May I remind you
When you find you
You're all alone is when
You've got to be strong
Cause that's when they call you,
In the night . . .
~ 'Save Yourself' by Sense Field
I'm so afraid, I'm so afraid. Wake up. Wake up. Please!
All she saw was blackness, but she knew it was there. She knew that evil, black thing was there, watching her from somewhere. She stumbled, blindly through the dark, a swell and fall of chanting filling the blackness and filling her ears. Robyn couldn't see where she was going. She held her arms out, feeling for anything, almost too afraid to move, but knew she had to. *It* was watching. The demon ceased to be a man so long ago, and it stalked her, wanted her very being, something she wasn't ready to give up so easily.
Robyn knew she was dreaming, but she couldn't wake herself up. All she could do was stumble through the darkness and pray that it wouldn't grab her. Fear welled in her throat and made her hands tremble, such an irrational fear, really, because she was aware that it was a dream. But it didn't make it less terrifying.
The chanting of the old priest rose and fell, everywhere and nowhere, sometimes so soft that the only thing Robyn could hear was her own shaky breaths. Please, please wake up, she whimpered to herself.
The demon was there. She could feel it watching her, with those red eyes, burning . . . but she couldn't see it. Another set of lungs somewhere in the dark began breathing, startling a yelp out of Robyn. She couldn't *see* anything, but she knew it circled her and stalked, waiting . . . biding its time, for the right moment to take her by surprise, which would be any moment.
Suddenly, light flickered in the inky blackness, and Robyn stumbled away from it, for it wasn't a light at all - it was roughly in the shape of a pair of eyes, a hot flame of red and orange. It was like staring into the pits of Hell itself through those eyes, cold yet burning hot, so cruel and empty of anything but pain and harsh, flickering flames.
"Leave me alone," Robyn tried to cry out, but her voice came out just above a strangled whisper.
I will not.
She hadn't expected an answer. It wasn't a voice, but it reverberated in her head, such a sick feeling and she wanted to cover her ears. Robyn found her voice and screamed, "Go away!"
I will never go away, it answered, a thousand whispers to make one hissing, cold voice. I need you, and I will never leave you until I have you.
"No!" Robyn's voice hitched. I will not cry, I won't believe it. "God, no!"
God will not save you from your destiny. I am your destiny.
"No, you're not," Robyn countered fiercely, anger mingling with blind fear as the eyes moved, shifted - disappeared, only to reappear at some point closer or farther from her.
I will decide your fate. Your soul belongs to me, no other. You were chosen, tainted for this.
Wake up! Wake up! Robyn was shaking all over, couldn't control the motions as fear pumped hot through her veins. This isn't my purpose, she wailed to herself. I wasn't put here for this!
Run, it whispered, its thousands of whispers lowered to an almost tranquil purr. Run, and I will catch you. Hide, and I will find you.
"No," Robyn denied brokenly.
The malevolent entity was silent, the only reason Robyn could see its existence in the dark was because of the cold, flaming eyes. She was afraid to run, but she wanted away, to wake up, this wasn't real, she was dreaming, not real, not real -
The demon jumped up suddenly, soaring towards her in the pitch blackness, eyes jumping closer, full of hunger -
Screams tore in Robyn's throat, and she tried to run from the vicious claws that were dragging down towards her, coming closer, closer -
Suddenly Robyn's eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring at a white ceiling, her head cushioned by a soft pillow. Her own gasping breaths were the only sound, along with the pounding beat of her heart, and the room was lit up with the ceiling light. She clawed at the mattress, gathering fistfuls of the sheet to make sure she was in an ordinary room and there was no immediate danger.
The redhead sat up, eyes still wide from the terrible dream she had. She brushed back her hair from her face, and in doing so she saw a figure in the open doorway. Her head snapped over, and she met Clarice's wide eyed gaze.
"What?" Robyn said sharply, shakily.
"I . . . tried to wake you, Robyn," the woman told her. Her voice was hoarse, as rattled as Robyn felt. She wondered how long the woman had been standing there. She was pale, and it was obviously still the middle of the night, for the hall lights were off and the woman looked like she had woken up hastily. The clock on the wall read it was not quite four in the morning.
