Edward is the youngest clinical psychologist at Cedar Pines In-patient Hospital. He dreams of helping patients who struggle with mental illness. However, he will soon find out from his first patient, he's the one who needs the help.
Everyone thinks I'm crazy. I guess they're right. Even when they do see that I speak the truth, they still don't believe. Some would say it's a miracle, but how could something this horrible be anything but a curse? Why would something so miraculous happen to someone so ordinary? So, I sit alone in my room. It's better this way. Because when I go out there…I see nothing but death.
CHAPTER ONE
EDWARD
The sound of the thunder overhead was nature's way of welcoming me home to the Pacific Northwest. My brand-new, modern condo was now fully unpacked. It had taken less than a day, with the bulk of the work coming from placing my books up on their shelves. I might have been labeled a minimalist if it weren't for my books.
I grabbed a bottle of water and twisted off the top, flopping down in my chair, so I could watch the weather turn violent outside my floor-to-ceiling windows. There was something soothing about the familiarity this weather brought.
I had spent nearly the last decade on the east coast, finishing my degrees in preparation for the opportunity to land a position as a psychologist.
In my family, we were all doctors. My father was a cardiothoracic surgeon. My brother was in plastics. Even my mother had been a pediatrician until she had decided to give up her practice and stay home with my brother and me.
I, however, had decided to go a different route. I had turned my talent and intelligence towards focusing on mental health, which, in doing so, had unfortunately caused my family to become concerned about my own mental health. Why would anyone want to work fixing fragile minds when they could practice real medicine?
I was fascinated with how the mind worked. My fascination turned to a desire to spend my career helping others understand how their worlds worked and to aid them through the pain and suffering they experienced.
I would admit…I had been naïve. I knew even then that I'd had delusions of grandeur. Picturing myself spending my career saving thousands from their depression, anxiety, and other mental disorders. The truth was that, for every person you saved, ten more would never recover.
But, on my first day, my first patient, I would come to meet the only person I would need to save…
I had landed that coveted position, and tomorrow would be my first day at Cedar Pines Hospital as a clinical psychologist. The youngest in the department, but with my high recommendations, I had been able to secure my position easily. I chose this particular hospital because it had the highest number of voluntary commitments in Washington State. I wanted to help others, and knowing that these patients had come here willingly and wanting help was exactly why I had chosen this field.
I arrived a respectable half hour before the required time the next day at the hospital. Driving up toward the large, impressive building, with lightning and rain as the backdrop, felt like something you might see in a scary movie. This particular building was nearly one hundred years old, and I was sure it would only be a matter of time before the workers here would try to scare me with stories of ghosts trapped within the halls. It was to be expected. I had come to learn from my internships that every mental institution had stories like these.
I adjusted my tie and stared into the camera, as they got ready to take the photo that would be laminated on my badge. No smile, but I kept my eyes light and inviting.
"Dr. Molina will be right up to show you to your office."
I smiled briefly at the young woman at the front desk, while I played absently with my new badge, attaching it to my tailored white coat.
"Thank you," I replied.
"Are you new around here?" she asked, and I looked down at the young redheaded girl questioningly. "I mean…not here to the hospital. Obviously, you're new around here," she nervously laughed.
"Uh…no. I've lived near here all my life. Did my education and residency on the east coast, but I grew up here."
"Oh, that's nice. Prodigal son coming home."
"Something like that."
"Dr. Cullen." Thankfully, we were interrupted before any more stale conversation could be had.
"Dr. Molina. So nice to meet you in person," I said, holding out my hand for him to shake. We had video conferenced for my interview.
"Well, we're happy to have you join our staff. Come with me, and I'll give you a brief tour."
I followed along, my new black loafers squeaking on the shiny, clean tile. We came upon a door, and Dr. Molina pulled his badge and waved it in front of the sensor. The badge retracted back, hitting him in the chest, as he pushed the door open.
"As I explained to you during the interview, we have the largest number of voluntarily admitted patients on the west coast. Our facilities house over two hundred currently, and only thirty percent are wards. I've hand-picked a few non-violent patients for you to begin with. When you're more settled, I'll hand off more patients of mine, but until that time, I only want you to focus on twenty," he explained.
We turned down a hall and entered a foyer for three elevators. One instantly opened, and I followed Dr. Molina inside. He hit the number two button.
"For now, you'll mostly be working with people levels two and three in the south and east sides."
The door opened up and revealed another small hallway and two large doors. Once again, Dr. Molina pulled on his badge and swiped it in front of the sensor to access a large, open room.
"This is the south-side common room. All patients in the east and south residents have access to this room and gardens. Only patients in the north and west are restricted to smaller common rooms with more security. There are stairs that go down through that door that access the garden. Many patients of ours love to sit in the gardens when weather permits. We also have a painting class in the gardens, and you'd be surprised what a hit that is. It's great therapy.
