The Perfect Child(88)

“Have you thought any more about your diagnosis?”

I shook my head. The psychiatric team said I’d had a psychotic break from postpartum depression. They told me there was nothing I could have done to stop or prevent it and assured me it resulted from a combination of biological factors beyond my control—my sleep deprivation, dramatic hormone shift, and genetic predisposition—but I knew I was still responsible for what I’d done. It didn’t matter how much therapy they gave me or what kind of drugs they pumped into me. I had tried to drown Janie.

“My psychiatrist told me everything I felt or saw was delusional, but he was wrong. Some of it was right. It was real.” I took a deep breath before going on. She needed to know the truth. “Janie was the only person who scared me more than my thoughts. I didn’t want her anywhere near Cole. Christopher thought I was just irritated and frustrated with her because I was so tired, but Janie would’ve hurt Cole if she ever got the chance. That part was never delusional, and I don’t care how much medication you put me on; I’m not going to change my mind.”

She interrupted me. “But that’s the problem, Hannah. You can’t trust your mind anymore.”





CASE #5243

INTERVIEW: PIPER GOLDSTEIN

Luke slid the album across the table. I didn’t have to look at the cover to know what it was. I’d been through it many times. “Is this the journal submitted into evidence?”

“It is.”

“And what did you think when you read it?”

How could he understand that nothing I had read fit with the woman I knew? All he saw was the woman from the last few months, and that person was a stranger. She wasn’t Hannah. But this time I didn’t have to try and explain myself.

“I can’t discuss records in an open child-protection case,” I recited exactly as I’d been told by my supervisor.

He had no choice but to switch tactics. “What did you do with the journal?”

“I handed it over to the authorities investigating the Bauers’ case.”

“Did you tell Allison about any of the things you read in the journal?”

“No.”

“Why was that? Didn’t she have a right to know?”

“I assumed Hannah had told her because the two of them were so close. They weren’t just sisters. They were best friends, and best friends tell each other everything, even stuff that’s horrible, so I just figured she knew everything.”

“But she didn’t know everything, did she?”

I shook my head. “No, she didn’t.”

Would it have made a difference?





FIFTY-FIVE

CHRISTOPHER BAUER

In all my years as a doctor, I had never been on a locked psychiatric ward before, and I was horrified by the place. It must’ve been designed to be as grim as possible because there was nothing warm about it. The rooms were in desperate need of a paint job. Their whitewashed walls had become a grimy yellow. There weren’t any windows. Nothing that spoke of life. Just stale recycled air and a complete sense of isolation. How was anyone supposed to feel better in a place thick with depression?

There were all these plainclothes orderlies who were paid to watch the patients like glorified babysitters. One of them led Hannah into the room, and she shuffled in, her head hanging low and her hair haphazardly falling forward. It was matted and had a big ball in the back. I couldn’t believe they’d just let her walk around like that. Why didn’t someone brush her hair? Her pajama pants dragged on the floor. She wasn’t allowed to be alone, so the orderly guided her into a seat, then grabbed one of the chairs for himself and plopped down in the doorway, leaving the door open so he could listen.

I barely recognized her when she looked up. Her eyes were clouded and hazy with all the drugs they were pumping into her. She stared at me like she wasn’t seeing me. I wasn’t sure she was.

“Hi.” I didn’t know what else to say.

She put her hands on the table, nervously wringing them together, and looked down.

“How are you doing?”

Still no response. The silence was so thick you could reach out and touch it.

“Do you want me to leave?” I asked.

She mumbled something, but I couldn’t understand.

“Excuse me? Can you say that again? I didn’t hear you.”

She refused to answer. We sat in silence. I could hear the orderly breathing in the doorway. Hannah played with her hands. I stayed for another few minutes, but it wasn’t long before I couldn’t take any more.

“I think I’m going to go,” I announced.

She didn’t flinch. I stood up and left without saying goodbye.



She’d brushed her hair, so she didn’t look quite so ragged at our next visit. She shuffled into the room in the same manner she had before. It was a different orderly in the doorway this time.

“Hi.” I tried again.

“Hi.” Her voice was raspy and hoarse.

We sat in the same spots as before. She put her hand in her mouth and anxiously chewed on her fingernails. She’d never chewed her fingernails before.

“I didn’t think you’d come . . .” Her voice stopped.

I bit back tears. “I couldn’t leave you here alone.”