"I didn't do anything, did I?" Robyn whispered, suddenly afraid she'd hit the woman again or knocked something over. Dammit, why wouldn't they leave her alone? Why did she have to dream about that monster? Was she just dreaming it, or had it really been talking to her? Threatening her . . . stalking her in her dreams? Robyn suppressed a shudder, and waited for the older woman to respond.
Clarice shook her head jerkily. "No, Robyn." Her voice sounded faint to her own ears, but she couldn't shake what she had seen. The girl had been with the home for three days now, spending most of her time in her room. Quiet, almost shy, but at night, her mind would come alive with nightmares. The last two had not been as bad as before, but this one . . .
An image, unbidden, came to her mind, one of the young girl in the horror movie The Exorcist. It was near the end of the movie, when the two priests were trying to drive the demon out. The girl had sat up on her knees and appeared to be clawing into the air, arms outstretched as if to claw something out. She witnessed Robyn doing much the same thing, only while lying in bed - clawing up at the air, as if in an effort to drive something away from her. An 'it'. While it sounded like rubbish to think about . . . when Clarice had heard that girl speak of it, it left the woman with chills up her spine. Cold fingers of dread. She didn't fear the girl, she feared *for* the girl.
"Can I . . . go back to bed?" Robyn asked hesitantly.
The woman snapped out of her reverie,"Yes . . . yes, of course." She noted how pale Robyn looked, how frightened. She decided not to ask Robyn any questions about it until they both were able to shake off the affects of that horrific nightmare. Robyn's green eyes were dark with misgiving, and Clarice was struck with how alone and afraid she looked, huddled in the covers of the bed. Pity moved her for whatever she had been through, and Clarice spoke softly. "Would you like me to make you some hot tea, to calm you down? I'll put honey in it to make it taste good, and some mint, if you like."
Robyn looked at the woman for a long moment, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears at the other's kind gesture. She turned her head away a bit, alarmed at how the only thing she needed badly right then was a hug. "Sure, thanks," she said in a voice just above a whisper. Clarice nodded and disappeared from the doorway, closing it softly and promising to return in a few minutes.
With her out of the room, everything became so quiet. She looked around the nearly bare, small room, listened to her own now quiet breathing, and became agitated further when she wiped a hand across her eyes and it came back wet.
"It lies," she whispered to herself, studying the wetness of her hand, the slight tremor that still shook through it. "I'm not born for that." Her voice cracked near the end, and she gave in to a few deep sobs that had her chest heaving. Robyn cried hard for a few minutes, her hands curled into fists against her eyes until they slowed and finally stopped.
She only felt a margin better than before, for the demon's words still echoed in her mind.
It felt dirty to recall, and for the first time in a very long time, Robyn prayed to a God she thought had long abandoned her. Prayed that He hadn't left her, that He wouldn't let her go through this alone. Anything but alone. Prayed in an effort to reinforce the idea that good had to exist along with the evil, that there was something else out there fighting against the evil that lived in New York City, hunting her down.
The door abruptly opened, startling Robyn out of her prayer. She quickly wiped at her eyes and saw Clarice walk in, robe swishing against the carpet, with a large cup of steaming tea.
"It's fairly hot, but it should cool down enough for you to drink in a few minutes," Clarice assured her. Robyn nodded and breathed in the scent of mint and honey.
"Thank you," she told her sincerely. Any misgiving thoughts she had before about the woman keeping her here were put temporarily on hold at the benevolence she was showing her now. Clarice gave her a maternal smile, and briefly ran her hand down Robyn's red hair.
"Try and sleep. Maybe the second time around won't bring anything, huh?" the social worker insisted, and Robyn only nodded. Clarice decided to leave her alone, and got up to walk out of the room. Robyn watched briefly until she shut the door, and then turned her head back to the mug.
When Robyn finished the delicious tea, she got up and sat the mug down on the dresser. Briefly, she stood in the middle of the room, hugging herself, wondering how on earth she was going to be able to get back to sleep. She didn't want to - didn't want to risk another nightmare. Didn't want to meet it again in that dark, lightless place.
