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It had been three weeks, four days, and five hours since Bianca Finch was admitted to Severalls Hospital, the renowned psychiatric hospital with its ground-breaking treatment and state-of-the-art equipment. The cuffs scratched at her wrists as she fought against the bindings, her skin red and raw from remaining in the position for the past several days. Since she had refused to follow the orders of the doctors and nurses in the hospital, who all wholly believed Bianca was out of her wits, she had been sequestered in her room. She only kept company with the sound of wheels screeching and people talking in the nearby hallway, and the inevitable nurse or doctor who would ask the same question they had always pestered her with.
What is your name?
She would yell and scream her God-given name, and apparently that was never what they wanted to hear. They would inject something into Bianca’s arm and she would doze off, her shouts quieting as the drug rushed through her system. Whenever she came to, she would be completely alone again. Her eyes traced the crack in the ceiling just above her bed, just as she had in the previous weeks since she had been stuck in this forsaken place. Her eyes were irritated from the tears that no longer flowed. Probably because she didn’t have any more tears left to spare.
All she wanted was to go home. She wanted to go back to her new apartment, call the studio to discuss her investment, and find the newest letter Cortland undoubtedly had mailed her. He was off in the deep north of England, where phone lines hardly exist and mail takes its sweet time reaching its destination. He had been so excited in his last letter about the progress the movie was making and urged Bianca to hurry her visit to the set. It had been too long since they last saw each other and both their hearts were wearing thin from the distance.
Oh Cortland. She missed him terribly. He was the only thing keeping her sane in this damn hospital. She didn’t know if he was aware of where she currently found herself; she was sure if he did know, she would’ve already been out of the hellhole. She always took forever to respond to his letters, being too damn busy with managing the studio, producers, and all of the other senseless needs for investing in a movie production, while also seeking out her own business ventures. Who knew how much longer it would be until he realized something was wrong and searched for her. Bianca knew she would be stuck in the hospital if no one sought to help her out of there; the doctors and nurses had more than proven to her that they didn’t believe a damn word out of her mouth.
Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her how long it had been since she had last eaten, or more precisely: been fed. The staff refused to let her out of the stupid bindings more than a few minutes at a time only to go to the bathroom, so the nurses would feed her as if she was incompetent. It was demoralizing and Bianca swore with every fiber of her being that when she made it out of that damn hospital, she would be speaking with a journalist to take down this hellhole that fed on people who truly needed help and did not have the capabilities to take care of those people.
And in fact, would force people of sound mind and body to remain within its walls.
Suddenly, the door to Bianca’s room swung open and Dr. Renard Keller waltzed through the door, with the stern-faced nurse Bianca had become well-acquainted with. Dr. Keller stood straight and looked over the room with a cooling glance, his hands clasped behind his back and his polished shoes clacking against the white tile floor. He hadn’t met Bianca’s eyes and she didn’t know if that was due to judgment of her current circumstances or something else.
Guilt, maybe?
“You may leave us, Nurse Richards,” Dr. Keller spoke in his ever-present firm voice, his gaze finally landing on Bianca splayed in the metal bed.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. She’s unstable –”
“You will leave us, Nurse Richards,” Renard repeated without even glancing back at the nurse, who huffed and slammed the door shut.
The room remained silent as Renard looked over Bianca. She couldn’t read what his eyes were saying. All she could think was he looked so out of place in the dingy room with its dirty walls and floors. He looked as if he should be at a university lecture instead of a patient’s room in an asylum.
She didn’t know why he was there. She hadn’t heard anything from anybody these past three weeks that she had been trapped at the hospital, and suddenly there he was. He wasn’t the one she wanted, but she wouldn’t refuse a rescue, no matter who the person was.
God, she missed Cortland.
“What are you doing here?” Bianca asked, her voice cracking from lack of use.
Renard didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took his time sitting in the metal chair beside her bed, crossing his legs at the knees and running his hands over his wool scarf. Then, with his hands clasped in his lap and his glasses perched on the tip of his nose, he set his eyes on her.
“Eirene asked me to check on you.”
Bianca scoffed and stared up at the cracked ceiling. She didn’t want anything to do with him if he was here on Eirene’s behest.
“She’s concerned for you, Bianca. She wanted my professional opinion –”
“Where was your opinion three weeks ago when she sent me here?”
Bianca heard Renard sigh from just outside the periphery of her vision. “You weren’t making sense, Bianca. Muttering delusions about Cortland dying and a fire on the train and something about a man named Dr. Shaw. She was right to be concerned.”
The consequences of a jump in time and the effects of your subsequent actions are unimaginable.
Dr. Shaw was right. They had no clue what could possibly happen to her mind when she made the time jump. For a long time, Bianca thought all would be fine. She had testified in Natasha’s trial to make sure she was rightfully punished for everything she had done. She had also testified regarding Cortland’s state of mind, convincing the press and jury that he was incapable of murdering Chloe Swann. During the long process of the trial, she and Cortland began financing his film. Filming began soon after the trial ended.
