Seven Days At Stonybrook

By Michael A Dickison

In a fateful moment of tragedy, a teenager's split-second decision forever alters the lives of two families. Bound by privilege, he evades the consequences that should rightly befall him.

 

From the shadows, a determined rookie officer becomes an unexpected witness to the devastating cover-up. A decade later, justice reawakens as new evidence unveiled by the tenacious cop reopens the long-buried investigation.

 

With the stakes higher than ever, our once-impulsive juvenile finds himself in a dangerous race against time. He must outsmart a relentless hot-shot detective while skillfully evading the watchful gaze of his power-hungry and politically ambitious father.

 

Enter the enigmatic Stonybrook Psychiatric Hospital, his refuge and a labyrinth of secrets. Assured of seven days within its confounding walls, he must navigate this psychological maze to protect those he holds dear.

 

Join us on a breathtaking journey as a young man battles his demons while the world around him teeters on the edge of revelation. Will he emerge from those seven days with his sanity intact and the truth finally uncloaked? The answer lies within the secret confines of Stonybrook Psychiatric Hospital.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Dickison
• Release date: Oct 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223401537

Book preview

Ten Years Ago

JAYSON

***

Jase. No more. Come on, now. The young girl begged her boyfriend again. Puh-lease. She tugged on his shirt and deployed the best doe-eyes she could conjure up, trying everything to force him to ignore the chants and cheers from the partygoers imploring him to guzzle one more beer.

Jay-son. Jay-son. Jay-son. The seventeen-year-old boy cupped his hand behind his ear, soaking in the adulation from his adoring fans. In his mind, he was the star of this show, and everyone looked to him to push every boundary and exceed every limit. It didn’t matter that if it weren't for him paying for all the beer and pizza and renting out the house he found on Airbnb, this party wouldn't even be happening.

Still holding his beer, Jayson yanked off his shirt with the other hand and threw it toward the collection of girls lying on the couch by the roaring fireplace. The noise elevated higher as he gulped down the contents of his cup. He celebrated his achievement, raised both arms and howled like a werewolf during a full moon.

He jumped off the table he used as his ceremonial podium, feeling like he had just been awarded a gold medal. Since he was relatively short for his age, he often took opportunities like this to enhance his stature. He turned to grab a hug and kiss from his girlfriend, but she was no longer there. 

Dude. She took off, Dude. She looked pissed. Jayson looked at the skinny kid with straggly curls sneaking out of his purple beanie, his bony arm pointing toward the front door. He knocked the arm out of his way as he barreled off in the direction his girlfriend escaped. He forced his way through the crowd of teens, knocking several of their red cups onto the floor, and violently swung the front door open. The cold night sunk its teeth into his exposed arms; the skimpy tank top provided him little protection. Taillights flashed in the distance, and as he squinted, he caught a glimpse of his girlfriend jumping into the passenger seat of a waiting car.

He shot his arm high in the air and shouted, Julia. Wait. Don't go. The kid with the purple beanie had followed him onto the front porch, standing close behind him, stating defiantly, Dude. Hey Dude. Her name’s Jennifer. Not Julia.

Jayson pivoted quickly to address the comment. What? Jen...Jennifer? Whatever, punk. Julia. Jennifer. They're all the same. Who cares anyway.

The kid quickly replied, with a shit-faced grin, Maybe that's why she bailed on you, Dude. You have to get their names right. Come on... Before he could utter the following words, Jayson moved swiftly and shoved the spindly kid back through the open doorway. He watched as one of the kid's heels caught the door's threshold and tripped, falling hard on his back and his head hitting the floor. Silence gripped the room as everyone stopped their senseless celebration to see the new drama ready to entertain them.

Jayson stood stunned, unsure of his next move. A girl standing next to the k on the floor shrieked, He's bleeding. There's blood! The room instantly ramped up to its previous excitement level, and a crowd formed around the injured boy, who had not moved since he fell to the ground. Jayson nervously scanned the crowd and eventually fixed his gaze on a tall man standing in the corner of the kitchen. The man was clearly out of place, not there for the party shenanigans. Jayson motioned wildly.

