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“Yeah, it’s my own ordeal anyway. I’m thankful that you came to begin with. You didn’t need to… but I appreciate it.” I sink in my seat a bit, just able to see the fields and city grow further in the distance.
* * *
Harlow Sanctum stands tall and lonely in vast, darkened fields beneath a dreadful stormy sky. Montana is a good place to be sick. The weather sucks, the winters are long, and the mountains beckon to you.Mountain sicknessis what I’ve frequently heard it termed, where the higher altitudes fuck with your brain and make you depressed.
Part of Harlow’s marketing is that they are located in the northwestern part of the state, in the lowest elevation.
Great, out in the middle of nowhere.
I check my phone and am not surprised that there’s no service out here. It’s okay, it’s not like anyone has messaged me anyway. I’m looking forward to unplugging from the socials for a while. I don’t have any friends that will miss me.
The rain has hardly let up since we left the hospital over an hour ago. The closest town is Bakersville, which has a cute Main Street that we drove through to get here. They already have decorations for an end-of-summer Brewfest strung along the lamp posts and some flyers for their Fall Festival the weekend of Halloween.
I stare expressionlessly at the gray stone walls of the sanctum. This place looks like the castles I once saw in Ireland with James. Vines cling to the bricks. The stones are wet, drenched with relentless rain. Fancy black planter boxes filled with orange and yellow marigolds line the massive entrance, four on each side. A large, modern chandelier hangs from the center of the portico. James pulls up beneath it and I take in the large windows framing the front doors.
It’s straight out of a storybook.
Once James parks his car, we don’t waste any time grabbing my single bag from the back seat and rushing to the enormous front doors. They are black and modern, an obvious addition to the original structure, but they tie in perfectly.
“Hurry, I’m running late.” James checks his watch obsessively as I open one of the huge doors.
Musky air invades my senses as we step through the threshold and into the three-story foyer. Black marbled tiles make up the floors that stretch to many hallways on each side of the institute. Weathered wood pillars that could use another stain frame the massive room. Large chandeliers hang from the ceilings.
The lobby is quiet. A small elderly woman sits at the front desk. Her thick-framed glasses hardly manage to stay on her face; they cling to the very end of her button nose. Her gray hair is curly and short. She reminds me of my old piano teacher—except the wrinkles on this lady’s face are clearly from smiling, not scowling, like the witch of my past.
I frown as the dread of this place starts sinking into me. It looks a lot like a fancy hotel, except this place is depressing. Gray walls, black floors, gray everything else. It could just be in my head since I know it’s not some cool vacation spot. I know the people that dwell in here are sick.
We are the ghosts here.
One would think these places should be a little bit more cheerful. Maybe hang a smiley-face poster behind the clerk orsomethingother than the white, black, and shades of gray.
I nudge James with my elbow. “I was picturing more of a bulletproof-glass walls, everyone-in-restraining-jackets type of thing.”
My brother scowls at me and sets my bag at my feet. “No, of course not. You’re not criminally insane. This is a rehabilitation center, and an expensive one too.”
I raise a brow at him. “We couldn’t afford anything better?” I jest.
James laughs sarcastically, making me flinch as he pats my back like I’ve just told the best joke ever. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll call you this weekend, okay? If you need anything, text me. Your motorcycle is already here and I’ve had the rest of your things put in a storage unit in Bakersville.” He hugs me tightly. “I love you—you’re going to beat this.”
I smile grimly into his shoulder, not bothering to even ask how he got all my shit sorted in such a short amount of time, including me. He’s efficient in that way, at packing people and their things away like crumbs under a rug. It’s what he did with Mom, it’s what he’s doing with me. I know in my heart he means well, he’s trying to make everything be simpler and easier for me, but I can’t help but wonder if I’d feel less disposable if he let it be more of a mess. “Yeah—I’ll try.”
He says his final goodbyes and I watch as the ridiculously big door closes ominously behind him, leaving me utterly alone and stranded in this unfamiliar place. I tap my phone again and there’s still no service. I’m guessing this is a Wi-Fi connection service type of living situation.
Groaning, I shove my phone back in my pocket and take a deep breath.
I can do this.
My nerves are on high alert and I’d rather be literally anywhere but here right now. I swallow the lump in my throat and glance back at the check-in desk. The little old lady is watching me through her abhorrently dirty glasses and it takes more than I’m willing to admit to not hand her a cloth and tell her to clean them.
I try to straighten my features into anything but a grimace.
“Um, hello.” My lips forcefully pull upwards in an awkward smile. I lean down and grab my bag before approaching her.
She’s even more petite up close. She smells like mildew and cats, and that’s about as unpleasant as it sounds. My brows pull together the longer I stand here with my stupid fake smile. Didn’t she hear me?
“I’m here to check in,” I mumble, rubbing the back of my head and glancing back at the door. Maybe it’s not too late to fucking bolt out of here.
The sound of paper sliding across the counter brings my eyes back to her. She slowly sets a pen on top of the small stack and taps on a line at the bottom.
