Can't See the Truth

Three years ago

"Hey, Inette, lets go. We haven't got all night."

Toni put a cigarette in her mouth and lit it, putting the Zippo lighter back in the pocket of her ripped, black skinny jeans. Kat was leaning back on the old couch, downing the last of her cheap beer.

"Are we still going to Sean's?" Toni asked, knocking off some of the ashes into the tray.

"Duh," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Inette."

Toni and Kat hitched a ride with Cry, Kat's boyfriend. By the time they got to Sean's, Toni had gone through half a pack and Kat was so drunk, she could barely get out of the car by herself. The music was so loud that even while she was standing outside, Toni could feel the bass reverberating against her sternum. Walking into the house would've been painful if Toni hadn't been used to the loud music and flashing lights.

Within the first five minutes, Toni had been offered a glass of Jameson whiskey and a line of coke. She took both and then more. It was within the first few hours that Sean started making a move.

"Come on, lets go somewhere."

Toni shook her head, pushing her host away. "I-Idonfeelgood."

"Nah, you'll be okay."

"Nonono. Idonfeelgood."

It was then that she collapsed onto Cry.

Next thing she knew, she was sitting shotgun in his car with the wind blowing in her face.

"Hey!" He practically shouted as he shook her leg. "Try to stay awake, okay?"

“Where...” she mumbled. “What happened?”

“You OD’d, hun,” he said, hand still on her leg. “But I’m taking you to Bellevue. I know a couple of guys in the psych department that can pull some strings to get you all cleaned up.”

“No, no doctors,” she mumbled, feeling incredibly nauseous. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to let you die or fall even farther down the pit because you’re afraid of a doctor,” he said, taking her hand this time. “I’m going to make sure you get better.”

Present day

Dr. Mariah Harris sat behind the one-way glass, sipping her coffee and reading the file in front of her.

"Morning, Harris," Dr. McClain said as the door swung open. "What do we have today?"

"18 year old female," she said, still looking at the file. "Manic depressive, insomnia, and hallucinations, although that could be caused by the insomnia."

"Mmhm," McClain said, holding out a hand for the file as he looked at the subject. "What's she on right now?"

"Nothing," she said.

"So she's completely catatonic?"

"Not completely. She was awake enough to ask for a cigarette."

McClain gave a sigh that ruffled his curly blonde hair. He flipped through the file and cocked his head.

"Stark? Where have I heard that name before?"

"Look at the parents."

McClain turned the page and nodded. "Gotcha. Well," he threw down the file and looked through the glass. "Do you want to go in, or should I?"

Dr. Harris stood up and adjusted her lab coat. "I'll go in. Keep an eye open."

"You got it."

Dr. Harris walked through the door to see the patient. She was sitting on the plastic chair with a cigarette between her index and middle finger. It was obvious that it hadn't moved a centimeter since it was lit.

"Good morning," she said as she sat across from her patient. "My name is Dr. Harris, I'm going to be your primary doctor while you're here."

When she didn't respond, Dr. Harris sighed. "Why don't we start with why you're here. Do you remember anything before you got here?"

The cigarette was almost completely burnt out, but she still wasn't talking.

"Can you tell me your name?"

She shifted in her seat, placing the burnt out cigarette in the ashtray on the table. "A-Antoinette," she said quietly. "But everyone calls me Toni."

Harris smiled lightly. “I have your file here. We got some interesting info from John Hopkins and Bellevue. They didn’t have any Antoinette Stark or Antoinette Miller on file, but they did have a file there that matched your description.” Dr. Harris flipped open the file. “They even have a picture. Do you know anything about that?”

Toni nodded.

“Can you remember the name you used?”

She nodded again, straightening up slightly and folding her hands in her lap. “Inette Crysian.”

“That’s right,” Harris said, scanning through the paperwork. “It said you were admitted to Bellevue in 2009 by an anonymous person for drug abuse and depression problems, is that right?”

“Yeah. Cry said I OD’d at a party.”

“Cry?”

Toni nodded. “Yeah, the guy that admitted me. We called him Cry. At the time, he was dating one of my friends.”

“Speaking of your friends,” Dr. Harris continued. “Let’s talk about what happened last night that landed you here.”

“I don’t remember much of what happened.”

Harris nodded understandingly. “I know, dear. But maybe hearing the description in your file will help to jog your memory. It says: ‘Patient suffered a mental breakdown that resulted in violent domestic behavior, causing bodily harm to another resident of the home.’ Does anything come to mind?”

“Um,” she said, feeling shaky and a little sick. “My dad gave me an old gun and taught me how to use it when I told him I was feeling really paranoid. He said that I hopefully wouldn’t have to ever use it, but it should give me peace of mind. Late that night, I heard someone outside my door. They broke in and I saw a huge group of people that wanted to kill me, so I shot at them, screaming and crying. Then they all disappeared. I...” Toni started to cry. “I think I killed someone.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Dr. Harris said quietly, putting one her hands on Toni’s. “I don’t picture you killing anyone. I think they’re going to be okay. Do you remember who it was?”

Toni quickly shook her head, wiping her eyes as she did so. “All I remember was that I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do.”

Harris nodded. “I know how that feels.”

“No,” she said simply. “You don’t.”