The Moon Sees Me

By L. Chambers Wright

Clarissa Tyler came from a good home with loving parents and a wide circle of friends. She, and her fiancé Nick, both prepared for college graduation and dreamed of a successful life together.

Until the accident happened. Until Nick died and that sheltered world collapsed.

She wakes in a remote and unfamiliar hospital after two months in a physician-induced fugue state. She is surrounded by an eccentric staff that won't provide any details about the accident. She is given a generic story about how Nick died in the same wreck she is recuperating from, but she has undergone extensive therapy to alleviate her psychological trauma.

She knows there was no wreck, even if her doctor dismisses the vivid images as hallucinations.

Clarissa must adapt to the bizarre practices within the Bittersend Medical Clinic, and the repercussions of her absence in her life, to piece together what really happened. The quest takes her far beyond simply reclaiming hidden memories and deep into a deadly conspiracy of wealth, power and cruelty.

~Lowered Price for a Limited Time!~

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black House Books
• Release date: Apr 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781476151793

L. Chambers Wright

L. Chambers-Wright also writes as Laura Wright. She grew up surrounded by Appalachian folklore and ghost stories, many of which find their way into her material. She currently lives with her family in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. She has had many books published, and continues to prolifically write fiction, as well as non-fiction history. She is the primarily caregiver for a number of relatives, several pets, and an unknown number of wild animals. Her interests include photography, music, and casual gaming. Her personal website is Laurawrites.net [http://laurawrites.net]. She runs the Virginia Creeper Appalachian History and Folklore website [http://vacreeper.com], as well as Appalachia Obscura, an obscure history and folklore website [http://appalachiangothic.com].

Book preview

Chapter One

She barely opened her eyes before she had to shut them again. She had no recent memory. God, what happened? She couldn't remember where she was or what was doing there. There was nothing familiar around her. She could feel it. Answers to even the simplest questions remained elusive and mysterious. She was afraid.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes more slowly. Dark silhouettes against a sea of white surrounded her. Deciphering details or intricacies was impossible, an attempt to interpret seamless black clouds against an ashen sky. The fog across her vision stubbornly lingered, regardless of how many times she blinked. She lifted one heavy arm and rubbed her eyes. After a few moments, her vision finally tried to adjust. There were fluorescent lights above her, stark, utilitarian. She hadn’t been staring into the powerful light of the sun.

A shadow emerged from the corner of her eye and hovered closely. It seemed to take an interest with her right eye and moved to the left. After a moment, she could tell they were human, but their clothing faded into the white surrounding them.

The person held a black device with a white light on the tip. She looked away from the hovering mass and tried to study the rest of the room. The lingering haze finally subsided enough for her to see where she was. How did she get in a hospital room?

The figure that towered above her was a doctor. He smiled and spoke. Good to see you’re awake. His deep hazel eyes were strange, as if he felt none of the warmth his voice implied. She wasn’t at ease with him, even though something about him seemed so familiar. She feared the man before her, but couldn’t remember why.

He had neatly trimmed black hair with a hint of gray at the temples and an equally neat moustache. His dark hair and eyes contrasted with his pale skin. He raised a cold hand and gently felt her pulse in her throat. There was something off about his touch. How are you feeling? She’d felt that touch before, but where? He was a stranger, his touch shouldn’t be familiar. He wore a muted peach dress shirt and coordinated gray tie beneath his white smock.

Not so hot, she struggled to sit up. Her entire body felt fifty pounds heavier than she remembered. Had she gained weight?

Be careful… easy now. His hands shifted pillows behind her to accommodate sitting up. You’ve been out for a while. You will need a period of adjustment. Have patience with your body, it’s going as fast as it can.

How long is ‘a while’? What was happening to her? She woke up in a hospital, but couldn’t remember how she got there. The chilly air smelled of antiseptic, she tugged the covers closer to ward off a shiver.

First, you weren’t comatose, please don’t be alarmed. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two months. You were in a car accident and had a severe concussion. We’ve been administering a regimen of therapies.

Wreck? That was ridiculous. She couldn’t remember any incident with a vehicle. She was... She was walking with someone. That was her last memory. Her head throbbed as she strained to recall. The pictures stubbornly eluded her mind’s reach. Something wasn’t right, something didn’t agree with the story of a car crash. It was deep within the pit of her stomach. He wasn’t telling the truth about it. Or did he even know the truth about it?

