"On the count of three!"
Reina's voice slapped the air, breaking the monotony of that late summer afternoon. The wind smelled of broom flowers, whose leaves, torn from the many bushes growing nearby, fluttered around the hill where she was sitting.
Her long black hair was pulled back in a messy bun on her head, wrapped in a purple satin ribbon. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, she gestured toward the road below, partially hidden by the large branches of the trees.
"They're coming!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger. "Yellow car."
She heard her companion's grumble, but laughed amusedly.
"If you're slow, it's not my fault, Luca."
They continued counting the cars for a long time, until a presence behind them interrupted their playful moment.
"There's someone for you," Luca whispered softly, pulling away.
"But that doesn't mean I want to talk to them," she snorted, bored.
The footsteps came closer until they stopped.
"Miss Bailey, you have visitors."
She continued to pretend to be busy, counting the cars on her fingers.
"Reina…"
A low, pained voice made its way toward her, but stubbornly, she continued not to turn around.
"Doctor, you assured her she was fine," protested a male voice.
"And I confirm it," was the firm reply.
"Then why doesn't she even seem to notice our presence? She continues to have that apathetic attitude that…"
With an unexpected movement, the young woman turned and fixed her eyes on the man.
He hadn't changed in the long year that had passed, with that arrogance and malice that exuded from every pore. He longed to be in control of everything, and right now, his target was her.
"Your presence bothers me, Dean. Go away!" he said, enunciating his words carefully.
The man flinched, but pursed his lips without answering.
"Reina, my child!" exclaimed the woman following him, reaching out for her.
"Don't touch me, Mom! I don't even understand why you came," he commanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
The woman stopped short, shocked.
"Dr. Arkham, I specifically said I didn't want visitors," Reina protested to the doctor.
"Your parents have the right to..." the man in the white coat attempted conciliatory words.
"They're not my parents!" the girl pointed out, standing up stiffly.
"But I'm your mother!" the woman protested, turning pale and wringing her hands.
"Do you remember after a year?" she taunted. "You locked me in this place, forgetting about me."
"That's not true, we…" Dean attempted, trying to hide his irritation.
"Doctor, can you kick this man out? He's not a relative of mine, and I don't want him here," she blurted out indignantly.
"How dare you? I'm the one paying for this hospital!" the man interjected, taking a step forward.
"Are you forgetting you're doing it with my money! Or maybe a miracle happened, and you're working for the first time in your life?" she sneered wryly.
The man took it, livid.
"You know we've had financial problems," the woman interjected.
"Stop it, Mom! If you're here for money, I won't sign anything, you can leave," she grumbled, raising an arm in the direction of the exit.
The two exchanged a long look, and the stepfather gestured eloquently in her direction.
"Ah, I'm beginning to understand! You were thinking of filing for an interdiction, with a power of attorney to administer my estate," she stated acidly, advancing toward them. "What a shame! I'm lucid, and the doctor can testify to that."
"Honey, we're happy for you, you know that. But the house entails expenses we can't afford right now," the woman begged.
"I know, and that's why I'm asking you to leave. Find another place, or I'll contact the lawyer and have you evicted. The house is mine, a legacy from my grandmother, who knew full well where your marriage to this spineless widow-catcher would lead you."
"But, Reina!" the other woman was indignant, taking a step back.
"Stop being so insulting, Mom, you're not credible. And now go away, I..."
She raised a hand to her chest, clawing at the light cotton shirt. Her eyes widened and she began to tremble, collapsing to the ground, convulsed violently.
The doctor was immediately beside her, took her pulse, and signaled two nurses, who rushed over to help her. The girl continued to struggle, so they grabbed a stretcher, secured her arms and legs with straps, and lifted her away.
Dean had a fleeting glimpse of his devilish smile and a wink as they passed him, causing a strangled sound to escape.
"You're faking!" he protested angrily.
"Mr. Jenkins, please. You've agitated the patient for trivial reasons, causing her to have a seizure. I'd appreciate it if there weren't any further speculation about her condition, for which she receives more than adequate care in this institution."
"Doctor, are you sure she's okay? My little girl would never have responded that way to a legitimate request of mine," the woman interjected thoughtfully. "She's always been a calm girl, until two years ago, when she started feeling ill."
"Megan, when will you realize your daughter has serious problems? She hallucinates, talks to herself, screams like a maniac when she's around people... I don't understand why they didn't declare her insane right away, instead of admitting her here and attempting treatment. It's expensive, I must say!" the man blurted out, gesturing.
"I'd like to remind you that Miss Bailey isn't crazy, but has a delusional psychotic disorder. Given her significant recovery and near-permanence of symptoms, I thought meeting the family would reassure her somewhat. But I see that there are previous situations where your presence alters her emotional state, so I think it's best if you don't visit her anymore."
"But she's my daughter! How can you say that?" the woman protested lividly, clutching her chest.
"As Miss Bailey pointed out, in a year she's been in this place, you've never once visited her. I assume a similar length of time won't change the situation," Arkham stated seriously, shrugging.