I can't do this, Robyn thought despairingly. Night after night, these nightmares won't leave me alone. I can't handle this. And I'm not even that tired right now, anyway.
Robyn settled back down on the bed, vowing to stay awake for the remainder of the twilight hours. She didn't know if she could entirely pull it off, but she was going to try. Anything to ward off the nightmarish visions that came with the bringing of night.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Robyn was barely able to keep her promise to herself - staying awake all night was so much harder than it seemed. She was able to do it that first night without a problem, but by the time the next night rolled around, it was so hard to stay awake. Even so, she managed to pull it off once again, only allowing herself to doze for a few minutes at a time, then she would pull herself back, sometimes violently so. She could almost feel it waiting for her to fall asleep, for those velvet claws to sink in, and waking up might be more strenuous and difficult to do than before.
Even so, her will to stay awake waned severely by the third night. During that entire day, her limbs felt heavy, and by evening, her mind was pretty much slush. It was a conscious effort to keep her eyelids open, and if she stood still for more than a few seconds, her body swayed. It was frustrating, and the only reason Robyn was able to keep from making a mad dash for her bed or fall asleep right there on the floor was the amount of caffeine she was drinking. There was a vending machine in the lobby, and Clarice kept a bucket of quarters in the corner of the front desk for the teenagers in the home to use. By midnight, Robyn was able to say that she'd drank all seven types of pop in that machine at least twice.
My teeth are going to fall out, Robyn mused as she stared at the Dr. Pepper can. And I have to go to the bathroom again. She sighed to herself. She lost count of her trips to the bathroom over all this pop, and it would have been funny if she wasn't so freaking tired. She shuffled down the hall towards the bathroom once more, dimly aware of Clarice's constant presence at the front desk. Robyn had given up the notion of getting away from the home since Clarice had taken it upon herself to be permanently attached to the front desk during the day, and locking Robyn's door at night. That still irritated her, but there wasn't really anything she could do about it.
Robyn was aware of someone else in the bathroom when she walked in. There was an odd choking sound from one of the closed stalls, and as she went to go in one, the door to the other opened. Rachel stepped out, the sullen girl who had told Robyn a lot about the home. She was wiping her mouth with her hand.
"Hey," the girl said monotonely, and Robyn gave a weak smile back before disappearing into the stall and shutting the door. She heard the water of the sink run briefly, then it stopped.
"So the dragon at the gate's been keeping you in, huh?" came the taller blonde's voice, echoing slightly from the emptiness of the bathroom.
Robyn smirked halfheartedly. "Yeah. Locks my door at night, too."
The sound of Rachel pulling down the lever to bring out the paper towels was loud against the quiet bathroom. "Don't sweat that. She does it to a lot more kids."
"Doesn't it bother you?" Robyn frowned, aware how long the girl had been there.
The girl shrugged. “She’s never done it to me.” The girl paused while she fixed her hair. "I think I know why she's watching you so close," the blonde spoke, now inspecting her eyelashes and frowning at her appearance.
Robyn paused, a paper towel still in her hands from drying them. "Watching me? The nightmares?"
"More than that," the other replied. "I've seen it before. Disturbed kids -"
"Who says I'm disturbed?" Angered, Robyn whirled around and stared at Rachel through sharp green eyes. "They're only nightmares -"
"Look, all I'm doing is giving you a friendly warning," Rachel interrupted, finally turning away from the mirror and looking at the other. "You a foster kid?" Robyn nodded slowly. "Clarice is probably watching you . . . evaluating you. You can't argue
that you've been acting like a basketcase for the past week."
Robyn flushed with embarrassment, but before she could say anything, Rachel continued. "Just don't be surprised if the foster home decides they need to step in and do something. You know as well as I do that families don't like taking in kids with too much emotional baggage."
"So, you think they'd give me therapy or something?" Robyn asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Maybe." Rachel shrugged. "And maybe they won't do anything at all. I don't know what your story is." She raised an eyebrow at Robyn, as if half expecting to hear it, but Robyn didn't feel the inclination to tell her. Nodding in acceptance, Rachel turned around to walk out.
