echoes of the screams of Annie, and Cassie, and all of the others haunted her days. Their cries slithered into her thoughts continually like an insidious poison insect that would not let her rest. The thought of food turned her stomach.
In her dreams, Kenny killed Lucy in a hundred different ways. Her nightmares began the moment she closed her eyes. Her stomach was twisted in knots. She was incapable of rational thought.
Just the idea of taking a shower filled her with vibrant images of being stabbed to death by her husband ala Psycho style.
So, Lucy did not do any of those things. She did not eat, she did not sleep, she did not shower. Instead, Lucy simply lay down in a warm bath on a bright and sunny afternoon. While the sound of children’s laughter echoed in the streets, Lucy Brewster slit her wrists and waited for death to take her. And when the building superintendent got a call that water was leaking from the ceiling, he broke into Lucy’s apartment, wrapped her wrists, and called for an ambulance. With the help of a good severance package that had included a hefty stipend for mental health insurance, Lucy was admitted into October Mountain Sanctuary.
Just a pretty name for a fancy nut house.
It had now been about a year and a half of what they called “intensive psychotherapy.” Lucy’s insurance had run out and she was ready to be released.
Dr. Finkle’s appearance was manufactured friendly. The sleeves of his crisp, starched, colorful shirts were casually rolled. Levi Finkle’s ties could only be described as goofy with their pink elephants, dancing bears, and singing hippos. The lenses of his wire rimmed glasses changed daily from blue to green to rose, depending on his shirt color, and perhaps his mood. Khaki pleated pants were his friends, and Dr. Finkle had a very interesting collection of handmade Italian loafers. His eyes were bright blue, his skin was perpetually tanned, his capped smile was wide and sincere. The nurses on staff all called him Doc Hollywood behind his back.
“How are you this morning, Lucy?”
“That’s a complicated question, Doctor.”
“Asueli tells me that you were up all night pacing in your room.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” She told him honestly. “I’m scared.”
“You are ready, Lucy. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Dr. Finkle patted her hand. “I’m sure of it.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“Legitimate question.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Maybe it will help you to know that your therapists, your counselor, all of us who have been treating you for months discuss your case on a weekly basis. Your release has not happened before this because we didn’t feel you were ready. This is not cautious optimism we are practicing here, it’s a well thought out, and a medically sound diagnosis.” He treated her to his million dollar smile, which oddly enough, was not without sincerity. “Now, we can’t all be wrong, Lucy, can we?”
Lucy gave this some thought. She ran a light finger on the long scars on each of her wrists and reflected on how far she had come. She was not the same woman who had married Kenny Brewster, but therapy had helped her to realize that she would never be that bright, eyed, naïve young woman again, and that was okay. Because in place of that starry-eyed girl was a survivor.
So, Lucy gave him a small smile. “Thank you for everything, Dr. Finkle.”
“You’ll do fine, you really will. Just put one foot in front of the other and carry on.” And there was that smile again.
“Now, let’s get down to business! Special Agent Maddox will be here shortly to verify things but, in the meantime, you and I are going to go over the file just like we talked about. How about we go into the small conference room, have a cup of strong, hot, coffee and go over everything with a fine tooth comb. We can write down any questions or concerns you have so we will have them ready for the agent when he arrives.”
Once seated the good doctor opened up the file folder and scanned the first document. He stared at Lucy with a twinkle in his eye and a puzzled look on his face.
Your new name is …Juliet Wang?”
“They said I could pick anything.”
Dr. Finkle’s eyes passed over Lucy’s decidedly Caucasian looks. “Interesting choice.”
“Wang happens to be the most popular last name in the world.” Lucy lifted her nose in the air because really, she had