"Patients take meals in the dining hall through the left door, and a curfew is at 8:00 p.m. Only certain patients are allowed their meals in-room, but we encourage socialization, so there are only a few who have that privilege."
We continued with our tour, heading down another hallway and leaving the common room.
"There are group therapy rooms in this hall, and when you've had a little more time here, you can begin managing some of the group sessions. This leads our tour to our offices. We have five psychologists, and one is onsite at all times in case there are any disruptions at night. As I said, you'll need to pull nightshifts three times a week, but for the most part, it's fairly quiet, so you can use this time to catch up on your notes or rest."
Dr. Molina stopped in front of a closed door and unlocked it with a key.
"Here's your office. Always keep your door locked, and always keep the key close."
He handed me the key and ushered us into a very nice office. I had to say, I was rather impressed, since I knew this wasn't exactly the nicest facility. When I had told my parents that I wanted to work here, they had been surprised I didn't want to accept a position at a more prestigious hospital, since I had the credentials to accept employment at any of the top hospitals in the country. But I knew what I wanted, so I was sure this added to the mental list kept in my parents' heads of reasons why they should have me committed.
"You're more than welcome to switch out whatever doesn't suit your needs. Your predecessor was rather fond of old-style décor, as you can tell. Feel free to change it up."
He was right; the whole office looked like a room you would find in the 1920's…lots of wood paneling and beams, heavy wooden furniture and cabinets, leather-covered seating, velvet draperies, and oriental rugs. There was even a gramophone in the corner. I walked over and touched it lightly to examine it, since I had never seen one in person.
Normally, I would go for something a little more modern. However, I found myself feeling quite comfy in this room, which was rather unusual. Anyone who knew me would never have guessed I would like this style.
"No, it's great. I like it."
Dr. Molina narrowed his eyes in confusion, but he shook away his shock and walked behind my desk.
"I left the files for your new patients out on top, in order of when you'll be seeing them. You can catalog them however you wish. As I said, I tried to give you some of our milder cases. You shouldn't have any issue with this lot. We'll try and give you more exciting cases sooner."
I set down my bag and walked around the desk to join him, looking down at the files. The name on the first file greeted me.
"Isabella Swan," I read aloud.
"Nice girl…Dr. Black had trouble trying to get her to open up, but from what I know, she was bounced around foster facilities and minimum-security hospitals as a child. She didn't seem to pose a threat, so the state released her when she was eighteen. She checked herself back in a month ago. Just some standard delusions from what her old files read. Having issues with reality, but nothing too crazy," he joked.
We never said crazy when referring to our patients. People weren't crazy. Some just had trouble adjusting to life the way typical people handled it. It was rude to call someone crazy.
I nodded and smiled at his little joke, but I would never repeat his sentiment myself.
"Well, I'll let you settle in. On your computer is a schedule of when your patients are to report. If you have any issues with no-shows, just pick up the phone and dial six. You'll get Denise, who'll put out a request to have your patient tracked down."
"Thank you very much, Sir. I appreciate it," I said sincerely.
"If you have any questions…scratch that. When you have questions, my office is the last one down the hall to the right."
Dr. Molina saw himself out, and I looked around my new office and took it all in before sitting down and firing up my computer. I checked my schedule and saw my first patient wasn't due to arrive for another hour. Just the right amount of time to get myself settled in.
I didn't read all of Isabella Swan's profile. Just the first page. I decided to not read too much, so I could get to know my patients without prejudice of what some files said. Dr. Molina said these were mild patients, so it wasn't as if I was to be alone with someone who posed a threat.
When my hour was up, a soft knock came upon my door. So soft, I wasn't sure if I'd heard it. A second tap finally caused me to stir from my chair. I looked over the office once more and straightened my coat out from any wrinkles before walking to the door to greet Isabella Swan.
I opened the door and saw a pale, tiny young woman with short brown hair that barely reached her shoulders. Her light brown eyes looked up at me, and instantly she cringed, nearly doubling over. She closed her eyes, and her hands reached up to squeeze the temples of her head. She gasped quietly and began breathing hard.
"Isabella? Isabella? Are you alright?"
When she finally looked up at me, I could see tears in her eyes.
"Where's Dr. Black?" she muttered.
"He…retired. I'm taking over for Dr. Black."
She shook her head and looked around, still trying to get her breathing under control.
"Why don't you come inside and sit down while you get yourself together?"
She shook her head. "No. No...I need another doctor." She didn't even want to look at me. "Please, just…find me another doctor," she pleaded.