"Thanks," Robyn called after, feeling compelled to let her know the information had helped.
Rachel half smiled and waved it off. "Don't thank me. Later."
"Later."
The blonde shook her head as she walked back down the hall. That girl really had no idea how deep she could be in if this kept up. Therapy alone wasn't going to get rid of the nightmares that made this chick scream about demons on a near nightly basis, except for the past night, and it looked like she hadn't slept for that one. She almost pitied the girl.
Robyn returned to her room a minute or two after, mulling over what Rachel had said. She definitely couldn't stick around if they wanted to put her therapy. The mere thought of it made her shudder. A total stranger prying into her personal life, what little personal life she had, questioning everything, why she acted the way she did, why she felt this way, you can change all that this way . . . And she could never, ever tell them what really happened. No one with half a brain would believe her. She hadn't believed it all herself until she actually saw it, actually felt it. She felt herself go in a very dark place just thinking about it, and drew her thoughts away from all of that. The redhead reached her door, pulled it open and stepped inside. Flipping on the light, she went directly for the purple comforter and sat down.
I am so tired, she thought with a groan. Robyn rubbed a hand over her forehead, then pulled it through her hair. I can't keep this up forever. These nightmares have to stop. But even considering going to sleep had flames of fear licking up her spine. What if she dreamed about the demon again? The thing that wasn't quite Nago, yet was? What would she do if she couldn't wake up?
"I am so sick of being afraid," Robyn said to herself, her voice small against the quiet of the room. "And I am so . . . freaking . . . TIRED. This isn't working. I *need* to sleep," she ended on a whine. She groaned and flopped back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. Sleep sounded so wonderful, and she was so sleepy. So tired. . . Because she was lying down and being tired instead of sitting up, her eyelids started to droop against her will.
Maybe I'll just rest my eyes for a few minutes, she thought to herself, feeling incredibly groggy. Her limbs felt like they weighed a ton, and the effects of not sleeping for over a day and a half hit her full force. Robyn was deep asleep a few seconds later.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She didn't remember dreaming. She honestly couldn't remember it this time. But when she woke up from her sleep, she was not on her bed - no, she was on the floor, completely tangled up in a sheet, with her arms outstretched and her nails digging into the carpet.
"Oh my God," Robyn whispered to herself. "This is getting ridiculous." Groaning to herself, Robyn scooted her body until she was lying face up, still tangled in her white sheet. The back of her head ached, and she felt kinda bruised on one side, so she must have hit the ground hard.
Wait. I never got under the covers for bed, I fell asleep on the comforter, didn't I? The hell . . .? How did I get on the friggin' floor?
Suddenly the door to her room unlocked and opened, and Robyn sat up so fast she smacked her head against the nightstand. "ARGH!" Her hands flew up to clutch the back of her already aching head, and she leaned forward, hissing against the throbbing pain. "What?!" Robyn gritted out in aggravation to whoever had surprised her.
"I apologize for surprising you, Robyn," came Clarice's soft voice. "Is your head all right?"
Robyn only made a noise that could have been yes, no, or maybe, and continued to clutch at her head and wait out the pain until it dulled. When it did, she slowly let go of the clutch she had on her head, and sighed in relief. That had really hurt. She finally looked up at the woman, craning her neck back to see her face. Her expression appeared tranquil, but her face was tightened in a way that made her look more worried and anxious.
"How did I get down here?" Robyn asked.
The woman didn't answer, but Robyn had a feeling she knew. "Did I dream?"
Clarice pursed her lips. "Honey, New York Foundling are coming by later today. Sometime after noon."
Robyn gave a small smile. Finally! She knew there she would have a chance of getting out - she'd done it before. "That's good news." She studied Clarice's odd expression a moment longer, than felt dread fill her. The worry and anxiety were still there. "Right?"
“Of course.” The woman smiled a bit sadly. The last nightmare had sealed Robyn’s fate, really. The foster facility finally listened when Clarice told them about Robyn’s episodes, although she felt they were taking it in the wrong direction. They spoke of Robyn’s mental instability; Clarice felt she was just a confused child who had seen far too much. She almost regretted having to use the camcorder on the last nightmare, but the facility had wanted to see it for themselves.
