“You ran from police and you’re resisting!” an officer called back. He manhandled me out of my backpack and then quickly handcuffed me and hauled me to my feet. Soon enough, I was thrown into the back of a cop car, my Miranda rights only read to me as an afterthought.
* * *
Harlow
Four Weeks Later
The next fewweeks were a whirlwind with the booking and arraignment, then my appointment with their court-appointed psychiatrist. That was a journey all on its own. The poor psychiatrist probably turned in her license after dealing with me. And of course, Monty.
“Can you tell me about your hallucinations, Miss Devoe?” The psychiatrist’s voice was devoid of all emotion.
“What do you want to know?” I asked. My voice shook despite being careful. A tingling rolled down my spine before Monty was standing behind her. The smile that pulled my lips was unintentional but she noticed.
“What is amusing, Miss Devoe?” she prompted. I didn’t miss her glancing behind her chair uneasily either.
“She’s wound tighter than a fucking guitar string. Maybe she needs a good fucking to ease that stick out of her ass. I’d bet money that’s her kink,” he rambled.
“You don’t have money,” I answered with a snort before I’d realized what I’d done. But if they thought I was crazy... may as well give them a show.
“Who?” the psychiatrist continued on as I watched Monty crawl up the wall before dangling above her head so his shadows danced around her. His mouth hung open in an upside-down smile, and it looked so strange against the clinical whites of this room.
“No one.” I shrugged. “They don’t tell me their names.”
Clearly, that appointment went well, or not, depending on your take. But two weeks later, I was in court having to prove my innocence to a judge that looked like Mr. Rogers.
“Harlow Devoe, due to the circumstance of your mental health, the store has decided not to press charges, and the court is turning you over to the state. As your system was free of drugs, you are being given the unique opportunity to get the medication and help you need. You will be assigned an inpatient facility, and a caseworker will be in contact to let you know more. Until then, I hope you consider the consequences of your actions and the leniency the court is showing you today.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, bowing my head so I appeared humble. Part of me was grateful I wouldn’t be going to jail, the other part of me knew this was a prison of another sort. One that was probably worse, if I was being honest with myself, though, some small part of me was curious if I’d actually get help at this facility, or if it would be another dead end for me.I doubt it.So far it’s been one dead end after another. No one wants to help a homeless girl with issues piled higher than a messy bun.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be coming with you.” Monty’s words were followed by maniacal laughter, and for once, I forced myself not to talk back to him. He narrowed his eyes at my lack of answer before disappearing completely.
“Come on, Harlow, let’s go,” my attorney told me, leading me out of the room and back to the bus that would take me to the county jail where I’d be waiting till a spot opened up.
As I stared at the barred window and the dirty streets passing by, I prayed to whatever gods were listening that this wouldn’t be my permanent home.
ChapterTwo
Harlow
Two Weeks Later
Monday Afternoon
Dark Haven Institute
Dark Haven Institute was on the edge of the city, secluded in a copse of trees, and looming high into the bright afternoon sky. The Gothic structure looked like something out of a fantasy novel with its stone exterior and gargoyle statues standing sentry by the front stairs. Dread settled in my gut as I glanced up to see my grandmother staring down from the window above me. I knew she wasn’t really there, but it definitely didn’t make me want to go inside.
Monty appeared on the stairs as my court-appointed social worker led me into the building. He gave me a fanged grin that stretched a bit too wide on his terrifying face.
“See you inside, little human,” he promised before popping out of sight. My fingers brushed over the stone statue, and I found myself pausing, my skin tingling as the cold seeped in. It wasn’t even cold outside. Yet another warning sign to fucking leave.
If only I could.
“This is a fantastic opportunity,” Adam cut in. My social worker had been trying to sell me on this place for three days now as I waited for a bed to open up. To me, the mix of college courses and inpatient facilities seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. But if it gave me more freedom and something more to do than stare at four cinder block walls, I couldn’t really complain. Normally, I wouldn’t be so optimistic, but after looking at brochures for the first three facilities he showed me, I’d take this one any day.
It definitely beat the old stone basement of that church.
The same basement that stole not only my dignity but forced me to run. Maybe at the end of the day I should be grateful for them pushing me to leave early. Who knows if I would have survived beyond that.