A Dark Hole

Chapter 1

You can’t do this to me, Marcy shouted at the orderly as he walked out the door. When she heard the key turn in the lock, she ran to the door. You… can’t… do… this… to me, she shouted again as she struggled to open the door. She stepped back and looked at the door, as if expecting it to open. Nothing happened. She went back to the door and put her ear against it but heard nothing. She slowly turned from the door and walked to her bed. She glanced once more at the door. She stretched out her arms and put her head back, slowly turning in a circle. In a singsong voice, she sang, Marcy is a naughty girl. Marcy is a naughty girl. Need to keep her quiet. Need to keep her quiet.

She lay down on the bed and looked about her room that had been her home for the last three weeks. Her eye was drawn to the picture above the dresser. A small girl was sitting in an oversized chair with a collie sitting next to her with his head on her lap. The girl’s arm was around the dog. Marcy loved that picture. It gave her a feeling of comfort despite the fact that she felt no comfort here at the institute. She felt as if she were a caged animal with no privacy. She didn’t appreciate the fact that whatever she did would be evaluated, and she had no say in the outcome.

She turned her attention back to the room. Her bed was up against a light blue wall with a darker blue for the bedspread. On the opposite wall was a window with matching curtains. A dresser containing a few articles of clothing, a table and chair, and a small bookcase with a few books made up the remainder of the room. The other walls were painted white, and a dark brown throw rug was spread in front of the dresser. There were no pictures of family or anything that hinted at her past. When she arrived at the Wardell Mental Institute, her small piece of luggage was all she carried in. The room was comfortable but did not have a warm, homey feeling.

Marcy sat up, looked at the door, and whispered, Marcy is a naughty girl.

Good grief, what a wildcat. Never knew a petite little thing could put up a fight like that, thought Allan Yaeger as he locked Marcy’s door and walked away from her room. Allan, a husky six foot two, felt he had just wrestled with an eight-hundred-pound gorilla and lost the fight. He had never dealt with Marcy like this and had never seen her display hysterics in the weeks since she had been admitted. Dr. Pearce is going to want to know about this, he said to himself as he made his way to the doctor’s office.

Dr. Daniel Pearce was just sitting down at his desk when Allan knocked on his door and stuck his head in.

Can you spare a few minutes? Allan asked.

Yeah, come on in, Daniel replied. Is this concerning Marcy? I heard that she had an episode in the activity room just a while ago. What happened?

I’ve never seen her do anything like this, Allan said. It seemed as if I was dealing with a completely different person. I was keeping an eye on her the majority of the time and noticed she went and sat on the floor by one of the walls. All of a sudden, she just started yelling and going into a panic. She got up and kept yelling, ‘He can’t get out.’ I went over to where she’d been sitting and noticed there was a small hole along the baseboard. I saw a bug coming out of the hole. Evidently, that was what Marcy was referring to, but she didn’t see the bug come out. She just kept yelling. She went to the table where she and Jody were sitting and grabbed for Jody’s paper. Jody got upset and fists started flying. Jody hit Marcy hard on the shoulder, and before Marcy could hit back, I grabbed her and carried her away to her room. I had no idea she could struggle like she did. She wasn’t very happy when I left. That’s about it. I knew you’d want to know.

Thanks, Allan. Thanks for keeping an eye on her. Keep reporting to me on anything that concerns her.

Dr. Daniel Pearce had just finished his twenty-third year working at the Wardell Mental Institute and was considered one of the top psychologists. He received many notable awards for his work with the mentally ill and was well-known all across the western states. His move from Richmond, Virginia, to Colorado Springs was a wise choice that he and his wife, Kathleen, made to help advance his career in psychology. His interest in the study of how the mind works piqued when his grandmother went through her senior years fighting a mental disorder. He was fascinated as to how fast the mind can disorient one’s thinking.

His credentials from the Richmond Institute reached the board of directors in Colorado Springs, who were looking for a candidate to head a department at their institute. So when an offer was made, Daniel accepted it.