And their relationship bloomed.
But then, after everything was said and done and everything was finally settling down, her mind fractured. Bianca had been drinking tea with Eirene at Rosemary Manor when the two timelines twisted and split within her head, leaving her unable to differentiate between what timeline she was in and the train had exploded and she had almost died from hypothermia and Cortland was dead, dead, dead –
She couldn’t remember much after that moment. All she could remember were Eirene’s concerned eyes and the dark blotch of tea spilled on her dress that looked too much like his blood on her hands and she couldn’t save him from Natasha –
Bianca blinked back the tears that somehow began to build again. It had taken her some time to regain sense of herself. To Eirene’s credit, Bianca acknowledged that she truly needed help at first. But after the first week, with her mind mending itself and her memories back in their rightful places, she wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital. She had first thought it was all a mistake – a misunderstanding . She wasn’t out of her mind and in such need for assistance like many of the patients in the hospital.
Bianca was okay. She was fine.
But with every passing look from the staff, she learned that in their eyes, she would never be okay. She was still damaged and needed to be confined to her room for her own safety and for the safety of others.
She had begged the staff to contact Eirene, pleading with them to release her from the hellhole. But her tears fell on deaf ears. After she had annoyed them too many times, they had strapped her to the bed and injected her with some serum that made her drowsy and hallucinate Cortland beside her. For the first time in a week, she smiled. And once she realized it was all fake, she cried until her eyes were sore and red.
Even now, Bianca would get flashes of the other timeline, too real and too vivid as if it was happening in front of her all over again. She hoped that the flashbacks would ease with time, but she knew better than to share that development with Renard. He was Dr. Keller after all and he had a reputation to uphold as a leading teacher in psychology. His professionalism would win over any loyalty he had to Bianca, even though she had kept him and Eirene from murdering Cortland in cold blood.
Even though she fixed the mistakes they had made.
“Do you hear any voices or noises when nothing is there?” Dr. Keller asked, with a neutral look on his face. “Seeing anything that is not truly there?”
“Renard, please,” Bianca pleaded and her eyes burned with the tears that she thought she had emptied. “I just want to go home. I’m fine.”
“I still need to do my due diligence, Ms. Finch,” Dr. Keller responded, his calm voice igniting the frustration within Bianca. “I cannot allow them to just release you without making sure –”
“My name is Bianca Finch. I am twenty-four years old. My father died when I was six years old. My mother died last year, leaving her fortune to me. I am a businesswoman who is currently investing in Cortland Rask’s newest film. I stopped Natasha Ripley from blowing up the Moravia Express and murdering everyone on board in a very misguided attempt on Cortland Rask’s life, of which you and Eirene Primrose were accomplices in. Is that enough due diligence for you, Dr. Keller?”
Silence enveloped the room. Bianca turned her head to level her stare at Renard, who kept his gaze even with her. She knew every sentence she just spoke was an indisputable fact. They had to let her go. They had no reason to keep her there any longer. She was fine. Her mind felt stronger than it had been before the time jump. She wanted to get out and get on the next train to be with Cortland.
“You seem unable to control your emotions,” Renard stated and dread pooled in Bianca’s gut. “I cannot, in good conscience, advocate for your release. You could be a danger to yourself and others.”
“That is horse shit and you know it,” Bianca spat out, now truly unable to control her frustration and aggravation as Renard stood from his chair without a second glance at her. “Why are you keeping me here? Why is Eirene keeping me here? I don’t need help. I’m fine, Renard. Let me go–”
Renard reached the door and swung it open, allowing the nurse back in after murmuring a few words to her. All Bianca could hear was “danger” and “sedation” and she tried to force herself to wake up from the nightmare her life had become. She fought against her restraints as the nurse came into the room with two other orderlies following behind her. She saw the grossly oversized needle in her hands and Bianca shouted out.
She never liked needles, but this worsened that fear tenfold.
Dr. Keller left the room as the orderlies held her arms down and Bianca missed his wistful gaze as the nurse plunged the needle into a vein in her arm. All the fighting left her body as cloudiness filled her mind and she plunged into darkness.
<>
Time passed, but Bianca had truly no idea how long it had been. She apparently had been transferred to a new ward after her meeting with Renard and she had been in and out of consciousness ever since. She only knew that nurses were coming in, injecting something into her veins, and would leave as Bianca fell unconscious again and again. She didn’t know what day or even what month it was.
All she knew was missing Cortland’s warmth beside her and the nagging nightmares that reminded her of the alternate timeline she escaped.
