The Dead House - Kurtagich Dawn (лучшие книги читать онлайн бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗
CCTV Camera Footage
[Date and Time Index Missing]
Day Room
“Carly.”
Dr. Annabeth Lansing kneels next to Kaitlyn, who sits in a chair, unmoving.
“Kaitlyn. Jaime is here to see you. You want to see Jaime, don’t you?”
Kaitlyn does not respond.
“You don’t want her to see you like this, do you?”
When Kaitlyn remains unresponsive, Dr. Lansing sighs and gets to her feet, groaning when her knees crack. She nods at the nurse waiting by a wire-mesh-glass door.
“All right.”
The door drones, a dull beep, and Jaime Johnson dashes in, followed by a grim-faced middle-aged woman with blond hair, stylishly bobbed.
“I don’t like this,” the woman says as Dr. Lansing walks over.
Jaime Johnson has paused in front of Kaitlyn’s chair, little hands opening and closing slowly, expectantly.
“I know,” Lansing says quietly. “It’s not ideal. But I need to try anything at this point, and Carly does have a right to see her.”
“She shouldn’t,” the woman says, her nostrils flaring as though an obnoxious odor has just caught her attention. “It’s sickening.”
Jaime, who has been looking at Kaitlyn silently, turns to Dr. Lansing.
“Why is Kaitie here?” she asks.
Dr. Lansing walks over to Jaime and bends down. “What’s that, sweetheart?”
Jaime points at Kaitlyn. “Why is Kaitie here? Where’s Carly?”
Lansing blinks, shakes her head, and then smiles. “I don’t know where Carly’s gone, angel. Maybe you can find her for me.”
Jaime glances back at Kaitlyn, and her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t see her.”
Dr. Lansing frowns, and Jaime walks over to Kaitlyn, crawling into her lap, where she curls up, tiny fists grabbing at the statue’s hospital gown. She cries little-girl tears.
“This isn’t right,” Mrs. Bailey snaps. “No child should have to see this!”
She starts forward, reaching out as though to lift Jaime out of Kaitlyn’s lap, but Jaime shrieks and clings to Kaitlyn’s gown.
“Kaitie!” she screams. “Kaitie!”
Mrs. Bailey manages to break Jaime’s hold and carries the sobbing girl out of the room, casting a withering glance in Dr. Lansing’s direction.
Kaitlyn does not move, but Jaime continues to scream down the corridor.
“Kaitie! Kaitie! KAAAITTIEEEE!”
44 71 days until the incident
Inpatient Session Recording #57 [Ref: Johnson-Inp-0033]
Tuesday, 23 November 2004, 3:00 PM
Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility, Somerset
Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL) and Carly Luanne Johnson (CJ)
(AL): I think we can make great progress in our inpatient sessions. I think I can help you feel a lot better. Get back to living your life.
(CJ): Don’t BS me, Lansing. I know you don’t believe a word of what I’m telling you, but you’re the only person who might know how I can undo this and get Carly back. Even if I disappear, like you want—I don’t care. Just bring her back.
(AL): It doesn’t work that way, Kaitlyn. You are Carly. We just need to remind you of it.
[Laughter]
(CJ): You doctors. You don’t know anything!
[Loud crash, footsteps]
[From a distance] High and mighty! You hear, but you don’t listen. And if you inject me with that stuff again, I’m going to fucking kick you!
[A door slams]
[Silence]
(AL): [Sighing] Astonishing. Catatonic episode passed without the patient noticing. More analysis required.
[End of tape]
45
Scattered diary entries from throughout Kaitlyn’s readmission period can be found clumped together at the back of the journal, folded on letterhead paper with the Claydon crest at the top right-hand corner. Some of the entries are undecipherable, while others are very clear. There are several stops and starts in the diary over the following weeks, but, for expediency, only entries that are legible have been collated. Any that are confused have been excluded, excepting when they mention Carly directly.
None of the entries are dated, and many seem to be a stream of consciousness in which Kaitlyn tries to piece together her thoughts. It seems that she was, as Dr. Lansing advised her to do months previously, getting her thoughts out of herself and onto paper.
The Johnson Claydon Diaries
First Entry
They gave me a pencil to write with. A fucking pencil. Lansing is all smug that her “therapy” has worked. She sees this desire to write to you, Dee, as a success for her, since she gave the diary, the object, to me. But I’d never tell her what a friend you’ve become, how much I need you. How real you are, and how vital. So she thinks she won because I want to write, but really she handed me her weapons, which I use against her. She has no idea that you are completely separate from these pages and wholly mine.
Can’t believe I’m back here. In Claydon. In a yellow institutional room with a little window on the door where they can peek their ugly, fat faces in and “check” on me.
Dee… Carly is gone. I still can’t bring myself to leave that word on the page. Gone. Absent. Missing. None of them will do.
46 70 days until the incident
Inpatient Session Recording #58 [Ref: Johnson-Inp-0033]
Wednesday, 24 November 2004, 3:12 PM
Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility, Somerset
Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL) and Carly Luanne Johnson (CJ)
(AL): How are you feeling today, Carly?
(CJ): I told you not to call me that.
(AL): Kaitlyn, then. How are you?
(CJ): You already know.
(AL): I thought we could continue our talk from last session.
(CJ): I told you everything.
(AL): Yes. But you haven’t let me tell you anything yet.
(CJ): I don’t belong here.
(AL): Kaitlyn, we found you up on the roof of the school. You had lesions and bruising on your head, presumably from repeated impact. You need treatment.
[Silence]
I’m happy to send you back to Elmbridge eventually, but you need to show me that you can cope on your own.
(CJ): I’m taking the meds.
(AL): That’s a start. A good one. But you need to talk to me.
(CJ): I don’t see the point! I don’t know what you want me to say!
(AL): The first topic that comes into your head. Just start.
(CJ): This is stupid.
(AL): [Quietly] Try. Please.
(CJ): [Mumbles]
(AL): Come on, you can do it. The first thing.
(CJ): I… I can’t. I want to stop.
(AL): Kaitlyn, you have to try.
(CJ): I said I want to stop!
[End of tape]
47