He sat somberly on the porch steps, watching the ambulance drive away. Then, finally, he looked up at the man next to the front door. Thank you, T. Thanks for taking care of all of this. The man nodded stoically. 

That punk, he just wouldn't leave me alone. You know? He paused, waiting for the tall man to give him a supportive response. But instead, the man stood there, silent, still.

I'm serious, T. It wasn't my fault this time. No. Not my fault. The calm man marched down the stairs; his feet landed firmly on the ground with a resounding thud. He turned and looked back. Mr. Deerson. I sent all your friends home.

But T, it's like only eight-thirty, Dude. Why so early?

Mr. Deerson. The party is over. We will care for the young man at the hospital and ensure his family is appropriately compensated. My job here is done for the night.

T. It wasn't my fault, man. That punk... The tall man raised his hand, motioning for the young kid to stop speaking. Jayson lowered his head.

Mr. Deerson. Please don't waste your breath trying to convince me. You know how this works. Save it for your dad. He wants to see you later. Clean yourself up and stop in to speak to him before you go home. Is that clear?

Jayson quickly raised his head and leaned away from the imposing figure as far as he could. Yes, T. I hear ya.

Good. And Mr. Deerson. My name is Tyrone. Only my friends are allowed to call me T. As you and I have discussed many times, we are not friends. I am only here because your dad is paying me to be your chaperone and watch over you. I trust this will be the last time I must remind you of that fact.

Jayson scowled at the tall man and answered sarcastically, Okay, Ty-rone. I got it, Ty-rone. Run off now and tell Daddy, Ty-rone. Whatever. He jumped up, scampered back into the house, and dramatically slammed the door behind him. He waited until he heard the car drive away and then searched for a beer or bottle to drown his sorrows.

Incredibly, the refrigerator had escaped total pillaging from the partygoers, and Jayson began to consume enough liquor to bring him back to his substantially high, inebriated state. He scoffed out loud, spit flying through the air, And then stupid Ty-rone wouldn't even let me try and explain. He picked up the beer bottle before him and threw it across the room, yelling wildly as it smashed into pieces against the stone fireplace.

Ty-rone can clean that up, too! His alcohol-induced mind raced with the disappointing events of the evening and how the party became ruined. Or at least his version of what happened. He jabbed a finger in the air, signifying the number of things that had gone wrong.

My girlfriend left me, probably for another guy. He raised a second finger. Then a dirty little punk tried to pick a fight with me. A menacing smile formed as he thought of how he taught that kid a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. A third finger joined the others. "And that jerk Ty-rone kicked everyone out of my party, and so early too." His smile faded as he remembered Tyrone telling his dad about what happened.

My life sucks. Jayson stood up and quickly spun around, looking for another bottle to remove his frustration. Ah-ha! He stepped towards the coffee table but half-tripped, half-slipped on a crushed pizza box lying in his path. He landed roughly on his knees, and his momentum carried his upper half forward and toward the table. He recovered slightly by putting his left hand on the table corner, but it slipped off due to various concoctions of liquids that had accumulated earlier. Unfortunately, he could not stop his fall entirely as the left side of his forehead grazed the corner of the table before his face planted into the grimy carpet.

Jayson groaned and rolled over to his back. The lights suddenly felt a hundred times brighter, and the room spun slightly. He closed his eyes tightly and brought his forearm up to provide extra coverage.

Suddenly, his phone started buzzing. His whole body ached, and his head was pounding fiercely, so he reached behind his back pocket, pulled his phone out, and silenced the incoming call. It was only a momentary break as his phone buzzed again. He answered, What?

Excuse me? Jayson. Your father wants to talk to you tonight. He wants you to be at his house in ten minutes.

No, Fr. Frank. I can't do it. Not tonight.

Jayson. Jayson, listen to me. You know you have to do this. It will only go well if you go over there. Tonight. You have ten minutes.

Wait. Frank, I fell and. Hello? Jayson screamed, Don't you ever hang up on me! The pain throbbed in his forehead, pulsating stabs of sharp, intense agony, forcing tears to form at the edges of his eyes.