It wasn’t necessarily the memories that were plaguing her, but as if her coming to this timeline to prevent Cortland’s death would all eventually be for naught. The dreams invented any and all situations her mind could imagine: Cortland getting stabbed to death, Cortland getting shot on set and dying, Cortland getting hit by a car. But all dreams ended with Natasha’s cackling face, reminding Bianca that she could not outrun the alternate timeline – that no matter what, he would face his end in tragic circumstances that she couldn’t stop.
She ached for his presence in a way wholly unfamiliar to her. Bianca wondered if it was due to her isolation and her brain having nothing to do but think about him and the sly smirk he always shared with her. She knew that whenever she found a way out of this place and back into his arms, she would be eternally grateful. She would tell him just how much she loved him, that she had literally traveled back in time to save his life because he was so important to her.
Bianca would make sure Cortland knew how treasured he was.
She heard whispers from outside of her room as she lay in her sweat-soaked bedding. Whatever it was that they were injecting her with left her restless and sweating profusely. Sometimes, she found herself shaking uncontrollably. She would cry out and the nurses would come back in and ultimately inject her with more. And so the cycle continued.
Bianca tried to listen in on what the voices were saying, but she could barely catch a word. She heard “insulin” and “increase,” but that was all she could understand before her mind grew fuzzy from the effort. She thought she had caught Eirene’s timid voice through the door, but Bianca ignored that vague idea. There was no way Eirene would ever cross the doors into such a God-forsaken place, even if she had been the one that sent Bianca there.
But then, the door creaked open and she saw Eirene’s perfectly coiffed hair and pristine dress. Bianca was surprised, to say the least; the woman hated anything that made her slightly uncomfortable. And as she caught the tightening of Eirene’s eyes as her gaze landed on Bianca bound to the bed, she knew that Eirene very much did not want to be there.
Dread coiled in her gut. Why was the woman there, if she hated every second spent within the soiled hospital?
“Oh, Bianca!” Eirene called out as she hurried to the chair at Bianca’s bedside, as a nurse stood by the door to watch over the interaction. “H-how are you feeling? Are they helping you here?”
Bianca tamped down the fury building in her veins and a content smile remained on her face. She needed to keep calm for her to have any hope of getting Eirene to release her. “They’ve been very helpful.”
“Oh good!” Eirene exclaimed as she clasped her gloved hands together. “I’m so sorry for sending you here, but I was just so worried about you, Bianca! You weren’t making any sense!”
“And I’m feeling much better now, Eirene,” Bianca replied contentedly. “I think I’m ready to go home now.”
“Oh,” Eirene stated simply and Bianca hated the withdrawn look in her eyes. “I-I spoke with Renard and he seemed to be concerned after seeing you last week.”
It had been a week?
Bianca needed to get the hell out of there to avoid losing more and more time away from her home and her business and Cortland –
“He said that you were verbalizing a desire to leave but not to take it at face value,” Eirene continued and Bianca turned her head to look up at the ceiling, just as she had for the past several days. “He thinks you need more help and you should stay here for a while.”
“A while?” Bianca bit out as tears burned her eyes. God, she thought she had run out of them long ago.
Eirene shrank back in her chair at the venom in Bianca’s voice. “Y-yes. He thinks more treatment is needed.”
Bianca started shaking her head and fought against her bindings. No. No more treatments. No more “help.” No more being tied to the goddamn bed and memorizing the cracks in the ceiling above her head. No more dozing in and out of consciousness after the staff injected her with something unknown. No more hoping and praying that someone would just let her go .
“I was talking to the doctors and they think maybe increasing the dosage on your insulin could improve your mental state,” Eirene continued and Bianca’s heart continued breaking. “And well if that doesn’t work, there’s electroshock therapy and maybe if things really don’t get better, lobotomy –”
“No!” Bianca shouted and she looked over at Eirene, who stared at her with wide eyes. “No! I refuse! I don’t want any of this, Eirene! Just let me go home! I’m fine now. I promise that I am. Don’t listen to Renard, Eirene. I’m okay. Just please let me go home!”
“But –”
“I don’t care what he said!” Bianca interrupted Eirene and the woman jumped out of her chair while the nurse standing by the door rushed over to Bianca’s bedside. “I’m fine! Please, Eirene. Let me go! It’s all up to you since you sent me here. Please –”
Suddenly, Bianca’s tongue felt too heavy in her mouth and her eyelids felt as if they were being weighed down by bricks. She glanced over and saw the nurse injecting something into her IV stand, sending it straight into her veins and throughout her body. She took one last look at Eirene, standing by the door with tearful eyes, and fell into the dark abyss yet again.
<>
Eirene ultimately determined Bianca needed a lobotomy.
She heard Eirene quietly murmur this is the best option from just beyond her door. Bianca’s eyes itched and burned from the lack of tears, but somehow her body was able to provide enough to streak down her face. Her wrists were just as raw from being bound for God-knows how long and she finally resigned herself to her fate. She wasn’t getting out of the blasted hospital. Her last view would be of the cracked ceiling above her bed and her last thought would be of Cortland, hoping and wishing that she could be by his side at that exact moment.
