Free Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror by Clayton Spriggs Page A

upgrades, there was no undoing the eeriness that the architecture provided. The attempt at sterilizing the environment only made it more impersonal and unwelcoming. Every pore in Nick’s body told him to get out of there as soon as he was able. He could only imagine the terror of being locked inside such a place against your will, even for the sane. For those who suffer the unimaginable horrors of mental illness, it must have been unbearable.
    After an extended wait and a round of credential checking, Nick was escorted by a pair of rather large gentlemen wearing nondescript white scrubs into a back office. He couldn’t help but notice how different the décor was once he arrived in the back. The walls were painted in warm, pastel colors that blended nicely with the Berber carpet and solid wood furniture. There were pictures of smiling family members on every wall, along with proud displays of diplomas and awards that attested to the unquestionable qualifications of the people in charge.
    Nick waited in an outer office while being completely ignored by a middle-aged secretary with large horn-rimmed glasses and an absurd amount of makeup on her face. He tried not to stare at the painted-on eyebrows that were uneven and sitting higher on the woman’s face than the place where she had shaved off her actual eyebrows. He couldn’t understand the rationale of such an act of facial vandalism, but he never had the guts to ask why anyone would do that to themselves.
    After another extended wait, Nicholas was called into the inner sanctum of one Dr. Theodore Newsome. Dr. Newsome was the Chief Psychiatrist at St. Elizabeth’s – not surprising considering his pedigree, history of attending Ivy League institutions, and the plethora of letters behind his name. His appearance was anything but imposing. Standing only five foot four and as thin as a rail, the good doctor looked like he might even tumble-over from just the weight of his spectacles. The Orville Redenbacher bow tie and leather elbow patches on the man’s sport coat eliminated any amount of smoothness the slight man might have possessed, and Nick couldn’t help but wonder if he smoked a pipe like the patriarch on My Three Sons. Dr. Theodore Newsome was exactly what Nick was expecting the chief headshrinker was going to be.
    "I understand you’re here to see one of our patients, Officer Vizier?" the doctor asked.
    "Detective. Detective Vizier," corrected Nick. He didn’t care how many letters or awards the doctor had, he wasn’t the least impressed or intimidated. "Yes, Doctor, I am."
    "You are aware that some of your colleagues have interrogated the poor girl on several occasions already."
    "Yes, I’m aware. Unfortunately, they didn’t do a very good job of it."
    "No, they didn’t. To be perfectly frank with you, Detective, they made a mess of it."
    "Which is why I’m here," said Nick.
    "Which is why you’re here," stated the doctor, waving his arms to signify the office around them. "You need to understand a few things, Detective. The patient is in a very fragile state, and although we’ve been making progress, it’s been slow. There are still so many things that she’s been unable to tell us, and we have a long road ahead of us. Even the slightest amount of stress or undue pressure and we’re all back to square one. Now, I know that your office is trying to do everything you can to help out, and I respect the work you do. You just have to respect what it is that we do. In the end, the girl’s health is my primary concern and everything else is secondary to that. I’m sure you understand."
    "So, what are you saying then, Doctor? Are you denying me access to the girl?"
    "The girl, as you call her, is my patient. My only concern is for her. She has a name; a name that even she won’t tell us at this time. She has lived through something that has traumatized her beyond her ability to cope. In response, her mind has closed off much of her memory in an attempt