Usually, when you went to Dr. Arkham's office, you were greeted by Janet, his blonde secretary. She was a beautiful, smiling forty-year-old who put her patients at ease.
She wasn't there that day, and this disturbed Reina.
She scanned the room and paused in the doorway, hesitating.
"Take a seat and choose the object of serenity," the doctor invited, gesturing broadly toward the table in front of her.
The object of serenity was made up of a collection of bizarre objects, ill-suited to a psychiatrist's office. There were scented books, giant glasses, stuffed fruit and vegetable toys, fleece blankets, wizard hats, sheets of newspaper, and colored pencils. Each patient being evaluated was asked to pick up the object that inspired them most confidence and hold it in their hand for the duration of the interview. Afterward, for each new meeting, the invitation was reformulated and progress or regression assessed, based on the object chosen. It was unclear what the hierarchical basis governing them was, because each element seemed out of place and disconnected from the context in which they were found.
Reina had always carried a short, purple fleece blanket, like those in children's cribs, with green and orange geometric designs. It smelled of lavender, which relaxed her and prepared her to listen. She hugged it to her chest, rested her nose on it, and inhaled deeply, settling into the chair in front of the desk.
Arkham studied her, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts.
She returned his gaze without flinching.
"Do you think the smell has changed?" he asked, pointing to the blanket.
"It smells new. Have you replaced it?"
"No, it's still the same. Candace uses a new detergent."
Reina laughed.
"He must have searched the entire state to find something with natural flavors and no parabens," he commented, remembering the woman's aversion to products with chemical derivatives.
"I think so, but I'm glad it cheered you up," he agreed with a light smile. "But now let's focus on the reason we're here. Have you slept these days?"
The girl nodded, settling more comfortably into her chair.
"No problem, Abes and Carl treated me well," she replied, referring to the two healthcare workers who had cared for her.
The doctor put down his pen, folded his hands, and sighed.
"Shall we talk about what we said last time?"
"It depends on what happens to me," he replied warily.
"Do you feel in danger?" he asked, surprised.
She gave him a sidelong glance.
"Doctor, what do you think of me? What do you think I'm suffering from?" she asked brusquely.
"I read your personal story in the file they sent me."
"And you agree with the diagnosis?"
The man remained silent.
"Doctor, I know that by the end of this story you'll be inclined to explain what happened to me with science, but I need to know if you believe me."
She fixed her gaze on him.
"Visual and auditory hallucinations are one of the symptoms of schizophrenia, as is the lucidity you have at times like these, but I think the drugs we gave you worked, and you can return to a near-normal state," she admitted academically.
"I've never taken the drugs."
"What? But…!"
The surprise on her face was genuine.
"He's not the first doctor I've seen, you know, and it's easy to spit out the tablets you swallow."
She smiled amusedly.
"How do you explain your slow improvement if you haven't taken the medications?" she asked, frowning.
"Luca."
The doctor sighed and leaned back.
"Will you call Abes to sedate me?"
"No, I promised to listen to you, and I will. Tell me about Luca."
Reina crossed her legs and snapped her fingers. Luca materialized at her side, pale and drawn.
"I'm embarrassed that you're talking about me to anyone," she whispered.
"Luca is embarrassed," she admitted, amused.
"He's known me a long time, I assume; he shouldn't feel uncomfortable."
They exchanged a glance.
"Can you describe him to me? Just so I know what he looks like."
"He's a small, dark-haired twelve-year-old with light eyes and very shy. He wears clean, but poor, clothes, and he died of tuberculosis in this institution. He was a patient on the ground floor," she said.
"A guest? Is that why he looks like you?"
Reina pursed her lips and swung her leg.
"He didn't appear to me, I saved him from other ghosts."
"I don't understand..."
He stood up and began pacing around the room, clutching the blanket.
"I'd been here for a couple of months, and one evening I heard a great commotion under my window. There were shouts, moans, and other voices calling out. I thought it was the cafeteria workers playing a game of soccer, but all I saw was a tangle of shadows. The moans grew louder, and without thinking, I climbed out the window and ran toward them, shouting to stop. They stopped abruptly and turned to me. That's when I saw him curled up on the floor, his arms covering his head, trying to protect himself. The others were men in pajamas and women in long dresses, staring at me silently. I chased them away, threatened them if they didn't leave him alone. They were surprised and exchanged silent glances; they never spoke, and then disappeared. When I touched Luca, I didn't think he was a ghost, but a real boy. He stood up, he was shocked, he touched me and gave me a terrible shock. I was scared and only then did I realize it was a ghost. He said to me, 'Don't run away, I won't hurt you!' But I was surprised and curious. I had never heard a ghost speak to me in comprehensible words."
"But you see other shadows, even before Luca, right?" the doctor inquired.