And cursing Renard and Eirene with their insistence on the treatment Bianca had outrightly refused.
She didn’t know what else to do. There was nothing else to be done. She had screamed and cried as much as she could at the two of them, but nothing convinced them. Renard had looked at Bianca with a cool and neutral glance, while Eirene had looked like she was on the verge of crying. But she knew what they were thinking: she was so sick that she didn’t even know what she was saying anymore and the lobotomy was the only way to help her. She hadn’t felt so defeated since Cortland had died in her arms before the time jump she had taken to save him.
Bianca’s heart broke at the thought of losing her life. No, she may not die, but she knew she would never be the same. She wouldn’t be herself after the procedure. She wouldn’t be able to function on her own ever again. She wouldn’t remember the touch of Cortland’s lips against hers or the way his hand filled hers with warmth when they walked side-by-side. The only positive outcome of all of this would be losing the memories of Cortland dying over and over again, but that would mean she would forget the very first time she had looked into his eyes in the hotel lobby and how he had helped her unlatch the trains to separate the carts after the explosion.
With that, Bianca smiled for the first time since she entered the hospital.
She needed her memories. She needed to remember how she fought to save his life and to be by his side. And she would continue to fight to save her own life.
She just hoped it would be enough.
Something was wrong.
Something was horrifically, terribly wrong.
Cortland hunted down the unfamiliar halls of Oxford, searching for the room where the renowned Dr. Renard Keller taught his psychology classes to the naive public. He knew all too well that behind that prim and proper appearance, Renard had a darkness within him. If the university ever found out the truth behind Natasha Ripley’s full plan on the Moravia Express, Renard would never work again. Something about that truly bothered Cortland – knowing the man behind the mask and being unable to expose him. Maybe that would be his bargaining chip to get Renard to spill whatever he knew about Bianca’s whereabouts.
It had been over two months since he had heard from her and about a month since he had sent his last letter. Although the phone lines out in the countryside were practically nonexistent and Bianca was never the most timely about responding to his letters, he knew in his gut that something wasn’t right. His gut had got him through his entire life and he wasn’t going to ignore it now.
Especially now, with the one woman who ever gave a damn about him suddenly disappearing into thin air.
He had to find her. Everything he had in his life, he owed to Bianca Finch. The woman barely knew him but still defended his life on that train over a year ago. As they went through Natasha’s trial, she testified to his innocence and effectively cleared his name. They had grown closer and closer over the past year and Cortland knew Bianca was the most important thing he had in his life, which was why he was now searching for the man who would have some knowledge about her whereabouts.
He had been to their shared apartment in London and it all had been covered with a fine layer of dust, with everything left in its proper spot as if Bianca had only gone out to grab lunch and never returned. There was a niggling thought in the back of his mind, telling him that she had finally just up and left him like so many people had in his life. Still Cortland knew that wasn’t the case. Bianca wasn’t like that. She wasn’t afraid to tell anyone exactly what she thought and how she felt. She would never leave without talking to him about what had gone wrong.
Cortland ignored the stilted whispers and gasps of the students lingering in the halls of the building. He had only one thought in mind: find Bianca. No one would get in his way, especially not Dr. Renard Keller. He finally let out a deep breath as he found lecture hall 242 and waltzed in there without a second thought, uncaring if the professor was in the middle of a class.
Luckily for Renard, it seemed that class had just ended. Cortland watched the students collect their notebooks and bags, with nearly all of them staring at Cortland with wide eyes and gaping mouths. But he didn’t look at any of them, keeping an even gaze on Renard, who looked calm and collected, as if an old friend had just walked into the room.
“Cortland Rask,” Renard spoke as he finished gathering his materials from the desk in front of the large chalkboard at the front of the room. “What can I do for you?”
“Where. Is. Bianca?”
At that, Renard’s face looked like he had just seen a ghost and Cortland knew he was exactly where he needed to be. He would finally find Bianca and kiss her and murmur all of the things he wished he had said during these months of no communication.
Renard cleared his throat and held his briefcase in his hand, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip. “We’ll talk in my office, Mr. Rask.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know what the fuck is going on, Renard.”
Renard’s jaw clenched as the last of the students hurriedly exited the lecture hall, who had overheard Cortland’s retort. “I will not discuss it here. My office is not too far. Surely, you can wait a little longer.”
Cortland’s hands tightened into fists and he had to fight the urge to punch the smug man in the face. But he knew he needed to behave better; after being in the tabloids for so long, acting like a fool, he needed to stay on the straight and narrow now that his name was cleared. Bianca had worked too hard to help him clean up his image and he owed her this at least.
