The next morning, the entire car ride from Heart of Grace Medical Center was spent in tense silence. Occasionally my mom or dad would try to say something to lighten the mood, but one look in the rearview mirror at my face was enough to shut them up. Presently, it was ten o’clock on a Friday morning. Yesterday, when Doctor Simmons had basically written my death certificate and I had tried my damndest to strangle him with my eyes, was behind us. I spent the later part of the day and the rest of the night locked in a room with thick, clear plastic doors, so I couldn't do anything damaging to myself. So unfortunately, I had to settle for glaring like mad at my captors until I could be transferred. It was over an hour drive through the countryside to get to Brooks County Hospital, an hour filled with resentment and hesitation. We were nearly there when my mother decided to try her fourth attempt at conversation.
"Sweetie... You know we love you, right? All we want is for you to be happy."
I saw her eyes quickly flit to the rearview mirror and down again. I scoffed spitefully.
"Yeah, is that why you're tearing me away from my life, my friends, and can't even muster enough courage to look your only daughter in the eye?" I smirked bitterly as my mother gave a shocked gasp and whipped around in her seat to glare at me.
"Abigail, you're sick! You haven't gotten over Andrew's death, and it is obviously having negative repercussions on your mental state!" Her voice had lowered to a dangerous level from her normal, perky squeak. I narrowed my eyes and locked in on her.
"I'm sick? At least I haven't given up hope! You keep saying he's dead, but no body has been found! Are you giving up on your son so-"
"ENOUGH!" My mother screeched. Her knuckles were white from clutching her seat so hard.
"Linda," My father scolded. "Don't yell at her like that. You know you're supposed to watch your blood pressure. And Abby, it's alright that you're keeping hopeful, but shreds of his clothes were found..." He trailed off, and then let out a sigh that seemed to carry several years worth of stress. "Anyways, we're here."
I scowled hatefully at the back of my mother's blonde head as we pulled into a long, secluded drive. Twisting around in my seat, I took in the scenery. We had turned away from a small patch of woods and were driving down a narrow, snow-covered dirt road. Open fields surrounded us as we approached a tall, wrought iron black gate.
"I think there's been a mistake." I muttered, taking in the ten-foot tall or so brick wall that extended away from both sides of the gate for what seemed like eternity.
"Looks like old Simmy sent me to prison instead of the nut house."
My mother sent me a short warning look through the mirror as my father slowed to a crawl in front of the gate. When he was within a few feet of it, the whole gate suddenly started sliding to the left behind the brick wall.
"They're waiting..." I sang eerily as thoughts of escape briefly danced across my mind. The SUV doors were unlocked, and if I hopped out now, I'd be running free! Towards miles of woods and endless expanses of frozen countryside... I sighed and flopped dramatically against the back seat.
It wasn't long before my father had parked the car and was unloading my things. My mother had packed light for me, seeing as patients only needed to bring undergarments and were provided with everything else upon arrival. I only had two small bags, which contained my toiletries and knick knacks to remind me of the ones I loved most in my life; Andrew and Jennifer Collins, my best friend.
My father had just turned around with my bags in hand when he abruptly stopped short. A tall, slender woman in a white lab coat, black slacks, and rectangular-rimmed glasses was standing before my father, not two feet away.
"Well hello there!" She exclaimed in a chipper, English-accented voice while clasping her hands together in front of her.
"My name is Dr. Laura Sprite, head Psychiatrist here. Welcome to Brooks County Hospital!" Her light blue eyes danced from my father to my mother and finally to me as she surveyed us with a pleasant, tight-lipped smile.
"Uhh... Hi." My father extended a hesitant hand in her direction. "My name is Charles, my wife over here is Linda, and that's our little girl Abigail."
My mother gave a small, nervous wave as he indicated towards us.
"Well," Dr. Sprite began. "We're very pleased to have you here!" She suddenly gave a violent shiver that looked suspiciously fake and looked towards the sky. "Oh my, it is cold out here, isn't it?" Her saccharine smile was trained on me as I stood there, unmoving, and returned her empty stare. I wasn't fazed by the cold, seeing as I was currently dressed in a forest green wool pea coat, black leggings and matching snow boots. Her lab coat didn't stand a chance, and I briefly wondered if she wasn't warned about our weather when she transferred here from wherever she was from. With another pleasant smile, she turned and led us inside.