He sat on the stool by the footboard of the bed and waited for her to clear the residual fatigue. Since you obtained such an injury, we need to go over some things. Just to make sure you didn’t suffer any damage which we couldn’t find earlier.

Okay. She was certain there was no accident. She knew it. She was terrified of car wrecks, even passing them on the road had made her nauseous. She wouldn’t be involved in one without some kind of recollection. Who told him that happened?

Let’s start with some simple questions. What is your name and where do you live?

She stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to answer. What an odd question. Why would memory loss last so long with just a concussion? Was it a medical joke of some kind? The doctor seemed completely serious. She answered, I’m Clarissa Grace Tyler. I live in Evansville, Indiana.

Street and number?

3659 Rosewood Park.

Good, he smiled. Now, how old are you and what do you do?

I’m twenty-three, a full time student at Evansville University. I’m working towards my MBA in business administration.

Great, he became more enthusiastic. Now, recite the alphabet.

What? It was just a concussion, not a major trauma. People sustained concussions all over the country on a daily basis. It wasn’t really substance for panic, but it seemed to be one here. She ignored the taunting internal dialogue and recited the letters. She felt silly, but the doctor’s face remained dire.

Her mind returned to a sense of urgent and relentless worry. She lost something important in that black time. She couldn’t ignore the feeling she had forgotten someone, or something, more valuable than anyone or anything else. That massive shadow of the unknown lurked in the back of her mind.

Where exactly is, ‘here’? There was something wrong. She didn’t want to hear the name of where she was. She didn’t want to be there or in the company of the doctor. The cloud of distrust lingered over her and aggravated her developing migraine. She didn’t have a reason to doubt the doctor. Why would he lie? He was a professional. Maybe her imagination had become overactive during her stay. She did wake in a strange place to a strange doctor.

You are at the Bittersend Medical Clinic, located in Bittersend, Tennessee. If you go fifty miles south on Highway 33, just a few miles away from the clinic, you will be in Knoxville, Tennessee.

All right. She continued to dismiss the unsettling urgency. There was no reason for desperation. She was fine. Why am I here instead of a hospital closer to home?

Your mother visited several times. We considered arranging transportation and accommodations for you to return to Indiana, but she wanted you where you would receive the best attention. Naturally, that would be here.

That’s mom, she agreed. Wait- It felt like a bolt of lightening shot across her brain as she remembered. Where’s Nick?

Clarissa, I want you to relax. Promise me you will relax. He was apologetic. She didn’t want to hear it. She hated that tone. He didn’t need to talk to her like that. She could’ve slapped him if she could’ve lifted her arm fast enough. Why was he being so damned infuriating? She just wanted to know where her fiancé had gone. Was Nick at the clinic, too? Her stomach knotted --Wait-- She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know what he was going to say.

Mr. Foster was dead when we found your car.

What? A wave of sorrow flowed through her, she couldn’t stop it now. She couldn’t tell him not to say it now. The agony wasn’t acute or immediate, but it was maliciously sharp. He was dead and she had slept for two months.

She pressed her mind as hard as she could to remember last seeing him. She could see Nick yelling, but his voice was silent. She could vividly see him in her mind, motioning for her to go on with his arm.

Was that before or after the wreck? She recalled they fled in the dark and something was wrong. There wasn’t an accident anywhere in memory. She could even recall the delicate crescent moon above, the countryside was dimly illuminated.

Nick had limped alongside her. He couldn’t keep up. He was so upset. She couldn’t help him. She tried to run back to him and he angrily glared at her. What was he saying?

Doctor? Are they certain it was a car wreck?

Please, call me Jeff. Yes, the authorities found the car shortly after I found you. You were wandering about a half mile away from the vehicle. Why?

I don’t remember a car accident. I… She didn’t want to confess what she recalled in detail. Something instinctive made her hesitate. She reasoned, I don’t know what I remember, but it doesn’t seem to be that.

It’s probably a hallucination. Don’t let it bother you. He went back to his notes and dismissed her worry as though it were nonsense. Was she being ridiculous? Maybe she was. Maybe it really was all just a hallucination.

You said I had been asleep, but not in a coma… Why did I sleep so long?

