Everything was the same as it was before. She was sure of it. I realized she knew it hadn’t worked. It hadn’t changed anything. I didn’t know what to do.
Four days earlier, I received a call from Chicago, Illinois.
“Hello Sir, this is Detective Wyatt from the Chicago PD, is this Dr. Jacob Arnold?” Wyatt asked, concerned.
“Yes Sir, what can I help you with?”
“We have a girl, her name is .... well, we don’t know. She wouldn’t stop shaking and mumbling to herself for long enough so we could ask. When she did she said she didn’t know. She was found in the old warehouse up the street from the police department. It’s being knocked down tonight at 11:00 PM. The guys who were cleaning it out found her hiding behind some storage bins. They said she screamed every time they came near her. Eventually she calmed down and came back to the department with us. We had some doctors check her out, but they didn’t get very far. We still aren’t sure why, but the only thing she said was your name. She said it twice and very quickly. Do you think you would be able to help her?”
“I can definitely try. I’m not sure how she knows me. How old do you think the is?”
“Maybe about 16.”
“Hm, well I guess I never met her in school or anything seeing that I probably graduated before she was even in middle school. That aside, it sounds like a pretty difficult case. I’ll be there in a half an hour.” Jacob stated.
“This is greatly appreciated.” Wyatt dictated these words into the phone and hung up.
She seemed totally fine when she talked to me. She still didn’t remember at all who she was or why she was in that warehouse. But, it was an improvement to have her talk to me like a normal person. No screaming or shaking like they said before. We talked for a while, I told her about myself and she told me everything she could about herself, which wasn’t much. I explained how I am a psychiatrist and what that was. I made an effort to express how I believe she isn't completely crazy, but just confused and something may have happened to block her memory.
“You have no idea who I am or why I was there?” She asked, afraid to hear the truth which was that I didn’t. I knew she wanted to know who she was. I could relate. My biggest fear is never finding out what happened to my family. I have a good feeling that's what she fears too.
“I don't remember anything about my family or my childhood either. I remember going to school, but even that is a little foggy. I don't even remember if I actually had parents or not. I remember having a house. It had low ceilings and I used to have to duck when I walked through the door frames. I remember little things like that, but none of the important stuff. I know what you’re going through. I may be able to fix it. There’s this machine that’s owned by my office building. All the psychiatrists here at our practice are allowed to use it. If you let me hook you up to this it does something with electron strands and your brain’s medial temporal lobe, and somehow transfers information to your limbic system inside your brain. I won't get into exactly how it does this, but hopefully this will help you remember something from before, which may lead us to who you are.”
She agreed to do it, so I did. I didn’t tell her that the machine has never worked for me. I wanted her hopes to stay high. But, sadly, it's true. It has been used on so many other people, and it's worked for all of them, except me. Actually, once I had a schizophrenic patient that it wouldn’t work on, but once he was diagnosed and put on medication I tried again and it worked fine. He was an orphan which explained the fact that he had no idea where he lived. Sometimes people don't want to accept their past. I guess sometimes they’ve built up a wall so they can't go back on their memories. I’ve done everything I can to try and knock that wall down, but nothing has worked.
I flipped the switch. She said she was ready so I counted to three, and there it went. There was a loud bang followed by a really high pitched screeching noise. It sounded like a bomb had just been detonated. She screamed, ripped the cords off her head, and ran away from the chair she was sitting in. It was like she was being chased by a vicious monster until the noise stopped and the ringing in our ears faded out. The machine was broken. I had no idea what happened. She still didn’t even know her own name. Everything was the same as it was before. She was sure of it. I realized she knew it hadn’t worked. It hadn’t changed anything. I didn’t know what to do.
Finally, we decided that we would sleep in my office building and in the morning we would go back to the warehouse to try and figure things out, but we didn’t have much hope. I knew she was there for a reason, we just couldn't figure that reason out.
I was awakened by the sound of her screaming, “We have to go tonight! We have to go tonight! If we don't they will tear it down! Hurry we have to go!” She grabbed my shoulders and shook me up and down. I sat up and realized I had forgotten Detective Wyatt told me the warehouse was being torn down tonight, 11 PM.
“Oh my God, I totally forgot they were tearing it down. We still have time. It's only 10:02. We can get ready and leave in ten minutes.” I answered reassuringly. I tried to stay calm about it, but inside I was angered by this too. How did I forget about what Detective Wyatt said?
“No, we have to go now! She’s gonna die! She’s all you have left! She’s gonna die!” She yelled in my ear.
“Who’s she? I don't understand. What do you mean? Who is she?”
“We have to go NOW! No questions, we have to save her before it’s too late.”
She practically dragged me down the stairs and out the door. When we got there, the construction crew was getting ready for the demolition. She didn’t even acknowledge them or their equipment. I watched her jump the chain-link fence and land in the dirt. I realized I had to do the same. We ran towards the door. The construction crew only seemed to notice me. They didn’t really acknowledge her. Right as I ran through the door, a man wearing a hard hat stopped me, and she had already made it inside.
“Sir, what are you doing here? This is a demolition zone. We are preparing to knock this building down at 11- you can’t be here.”
“Um, we work for a company that has items stored here. We were just, uh, coming to make sure it has all been removed.” He looked at me, confused, like I had two heads.
“Well, when ‘you guys’ are finished, we would be happy that you leave so we can carry on with the demolition.” He grunted, sarcastically. Why did he mock me for saying ‘we’? Did he not see her run inside before I did?
I tried to find her through the mass of empty boxes and dust. It was really dark, and I was having a hard time, until I heard the screaming. Though she sounded different this time, more high pitched and afraid. It sounded like she was screaming out of true fear, not just because she was a bit crazy and trying to scare the workers away like the first time they found her. I ran right to the source of the cries. There were two of them.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” The girl, my patient, said to her, trying to stop her screaming. But she didn't respond. So I repeated my patient’s statement.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” After I stated this, she wiped her eyes and looked up to me. But, she was still only acknowledging me and not the girl, my patient, who I had been helping all day.
They were exactly alike, except for their hair. The girl who was my patient had blonde hair. The new girl, who my patient found in a similar spot where she was hiding earlier today, had brown hair. I didn't understand. Were they twins?
“My name is Jacob, what’s your’s?” I introduced myself, hoping that getting to know her would help us understand.
“I’m Ashlee.” She didn’t seem as afraid as before.
“This is my patient, um, we aren't sure of her name as of now, but-”
“Who are you talking about, we are the only ones here.” I looked around, and my patient was gone.
That’s when it all made sense to me. She wasn’t real. I never got a call from the police. This whole time none of it was real. But somehow, she led me to the only family member I had left: my niece Ashlee. Tests showed that Ashlee and I were definitely related. Ashlee was all I had left, but at least now I wasn’t alone. Ashlee still doesn’t know what happened to our family either. Neither did she know why she was at that warehouse or how she got there. I guess what matters is that we have each other and we are doing better together than when we were alone.
She got me help, they gave me medicine and I never saw that girl again. They said the meds were just to help me sleep better, but I don’t believe what they say.
I still had my apartment, so we decided to live there so Ashlee could take care of me. The
doctors didn’t want me living alone. They took away my psychiatry license, to this day I don't understand why, and Ashlee never felt the need to explain it to me.