Robyn had been watching Clarice think, her eyes fixed on some point on the sheets Robyn was still deeply tangled in. It kind of worried her, but happiness quickly took its place. She could leave!
"Well," Clarice finally said, bringing herself out of her thoughts. She smiled crookedly down at Robyn. "Let's get you untangled, shall we?"
Robyn laughed a little. "I don't know, we might have to cut the sheets. I feel like a mummy." Clarice smiled and helped Robyn pull her body out of the sheets. A few thumps, ow's and laughter later, Robyn was standing up with the sheet bundled up under her arm.
"Now, they should be here within the hour,” Clarice explained, “so go take a shower and I can throw your clothes in the washer and dryer in the back of the home."
Later, when Robyn was drying off from said shower, she picked up her now clean clothes that had been sitting on a chair near the shower stall. Clarice had been a pretty nice woman - she'd have to thank her before she left. It felt nice to have someone on her side for a change.
Robyn barely had enough time to dry her hair before Clarice was knocking on her door saying they had arrived. Feeling perkier than she had in days, she walked down the hall and up to the two men and woman that waited for her. She didn't recognize any of them from the times she had been at the foster home, so she supposed they were new - she hadn't been there in a while, anyhow.
"Ms. McCarthy," one of the men addressed her in a deep voice. Come to think of it, they weren't dressed like they were from the home, either. The two men were wearing suits, and the woman was semi-casual in slacks and a nice shirt.
"That's me," Robyn quipped. "Are we going to Foundling now?"
The three exchanged looks, and Clarice looked a little guilty. Suspicion flooded Robyn's mind, and she looked at Clarice.
"They're not from the foster home, sweety, although they will take you there later," Clarice explained. "I had been mistaken when I thought they were from the home earlier. They cleared that up just now."
"Where are you from?" Robyn asked carefully.
"We are from an organization that works closely with New York Foundling," the man in a brown suit replied. "There's nothing to be worried about, Ms. McCarthy, and you will be going to New York Foundling later on tonight."
"Where are we going before then?" Robyn asked. She was starting to become a little afraid of these people. They didn't work for Nago, did they? As soon as the irrational thought popped into her head, Robyn dismissed it. No, why would they be? That didn't make any sense.
"We're just heading over to Columbia University," the woman finally spoke, her voice reassuring. She placed a hand on Robyn's shoulder, who wanted to shake it off, but instead stood in confusion. Why would she need to go there? "Clarice will be coming later on today, but you might not get to see her."
Robyn nodded. She smiled faintly at Clarice, who reached over and gave her a hug. "Everything's going to be all right, Robyn, you'll see," the woman whispered to her.
That wasn't something she wanted to hear. Alarm bells were going off in her head, but she had no idea what could possibly happen to garner them. Maybe this was the therapy Rachel had been talking about? But so soon?
"Thank you," Robyn managed to get out, remembering what she had wanted to do. "For everything." Clarice nodded and smiled, and Robyn found herself whisked out the door by the three who had come for her.
They led her to a beige car, and once inside, the man driving spoke. "We've been working pretty fast in your case, Ms. McCarthy.” Robyn raised an eyebrow at him. "We received the last bit of . . . information just this morning, and by noon they had decided on a full comprehensive psychiatric evaluation based on the nonprofessional evaluation of your behavior this past week.”
“What? What?” Disbelieving, Robyn stared at them. This blew the therapy theory out of the water. What were these people on? Psychiatric evaluation? She wasn't crazy! Jeez, they were only nightmares! Everyone has nightmares! An evaluation for what?
“It’s a very common evaluation, Robyn. Please, just relax.”
Completely flabbergasted, Robyn sat in silence, her mind jumbled as she tried to figure out what had brought this on. This just figured. Nice luck, Robyn, she thought. What did I do in a past life to deserve this?
She watched, uneasy, through the windows as they went deeper into New York City. She started to recognize where they were going - Manhattan. The car turned onto Riverside Drive, and Robyn inhaled a breath at the large building they were heading towards.
