The Committal

Graham came home at 5:00 PM.

He wasn't alone.

A white van pulled into the driveway behind his Tesla. *Northlake Behavioral Health* was stenciled on the side in soothing blue letters.

Two men got out. They were large. Wide necks. Thick arms. They weren't wearing scrubs. They were wearing polo shirts and khakis, the uniform of "compassionate restraint."

Dr. Aris followed them. He was carrying a black bag.

I watched from the bedroom window. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

They were early.

The party wasn't until tomorrow. The "incident" wasn't scheduled until Scene 16.

Why were they here now?

I saw Lorna come out of her house. She walked over to Graham. They spoke in hushed tones. She pointed at my window.

She had told him.

She had told him about our conversation. About Gavin. About the gun.

She had moved up the timeline.

Graham looked up at the window. He didn't smile. He didn't wave. He just nodded.

Then he led the men toward the front door.

I ran.

I ran to the door. I locked it. I dragged the dresser in front of it.

It wouldn't hold them. Not for long.

I ran to the closet. To the vent.

I dragged the chair over. I reached for the grate.

But my hands were shaking. I dropped the screwdriver. It clattered on the floor.

*THUMP.*

Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy. Fast.

"Merritt?" Graham called out. "Open the door."

"Go away!" I screamed.

"We just want to talk, Merritt. Dr. Aris is here to help."

"I don't need help! I need a lawyer!"

"You're confused," Dr. Aris said. His voice was calm, professional. "You're having an episode. We need to stabilize you."

*THUMP.*

They hit the door. The wood splintered.

I looked at the vent. I didn't have time.

I looked at the window.

Boarded up. Metal shutters.

I was trapped.

I backed into the corner. I grabbed the heavy brass lamp.

It was my only weapon.

*CRACK.*

The door gave way.

The dresser scraped across the floor.

The two men burst into the room.

They moved with terrifying speed. Efficient. Practiced.

One grabbed my left arm. The other grabbed my right.

I swung the lamp.

It hit the first man in the shoulder. He grunted, but he didn't let go.

He twisted my arm. I dropped the lamp.

"Easy, Mrs. Coe," he said. "Easy now."

They pinned me to the wall.

Dr. Aris walked in. He opened his bag.

He pulled out a syringe.

"No!" I screamed. "No!"

I kicked. I bit. I fought like a wild animal.

But they were too strong.

Graham walked in. He stood by the door, watching.

"I'm sorry, Merritt," he said. "I didn't want it to end this way."

"You liar!" I spat. "You murderer!"

He shook his head sadly.

"See?" he said to Dr. Aris. "Paranoia. Delusions."

Dr. Aris nodded. He approached me with the needle.

"Just a little prick," he said. "It will help you sleep."

I looked at Graham.

"Gavin is watching!" I screamed. "He sees you!"

Graham’s eyes narrowed.

"Gavin is dead," he said.

"He's in the woods! He has Leo!"

Graham flinched.

"Do it," he said to Aris. "Now."

Aris jammed the needle into my arm.

I felt the burn. The cold liquid spreading through my veins.

The world tilted.

My legs went numb. My arms felt heavy.

The room started to spin.

"There," Aris said. "That's better."

They let go of me. I slid down the wall.

Graham knelt in front of me.

He stroked my hair.

"It's over, Merritt. No more fighting."

"You... won't... win," I slurred.

"I already have," he whispered.

He stood up.

"Take her to the van."

The men picked me up. I was a ragdoll. Limp. Useless.

They carried me downstairs. Out the front door.

The evening air was cool on my face.

Lorna was watching from her porch. She looked pale. Guilt-ridden? Or just relieved?

They threw me in the back of the van.

On a gurney. They strapped me down.

wrists. Ankles. Chest.

I couldn't move.

Dr. Aris climbed in. He sat next to me.

"Relax, Merritt," he said. "We're going to a safe place."

The doors slammed shut.

Darkness.

The engine started.

We were moving.

I closed my eyes.

I was going to Northlake.

To the white room. To the silence.

To the erasure.

But as the darkness took me, I had one thought.

One tiny, burning ember of hope.

*Gavin.*

He was out there.

And he had a plan.

I drifted into the black.

---

I woke up in a white room.

White walls. White floor. White ceiling.

No windows.

Just a heavy steel door with a small observation window.

I was in a bed. Restraints on my wrists.

I tried to move. My body felt heavy. Drugged.

"Hello?" I croaked.

My voice sounded dry. Brittle.

The door opened.

A nurse walked in. She was wearing blue scrubs. She didn't look at me.

She checked the monitors. She checked the IV drip.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Northlake," she said. "Secure Unit."

"I need to make a phone call."

"No phones," she said.

"I have rights," I said. "I want a lawyer."

She looked at me then. Her eyes were empty. Bored.