I wasn't sure what I should do, but I knew if I went to Dr. Molina and asked to make good on this girl's request, he would think I couldn't handle myself.
"Why don't you come inside and talk to me, and maybe we can work something out?"
She wouldn't look at me, but she thankfully followed my request and walked in to sit down on a large, plushy chair in the corner, far from the nearest chair I could sit in. I respected her need for distance and took a chair on the opposite side of the room.
"I'm Dr. Cullen. It's my first day, and you're my first patient. Do you want to tell me why you want a different doctor?"
She brought her knees up to her chest, resting her feet on the chair, as she hugged them to her body.
"I can't tell you," she said softly.
"Okay…well, is there something you'd like to ask? Maybe if you get to know me, you might feel more comfortable…"
"No, that won't help. It'll just make it worse. I don't want to get to know you," her voice broke. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be rude. I just…"
She wiped a few tears from her face and rocked gently in the chair.
"Okay…Isabella."
"Bella. My name's Bella," she whispered.
"I'm sorry. I know change is hard. You probably felt very comfortable with Dr. Black. And now you feel you have to start all over…"
She scoffed and nearly smiled. "Dr. Black probably didn't even know my name. He…he usually slept during our sessions. Which was fine by me. I like the quiet. I prefer it, rather than someone asking me pointless questions. Never listening to the answers. Never caring…just checking a box, assigning a prescription, so they could get out of here at the end of the day."
"I actually don't believe in medicating unless it's a last resort. I think most problems can be handled by talking and working through them."
She snorted. "God, you're new. Practically a baby. A silly, stupid, naïve, baby."
"I know," I said with a sigh. "But it doesn't mean I'm wrong. Try me. Talk to me. See if I'm like the rest. I only know a fraction about you. I wanted a fresh perspective that only you could give me on you. I'm not going to figure out what you need by reading a file. I want to help you. But you can ask me questions, too. I know, it seems as if all we want is for you to talk to us, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, you're free to ask me whatever you'd like."
"Were you born yesterday?" she asked with a snarky tone.
"No, nineteen-ninety-five. You?"
She narrowed her eyes, questioning me. "Two-thousand."
I nodded. "So, you're twenty…or twenty-one?"
"Twenty-one," she replied.
She closed her eyes tight and then looked away from me and refocused back on her shoes.
"How long have you been here?" I dared to ask to see if she would respond.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I don't keep track. Every day blends into the next one."
"You voluntarily committed yourself. You're not a ward, so why do you feel you need to be here?"
She sighed and looked towards the plant in the corner. "I like it here. I find it…predictable. I can limit myself. There are only so many people. I don't like being around too many people. It's quiet. I can keep to myself."
It felt good that she was talking to me. At least she was willing to talk.
"I understand that. I don't like being around a lot of people either."
She looked up at me and rolled her eyes. "Yeah…you and I are just the same," she scoffed. "You don't like being around people, and that's great for you. You don't get knife-stabbing migraines when you're around people, do you? Feel like you want to rip your eyeballs out of your head? We're so similar, you and I, we're practically twins. I know this tactic. If anyone has been through the therapist sampler of approaches, it's me. You're doing the classic 'buddy-buddy' routine. You try and get me to believe we're the same. Try to befriend me. Tell me to trust you because we're BFFs, but in the end, you can't help me. No one can."
I wasn't expecting this to be easy. Helping someone who was lost and felt she needed to isolate herself wouldn't be completed in a day. But hearing her defeatist attitude was troubling.
"Then why are you here? You checked yourself in. You must want help…"
"I didn't check myself in because I honestly believed one of you doctors could help me," she interrupted. "I just…don't want to be out there. At least in here, the people rarely change, and I can be left well enough alone. I come in here and make up a story of the girl you want to hear about and let you believe you can help her, but you can't. You're not God, and unfortunately, I think only some higher power or deity can help me."
"Why do you think that?" I asked.
"Because it's obvious. I was cursed, and this isn't some fairytale, where some prince shows up and breaks it. The only way I get out of this…is death. Unfortunately, I'm too much of a coward to do what I need to do." She looked towards my plant once again. "I wish I could just do it."
"Dying is never the answer."
She laughed once again. "You have no idea how funny you are."
"So…what is it? What's this curse?"
She snorted humorlessly. "You wouldn't believe me. I learned a long time ago to not speak about it. I want to stay on this side of the crazy emporium. I tell you, and you'll have me sent up north, where I'll receive mandatory cocktails that'll 'calm me down' and cost me access to the good pudding."
"Good pudding?" I asked.
"Every sanitarium has good pudding…however, I've heard tales that they don't give the peeps at max access to the good pudding."
I scratched my head, trying to remember my residency.
"Wow, I think you might be right. I don't remember ever seeing pudding when I was on the max security wards. Hmmm…interesting."