"Doctor, you're trespassing on territory that doesn't concern you. The girl is crazy, or psychotic, or whatever the hell you want, but there's nothing stopping us from going to court and removing her from your custody. Reina is still 17, a minor, and her mother can apply for legal guardianship. It's up to you to help us in this area, or you'll be left out."
"Are you threatening me?" the doctor asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm warning you, in a friendly way, I'd say," the other replied with a knowing smile.
"Mister Jenkins, get your gangster attitude out of this place, and I beg you not to return, unless you want my guards to use more persuasive methods. We treat people with specific disorders here who need peace of mind, something you're not capable of providing. Have a good day, gentlemen."
He nodded and gestured toward the exit. Two imposing men, dressed in dark suits, rushed over, forcefully urging them to leave the facility.
As they walked away, the doctor followed them with his gaze and entered the east pavilion of the Waverly Hills Sanatorium, an imposing structure built in the early 1900s and adapted, in the 1920s, as a tuberculosis hospital. In recent years, the institution had been closed due to rumors of unexplained suicides and ghosts, leaving the structure dilapidated and abandoned.
Thanks to funds raised by Dr. Arkham, it had been given a second lease of life and adapted as a therapeutic community. It housed young people with addiction problems, who had been abused, or who suffered from psychiatric issues, like Reina.
She proved to be an interesting case because the girl alternated between periods of lucidity and rationality and periods of severe depression, preventing him from immediately making a definitive diagnosis.
They had brought her to him a year earlier, suffering from psychotic delusions and self-harm. Despite being over five feet tall, the girl appeared malnourished and frail. He had suspected she was suffering from anorexia until her mother mentioned her hallucinations.
She had recounted that several months earlier, she had experienced episodes of phobia when she was around people, where, for no reason, she would begin screaming and chasing away invisible shadows, repeatedly running away until she was found curled up under the bed or in a closet, terrified. Reina said she was chased by cold shadows whose touch caused tremors and indefinite screams in her head.
Various treatments from different specialists had yielded no results, until she arrived at Waverly.
After a few months, she began to rest without sedatives, no longer trembled when in contact with other people, and most importantly, she no longer spoke to herself.
She had regained her normal color, though still pale, and was at a reasonable weight. She attended group therapy meetings, though she never talked about herself or her guests. She drew several canvases with dark landscapes and hidden eyes observing the world, never describing what she saw.
Only recently had she begun to speak logically and answer questions again, so much so that the doctor, at the family's insistence, had arranged the meeting, which actually took place.
With poor results, she had to admit, sighing.
The distance in the recovery room and he was surprised by her serenity.
She was lying there, secured to the gurney, staring at the ceiling. It might have been normal after a crisis, but not that composure, that tranquility, and above all, the fact that she whispered.
"That asshole Dean noticed," she was muttering when he entered.
"I think you owe me an explanation, Reina," he said, approaching her.
The young woman jumped slightly, but hid her surprise, smiling at him.
"About what, Doctor?"
"About your fake crisis."
They looked at each other for a few moments, then the young woman sighed.
"Excuse me, but they wouldn't have left. It was the only way, so they'd be scared if I was sick."
"I thought there was a pact of sincerity between us," he scolded her.
Reina lowered her gaze and nodded.
"I gathered all the courage I had to say that, but seeing the greed in their eyes blinded me. They're like 'them.' I just want to drain myself."
"Was it 'them' you were talking about to Luca?"
Reina jerked her head up, her pupils widening in fear.
"W-what?" she stammered.
"I really thought you'd recovered, that 'they' had finally left you, but I noticed you were playing that game, the yellow car game. Isn't that Luca's favorite game?"
Reina gasped, her eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. She was terrified, it was obvious, and she was searching for an answer. The doctor approached and took her wrist in his hands. The rhythm was dull and the beats close together.
"You have to trust me, Reina. I just want you to be okay," he said, caressing her hand. "You won't help me if you don't confide in me."
The girl pressed her lips together, seeking refuge in silence.
"Why don't you ask Luca what he thinks?"
The unexpected suggestion made her attentive, and she scanned the doctor's face, who smiled.
She narrowed her eyes and cast a sidelong glance at the man hanging upside down from the ceiling. He was pale, and his face was scrunched up in a grimace. He shrugged.
"Maybe it could be a real help," he whispered.
Reina shook her head, unconvinced.
"They already told you you were crazy and locked you in this hellish place. What worse do you think could happen to you?"
She closed her eyes and sighed.
"You say you don't trust him?" the doctor asked, releasing her wrist and going to a chair on the opposite wall.
He carried her to the examination table and sat down, returning to study her.
"How do you know about Luca?" he asked in a tired voice.
"It was enough for me to listen to you talk to him."
Reina smiled bitterly.
"It's not that strange to have an imaginary friend, especially after a trauma like yours. There's an explanation in psychology; it's a valid mental support to console those who can't explain their problems in the real world."
"It seems easy..."
"It is, believe me. You can talk to me about everything you say to Luca, and I can ease your discomfort."
He smiled encouragingly.
Reina opened her eyes and looked at him seriously.
"I said it seems easy, but Luca isn't an imaginary friend, Doctor. He's a ghost, and I hadn't seen him until I came to this place," she confessed seriously.
Dr. Arkham frowned and let out an involuntary groan.