But Violet didn’t stop. “I should have known. You look just like her!”
“Violet, that is enough. You need to go,” I said.
She laughed, shaking her head at me. “She’s been lying to you this whole time, Theo! She isn’t some struggling twenty-something. Her family is loaded! But that isn’t the even the icing on the cake.”
Felicity started toward the exit.
“You were at Juilliard until you had a breakdown!” Violet yelled. “Just like your mother. What did she have? Oh, that’s right. Schizophrenia!”
The roses I had given her slipped from her hand, and there were tears in her eyes.
“No….” She shook her head.
“You have it too! You went crazy. They say you got into a car accident and thought you hit your own mother. They found you holding onto yourself, crying ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry….’”
“I hit someone and went to juvie,” Felicity yelled back.
“Juvie?” Violet laughed. “Since when is Golden Crossroads Hospital a juvenile detention facility? It cost two grand a night, and you were there for three years. You’re really insane, aren’t you?”
Felicity stood there for a second, her mouth open, and looked around in confusion, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“You’re wrong,” she stammered before running.
“Felicity!” I started to race after her, but Violet clenched on to my arm.
“Let her go!” she yelled.
I pulled away from her so hard she stumbled backward.
“DO NOT EVER TOUCH ME!” I hollered in her face.
“Theo, she’s insane, like medically—”
“The only insane person I saw here tonight was you! You’ve always been selfish, Violet. But I didn’t realize you were cruel too. What did this serve, embarrassing her in front of all these people? What do you get out of it other than being a fucking bitch who still can never dance?”
She looked to me like I had slapped her. “She was lying to everyone.”
“The only thing we ever cared about was her dancing,” Walter said. “And she never lied about that.”
“Violet, get the hell out of my building. Don’t contact me or my family or anyone else close to me. You are not welcome. You are nothing,” I said to her before leaving to chase after Felicity.
The first place I went was her dressing room, not bothering to knock before entering, but it was empty, her bag still on the counter. I heard beeping from her old cell phone.
She had one missed call from Rosemary—I remembered her from the diner. But that wasn’t the strange thing. When I flipped open the phone, it took me to her caller ID list. There were calls to me, Rosemary, her boss Manny, but the calls she’d made to Cleo and Mark hadn’t lasted more than three seconds.
I dialed Mark. “The number you’ve reached is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”
I dialed Cleo. “The number you’ve reached—”
I moved to her text messages and wished to god I hadn’t.
Cleo, I’m sorry, okay? Please come tonight?
This service provider cannot receive texts.
Ha, yes, I’ll finally drink again with you. I had them reserve a seat for you and Mark.
This service provider cannot receive texts.
Just be happy I got you these seats, and it’s not the opera. There is no skybox.
This service provider cannot receive texts.
“Umm… sir?” The event coordinator was at the door. “Are you all right? Your eyes…”
I glanced in the mirror and sure enough, there were tears streaming down my face. Other than the sting in my eye, I couldn’t feel it. Wiping my eyes, I nodded. “I need you to check if two reserve guests came in,” I said sternly.
“Names?” she said, typing on her tablet.
“Cleo or Mark….” I glanced at the phone to see their last names. “Owens.”
“Sorry, sir, neither of those two people has checked in yet.”
I nodded. Cleo and Mark weren’t real people. They were hallucinations that Felicity truly believed were only her friends.
She was schizophrenic.
****
“Her real name is Felicity Harper Ford,” the man beside me repeated, placing the background check I had done on her so long ago in front of me. “Her mother was Amelia Ford, a very famous dancer in New York and abroad. She suffered from schizophrenia and died of a heart attack when Ms. Felicity was a child. Her father remarried about six months later, and she pretty much lived a regular life. She focused on her music and dance. Then one day, while out with her friends, they got into a car accident. Ms. Ford had a breakdown on the side of the street. She kept screaming for someone to call the police, that they’d killed her. There was no one there. They ran into a light pole. Her father sent her to Golden Crossroads Hospital, where she stayed until she was eighteen. She took part of her inheritance and then disappeared. She’s drained most of the money from her bank accounts, spending it on clothes. Oddly enough, a few of them were men’s clothes. It’s like she’s throwing out money with one hand and then working to replace it.”
“You can go now,” I told him, leaning into the backseat of my car as he opened the door and exited.
I thought of everything she’d told me, how hurt she was about taking someone else’s life, and none of it was true. Not because she lied but because she had honestly believed that was her story. That meant she’d been alone for almost a decade, talking to herself or her hallucinations, and no one had realized because no one got close enough to her to know something was off.
“Sir, where to?”
It was a simple question, the answer more complicated than I could even imagine.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Aftermath
Felicity
11:15 p.m.
“Ma’am, I’ve said there is no record of you ever being at Nidorf Juvenile Detention Facility or any facility anywhere. My question to you is why do you think you were there?” the police officer said to me for the third time, yet I couldn’t understand.
My mind hurt so badly, I felt as though it was going to explode. This was not right. I was not crazy! I was not crazy!