She laughed shortly and shook her head. "I've probably spent more time in these places than you have. How, exactly, are you going to help me?"
I stood up slowly and saw her instantly recoil as if I were attempting to come closer. Seeing her hesitation, I backed up and went towards my desk. I opened her file and read the highlighted portion at the top, indicating how many sessions we were to have every week.
"Well, if you tell me your big secret, I might have some useful tools to help you manage."
"The only tool that could help me would be one that could give me a lobotomy, and even then, I'm not sure it'd work."
"You really think we'd need to go that extreme? This issue of yours?"
Her eyes glanced up at me and then refocused on the carpet, as she seemed to get lost in her mind. I wasn't sure if she was planning to answer my question, and I didn't want her to clam up, so I moved on quickly.
"So, this thing you have…is it something you've always had?"
She shook her head softly. "I don't think so. I don't remember it before…"
"Before what?"
She sighed, labored with my lack of knowledge. "Man, Doc, you really didn't read my file, did you?"
I shook my head. "I wanted to get to know you…from you. Not from a few judgmental pieces of paper."
She finally stood up and walked hesitantly towards me a few steps.
"You're really not planning to read it?"
I shook my head.
She repositioned herself, and I could tell from her body language that she felt more comfortable with me, probably impressed with my answer. She nodded her head in respect and slowly sat down on the long couch, a few feet closer to me. Victory.
"I was a miracle. What happened to me…people say it was a miracle. I was five, and my parents were driving home from some party. I can't really remember those details. Anyway," she said, briefly stopping so she could recall the memory, "My dad lost control of the car, and it went over a bridge and landed in the lake. It was freezing. I don't even remember that part. Enough people talked about it that whatever memory I do have, I'm pretty sure it was made up from people's stories. My parents drowned in the icy lake. I, however, was saved by a pedestrian out for a jog. He jumped in after the car and managed to free me from my car seat. They said it was a miracle. I was in a coma for a few weeks. No one expected me to live. And when I woke up…everything was different."
I felt as if I was reading a mystery novel. The answer to all my questions was only a few pages away. I wanted to skip to the end and find out the resolution and responsible parties, but I couldn't do that with Isabella. If I tried to press her for the end of her book, the reason she was here, her secret, which she felt was so horrible that I would send her to the maximum-security ward, she might close back up, and I would never find out her truths. I had to be patient.
"Different…"
She narrowed her eyes accusatorily. "Different," she said through her teeth, unwilling to give me the answer.
I glanced at my watch, and I saw we were running out of time for our session.
"Okay. Thank you," I said sincerely. "Thank you for sharing as much as you could. I appreciate it."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "God, you're so green."
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. "At least I didn't fall asleep in our session."
"I wouldn't have minded if you had."
She stood and backed up towards the door.
"So, do you mind sticking with me for now?" I asked, hoping she would approve of another session.
"I'd really rather not," she said, surprising me. "You're a nice person. I can tell. I wish I could explain…but it'll hurt me more than you could know if I stayed with you. I can't…get to know you. I don't want to know you. It'll just make things worse. Please, Dr. Cullen…"
Her eyes began to scrunch, as if she was reliving a painful memory. Once again, she wouldn't look at me long. She couldn't bear to look at me.
"Would you at least tell me why?" I coaxed gently.
Her eyes remained closed. When she finally did open them and gather the courage to look up at me, her face seemed broken.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Sorry, Doc. I have to go," she whispered. "It's almost…pudding time."
She turned and left out of my door, not waiting for me to ask another question. I looked down at her thick file, and it begged me to read it. To see if any other doctor had been able to get to the truth she was so desperate to keep from me. But I didn't want to read it. I wanted to be a fresh set of eyes on her issues. I wanted to remain completely unbiased.
As much as I wanted to know this secret Isabella Swan carried, I had much bigger problems. I needed to figure out a way to convince her to stay with me. To allow me to help her.
Here was the irony. I felt it was my mission to save her. To save Isabella Swan from the demons within. I had no idea that I was the one who would need saving.
AN: Stories have interesting ways of coming at us. This was a manifestation of my thoughts when the rap artist DMX died. So young. So avoidable. I always wondered, if we knew when we were going to die, how we were going to die, would we try and change it?
This story probably won't be very long. Now more than fifteen chapters I would say. Currently working on chapter six. I will post once a week. Sorry if you have been waiting on other stories of mine to get updated. But when inspiration strikes, I rarely can ignore it. But if it makes your heart warm, I have the next chapter of Redemption started so hopefully be able to get that out soon.
Thank you to DOLLYBIGMOMMA for editing!
STORY IS MINE. CHARACTERS BELONG TO STEPHENIE MEYER.