Once the room had been emptied, Cortland walked alongside Renard from the building and across the campus. He couldn’t even enjoy the cool autumn air and the sun shining brightly over his head. All he could focus on was the man beside him who hid behind his prestige and intelligence. Cortland swore if there was a hair out of place on Bianca’s head, he would single-handedly bring Renard down and wish the man had never crossed Cortland Rask.
He had ways of doing so without it being traced back to him.
Students and staff alike greeted Renard as they crossed the campus and more than a few of them gawked as Cortland walked beside him. He would never miss the unblinking stares and rushed whispers from curious crowds. With his name cleared, the tabloids just made things up to create drama and drive their sales. He was sure this would somehow get back to the press and it would turn into a convoluted love affair of him involved with a student or something absurd, nevermind the fact that they had been speculating on his relationship with Bianca already.
A few moments later, Renard led Cortland into his office, the smell of fresh paper and ink through the air. It reminded him of his old agent’s office, the one Chloe had helped him get when they had first met – the same one who dropped him immediately after he was arrested for her death. Renard placed his briefcase at the side of his oak desk and stood by the window, peering out the open blinds as the sun cast down on him.
Cortland hated to think about it, but the man looked haunted. It was easy for Cortland to assume the worst in Dr. Keller; after all, he was very much involved in the weird, misguided attempt of justice that nearly led to Cortland’s death. But Cortland had read people his whole life – cataloging their furrowed eyebrows or chewing on their lips or picking at their nails, all telling him what to expect and how to play to their sensibilities. But Renard…the corners of his eyes were pinched, weathered, as if something was straining him. It was greatly unlike his stern posture and neutral face on the train.
“Where is she, Renard?” Cortland murmured and wished he could remove the pleading from his voice. “That’s all I want to know.”
Renard slowly exhaled and clasped his hands behind his back, clearly thinking over the words in his head before speaking. “You have to understand that this was done with the best of intentions.”
Cortland’s heart thudded as he took a small step closer to the man. “What. Did. You. Do?”
“Chloe’s death affected us all, as you well know,” Renard continued without glancing back at Cortland. “You were saddled with false accusations which have been disproven, and her death continues to leech into us. Eirene withdrew, I tried my best to be a father figure for Eirene, you tried to pick your life back up where it had been paused, and Bianca was the thread keeping us all from falling apart.”
Renard sighed and finally looked over at Cortland, turning to face the man evenly, and Renard had the decency to look ashamed. “Bianca had gone to see Eirene at Rosemary Manor for tea one afternoon. That’s when Eirene called me in a panic.”
“What happened?” Cortland asked as he released a slow breath to keep himself from jumping across the room to attack Renard. The man was clearly going to take his sweet time.
“She told me that while they were having tea, Bianca began speaking nonsense – something about a train explosion and you dying in her arms because Natasha shot you.”
Cortland’s eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head in disbelief. “What?”
“And that she needed to find a ‘Dr. Shaw’ to go back in time to save you,” Renard continued, his pinched eyes looking over at Cortland. “She spilt some tea in her haste to hurry away from the table when the psychosis began and she started screaming and crying that your blood was on her dress.”
Cortland ran a hand through his hair as he pulled his eyes away from Renard. He needed his brain to process the onslaught of information. Bianca never behaved like that. With her, everything was rational and logical and she always remained levelheaded. What the hell happened that completely undid her?
“Eirene had no choice but to call for help. Bianca was inconsolable and sobbing in a corner. She wouldn’t let Eirene come close to her.”
“Where is she, Renard?” Cortland begged and he hated the tears he felt building behind his eyes. Please let her be okay.
“Severalls Asylum.”
His heart dropped to his feet and he felt his knees almost buckle, but he gripped onto the back of the chair seated in front of Renard’s desk. “You sent her to that hellhole?”
“Again, Eirene didn’t have a choice. She was worried about Bianca’s safety. She very clearly needed help and that’s where she would get the best help –”
“No!” Cortland growled and stared at Renard with his ice blue eyes. “You know the stories about that place. You’re a goddamn psychologist, for Christ’s sake, Renard!”
It was a well known secret that Severalls Asylum was hell on earth. They put up a front of being an institution of healing, but Courtland knew better than to believe that. Plenty of his army buddies had been sent there for the dreams he too fought against, none of whom made it back out with their sanity intact. Or made it back out at all. There were the stories of electroshock therapy on unwilling patients and the dreaded final option: the lobotomy. Neglect, abuse, all against people the staff were supposed to help.
And they had locked Bianca up there?
“How long has she been there?” Cortland continued and clenched his shaking fists to stamp down the emotions building within him.
Renard exhaled deeply. “Cortland –”
Cortland slammed his hand against the frame of the chair and the sound echoed throughout the room. “How. Long?”
Renard pinched the bridge of his nose. Cortland couldn’t tell if the act was out of condescension or regret. “Approximately six weeks.”