"You're on a 5150 hold, honey. You don't have rights. You have a diagnosis."

She walked out.

The lock clicked.

I was alone.

I looked at the IV.

Sedatives? Antipsychotics?

Or something worse?

I needed to get it out.

I tried to pull my hand free. The restraint held. Leather. Padded.

I pulled with my teeth.

I bit the strap. I gnawed at it.

It tasted like sweat and disinfectant.

I got purchase. I pulled.

It loosened. Just a little.

I kept chewing.

Hours passed.

Or days.

There was no clock. No sun. Just the humming of the fluorescent lights.

Finally, the strap gave way.

I pulled my hand free.

I ripped the IV out of my arm. Blood dripped onto the white sheet.

I sat up.

The room spun. I steadied myself.

I needed a weapon.

I looked around.

Nothing. The bed was bolted to the floor. The mattress was foam.

Except...

The observation window.

It was glass. Reinforced. But glass.

I needed to break it.

I looked at the bed frame. Metal.

If I could unscrew a piece...

I crawled under the bed.

I felt around.

A bolt. Loose.

I spun it.

It came free. A long, heavy bolt.

I crawled out.

I went to the door.

I waited.

I heard footsteps.

The nurse. Coming back.

I gripped the bolt.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

She walked in. She saw the empty bed.

"What the..."

She turned.

I swung the bolt.

I hit her in the knee.

She screamed. She fell.

I ran.

Out the door. Into the hallway.

It was long. White. Empty.

"Hey!" someone shouted.

An orderly. At the end of the hall.

He started running toward me.

I ran the other way.

I turned a corner.

Another hallway. More doors.

*Patient 401.*

*Patient 402.*

My room.

*Patient 403.*

I stopped.

The name on the door card.

*Elena Coe.*

I stared at it.

Elena.

She wasn't in the woods. She wasn't dead.

She was here.

In the room next to mine.

Graham hadn't killed her. He had warehoused her.

Just like me.

I tried the handle. Locked.

I looked through the window.

A woman was sitting on the bed. Staring at the wall.

She had dark hair. Streaked with gray.

She looked... broken.

"Elena?" I whispered.

She turned.

She saw me.

Her eyes widened.

She came to the window.

"Who are you?" she mouthed.

"I'm Merritt," I said. "The second wife."

She put her hand on the glass.

"Run," she mouthed. "He's coming."

"Who?"

"The Director."

The orderly was getting closer. I could hear his heavy boots.

I looked at Elena.

"I'll come back for you," I said.

I ran.

I ran until I hit a set of double doors.

*Exit.*

I pushed the bar.

Alarm. Loud. Piercing.

The doors opened.

Cold air. Rain.

I was outside.

In a courtyard. High fences. Razor wire.

I was still trapped.

But I was out of the building.

I looked around.

A delivery truck was backing up to the loading dock.

The driver was getting out.

The gate was open.

I ran.

I sprinted across the wet pavement.

The driver saw me.

"Hey!" he shouted.

I didn't stop.

I ran past him. Through the gate.

Into the parking lot.

I needed a car.

I saw a sedan. Engine running.

A visitor? A doctor?

I ran to it.

The door was unlocked.

I jumped in.

A man was sitting in the driver's seat. Looking at his phone.

He looked up. Startled.

It was Toby.

He stared at me. His mouth open.

"Merritt?"

"Drive!" I screamed.

He didn't ask questions. He threw the car into gear.

He peeled out of the lot.

We hit the main road. We sped away.

"How did you find me?" I asked, gasping for breath.

"I didn't," he said. "I was coming to get you. Gavin told me."

"Gavin?"

"He's been watching the facility. He knew they brought you here."

Toby handed me a phone.

"He wants to talk to you."

I took the phone.

"Hello?"

"Merritt," Gavin's voice said. rough. Static-filled.

"I'm out," I said. "I saw Elena. She's in there."

"I know," he said. "We're going to get her. Tonight."

"Tonight?"

"The party," he said. "It's starting."

I looked at the clock on the dash.

6:30 PM. Saturday.

The Celebration of Life.

"We have to stop him," I said.

"We will," Gavin said. "I have the drive. The one you hid in the plant."

"You found it?"

"I have ways," he said. "And Merritt?"

"Yes?"

"It's not just a suicide note," he said. "It's a confession. He recorded everything. Every rehearsal. Every conversation with Lorna."

"Good," I said.

"We're going to play it," he said. "For everyone."

"I want to be there," I said.

"You will be," he said. "Meet us at the trailhead. The old logging road."

"Okay."

I hung up.

I looked at Toby.

"Let's go to a party," I said.

Toby smiled. A grim, determined smile.

"Let's crash it."

We drove into the night.

Back to Sylvan Hills.

Back to the glass house.

I wasn't a victim anymore.

I was the reckoning.