My eyes fell shut and blackness took over.
21.
Tegan
Birdsong twittered in my ears and the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass filled my nose. It would be pleasant if it weren’t for the lingering scent of anti-septic. It was hard to open my eyes, but when I finally managed to pry my lids apart I found myself in a clean, sparsely furnished space, sort of like a hospital room.
I was hooked up to an IV machine, and I winced at the tubes stuck into my arms. I tried to sit up, but a heady sense of weakness overcame me and I had to lie back down again for a minute. The events that happened before I passed out rushed through my head. How long had I been out for?
And oh, God.
What happened to my baby?
I ran my hand down my abdomen, the rounded bump no longer there. Pulling the pale white sheets off my body, I looked down at the loose nightdress I was wearing. I lifted it to reveal my stomach, and there were no signs of stretch marks, no signs of pregnancy at all. A terrible swell of loss made my throat clog with tears.
Where was Ethan?
The pain I felt at the party was gone completely. I managed to summon up enough strength to pull the IV from my arms, climb out of bed, and walk to the open window. There were pretty lawns outside with a few people sitting on benches or walking the grounds. Farther away I spotted an entrance gate, over which hung a big stone sign proclaiming the name of wherever the hell I was, but I was too far away to make out what it said.
I startled when a knock sounded on the door, and a middle-aged woman dressed in an orderly’s uniform stepped inside.
“Ah, you’re awake,” she said, frowning when she saw the tears running down my face.
“Where is Ethan? Who brought me here?” I asked frantically, my heart racing.
“Please, calm down,” the woman urged. “You don’t want to go upsetting yourself.”
“Where is Ethan?” I repeated. “Where’s my baby?”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about, Miss, but if you would just get back into bed …”
“I’m not getting back into bed until somebody explains where I am!” I shouted.
“You’re in St. Frances’ Psychiatric Hospital,” she answered. “Now please, at least sit. You shouldn’t have removed the IV. Just look at the mess you’ve made.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Psychiatric hospital?”
“That’s right. You’ve been here for quite a while,” she said as though I was stupid not to already know this.
Suddenly, my head hurt, a terrible ache pulsing in my skull. I put my hands to my temples and sat down on the threadbare armchair by the window. What the hell was going on? Why was I in a freaking psychiatric hospital? And where the hell was everyone? I wanted to ask the orderly more questions, but the pain in my head was too much.
Everything started to feel strange, and weird ideas took shape in my head. Like, was this reality and whatever I thought my life had been up until now just a dream? Grief swelled in my chest, and I started to cry again. The orderly looked at me uncomfortably, said she was going to get some cleaning supplies, and left the room.
This couldn’t be real.
I couldn’t have lost everything. Or did I even have it to begin with? Were all the vampires, witches, and warlocks just a figment of my imagination? Did I somehow go mad with grief after Matthew committed suicide and get admitted to this place?
No. Everyone was too vivid for me to have made them all up. I could see their faces, remember the way they smelled, the little nuances they each possessed. My brain might be a colourful place, but it wasn’t that colourful. But then I started to think about how much Rita resembled my sassy side, and how Finn and I had almost the exact same sense of humour, the way Gabriel reminded me of how sometimes I could be terribly shy, and I wondered in horror, did I make them all up?
The idea that it could be true, that I was just some madwoman in a psychiatric hospital made me feel like the walls were closing in on me. I had to get out. My heart hurt. I stood on wobbly legs and left the room. Walking through the long hall, a few other patients watched me go by, but they didn’t try to stop me. Nobody stopped me.
When I found a side exit, I pushed open the door and allowed the fresh air to wash over my face, and I felt the sunlight caressing my skin. I stepped out onto the grass and felt like I could breathe again as the cool blades of grass tickled the soles of my feet. The grounds of the hospital were vast, so I kept walking, feeling like if I walked far enough, I’d be able to escape my brain and the awful things it was trying to make me believe.