Cortland turned away from Renard and ran his hands through his hair as he took a few steps to regain his mental balance. She had been trapped in that despicable place for well over a month, going through God knows what, while Cortland had just been going on with his life, like she meant nothing to him – like she meant nothing to anyone. She had been left to waste away without anyone to fight for her like she had fought for them.
“Again, Cortland, this was all done with the best of intentions –”
“You know what they say about hell, Renard,” Cortland spat back as he turned back to face the older man, his jaw quivering in anger, sadness and hatred at himself for not noticing her disappearance earlier.
“You think I don’t know that?!” Renard retorted, his neutral facade melting to show the misery beneath. While Cortland enjoyed seeing the man lose his mask, it was deeply unsettling. He looked undone, crushed by the world. “But I would be damned if I didn’t try to help Bianca –”
“Like you helped your daughter?” Cortland interrupted him and Renard’s eyes glazed over with sadness. “This is just some misguided, fucked up attempt to ‘fix’ something – someone.”
“She needed help, Cortland,” Renard murmured and he wasn’t sure if Dr. Keller was referring to his lost daughter or Bianca.
“Doesn’t mean you get a second shot at fixing your mistakes,” Cortland spat at Renard. “You just have to live with the consequences of fucking things up, like everyone else does.”
“I would rather not be psychoanalyzed –”
“Yeah, well now you know how it feels,” Cortland interrupted the man as he stepped away from Renard and turned to walk out through the office door. “It was great talking and all, but I’ve got some business out of town –”
“You can’t just take her from there –”
Cortland called over his shoulder, “Watch me.”
“Wait.”
Cortland stopped in his tracks and turned to look back at the elder man, who sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose – this time in true annoyance. “I mean they won’t just allow anyone to sign her out. Even if Cortland Rask waltzed right in, they can’t just let you take her.”
“Good thing I’ve got plenty of money. People always have a price to look the other way.”
Renard shook his head. “Don’t sully your name again when you’ve just cleared it, Cortland.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get Bianca home,” Cortland replied truthfully. He would turn the world upside down if it meant Bianca would be back in his arms, where he could protect her from spiteful people who didn’t understand the beauty in front of them. “I’m going to get her out of that shithole and nobody is going to stop me, Renard.”
Cortland had no doubt that Bianca would do the same for him.
Renard exhaled loudly in a heavy sigh. “Let me drive you there.”
Cortland raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Come again?”
Renard grumbled under his breath and plucked his briefcase from the floor beside his desk. Cortland couldn’t catch a word the man said until Renard spoke up, saying, “I will take you there. If I’m there, there won’t be any issue with getting Bianca out. I’m half the reason she’s there, after all.”
“And Eirene?”
“I’ll speak with her myself,” Renard continued as he ran his free hand down his signature scarf.
“You know this doesn’t fix everything, right?” Cortland asked and Renard walked to stand at the younger man’s side. “One positive act does not negate all of the shit you’ve done.”
Cortland saw the same tired gaze cross Renard’s eyes as he glanced over at Cortland. In a gruff voice, Renard said, “The first step is always the most difficult.”
<>
Cortland had to wait another painful two hours on the drive to Colchester from Oxford, sitting in silence beside the man who helped trap Bianca in the asylum. He should’ve taken a nap since he already ran on little sleep during filming, but his mind wouldn’t remain silent for long enough to allow him to doze off. He’d shut his eyes, mute his brain, and then it would all come screaming back at him seconds later.
He imagined Bianca in a straitjacket, rocking in a corner of a room, lost to the world outside of the hospital.
Or sitting in a wheelchair, staring numbingly out of a barred window.
Or cuffed to a chair while a doctor comes to her with the dreaded ice pick, under the guise of “fixing” her.
If Bianca was any different than when he left to begin filming, he would raise hell. He would take Renard and Eirene down with him. He didn’t care what happened to him or anybody else in the world. Bianca had to be okay. She was the one who mattered most – the only person who mattered in Cortland’s world. He didn’t care about his career or the fame; if she wasn’t there, none of it mattered
“We’ll be there shortly,” Renard murmured his first words during the length of the drive. “Let me do the talking.”
“If a hair is out of place on her head, Renard –”
“I know. You don’t have to say it, Cortland,” Renard responded and Cortland looked over at the man, his age showing in the darkened car, only lit by the meters and gauges in front of him. “You’d do anything to keep her safe.”
Cortland took a moment, unsure of how to respond for once in his damn life. He liked to think he kept his feelings for Bianca close to his chest on a normal day, but this – it undid him. He learned a long time ago how to stifle any emotion and keep it locked away, but the fear of losing her overpowered it all. His heart felt as though it was bubbling over and spilling acid into his veins, the anxiety taking over his limbs and mind and leaving him so utterly out of control.
And after those years of being completely out of control, Cortland hated being in its familiar shadow once again.