“I’m sorry, can you look up a Cleo Owens, age twenty-three, born March thirteenth, 148lbs? Her social is 000-21-0854.”
The man looked at me like… like everyone had looked at me at the gala. Like I needed help, like I was the one not making sense.
“That’s a fake social number. Zeros for all the digits in any set are never used. Cleo Owens is also not in this system, and if that’s the social she gave, then Cleo Owens is not real.”
“How can you say that? How hard is it to look someone up on the computer!” I yelled, shaking as I slowly backed away from the desk. “This isn’t right!”
“Miss, why don’t you take a seat—”
I wanted to run, but when I tried, an officer grabbed my arms. “Let me go!”
“Ma’am, what are you on?”
“Nothing!” I screamed, fighting against the restraints at my back.
“Ma’am, we’ll detox you in a holding cell until you calm down—”
“You can’t hold me. I did nothing wrong, let go!” I kicked him.
Another officer appeared. “Ma’am, stop fighting us. We’re trying to help. You are not stable—”
Dad, please don’t send me way! I’m not crazy! Dad!
Stop fighting. Stop fighting, Felicity. We’re here to help!
I don’t know where it came from, but I remembered the men coming into my house and dragging me away, while my father and his family stood in the doorway, shaking their heads at me. He’d thrown me away—no.
That one memory took all of the fight out of me.
“Ms. Ford, we are going hold you due to suspicions you are on a mind-altering substance and for disorderly conduct.”
I stopped paying attention, just nodding as they led me away.
Biting my lower lip, I tried not to cry
. Nothing made sense, and my heart hurt. I wanted to go home. I wanted them to stop asking me questions and stop touching me. I didn’t know what they were searching for, but I had nothing on me. I had run out with nothing but the clothes on my back. Even when they proceeded to take my fingerprints, I couldn’t find the voice to speak. All I wanted to do was lie down, and when they put me in the cell, that’s what I did. As I lay my head on the hard blue bench, the tears came. Only an hour ago, I’d felt like I had reached the top of the world, only to be kicked off.
I want to die.
I should never have gone out with Cleo and Mark that night. I should have never have tried to dance. I should have stayed on my own. This was my fault. Why did I try so hard to get better? My life was not sunshine and rainbows. I’d fucked up.
“Ma’am, have you taken any drugs maybe you were not aware of?”
I glanced up through the bars at the female officer. “No, I didn’t. I don’t do drugs.”
“Do you have any family I can call?”
I told her Mark’s number since Cleo most likely still hadn’t paid her phone—
“Miss, that number is disconnected. If you don’t have anyone we can call, you’ll end up having to stay here for the weekend. You don’t want that, do you?”
Theo’s face flashed in my mind, and I turned my head. I didn’t want to see him. Of all the times Mark and Cleo’s phones would be off, it had to be today. I had no one else.
“Miss?”
The only other person I knew to call was Rosemary, so I give them her number before going to sleep.
12:05 a.m.
“Ms. Ford, your boyfriend is here to pick you up,” the guard said, opening the door. As I sat up, I ran my hands through my hair, trying to adjust my eyes to the light.
Wait.
“Boyfriend?”
“Yes. Come, let’s go.” She linked arms with me, helping me up.
My body felt heavy, but I followed her, limping because my legs were so sore. When we got to the front of the station, a few police officers shook their heads at me as I went by. I saw Theo, his face hard, devoid of all emotion, signing his name. I hated how he looked up at me with so much sadness in his eyes.
“I asked for Rosemary,” I murmured.
“She’s in Hawaii. So she called me.”
One of the officers handed me back a bag. In it were my earrings, the shirt around my waist that must have fallen off, and a watch.
“Is that all?” Theo asked the older man behind the corner.
The man nodded. “Yeah. Just go. And lady, please get some help. You can’t come into a police station and start yelling.”
“Sorry,” I said in shame, hugging the bag to my chest.
Theo tried to reach for my hand, but I pulled away. He led me out the double doors and into the waiting car. Nolan gave me a polite nod in the rearview mirror.
I rested my head against the window, seeing his reflect in the glass. He didn’t try to touch me. He didn’t say anything at all. Instead, he stayed on his side, pulling off his tie, leaning back in his seat.
I couldn’t take the silence, though. God only knew what he thought of me. “Thank you for coming. If you had to pay bail, I’ll work to pay you—”
“Why did you go to the police station?” He cut me off, finally turning to look at me.
“I figured they would able to pull up juvie records.”
He sighed softly. “But you never went to juvie, Felicity.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that!” I yelled. “I went to Nidorf Juvenile Detention Center when I was sixteen. I met Cleo Owens there the following year. When she was released, her cousin Mark took us in.”
Nolan up front. “Nolan, when you came to pick me up the first time, I was on the balcony. Mark was the man who called down to you and said I’d be ready in a few minutes. You said ‘Yes sir!’ You saw him, don’t you remember?”
His eyes met Theo’s in the rearview mirror before looking at me.