The hospital was huge, if the entryway was any indication. Through the double doors we walked into a large, open lobby. The floors were a hideous tan laminate and the walls were an aging cream color. Two plastic benches flanked the entryway, and straight ahead was an office with large panes of window on all four sides. In the office sat two men who were busy watching several monitors and two large doors to the right of the office. As Dr. Sprite lead us down a hallway that veered left just as we reached the office, I glanced at the double doors and noticed a key entry pad with a card slot above it.
The only sound I heard as we walked down the hall were our echoing footsteps. Occasionally, a nurse or someone else in a lab coat would dart out from a room with a folder in hand, nod curtly to Dr. Sprite, and then hurry on their way. After passing what seemed like a hundred doors, Dr. Sprite stopped at one nondescriptly labeled '23' and ushered us inside. The office was small, with only enough chairs for the four of us. Dr. Sprite seated herself behind a large oak desk and picked up a beige file folder that was placed neatly in the center of it. I glanced around the room, and it seemed to be a normal enough office. Bookshelves with guides on health conditions, framed certificates on the wall, and file cabinets all contributed to the professional clutter of the little room.
"So..." Dr. Sprite began, glancing at my parents and I over her designer glasses with a cheeky smirk. "I have received and reviewed Abigail's case file, but I'd really like to hear your side of the story, and why Abigail is with us here today."
I shifted uncomfortably in the small, green, plastic chair as Dr. Sprite gave us the once over again, and then proceeded.
"Mister and Mrs. Turner, you can go first, and when you speak I would like to hear it straight through, with no interruptions." She winked at me. "You'll get your turn, sweetheart. So please, do begin." She smiled angelically and flipped open the file in front of her. Exchanging nervous glances, my parents shifted in their seats and my father cleared his throat.
"Well, I guess the best place to begin would be when Abigail was eleven." My father paused, swallowed, and then continued. "She and her twin, Andrew, were coming home from a friend's house one evening."
Dr. Sprite was scribbling away on a large note pad as my dad looked on warily.
"It was August, and they had spent the whole day at their friends, just enjoying the last days of their vacation." My father stopped and looked at his lap while wiping his moist hands on his khakis.
"And do you remember what day, precisely, this was in August?" Dr. Sprite interjected coolly. My parents exchanged looks as my father spoke up.
"It was the 25th. Anyways, their friend only lived two blocks away, and we thought we lived in a safe neighborhood." My father's voice caught and my mother blew her nose loudly on a handkerchief.
"Abby was walking a few feet ahead of him. They weren't really talking, and when she turned around to ask him something, all that was left was his shoe a little ways back." My father wiped an errant tear from his eye and glanced at me. "We searched for weeks. Not a trace was found until a month later. A piece of his t-shirt stained with his blood was found in the woods a few minutes away from our house."
The room was silent, save for the scratching of Dr. Sprite's pen on the paper.
"So they were close?" She asked, all traces of concern gone from her voice.
"Very." My mother answered quietly. Dr. Sprite dropped her pen and fixed my parents with a bored gaze.
"Yes, well, twins usually are very closely bonded."
I glowered at her from under my lashes. She had no idea how close Andrew and I were. No one did.
"Well, please continue." She said shortly. Both my parental units looked uncomfortable, and I couldn't blame them. I mean, how often do you get interrogated by a doctor at a nut house? My father coughed.
"Well... She took his death hard, but she's dealt with it, as we all have for seven years."
"How old is she now?" Dr. Sprite interrupted.
"Um, Eighteen." My father said quietly. I repressed the urge to smack him. How could he be intimidated by this woman? I mean, he had a good thirty years on her! It was disconcerting to say the least to watch a smug, young twit talk down to someone so much older than her. I could tell that her bedside manner would leave something to be desired.
"And until recently, everything's been fine." My father said incredulously. I snickered, which earned me three glares. How would he know if I was fine? My whole life, I'd hidden things from everybody, save for my trusty confidante Andrew. Even Jennifer didn't know the extent of my disturbing dreams.
"But this October, something changed."
Dr. Sprite raised her eyebrow at my dad's words, but kept writing.
"We began hearing her yelling, crying, whimpering, and talking in her sleep. Most of it pertained to Andrew, and it seemed as if she was actually talking to him."
I sank lower into my chair and crossed my arms indignantly.
"Interesting..." Dr. Sprite breathed as she scribbled on her pad furiously.
