Ben stood outside his wife's room as two doctors explained the situation.
"We've run some tests, but the results are not conclusive," explained the older, gray-haired doctor. "We've given her medication to calm down. It is entirely possible that she has PTSD, or maybe something more serious, like schizophrenia."
"So, basically you have nothing," he replied angrily.
"Mr. Harmon, it's only been 32 hours. This testing takes time, as I'm sure you know."
"Of course I do! But my wife deserves the best. I want results within 24 hours," Ben demanded. He looked in the room at Vivien and could not understand how things had come to this. He shook his head. "And take off the damn restraints."
"I want to see her," Violet said as soon as her father returned. "This is my fault. I need to talk to her."
He shook his head sadly. "That won't be possible for a while, I'm afraid. Your mother's really sick."
"She's not!" yelled Violet. "I made a mistake! I don't want her to be locked up. I want things to go back to the way they were. You've done nothing but mess everything up. I hate you" were her final words as she ran up the stairs. A few seconds later, Ben heard a thump. She locked the door.
White walls. Blankness. It was so much better than darkness. Darkness hid secrets. Whiteness hid… nothing.
Vivien looked down at her body. Her hands were free, so she rubbed her wrists. They were raw from her… episode earlier. One arm had an IV drip and a clip on her thumb. Her arm started to feel strange. She began scratching it.
A nurse stopped her. How long had she been in there? It didn't matter. Nothing was as it seemed. One minute Vivien had a happy family. The next, she was betrayed and left alone by all.
She closed her eyes and tried to wish the bad memories away.