“Ma’am, the only person I saw that night was you. You asked for twenty minutes then changed your mind and asked for half an hour. I said, ‘Yes, certainly,’ not ‘Yes, sir.’”
I backed into my seat, shaking my head. “You said you knew I worked at the diner because of Facebook. My profile picture is of me and Cleo.”
He pulled out his smartphone and held it up. There we were, Cleo and me. Her hair had been purple when that photo was taken.
“See!” I pointed to her arms wrapped around my neck with the camera in our faces. “That’s us! She has purple hair! It’s Cleo.”
“Felicity, I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath. I’m going to show you another photo.” He took the phone and swiped it before giving it back to me. “Is Cleo in this one?”
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and looked. “I took this before Cleo jumped into the frame—”
“Felicity, that’s the same picture I showed you before. It’s your profile picture. There is no one in the picture with you.”
I froze then flipped to the next picture. One moment I saw her, the next I didn’t. Sometimes it looked like she was fading right out of the photo.
“Take… me home… please.”
“We’re already here,” he said as the car pulled to a stop in front of my building. I reached for my purse but remembered I’d forgotten it at the gala.
“I don’t have my bag—”
“I picked it up after you ran out. I came here first to find you after you left. I’m sorry, but I let myself inside.” He held up the keys.
Not saying anything, I stepped outside the car. I didn’t wait and walked up the stairs to our condo. Turning the doorknob, my heart was pounding so hard my ears rang, yet there was no difference in anything when I stepped into the living room. It was absolutely the same as always. My teal pillows were on the tan couch Mark had loved the first moment he’d laid eyes on it at a yard sale.
“Mark?” I called, putting my keys down. “Cleo? Are you here?”
No answer.
Hearing the floorboards creak, I turned to see Theo standing with his hands in his pockets, watching me.
“They’re real,” I said.
“Felicity, I’m no expert by far. I just started to read a few things online on the way over here. However, something I learned was that hallucinations have one fatal flaw: even for the person having them. All you have to do is expose something that can’t be rationalized to help give people a point of clarity.”
I bit my lip, fighting tears. “Cleo and Mark are not hallucinations. I’ve not been hallucinating for six years! We all live together here. We are family. They are my family, so get the fuck out.”
He looked like he didn’t want to speak. His mouth opened and shut twice before he finally said what he needed to say.
“Felicity, why do you only have one bedroom?”
It took a second for his words to make sense. Stepping back, I turned and opened the door to my bedroom. Teal walls, a bright yellow bedspread, my books and clothes all over the floor. Closing the door, I went down the hall. This was Mark’s room.
But when I opened it, I saw the white laundry room. In it was nothing but shopping bags: Louis Vuitton, Versace, Prada… all for men. Kneeling, I reached into one of the bags and pulled out a watch and a receipt. It was dated three years ago.
“No.” I moved to the second door down the hall, Cleo’s room, but it was only a storage closet filled with shopping bags.
“Ahh—” I gasped, falling to my knees, clasping my hands over my mouth as I fought down the sob shaking my whole body. It was like waking up from a beautiful dream and having to watch your worst nightmare.
“Shh,” Theo whispered, wrapping his arms around me from behind. Clutching him, I broke down and cried, the words spilling from my lips like water from a hole in a dam.
“No one was there!” I remembered. “I left Golden Crossroads, and no one was there. I called home, and they said I still needed help. I went to the bank
and tried to get money, but I had to be twenty-one to get all of it, so I took what I could and bought this place. Rosemary mentioned something about going to a sugar baby party, and I talked to her about it. I thought it was Cleo and Mark who forced me to go, but I did it myself. I signed up myself. I was talking to myself, Theo. It was just me. Just me.”
“Shh, Felicity you’re going to be all right. You’re—”
“I’m just like her.” I shook my head. “I’m just like my mom. I’m… I’m.”
“It’s not just you. I’m right here. You’re going to get help, Felicity. I’m going to help,” he said softly, but I couldn’t stop crying.
What had happened to me?
I want to die.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Caging Felicity
Felicity
Day One
10:10 p.m.
“This is your room,” the nurse said to me as I put my bag on the bed nearest the window. If it weren’t for the double-sided window for the doctors to look in, I could almost fool myself into believing this was some luxury hotel. The walls were a neutral beige color, and random paintings of flowers were hung on the walls. There were even magazine and books by the bed. Nothing had changed in the last six years. I wasn’t sure if it was comforting or maddening.
“I’ll give you a moment, and then you’ll have to sign out,” she said, closing the door behind me. I sat on the bed and turned my back to him.
He leaned against the wall opposite me, still in his suit, though he was missing his tie and jacket. His black hair lay messily on his forehead, his green eyes tired.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him.
He crossed his arms, tilting his head in confusion. “For what?”
“This.” I lifted my hands. “I’m sorry that this is me. You are an amazing guy and I really like you. But this is the part where you walk away. You got me this far. Thank you. But—”
“Glad to see even after all this you’re still you.”
“What?”
He smiled. “You’re still you, Felicity. Still trying to run from me.”
“I’m not running. I’m giving you a way out.”