We had to sedate you frequently, Clarissa. You had violent nightmares. You often woke up screaming and fighting anyone near you. That started the night you arrived. I wanted to observe you and see if I could locate the source of that unreasonable terror. I brought in a neurologist from Knoxville for observation, as well.

He shifted in his chair and looked back at the file. I ordered you to be sedated while I worked with you. Subconscious therapy, if you will. It’s a simple variation of the widely-used cognitive reprogramming. While you were semi-conscious, I could smooth over the distressing images and make them less disturbing. It’s a new form of desensitization. You have done remarkably and it’s time you went back to your life.

Where was I was found?

Just outside of town, he gestured left with his free hand and laid it back on the file. I have the weekends off and travel frequently. I was returning home and you were wandering on the outskirts of town. I brought you here to be examined. We watched you for adverse reactions to your injuries and the medication we used: seizures, vomiting, any abnormal symptoms at all.

He handed her a Styrofoam cup and let her drink some water. Physically, you were doing well until the nightmares started. We were going to release you after the typical night of observation. That was the only negative issue that arose from your injuries. Your vehicle was found the next morning.

So… you found me? Have the nightmares left?

Yes, and I believe the nightmares are over. You haven’t suffered any in two weeks. I think it is time for you to return to living and to school. He smiled widely, A young lady of your physique must have a demanding social calendar.

The comment sounded inappropriate, but he didn't look at her when he spoke. His gaze remained steadfast on his notes. Maybe he hadn't said anything at all. What if she hallucinated that?

She couldn’t decipher his implication or his tone. He looked back up and grinned, It isn’t often we have such a lovely patient.

She felt uncomfortable beneath the weight of his stare. She quickly changed the subject and hoped her nervousness remained unnoticed. They made small talk a moment before he left. She was in no position to storm out or confront. There was no way she could walk a long distance, if she could walk at all. She could feel her body’s weakness already, even after such a brief conversation. She looked out the window at the vast forest. She got lost in the growth. The trees and vegetation appeared to go on forever and looked so empty.

There was no accident. She had never received a speeding ticket, let alone been involved in a wreck. Driving... That came back. She had driven that night. Recollection invoked a great and unknown fear that kept her apprehensive. Why did she fear that night? Was it like what the doctor said? Did all those nightmares and outbursts stem from the wreck? Recollection was no reason to fear.

She remembered Nick sitting in the passenger’s seat and a curvy rural road that wound through dense trees and undergrowth. The drive was so long that they navigated the countryside in shifts.

The two lane road was well maintained for such a remote location, with a full gravel shoulder on either side for pulling off. Jeff implied it was a little road, but it hadn’t been.

Her headache worsened as the nurse walked in. The younger woman couldn’t have been over twenty-five. Her long straight hair was pulled back into a ponytail that swayed with her walk. She had the strangest eyes that looked so much like the doctor’s. Hope you’re hungry, she cheerily announced as she placed a covered tray on the stand.

I am. She was ravenous. The nurse moved the trolley over and arranged it by the bed. Clarissa lifted the lid and paused, disappointed by the meager fare. She expected lunch, but it looked more like a snack. A dollop of white mashed potatoes sat beside two steamed broccoli florets. Two equally tiny strips of broiled chicken and a dipping container of honey was the main part of the lunch. A tiny pat of low-fat margarine sat on the side of the plate. A single-serving cup of chocolate pudding was her desert. The nurse sat a small Styrofoam cup of iced tea beside the tray.

This is it? She realized for the first time since waking that she was starving. She had two months of appetite to contend with and, with the empty state of her stomach, what lay before her was barely an appetizer.

You eat that and tell me if you want more. She chuckled, I’m Amy. I’ve been your attending nurse for the past two months. I am glad to see you are recovering.

Me, too. Clarissa talked between bites. Amy? Can I ask you a question?

Sure, she clicked the plastic thermometer and placed it in her ear.

Do you know anything about the accident?

Amy paused until the device beeped. Jeff has given me strict orders about discussing the accident. He’s afraid your nightmares will return, but I will tell you this: the vehicle was not scorched or crushed. It was a bad accident, but your fiancé did not suffer.

Not at all?

No. Jeff told me death was instantaneous. I’m so sorry you had to hear about it after what you’ve suffered. I know it doesn’t offer much consolation, but I’m sure he felt no pain. Now, you must get better. I’m elated you’ve made such progress. Jeff has extraordinary skills to eliminate those awful memories. He’s a gifted doctor.