He gingerly picked himself up and carefully approached the front door. He opened it and paused, taking a deep breath of crisp evening air. It felt good but did little to clear up the fogginess from all his earlier drinking and the newly formed bump on his head. He grabbed the porch railing as he moved cautiously down the stairs. He peered through barely open eyes, searching for his car, anxiously realizing that he now had less than ten minutes.

***

KRISSIE

***

It's not that big of a deal, Mother. Really. Lots of people get a nursing degree these days.

Yes, okay. That may be true, Krissie dear. But how many single moms work two jobs, care for their parents like you, and attend nursing school?

Embarrassed by the unwelcomed adulation, the young woman sat sheepishly on the couch, clutching the seat cushion tightly in her arms. She looked at her mother's adoring face and knew how proud she was of her accomplishment. Her mother had not gone to college; instead, she married very young, cared for the children, and ensured her husband's meal was ready each day he got home from work.

And you know your father; he is very proud of you, too, dear.

No. She didn't know that because she had never known her father to be proud of her for anything she had ever done. It didn't matter that she was his only child. He wanted a son. She had overheard him complain so often that he wished he had a son to play ball with, go fishing and camping, and teach how to fix a car just like he did with his father.

She was never interested in any of those things. Her father never hid his feelings or disappointment, so she learned early on it was pointless to feign interest. So, she didn’t. Over time, she found it easier to keep her head down, only to speak when necessary and to stay out of sight. She sensed her father preferred it that way, too.

When she was in her senior year of high school, a couple of months before graduation, she came home early, knowing her dad was still at work, and told her mother she was pregnant. She begged her not to tell her father that she would go away and raise the child alone – anything to avoid her father’s specific condemnation and judgment.

The following nine months were difficult. Her father never missed an opportunity to express his disappointment. Whether it was comments about how respectable girls would not behave like that or worries about her inability to graduate. When she did graduate, he moved on to say how she would have difficulty getting into college. Worse were the comments about the financial consequences and how he would have to support her and the baby.

She snarled at her mother's comment about her father being proud. Her mother meant well, but it was sickening how she always covered for his nastiness. Krissie gave her a slight smile. Okay, Mother. Thank you. I appreciate it; I do. But you don't have to take Kassie and me out for dinner tonight.

Oh, honey. Yes, we do. Besides, it was your father's idea. Her mother lowered her eyes; Krissie knew that wasn't true.

But Faggio's is so expensive. And with Father's accident and inability to work, I would be happy to be here and have your world-famous tater-tot hotdish. It would be wonderful, Mother. Really.

Shush now. We have already made the reservation for tonight at seven. I know it's late, but that's the only time we could get. It's all settled now, Krissie. Seven tonight.

Her mother slapped her hands in her lap and stood up. She walked over and gave Krissie a warm kiss on the cheek. Now, let me get Kassie, and then you can go home and get yourselves ready. Okay? I'll be right back, dear.

She placed Cassie into her booster seat and shut the car door. Before sliding into the front seat, she waved to her mother standing in the doorway, then watched as she returned to the house. She buckled herself in and pushed the start button. Cassie called out, Mom?

Yes, Kassie. Hey, are you buckled in?

Yes. Um. Grandpa said I get to stay up late tonight. Is that true, do I?

She gritted her teeth. Well, actually, Grandma said you get to stay up late. They are taking us out to eat at a fancy restaurant. Isn't that sweet?

Yay! She watched in the rearview mirror as her six-year-old daughter raised both arms triumphantly in the air. However, as quickly as they came up, the little girl lowered them with a resounding thump in her lap.

Wait. Mom. Are you and Grandpa going to fight again?

Kassie. We talked about this. Grandpa and I do not fight. We are just. Um. She took another glance at the innocent face and saw the pouty reflection. Kassie, baby. We are not going to fight. I am going to be on my best behavior tonight, okay?

Do you promise?