"Yes, but they are different, because I only hear their screams and they fill me with so much anguish. With him, it was something new," he replied, sitting down.
"What do you think they are?"
Reina exchanged a long look with the ghost.
"Luca says they are forgotten and that their purpose is to take me to the world of the dead."
The man crossed his arms thoughtfully. He seemed to be absorbing all the information, trying to combine it.
"One thing escapes me," he said, thoughtfully. "Why did the ghosts of the sanatorium attack him?"
"He's always been a different kind of ghost; he's tried to maintain a connection with this place and its people. Many have seen him over the years, but he's never been able to interact with it."
"Until you..."
"Yes," she murmured softly.
Arkham opened a file, read something quickly, and asked her,
"I'd like you to look carefully at some images."
She nodded.
The man began scattering dozens of photos of people, landscapes, and places across the table. When he'd finished arranging them, he asked her to carefully evaluate them and choose all the ones that reminded her of something.
"Don't say anything, choose from the photos and set them aside. Then we'll look at them together."
He moved away from her and turned his attention to the landscape outside the window.
Curious, Reina pushed aside the blanket and leaned toward the table. There were countless photos, some black and white, others color, in various formats. She picked up a few, examined them carefully, and set them aside. As she browsed through them, she was surprised to see that many of them looked familiar. She held them in her hand, making a neat little pile.
A long time had passed when he spoke.
"I'm finished."
The man turned, almost surprised, weighed the photos he'd set aside, returned to his desk, and sat down. He held out his hand to receive the ones he'd set aside and began to leaf through them silently.
"A considerable number," she said finally.
"How come you have a photo of Luca?" she asked curiously.
"Can you point it out to me, please?"
Reina leaned forward, moved some photos, and pulled one out, showing it to him.
"So Luca has a face," the man murmured, observing her.
The pale face of a thin boy, wearing light-colored pajamas, stared back at him from that time-worn photo. His hair was short, as was the custom of the time, dark and neatly combed, his eyes serious, but a shy smile played on his lips.
"Didn't you know it was him?"
The man shook his head.
"Many of these photos were found during the renovation, others were given to me by some of my patients, and still others I took myself." He looked up at her. "Do you know all the shots you chose?"
Reina nodded.
"Many of the patients in the black-and-white photos are the ghosts who attacked Luca. I'm sure I've never seen the landscapes in person, but I've been there... through memories. I know it's crazy, but it's as if I've experienced them through a mirror."
Arkham moved some photos and placed them in front of her.
"They have beautiful colors, even though they represent the world of shadows," the girl sighed, running a finger over them.
"They're not photos, but drawings by patients suffering from dissociative disorders," he said seriously.
"What? They're photos!" she protested in surprise.
"They look like you, but they're vector images created from drawings patients have made during various crises. Each color represents a different phenomenon," she explained.
"Does that mean the shadows I see are nothing more than an evolution of my illness?"
Reina jumped up, pushing the photos away from her.
"I didn't say that, I just explained the nature of the photos. Can I tell you how they were created?"
The girl remained rigid, but understood that after what she had revealed, she had to at least show some trust. She nodded slowly and resumed her seat. The man seemed to appreciate her cooperation.
"What's the color that inspires you the most?" he asked, pointing to the photos.
"Purple."
"Even in your choice of colors, you're true to yourself," she smiled. "Purple makes people creative, sacrificing their rational side, increasing their suggestibility. The patient who drew this falling purple house of cards had symptoms such as emotional anesthesia and déjà vu, to name a few. She suffered from dissociation due to an emotional trauma that caused her to experience extreme experiences. She was completely detached from herself, to the point of seeming like another person. Her speech and body language were completely different when she played one role or another."
"And those green post-its flying through the air, what do they represent?"
"This patient also suffered from dissociation, but of a different kind. The color green expresses emotional control, but in him this control had become obsessive, to the point of compartmentalizing his many personalities."
"How many did he have?"
"About ten, each with many problems, except the dominant one."
"Doctor, do you think I have dissociative issues that lead me to see shadows or people who don't exist?"
At the direct question, Arkham shook his head.
"We've never talked like this, so you're a different person than I thought I was treating. You might have dissociative issues or schizophrenia, or you might actually see ghosts. Shall we find out the truth?"
Reina narrowed her eyes.
"How?"
"You should start taking the medication, only then will we know who's right."
"I… I'm scared," she confessed, wringing her hands.
"I imagine so, but I promise I won't prescribe anything too strong or that will send you into catalepsy."
She looked at him for a very long time before nodding.
"I'll warn you if there's any danger," Luca promised her.
"Okay, I'll try to trust you, but Luca is plotting revenge if he doesn't keep his word," she challenged.
The doctor smiled, nodding.