“We did have good intentions with bringing her here,” Renard repeated what he said when they stood in his office hours ago. “She needed help and even when she told me she was okay when I came to visit a few weeks later, I didn’t believe her. I –”
The older man’s voice cracked and Cortland watched Renard’s jaw clench in the light of his dashboard. After a stuttered breath, Renard continued, “I didn’t want to fail anyone else and in my search for redemption, I made a poor choice. I was so afraid to let anyone else fall through my hands that I neglected to see that Bianca could stand on her own.”
The car drove over the crest in the hill and that’s when Cortland could see the hospital, haunted by the living. He waited for lightning to strike the black sky like a horror film, to outline the dark and foreboding structure. But instead, all he could see were the faint lights breaking through the barred windows and dancing shadows of wandering patients. His heart froze in his chest, remembering that Bianca was locked away in there, all alone for far too long.
“Instead, I believed her harsh tone meant she didn’t have a grasp on her emotions and that she hadn’t recovered,” Renard spoke dejectedly. “It didn’t cross my mind that she sounded aggressive because she was fine and that she wanted to be released because no more treatments were needed.”
“You know this is a piss-poor way to thank her for everything she’s done, right?” Cortland muttered while shooting Renard a glance. “She kept your little plan with Eirene a secret while going through Natasha’s trial and even now and for what? For you two to turn around and lock her away like she meant nothing.”
Renard sighed as he drove over another hill and guided the car through a slight bend in the road. “We did it because we care about her too, Cortland. It may not be the same manner in which you care for her, but we want her to be safe too.”
Cortland sat and fumed as they drew closer to the hospital. If they had truly cared for her, they wouldn’t have let her rot away in a place where few people ever leave. He understood that something had happened to Bianca when she was drinking tea with Eirene and she needed help, but he didn’t believe she needed to remain at the God-forsaken hospital for six weeks. And Cortland hated that he wasn’t there for her when something broke inside of her mind. Instead, he had been enjoying his return to acting without the weight of Chloe’s death on his shoulders, while Bianca was stuck in the asylum.
He would plead on his knees to Bianca for her forgiveness. Although he wouldn’t blame her if she decided he wasn’t worth the clemency.
Moments later, Renard pulled up to the overbearing hospital and as soon as the car shifted to ‘park,’ Cortland was out the door. He didn’t bother to wait for Renard to walk around the car as Cortland took the front steps of the hospital two at a time. His heart pounded and blood thudded as it rushed to his head when he hurried to the large double doors and yanked them open.
Cortland’s jaw clenched as he met the gazes of the nurses and orderlies at the front desk, all of whom stared in shock at the infamous actor who just walked through the door. He would give them all a night to remember, that was for damn sure. He could see the headlines now: ‘Cortland Rask Steals Mental Patient’ or ‘Back At It Again: Cortland Rask Throws Punches With Staff At Hospital.’
But all of it would be worth it if Bianca was in his arms again.
He marched to the desk and vaguely heard Renard enter in a hurry just behind him. Cortland’s fists clenched tighter and tighter with every step closer to the people who held Bianca against her will and he reveled in the fear in their eyes. Renard finally caught up to Cortland’s side as he reached the desk and he clasped a hand onto Cortland’s shoulder in an effort to stop him.
“We’re here to sign out Bianca Finch,” Renard spoke in a rushed voice.
The nurse sitting behind the desk flipped through the papers at her side, her eyebrows deepening with every passing page. While she searched for whatever it was she was looking for, another nurse moved to stand beside her and stared back and forth at Dr. Renard Keller and Cortland Rask.
“Um” – the standing nurse cleared her throat – “Dr. Keller, you didn’t sign her in. We can’t authorize her release to you.”
Smith, the standing nurse’s surname according to her tag, placed her hands on her hips. “Only Eirene Primrose can sign her out, which isn’t likely to happen since earlier today, she initiated the patient’s transfer to another unit.”
“What unit?” Cortland asked and he tried – really tried – to keep his tone even. But Bianca was falling through his grasp and he couldn’t remain calm.
“I cannot disclose –”
Cortland slammed a fist on the marble desk top, jarring the staff as the noise echoed throughout the reception area. “I don’t give a shit. Where is she?”
“I am a very close friend of Ms. Primrose,” Renard spoke evenly and his hand tightened on Cortland’s shoulder. “We have spoken at length regarding Ms. Finch’s condition –”
“Be that as it may, I still cannot allow you to take her,” Smith interrupted Renard’s explanation as she crossed her arms over her chest. “There are laws that need to be followed –”
Cortland couldn’t be held liable for what he did next. He couldn’t bear any more excuses as to why Bianca couldn’t be released and go back home. He reached over the edge of the desk and grabbed the papers the other nurse had been searching through, hoping it was a patient census or some other thing that would help him locate her and get the hell out of there.