Yes, honey. I promise. A wide, semi-toothless grin shot across the little girl's face, and her arms flew in the air again. Krissie continued to smile while hiding her internal worry about keeping that promise.

~~~

Dear, just drop it. Now is not the right time. Her mother reached across the table and patted her hand as she gripped the cloth napkin tightly. She had seen that look on her mother's face many times before, sorry for her father's behavior but knowing there was little she could do about it. Her furrowed brow displayed her concern that the current tense conversation would escalate.

Mom. You promised. No more fighting with Grandpa. Kassie implored, tugging on her mother's other hand.

Yes, honey. I promised. And you're right. Okay, then. Let's change the subject, shall we? She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. She mustered the best fake smile and plastered it for everyone to see.

Okay. Kassie, did you tell Grandma about your spelling test tomorrow? Kassie excitedly began to recite the ten words she had practiced the past week, carefully saying each letter slowly and clearly.

Krissie shifted her insincere grin and faced her father sitting directly across from her. As usual, her father refused to look at her. Instead, he acted like he was intently reviewing the dinner menu. It was ridiculous because they had already ordered, and now she understood why he did not return his menu to the server. He needed protection. He needed a distraction because he knew, just as well as she did, that the night would end up as it did.

I need to go to the restroom. I'll be right back, sweetie. She calmly removed herself from the booth and walked to the other side of the restaurant. When safely behind the bathroom door, she muffled the loudest scream she could muster into her hands.

God, that felt good.

You alright, hon? Startled, Krissie realized she had not checked the bathroom to see if she was alone. She regained her composure and smiled embarrassedly at the young woman at the sink.

Oh. Yes. I'm fine. Thank you. Sorry for that.

Rough night, huh?

Um. Yes. Yes, it has been a rough night. It's nothing. My father. Krissie shook her head as she waved her hand in the direction outside of the bathroom.

The young woman returned to the mirror and continued fussing with her hair. Family can be such a pain in the ass. I get it, hon. Believe me; I get it.

They both flashed understanding smiles. She stared at the young woman more closely; she seemed about her age but prettier, more stylish. She dressed better than her. She moved to the sink.

Staring at the young woman's image, she spoke sheepishly, Thank you for understanding. And sorry for my outburst. It's so embarrassing.

Hon. You already said thank you, and you already said you were sorry—no more of that. Do you hear? The young woman flashed her a beautiful, confident smile.

Now. Let's do something about your hair because you are much too pretty to look so flustered. The young woman reached out and repositioned her hair with a couple of quick movements.

There you are, hon. Beautiful. Ready to conquer the world. Or at least your dad. Right? The young woman returned to the mirror with a bold laugh and smoothed her eyebrows.

Krissie smiled weakly and nodded lightly. I wish I were like you. You are so self-assured and assertive. I can't take much more of my father's judgment and condescending comments. She let out a guttural groan.

The young woman laughed again, Oh, thank you. Aren't you a sweetie? Well. Do you want to know my secret?

Her eyes widened, Yes. Yes, how do you do it?

She watched as her new friend reached into her small purse and pulled out a small silver flask. Ta-da!

Krissie nervously glanced behind her and then to the stall doors, her arms spread as if to shield prying eyes from a classified document. Watch out. We might get caught.

The young woman laughed hysterically, reached out her arms, and swallowed Krissie in a friendly, warm embrace. Oh, honey. Aren't you the cutest thing ever?

Krissie managed to mumble, You're not worried. But...

The young woman released Krissie and held her at arm's length. What's that old saying? There is nothing to fear except...whatever, whatever.

She watched in amazement as the young woman yelped excitedly, raised the flask to her mouth, and took a quick sip. Liquid courage. Delicious. She smacked her lips loudly and offered up the slender bottle.

Oh, no. No. I can't. Krissie took a step backward, shaking her head from side to side. I mean. I have never. Ever before. I mean, if my father ever found out. 

The young woman continued to hold her arm out. Come on, hon—one little drop. You will not be disappointed. And, besides, your old-fuddy-duddy-daddy will never know. She tilted her head and pursed her lips, extending her invitation.

And what do you mean you have never before? Do you mean drink alcohol? Like, never, never? Krissie lowered her head. Oh, sweetie. Don't you worry; Kay's got you. You are in perfect hands.

Krissie looked up, eyes bright. "Wait. Your