"And ever since October, she seems to have been eating less, and becoming more detached."
There was no use arguing against my dad. Yeah, I was bothered by my eighteen-year-old twin invading my dreams at night and telling me things, especially since the last time I saw him was seven years ago. And how could I tell my parents what was going on, when the first thing to pop out of their mouths be: 'How do you know that eighteen-year-old boy is your brother? You've never seen him that old!'
"Aside from that, though, she was fine." My dad reasoned. My mother, who had been staring at the floor this whole time, decided to speak up.
"Until now. A week ago, Abby went Christmas shopping. She left the mall around nine o'clock, because I called her then. And about thirty minutes later, we heard a strange noise and looked out the window." Fresh tears clogged my mother's words and my dad laid a reassuring hand on her arm as she sobbed quietly into her handkerchief.
"Abby was laying in our front yard. We scrambled to put our boots on as fast we could, and then ran outside. She was unconscious, her bags strewn all over and her coat was torn. We brought her inside, but not before we saw the body... The paramedics and police came, and said it must have been a wolf attack. When Abby came to at the hospital, she was hysterical. She-" My dad was cut off by loud nose blowing. My mother composed her shaky voice and continued for him. Bored, I picked at one of my nails.
"She was screaming bloody murder about how vampires had attacked that woman! She swore she saw them tear her apart, and we thought she was just upset. But the next morning, it was worse!" My mother squeaked painfully. Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Dr. Sprite looked up from her pad, surprised.
"Come in!" She called, her voice once again light and airy. The door opened, and in stepped a large man. Dr. Sprite's eyes lit up as he closed the door behind him. The man was very tall, and if I had to guess, I'd say he was well over six feet.
"Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Sprite, but I have the file you requested." His voice was deep and melodious, and seemed to flow out of his mouth flawlessly. It was startling to hear it come from such a bulky man. His aqua eyes scanned the room once, then returned to the file in his hand. I almost shuddered because in addition to them being the strangest hue of blue-green, they were also the coldest eyes I'd ever seen.
"Oh, that's alright, Avery. Thank you!" She took the file from his large hands and set it aside. Try as I might, I couldn't stop studying this Avery guy. He wore light blue scrubs and had a hulking presence. Muscles of all sorts peeked through his scrubs and were painfully apparent on the parts that weren't covered. Even though he was tall, he sure wasn't gangly. His fit, wrestler-physique self was completed by a head of spiky, straw-colored hair and chiseled features. Standing right next to me, he exuded nothing but calm, and I wondered why someone who looked more at home in a movie or in a rock band would work at a nut house. Dr. Sprite suddenly closed my file and pocketed her pen.
"I know I said I would let you have a crack at telling me your story Abigail, but I've run a little short on time and really must speak to your parents about this new vampire fascination and life here at Brooks County." She smiled as she stood up, while Avery suddenly turned his gaze to me. There was something in his aqua eyes that I couldn't read as a curious expression dawned on his face, and it bothered me so I turned my attention to a more pressing emotion.
"It's not a fascination," I growled, slowly rising to my feet. "I know what I saw, and it sure as hell wasn't my imagination!" My deadly quiet voice and icy stare wiped the smile from Dr. Sprite's face as she stared at me, confused.
"Well, yes..." She stuttered. "There will be time for more chit-chat later today, sweetheart. Avery!"
He pulled his attention away from me and stared at Dr. Sprite, alert.
"Please take Miss Turner to her room and get her settled in. You can also give her a quick tour if you want."
Avery nodded and grabbed my bags. My parents, who were staring from me to Dr. Sprite and back again, suddenly stood up and rushed to my side.
"We love you, pumpkin! We'll come visit! I promise!"
I didn't move as my mother smothered me in hugs, kisses, and tears.
"You'll be okay, kid." My dad promised. I was a statue as the tearful farewell continued. After what seemed like an eternity of my mother's blithering, I yanked free. I ignored my parents' shocked faces and turned towards the door.
"Why Abby, that's not a very nice thing to do!" Dr. Sprite's shocked voice sounded more than a tad bit fake from behind me. My mother had started sobbing loudly again.
"They're obviously very worried about you!" The fake shock in the doctor's voice had been replaced with fake scolding. I scoffed.
"No, not worried. It's just that one of their children is already dead, and now the other one is gone, too." I pushed past Avery and out the door as my mother's despairing howls followed us down the halls.