It was a long building completely made of windows that flared and flashed against the sun in the sky, and it narrowed into a point on one side. The large building was completely by itself in a little island between two roads, and it was connected to a few other buildings on the side of the right road by two walkways.
"This part of Columbia University is the Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center," the woman informed her. Robyn nodded, and soon they were close enough to the awesomely large building to the read the sign that stated what it was.
New York State Psychiatric Institute.
"Whoa, we have to go *there* for an . . . evaluation?" Robyn asked weakly.
"Evaluations are really a standard procedure," Mr. Black Suit assured her. "They're done all the time here."
"Who . . . how does this work?" she asked.
"You will be meeting with Dr. Morhavec when we arrive," brown suit told her. "Evaluations only take a few hours, Ms. McCarthy."
Oh, only, Robyn thought sarcastically. She tried to imagine talking to someone for 'a few hours' and shuddered at the thought. How on earth was she going to get herself out of this one?
Before Robyn could obsess any more on it, they pulled up to the front of the large building, and she was whisked out. They went inside, and Robyn couldn’t help but gape.
The other floors could be seen, going all the way up, in a network of white wraparound walkways. At the very top, the ceiling was all glass, so the intense bright blue of the sky made up the roof. White beams crisscrossed across the floors on some of the levels, creating patchworks of sunlight that shone in hundreds of little spots in the building. Robyn thought the effect was gorgeous, and the patches of sunlight felt warm on her skin in the cool of the building. She was pulled away from her musings and led straight to the elevators. They went up to the third floor and entered a large waiting room, where the woman with her spoke briefly to the receptionist.
Robyn felt extremely out of place and incredibly nervous. This was the last thing she had been expecting, and it was happening so fast she could hardly keep up. She hugged herself and waited until they’d taken her by the elbow again, into the doctor’s office.
A man was standing next to a chair in the fairly large room, while another sat behind the desk. Robyn immediately recognized the man standing - he was her case worker from New York Foundling, Mr. LeBeck. She couldn't misplace that balding head, or the large square frame glasses the thin man wore. He looked a little preoccupied, but he nodded at Robyn when he saw her.
"Pleasant to see you again, Ms. McCarthy," he told her. There was a definite hint of scolding in his voice. "We have been incredibly worried since you left months ago."
I'm sure you were, Robyn thought cynically, narrowing her eyes at the man. "I didn't like the food," she informed him, and gave him a bland smile that she knew would irritate the smug little man. As far as she was concerned, it was his fault she got all the crappy families. They were all recommended to her by him, after all.
"Miss McCarthy." The other man behind the desk stood up, a white haired man with a white beard and a red face. Santa Clause, Robyn thought, and had to suppress a snort of laughter. He smiled and extended his hand, which she shook. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Mr. LeBeck, Robyn - why don't you sit down?"
The two sat down in two different dull red chairs facing Dr. Morhavec's desk. Robyn sank into hers and scanned the room. All windows on one side, so she had a clear view of Manhattan and the nearly cloudless blue sky. The carpet was an off white, and there was a large blue oriental rug under her feet. Pretty paintings were here and there on the wall, and the walls itself were a dark mahogany color. What it must be like to make this much money, Robyn sighed to herself.
"Robyn, I understand you know why you are here?" Dr. Morhavec began. He even sounded like a Santa Clause would - like a grandfather, soft spoken and gentle. She nodded. "Excellent. We always have our younger ones, like yourself, accompanied by
a legal guardian. Mr. LeBeck has been one of your caretakers since you have been at New York Foundling, correct?"
Unfortunately. "Yes, sir," Robyn replied.
The doctor nodded, then sifted through a pile of papers on his desk. He spoke without looking up at either of them. "We normally start out evaluations on the most recent symptoms, so that is where we will start today."
"Symptoms?" Robyn couldn't help but ask. "What is it that you think I have?”
Dr. Morhavec looked up, but before he could answer, Mr. LeBeck did it for him.
The man looked Robyn square in the eyes and said briskly, "We believe you may have schizophrenia, Ms. McCarthy."