Eliminate? Clarissa whispered aloud. She was going mad. Everything she believed to be real could be nothing, but a dream. It might not have existed at all.

Still, the idea that someone could toy with memory seemed obscene and unnatural. Dr. Killian hadn’t satisfactorily explained himself and she still wasn’t certain. She had been nearly exhausted just from waking when he was there. He left before she could really get into details. She just had to throw around questions and hope something would knot all the loose ends. He just removed them?

He had to, Amy comforted. Honestly, I was here when you had the nightmares. It was as though you were dying, you shrieked and screamed, even threw punches at several staff members. He feared it would cause long-term damage if he didn’t intervene and it isn‘t ‘removed’ so much as just blocked. He simply made it very difficult for those traumas to reassert themselves into your life.

Amy smiled and patted her shoulder, Don’t worry, it’s nothing major. It’s covering traumatic imagery with positive imagery. With a strict regimen of medication and hypnotherapy, it can help you avoid many complications associated with a major shock in life. It’s called, ‘cognitive reprogramming,’ but it simply means he covered the bad with good.

She couldn’t accept it with any comfort. They had no right to take those precious final moments away. She was a big girl. She could deal with any consequences or repercussions. She didn’t need to be coddled or nursed through memories. She couldn’t picture herself physically lashing out at anyone. Maybe she was hallucinating back then. It didn’t seem likely that the entire hospital or clinic would lie about it, they had no motive. Still, the idea of someone tampering with such invaluable moments was unimaginable. What did my mother say about it?

Of course, we talked it over with her before we began therapy. She thought it was best for you. Amy stood tall with apparent pride. We are professionals. Trust us. Your nightmares have vanished and you are alert and well. Your vitals signs are excellent. We were all so impressed by your mind’s response to the process.

But, I think I remember something different… Maybe the nurse would slip up and an inconsistency would reveal itself. She had to hope. It couldn’t all be lost. What was she saying? They could be correct. She may be still hallucinating. She couldn’t deny that she hadn’t felt herself since waking. She hadn’t felt normal in any regard. She was so tired.

Amy looked squarely at her, It’s a hallucination. Dr. Killian said those might happen.

Either she was crazy or they were. She wanted to stand on the bed and scream; but, she was so exhausted. She wanted to make noise and be heard instead of humored. She wouldn’t get answers with the nurse, either. She would have to try someone else or just deal with what she could recall. Regardless of what they said, she knew there was no wreck. She wasn’t crazy. She couldn’t be.

Do you have television? She looked around the room. Everything which was normally in a hospital was there, except a television.

No, I’m afraid not. Amy chuckled. We do still lack on the superficial amenities. She sat on the same stool Killian had occupied earlier.

Why did I end up in a clinic and not a hospital? Maybe something would help her comprehend why she doubted the doctor and his story. What if it all were just a hallucination? What if she wasn’t remembering events that actually happened? What motive would they possibly have for lying about anything? They didn’t know her or Nick. They made no profit from deceit.

When you came here, you were extremely frightened. We sedated you and gave you something for pain. Afterward, during that delirium, you started having the terrors. At that point, we were positive that you would need major hospital care. However, after x-rays, EEGs, and a few routine exams we found you didn’t suffer any real physical trauma. It was all psychological. We contacted your mother. She wanted you here because we are fully staffed and aren’t a large hospital. We could give you greater attention.

It was the same story she heard earlier. The idea that everyone had rehearsed their story seemed irrational and paranoid. What flaw in her brain refused to believe it? There had to be something wrong with her. Something, somewhere, would not let it go. She didn’t have any legitimate reason to suspect them or doubt their version of the events. She certainly couldn’t recall that night herself. It would just be easier to accept what they said and try to put life back together. But, she couldn’t. She couldn’t dismiss that suspicion. It felt so wrong. How could she forget her fiancé of two years when she didn’t even know what happened to him?

She finished her food and Amy carried the tray back out into the hall. She looked back out to the woods through the window across from the bed. He was lost.

Somewhere, out there, she lost him and lost those final moments with him. Nick had been so affectionate and loving, even at the end, he had protected her. She couldn’t remember much of that evening, but she knew he sheltered her from something.

