Chapter One – The Locked Door

"I hate my job," Maggie said to herself as she mopped a vacant room.

The year was 1973, and a lot had changed. Maggie Evans Shaw returned to Collinsport a month ago to find her cushy job as governess to the rich Collins child quite unnecessary; he had finished out his last year of school at Collinsport High, and he was now attending college. Desperate for work (as her husband left her a year ago), she took Julia Hoffman's advice and applied for the menial job as custodian for the Bangor Institute for the Emotionally Unbalanced. Her job was not only as a custodian, she found out all too late, but also a replacement for any aides that were absent on any given day.

Today, however, she was not that lucky. There she was, in her baggy blue uniform, hair half undone, mopping up a room that was recently vacated by a patient suffering from depression. Maggie wondered to herself if someday she was going to end up like the patient behind the locked door.

On her first day of work, as she mopped through the intensive care unit (called so because the crazier patients were locked up in there), she passed a door unlike all the others. Instead of a window into which you could peer directly at the patient, it had bars so high up, Maggie could hardly see inside, even when standing on her tippy-toes. That day, she asked her superior, Dr. Lombard, about it. She said, "It's none of your business, Mrs. Shaw. Get to work."

Still curious, Maggie had complied, as she had to for every miserable day of the last month. "This is nothing like Collinwood," she grumbled, as she swabbed her mop over a particularly sticky spot, "I'd even prefer the diner."

Just then, Dr. Lombard walked in. Crisply, she said, "Mrs. Shaw, you will be taking Miss Allen's place in the intensive care unit." She sneered at the floor. "As soon as you're done of course." With that, the strict woman left Maggie, who was swearing to herself as she continued mopping the floor.

The first few hours working as an aide weren't bad, but the dragging time seemed to wear on her spirit. Especially in the intensive care unit, where an aide was required every five minutes. Again, Maggie heard a doctor scream for help, so she dropped everything and ran to the source of the panic. Her pulse accelerated when she realized that she was running in the direction of the locked door that had intrigued her.

She paused when she saw the heart-wrenching scene. There was the doctor, grappling with the out-of-control patient. Her heart leapt, then sank again when she recognized her ex-fiancée, Joe Haskell, who had his hands firmly on the doctor's throat. He was screaming, "You'll kill her! You'll kill her!"

The doctor saw Maggie, who was leaning against the door, and yelled, "For God's sake, help me, Mrs. Shaw!"

Maggie forced herself to be strong as she rushed over and tried to pry Joe's hands off the poor doctor's throat. "Come on, Joe, let go." Maggie said in her calmest voice, a tactic that the nurses had taught her on her first aide assignment. "Joe, you have to let him go now." Joe snapped out of whatever state he had been in, and stared at Maggie. His grip loosened. Maggie tried to smile kindly, and said, "That's right, Joe. Let him go. All the way."

Joe continued to stare at her while allowing his hands to drop. "Maggie?"

Maggie looked up to him, afraid to look into his eyes. "Yes, Joe?"

Suddenly, Joe grabbed her by the shoulders, and said frantically, "Maggie, you have to get outta here! Chris – you don't know what he is, Maggie! He'll be here any second!"

Maggie shook her head disbelievingly. "Joe, Chris left town years ago!"

He let go of her shoulders, his face paralyzed with fear. "Did he take Amy?"

"Joe, what does that -."

"Did he take Amy?!"

Cowed, Maggie said in a small voice, "Yes."

Staggering, Joe turned and walked to the blank padded wall next to his bed. Maggie heard a sob escape him. "Little Amy . . . you let him take little Amy . . ."

Maggie let the doctor lead her out of the room. As soon as the door was locked again, the doctor said, "You cannot tell anyone about this room." Maggie hung her head and shook her head in affirmation. When she looked up, the doctor was smiling. "In fact, I'm making you his aide. You'll bring him his meals, clean up after him, and help him regain sanity in any way you can."

"Am I still a custodian?" Maggie asked.

Laughingly, the doctor said, "No. You don't have to worry about that anymore." Maggie couldn't help but smile.