Home > Books > The Children on the Hill(113)

The Children on the Hill(113)

Author:Jennifer McMahon

“No one,” Vi said. Iris nodded, looking relieved.

They moved on to the next room, opened the door. The same size as the first, but in addition to the bed with the leather restraints, this one held big metal lights, like in an operating room, and a metal table with a metal box on it.

“Is that…” Iris reached for the box, touched one of the dials.

There were cables leading out of it to two paddles.

Vi nodded. “It’s for shock treatments.”

Iris pulled her hand away. “Is this where they did it to me?”

“Maybe,” Vi said, all the spit in her mouth drying up. “Probably.”

She went to the metal cabinet in the corner, opened one of the drawers.

Surgical tools. Scalpels. Forceps. Curved scissors. Retractors. Suturing kits. A small silver saw. She slammed the drawer shut before Iris could see.

The next drawer held vials of medication and needles. Vi picked one up. Thorazine. She put it back, saw several bottles full of ether and chloroform.

“What’s in there?” asked Iris.

“Medicines,” Vi said.

The green-painted concrete floor sloped slightly to a drain with a rusted metal cover.

“I don’t like this room,” Iris said.

“Me neither,” Vi agreed. Again, she took Iris’s hand and led her back into the hall.

They moved down to the final door on the left.

She reached out, tried the switch. The light inside did not come on. Vi turned the knob, pushed the door open, and stepped into the room, with Iris following her.

Vi let out the breath she’d been holding.

“I know this room,” Iris said.

Vi nodded, feeling like she knew it too, though she couldn’t have, not really. She’d only imagined it.

Like the others, it held a metal-framed hospital bed with restraints. And to the right, a deep tub.

Iris closed the door. They were plunged into darkness. Iris was squeezing Vi’s hand so hard Vi worried her fingers would be crushed.

Vi felt the walls closing in. She needed to get out, away from the darkness. Her breathing got faster, more frantic. “I—I—” she stammered. Need to go. Can’t stay. Please. But Iris was speaking.

“I always knew when something bad was going to happen because I could see them coming. Most of the time, they covered the little window so that it was totally black in here. When they were about to come in, they’d open the little window and look in at me. All I could see was their eyes.”

It felt as if Vi remembered too; her own memories were mixed up with Iris’s. She looked at the little rectangle in the door glowing with light, and it became the headlights of an oncoming car. She was in the backseat of the car with her parents. Her father was driving. He swerved to avoid the car, the oncoming lights filling their windshield, impossibly bright.

“And I couldn’t move,” Iris went on. Her voice was quiet. “Couldn’t sit up or even lift my arms or legs because I was held down to the bed with leather straps that left my wrists and ankles raw.”

Vi felt herself strapped tightly into the backseat as the car plunged into the water. She struggled to get loose and couldn’t. She was going to drown down there, the car filling with water, the seatbelt keeping her trapped.

“Sometimes they put me in the tub. The water was ice-cold. They’d strap me and leave me there in the dark. I’d stay in that water until my whole body was numb, even my brain,” Iris said. “They did other things. I can’t remember details, just lights and sounds. The smell of medicine. A buzz. Voices. But it was like I went someplace else.”