I took that as a “yes.” Obviously Leah and her brother weren’t close, but this hostility seemed extreme.
“I won’t ask where you got the pills,” he said accusingly. “I already know.”
“What pills?”
“The ones you swiped from Mom’s bathroom cabinet.”
“I did not!”
“Did, too. I just wanna know why.”
I shivered under my blankets. “Why what?”
“Why you took the damned pills?” He balled his fists, his knuckles showing blood-red tattooed symbols. “I just don’t get it. You got everything, so why try to check out?”
Good question, I thought, and wished I knew the answer. Why would Leah throw her perfect life away? Well she could have it back. Wealth, beauty, and popularity sounded cool in theory, but I’d rather return to my own imperfect body.
“I already know more than you think I do, so there’s no reason to lie.” He clutched the knife in his fist, glaring harder. “Why take the pills?”
“I didn’t.”
“Stop freakin’ lying.”
“I–I’m not.”
“Is this about Chad? ’Cause he cheated on you?”
“Chad?” I tried to place the familiar name.
“Your boyfriend,” he said sarcastically. “Okay, act dumb and don’t tell me anything. I’m used to being ignored. No one gives a crap about me. I should thank you, I guess, ’cause you’ve screwed up more than me now. Dad’s so pissed at you, he’s eased up on me. I should have been the one taking pills, the way Dad’s always on my case. You can do anything you want, and they give you everything. I get crap.”
“S-sorry.”
“Like you care,” he snarled. “Save it for Mom or Dad or your posse of dumb girls.” Then he jumped up and strode out of the room, nearly bumping into a tall, dark-blond man in a tailored suit with dark gray tie.
I looked up at him, questioning. “Dad?” I guessed.
But I was very wrong.
7
“Do I represent a father figure to you?” the man asked, pulling up a yellow plastic chair. He flipped open a notepad and jotted something down. “Typically patients refer to me as Dr. Hodges. I’m intrigued you called me ‘Dad,’ as I bear no resemblance to your father.”
Oops. Calling a shrink “Dad” was a bad move.
But when he’d walked into my room, carrying a briefcase and looking like an important businessman, I’d assumed he was Leah’s father. I’d already met her mother and her brother, so “Dad” was the next logical visitor. Dr. Hodges didn’t even look like a shrink. No beard or dignified glasses; instead, he had acne scars and large ears that poked out from thinning brown hair. Kind of like a grown-up nerd.
“Let’s just talk about anything on your mind.” He bit the end of his pen and tilted his head expectantly, clearly waiting for me to say something fascinating.
“Um …” I blinked. “My memory is fuzzy.”
“That’s perfectly understandable.”
“Do I know you?”
“Do you think you should know me?”
“Yes … I mean, no … I don’t know.” My head started to ache and I leaned wearily against my pillows.
He leaned forward, his pen sticking up between his fingers. “You’re making remarkable physical progress.”
“I don’t feel—” I paused to swallow “—remarkable.”
“It takes time to recover, but I can assure you your prognosis is highly encouraging. You’re going to be just fine.”
I shook my head, despair washing over me. How could I ever be fine again?
“Don’t think of me as your doctor, consider me your friend.” Dr. Hodges leaned forward, his tone intimate like we were best friends. “How are you feeling?”
“My throat … hurts.”
“Then by all means, let me offer you some water.” He reached for the pitcher on my table and poured a cup.
I accepted the cup, soothed by the cool liquid. “Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m here to help you.”
“Really?” I bit my lip and blinked back tears. Since I’d woken up, almost everyone had treated me with accusations and hostility. I desperately needed someone who cared enough to listen.
“I’ll do everything in my power to help you through this,” he said kindly. “I know it won’t be easy, but trusting me is your first step to recovery. It’s natural to experience initial resistance, but you’ll quickly discover that I have your best interests at heart. I assure you that anything you say to me will be completely in the strictest of confidence.”
“I’m afraid …” I hesitated. “You won’t believe me.”
“Belief begins with your willingness to trust.” He gave my hand a reassuring pat. “Let me help you. Tell me everything about the real Leah Montgomery.”
“I–I can’t.”
“Refusing to cooperate reinforces negative behavior and hinders recovery.”
I sighed, too tired to pretend. “I’m not … not who you think.”
He showed no surprise, although his expression softened sympathetically as he wrote quickly in his notebook.
“I only look like Leah.”
“How do you usually look?”
“Like Amber.”
“Who is she?”
“Me. I’m Amber, not Leah.”
“You have an alternative personality called Amber?”
“No. I am Amber.”
“A nickname?”
“No. Just me.” My words trailed off in a whisper and I wasn’t sure he heard me as I added, “I’m in the wrong body.”
“I see.” He straightened, his gaze sharpening with interest. Finally, I was saying something fascinating and had his full attention. But did he believe me?
“Rest assured, I am completely on your side and will guide you through this traumatic time.” He leaned forward, writing in his notebook. “Are you experiencing feelings of detachment, as if you’re physically inhabiting an unfamiliar body?”
I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but it was close enough, so I nodded. My head throbbed and it hurt to talk. Everything was so complicated. I didn’t know how to say the right things. Dr. Hodges sounded sincere, like he truly understood and wanted to help. With his support, I could sort out this mess and return to my real family. He’d said he was my friend, and I really needed one right now.
“This could be one for the case books,” he murmured with a bright light in his gaze. Not the heavenly kind of bright light; more like the kind of flashing lights that go off when a game-show contestant wins a jackpot.
Instead of being reassured, I had a bad feeling that I’d just made another very wrong turn.
* * *
No one else came to visit, except a different nurse who gave me pills that dissolved the boundaries of reality. I escaped into a sleep so deep that the rest of the day was a blur. If I had bad dreams, I didn’t remember them.
Gradually, voices crept into my consciousness. I was aware of lights and movement and a strong scent of lavender. I resisted waking, not remembering exactly why this was a good idea, just feeling safer in sleep. But cool hands were lifting me …
I fought the hands, instantly tense with fear.
“Leah, honey,” a woman’s soft voice pleaded. “Don’t make this so hard.”
My eyes jerked open. I stared into the stranger face of Leah’s mother.
“Go away,” I told her.
But she didn’t, and neither did the male nurse who stood beside her with a wheelchair. They wanted to take me somewhere unknown. No! I wouldn’t go with them. Leaving would take me further from my family. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to make them understand who I was. But I couldn’t find the words, and crumpled inside. Instead of speaking rationally, I lost it and burst into tears.
“I–I want … my-my mom.”