Her mind returned to the images that came while she talked to Jeff. Nick yelled and wildly motioned for her to move on ahead, but where was she going?

Amy returned with a few stacks of magazines. Some were current and some were old, but she wasn’t interested in reading. She flipped through them to pass the time. Her thoughts revolved around Nick. She couldn’t remember their last evening because of the doctor’s therapy. Regardless of how helpful it was supposed to be, it felt like the ultimate betrayal. The most important period in her life was now the most elusive.

She vividly recalled the day prior to its end. They were going to meet their friends in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Everyone wanted to fly down, except Nick. He was afraid of flying. She had laughed at his refusal to board an airplane. Why had she laughed? Guilt draped heavily on her heart. She laughed at him. God, how could she have done that? He laughed along with her at the time, but it didn’t help. He never laughed at her.

They left two days early to reserve accommodations for everyone. They had all arranged their vacation at the same time. The plans started as just a romantic get-away for the two of them. Soon after they realized their friends would be graduating and leaving the state by the end of summer. That was when they changed their minds and asked everyone to go with them.

She remembered those final days so clearly. They started on a Wednesday, they planned to arrive with plenty of time to reserve the rooms for the rest and enjoy some time alone.

The drive was slow and lazy. They concentrated more on one another than the coming weekend. She remembered their wedding plans and her eyes welled. He was dead and she had to accept it. But, something happened and it wasn’t a car wreck.

She plucked a Kleenex from the box on the stand. Those final days were beautiful. If only she had known it was going to be their last trip. She didn’t get to tell him good-bye. She wanted to run to him. She closed her eyes and lay back on the pillow. If only she could ask him what to do. If only she could talk with him just a moment.

Chapter Two

She was surprised to wake a second time to a dark world. Her body must’ve been more tired than she noticed. Her focus on Nick was so intense that she drifted off. She sat up with less resistance from her body.

Someone had removed the I. V. in her left hand while she slept. She was now free of the tube and the fatigue that plagued her earlier. She felt intensely bright-eyed and awake. She rubbed her newly freed hands together, her skin was dry. The area where the needle had been was sore, but residual tenderness was better than having the constrictive tube hanging from her arm. She probably needed to walk since she felt so alert. Her body would be weak and inflexible after two months of bed rest.

She scooted her legs off the side of the bed and prepared for her body’s inevitable hesitance. She ignored her leg muscles’ protest as she gently put her weight on them. Her body felt heavy and uncoordinated. She needed a moment to gain the balance to shift weight from one foot to the next. She slowly became accustomed to stepping. She walked from one side of her room to the other to test her strength. Her legs would probably be unbelievably sore, but she couldn’t stand sitting in that bed any longer.

She opened the door to her room and slipped out in to the dim hall. She didn’t want to see Killian or Amy; she didn’t know how to take them. Maybe they were gone for the day. She just needed some time to process everything without the unsettling feelings they evoked.

The corridor floor was tiled exactly like her room. From all appearances, it looked just like a regular hospital, just in compact form. The nurses’ station was almost as dim as the hallway and the nurse on duty was immersed in an issue of Better Homes and Gardens. The radio at the station was turned on low, a woman sang about love lost. Her haunting voice echoed, Don’t believe half the words you hear… For there are no angels here… Don’t care to reflect… On things I can’t recollect… She pushed her body onward towards the desk.

Clarissa approached the station and smiled at the nurse. Can I have something to drink?

Of course, the nurse smiled. Hello, Clarissa. I’m Eileen Davis. I’m on duty at night.

They discussed simple things that had nothing to do with the wreck or her recuperation as she walked forward with the help of the wall. They discussed where Bittersend was located and even the current events in Knoxville. Clarissa eventually arrived at the chair beside Eileen. Her leg muscles throbbed, but it was a relief just to speak with someone who didn’t have those bizarre eyes and didn’t appear to be hiding anything.

The longer she spoke with the night nurse, the more she realized how strange Killian and Amy really had been. Amy just recited the same things Jeff said. In retrospect, it was almost automated, robotic.

Eileen’s eyes were clear and honest. They sparkled when she laughed. Only a few minutes after meeting Eileen, she felt as at ease with her as she recalled feeling with her friends. Is there a different doctor who works at night?

Oh, yes. Dr. Darrin Park. He’s a striking young man. I think he’s adorable, she giggled. "He just came to work for us about three years