” Doctor Herman opened the door wide and waved them all past him before shutting the door again, locking it from the inside with a thick key. Taylor’s anxiety increased knowing she was locked inside a mental ward. She felt like they’d catch on to her, and she’d be stuck here the rest of her life.
She almost turned around and demanded he let them out, but she took a deep breath instead. Brent didn’t seem to care as he perused the open room they’d entered with interest. It was in the heart of the building, with halls winding away from it at two ends of the room. Taylor looked left, then right, past the people sitting at the round tables, trying to guess which direction Trevor Hayes was in at that moment.
A different kind of energy mixed with the nervous stuff she’d been feeling earlier, and Taylor knew she was on the right track here. Something about talking with this kid was going to help her.
The doctor looked around too, as if he’d never been here before, and raised his thick eyebrows, his eyes coming to focus as he locked in with Taylor’s gaze. “This is where they spend most of their days. Many of them have been here a long time. One or two check in every year, as mental illness is a trait that can afflict someone at various ages.”
“How do you not fill up?” Brent asked, and Taylor spotted at least sixteen people in the room. A young girl sat alone at a table, a well-worn paperback in her hand. She momentarily raised her eyes but shifted them away just as quickly as she caught Taylor giving her a smile.
A man was tapping his hand against a tabletop as a woman moved checkers on a board. She was playing both sides, the man apparently just bearing witness to her game.
The music being played was beautiful, one of Bach’s more melancholic concertos. Taylor had learned far more than most people her age about traditional greats, since her dad loved listening to them so much. The only one she stayed clear of was Vivaldi, for natural reasons. She couldn’t get the song out of her head some nights as she tried to sleep.
She’d lie down, close her eyes, and hear the symphony playing on the scratchy record underground in the orchard outside Red Creek. Conway was beside her, holding a gun to her head. She’d glance to her hand and see the burning, itchy red blotch on her arm where the shadow man had grabbed her. The Schattenmann.
Brent touched Taylor’s arm now, and she flinched, pulling away. She let out a whimper, and he looked taken aback. “It’s just me,” he said, and she moved in, grabbing his hand.
“I’m sorry. I’m a little jumpy being here,” she said, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
He kissed her forehead. “So am I. This is creepy. I mean, what’s with the music?”
The doctor was directly behind them, his face eerily close to their heads, listening to every word. “The music calms them. Most of them are medicated twenty-four hours a day, but this acts like a security blanket for the residents of Gilden Psychiatric Hospital, except for your cousin. He prefers silence. This way, please.”
Brent glared at the man, clearly pissed at the invasive stance the doctor had taken behind them. He let the man go ahead and whispered to Taylor, “This guy is super weird. Are we sure he works here?”
Truth was, they hadn’t asked him for credentials, but he did have the white lab coat and the key, so Taylor hoped that gave him credibility. She was just glad he hadn’t asked for her ID, because that would have been an awkward conversation.
“Oh, crap. I was going to call my dad,” Taylor muttered to Brent and Isabelle. Her real cousin was walking slowly behind them, looking at each of the patients. “Isabelle, don’t stare,” Taylor said through clenched teeth.
“Sorry. I just feel bad for them. They look lonely,” she