WMI was originally located just outside of the business district of Colorado Springs. The building was deteriorating, and the facility was outgrowing space needed to house the patients. The board of directors approached him six years ago to help plan the construction of a new facility farther out of the city and help with updating equipment that they were lacking.

Daniel jumped at the chance. He helped design the floor plans as well as offered suggestions on how to adequately use every inch of floor space to enhance its function as well as making the patients feel more at home and not feel as if they were placed in a cold dungeon.

His six-foot frame with his salt-and-pepper hair, as well as his wife’s remarkable likeness to Lauren Bacall, tagged them as a very handsome couple. They had two children—a boy, Ethan, and a girl, Kristin.

His world was ideal until a fateful day five years ago when his wife and children, ages fifteen and thirteen, were killed in an auto accident on I-25. He also lost his sister-in-law, Doreen.

A semi was approaching the car at high speed and ran into the SUV, causing it to fishtail and flip. The SUV flipped over a guardrail on an overpass and landed on the road below. The newspapers carried the story longer than necessary, since it involved a well-known family.

Daniel was devastated. The accident occurred during the construction of the new institute. He wasn’t able to concentrate on the building and approached the board of directors to let them know he couldn’t continue with the project. A conference was held after the memorial service, and they assured him that they would give him as much time as he needed to deal with his grief. They would continue with the project when he returned.

Daniel was grateful for this. He returned to the institute a month later, knowing that he needed something to take his mind off his loneliness rather than sitting at home in an empty house, day after day.

Chapter 2

After Allan left, Daniel reached for Marcy’s file; he kept it on his desk rather than file it. He would open it occasionally and read through it, hoping to find a clue as to why she had been admitted. This was one case that baffled him. He opened the folder; looking back at him was the picture of Marcy Finley when she first entered the institute, three weeks ago. He took the photo out and looked at the petite twenty-year-old who held a secret that he was unable to break. The episode this morning showed a very small piece to the puzzle. She hadn’t reacted to a hole in this manner before; usually, she just filled the holes with whatever she could find.

He pondered this for a few moments and then picked up the folder again and started reading.

Marcy Marie Finley, born April 25, 1992, in Trenton, New Jersey. Her parents were Dennis (deceased) and Carol (Morgan) Finley. Carol was a bank teller and Dennis was a delivery truck driver for a laundry service. Marcy’s father died in a car accident three months before Marcy was born. Her mother did not remarry until Marcy was eleven years old. Marcy had one brother, Brent, who was two years older than she.

He set the folder down again and got up from the desk. He went and looked out the window of his fourth-story office. Today, his eye didn’t take in the beauty of the mountains, as it normally did. His mind was too deep in thoughts of Marcy. He still remembered the day she was admitted. She had come in with her aunt and uncle.

Larry and Joanne Carson, a couple in their forties, sat across from him with helpless looks on their faces. Joanne was as petite as Marcy. Her strawberry-blonde hair was long and laid atop her shoulders. Larry’s graying hair and medium build gave him the appearance of a college professor rather than a technical engineer.

Dr. Pearce, we just don’t know how to handle Marcy. We had no idea that she was having problems, or at least that’s what we’re assuming with her behavior and all, Joanne stated after being asked why they thought Marcy should be admitted to the institute.

Marcy’s mother, Carol, was Joanne’s younger sister. From what he was told, the relationship between Carol and her children was almost nonexistent. Joanne explained that she and her husband lived a block away from Carol until Marcy was seven years old. The children spent more time at their home than at their own home.

I’ve always felt that they were my children rather than Carol’s. It bothered me a lot when I learned we were moving to Colorado. Larry had gotten a great promotion from the technical company he was working for in New Jersey. He had been hoping for an advancement, but that never happened. So when the company expanded to Colorado, he was promoted to general manager.

The pay was too good to pass up, and the chance to further my career really appealed to me, Larry added. I knew this was the job I always had wanted.

What were the circumstances that made you decide to have Marcy live with you? Daniel asked. What brought her to WMI?

Joanne started the story. "About two months ago, Marcy and her mother showed up at our house, unannounced. We had no idea that they were even considering coming to Colorado. Carol stated that Marcy decided she wanted to start a career here and become a legal secretary.