Hush Little Girl by Lisa Regan (first e reader .txt) 📗

Amber said, “Tell them we can’t comment on an ongoing investigation?”

“Right, right,” said Chitwood.

Josie’s desk phone rang. As the others got to work, she picked it up. “Detective Quinn?” said a familiar voice. “This is Dr. Nashat at Denton Memorial. We’ve got a problem.”

Twelve

Ten minutes later, Josie stood outside of Emily’s hospital room once more. From inside, the sounds of the girl’s shrieks cut through Josie’s bones like a thousand tiny knives. Dr. Nashat and Marcie Riebe looked at Josie helplessly.

“She won’t calm down,” said Marcie.

“I can give her some Valium,” Dr. Nashat explained. “Or some Versed. But I don’t have a proper medical history for her. She could have allergies we don’t know about. Plus, we’d have to hold her down. She lashes out anytime we try to come near her. I called again for the psych consult, but the doctor on call won’t be here for another hour.”

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do,” said Josie.

“She asked for you,” said Dr. Nashat. “Well, she asked for ‘the angel lady cop with the scar on her face.’”

Self-consciously, Josie trailed her fingers down the right side of her face. “Was that before or after she started screaming?”

Marcie said, “We explained to her that you were working and couldn’t come back. Evidently, she didn’t want to hear that.”

“We tried to talk her down,” Dr. Nashat said. “She’s not trying to hurt herself, but she won’t stop… well, you can hear her.”

Marcie said, “I’ve seen a lot of meltdowns in my work, but this is not that.”

“What happened immediately before she started crying?” Josie asked.

“She was asleep,” Marcie replied, mystified.

Josie turned to Dr. Nashat. “Could this be something like night terrors?”

“I don’t think so. She’s fully awake and cognizant. I mean, she’s asked for you twice.”

Josie left them in the hallway and pushed open the door. Emily wasn’t in the bed. Instead, she was balled up in one corner of the room, curled around her stuffed dog, her knees drawn all the way up to her chin. Her mouth stretched wide as she screamed, took in a ragged breath, and screamed again. Josie panned the room as she walked slowly toward her. Rumpled sheet and blanket on the bed. Tray table with a cup of water and a small basin for vomit. Emily’s sneakers were tucked neatly under the bed. Her duffel bag sat on one of the guest chairs. Josie stopped when she realized the zipper to the side compartment was open. She took a quick peek inside, noting that it was empty of all the strange treasures that Emily had insisted on bringing from home. “Shit,” she muttered.

Kneeling in front of Emily, Josie waited for the next time Emily had to gulp in a breath, and said, “Emily, can we talk?”

Another shriek pierced the air. Emily’s eyes locked onto Josie’s in a look of terror and powerlessness. She couldn’t stop it, Josie realized. The feelings were too big. There was no controlling them. There was only waiting until they petered out. Josie sat cross-legged in front of Emily and extended a hand, palm facing up. The shrill cries continued but in Emily’s eyes, Josie saw the little girl trapped inside the hysterical body. Emily’s fingers reached out and touched Josie’s palm. Leaning closer, Josie dipped her head. Gently grasping Emily’s fingers, she brought them up and guided them along the scar on her face. She started at the top, near her ear, and traced it down to under the center of her chin, then started again.

“Emily,” Josie said softly. “You can survive the bad things. I promise you can.”

After a long moment, Emily’s fingers worked on their own, running over the scar. Josie’s neck ached from staying in the same awkward position for so long, but Emily’s cries had receded to moans and the occasional hiccup, so Josie held herself still. Finally, a raspy whisper came from Emily’s throat. “One, two, three…” At six, she stopped and pulled her hand away from Josie’s face.

Josie sat up straight and smiled. Emily clutched her stuffed dog to her chest. Her skin was pink and splotchy, eyes glassy. A look of complete exhaustion passed over her face. Josie said, “What happened, Emily? Why did you get so upset?”

“I couldn’t help it,” said Emily.

“I know.”

“Sometimes I can’t stop the… distress. That’s what Mama calls it. Distress. Like bad, mad, and sad feelings all at once. They take over my body. I don’t want to have them, but I can’t stop them.”

“What did your mom tell you to do when you feel distressed?” Josie asked.

Emily started to rock slowly back and forth. “She says I have to ‘tolerate’ it. Holly says that means I have to let the feelings feel until they’re all done.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Josie said.

“I don’t feel upset now.”

“That’s good. Do you want to lay in the bed?”

Emily nodded. Josie offered her a hand and helped her to standing. Josie tucked her beneath the covers. “Your things aren’t in your bag anymore,” she said. “Was that why you got upset? Did someone take them?”

“I put them on the table next to my water cup. That lady was here but she fell asleep in her chair. I just wanted to see them. Then this other lady came with a cart filled with all kinds of cleaning stuff. She had a trash bag, and she wiped her hand across the table and right into the bag. I tried to tell her to stop, but the feelings came, and I—”

Her chest rose and fell more quickly so Josie cut her off. “I understand. I’m very sorry, Emily.”

“I asked the computer lady and the doctor to get you. You’re the police. Maybe you could get my things back.”

Josie felt a little stab of pain in her chest. She couldn’t imagine finding the five small items in the hospital’s trash, and it would be hard