With the papers in his grasp, the staff immediately began shouting and calling for his removal. Nurse Smith circled the desk, but Renard stopped her from reaching Cortland. That was one point for the professor, Cortland supposed, but he’d think about it more when he had time – not when he was about two seconds from being tackled by a nurse. His eyes moved a mile a minute, searching through every page of the stack he had taken and it was taking way too damn long to find Bianca Finch’s name in a haystack this large.
“Please, Nurse Smith,” Renard spoke to her, in a tone which almost sounded like pleading to Cortland. “Where is she being held?”
Cortland looked over at the nurse and with his ice blue eyes staring at her, he resorted to everyone’s weakness. “How much?”
Nurse Smith suddenly stopped edging around Renard and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head at Cortland’s question. “Ex-cuse me ?”
Cortland looked at all the staff around the desk: Smith, the nurse sitting behind the desk, and an orderly who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. “For all of you. How much? I have more money than I know what to do with.”
The orderly perked up. “A grand?”
“Done,” Cortland responded and tossed the stack of papers onto the desk as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He hunted through the numerous bills and held out the wad of money, the orderly’s eyes growing wide. “Tell me where she is and it’s yours.”
“Room 280B, lobotomy unit.”
Ice slithered down Cortland’s spine as he rushed over to the orderly – Prince, according to his tag – and practically threw the money at the man. “How do I get there?”
“Three floors up and turn left,” The nurse from behind the desk spoke up and Cortland threw another grand at the woman for good measure.
Without a second glance, he shoved his wallet back into his pocket and ran to the stairs, leaving Renard to deal with the staff in the reception area. Cortland was excited about his luck, saving Bianca right before the torturous procedure, but that happiness quickly dissipated. He realized they never specified if she was awaiting the lobotomy or in recovery from the dreaded procedure and fear gripped his heart.
She had to be okay, she had to be okay, she had to be okay –
“I’m sorry, sir,” An unfamiliar man said as he stood, blocking Cortland’s way up to Bianca, with a hand up to stop Cortland’s run. “I cannot allow you upstairs.”
Cortland stood toe-to-toe with the man, who appeared to be another orderly, and stood at his full height. Even though he didn’t even clear six feet, the orderly stood at least two inches beneath Cortland. He clenched his fists and panted to catch his breath, his heart pounding in an aching frenzy and he wondered if the orderly – Jones – could see the utter desperation behind Cortland’s eyes.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of my way,” Cortland rumbled, a tone he hadn’t heard from his mouth since Chloe plucked him from the streets – back when he had to fight to survive and bruises marred his knuckles and face and ribs.
The orderly shook his head and puffed out his chest. “I can’t do that, sir.”
“I’ve beat men for less, Jones,” Cortland hissed and the orderly flinched. “I have punched and kicked and shot men so I could live. And right now, you are standing in the way of me getting to the only woman I have ever loved. Move or I will move you.”
But the orderly stood firmly, even though Cortland could see the fear behind the man’s eyes.
Cortland had to give it to Jones; he sure had guts of steel.
But nothing was going to stop Cortland from getting to Bianca.
Cortland blinked and threw a punch, hitting the staff directly in the nose. As Jones grabbed his nose, Cortland shoved him away and strode for the stairs, shouting over his shoulder, “Sorry, but I warned you.”
Calling back to his time training in the army, Cortland took the steps two at a time and kept his breathing even. He wanted to reserve his stamina and strength for when he got Bianca and they had to bolt out the door to Renard’s car. He couldn’t afford to grow exhausted when staff may be chasing them down. She was almost within his grip and Cortland wouldn’t allow anything to stop him. Even if the lobotomy had already taken place, he wasn’t leaving without her. He would take her back to the home they shared and he would take care of her.
He loved her too much to let her rot away in a hospital.
Cortland reached the third floor landing and immediately ran left, through the doorway labeled ‘LOBOTOMY WING’ and he ignored the stinging in his heart at the thought that he may be too late. If he was too late, he’d never forgive himself. He would drag Renard and Eirene down in the flames Cortland would set if Bianca was anything less than perfect. His running footsteps echoed against the marble floors of the dirty halls of the hospital, passing rooms with patients peering through the small windows in their doors, and he counted the rooms as he went further down the hall.
Cortland’s heart thudded. 270B, 272B, 274B…He skidded to a stop at 280B and wasted no time in reaching for the handle, wrenching it open and listening to the creaking of its hinges as it swung. He hurried into the dark room and could see someone laying in the bed, only outlined by the slight light from the moon coming through the sole window of the room and he hoped to God that the orderly Prince didn’t lie. But then, Cortland recognized Bianca’s curls against the stark white pillow and he rushed.
“Bianca!” Cortland called out and his hands immediately began to work to free her from the binds that kept her in bed. There would be hell to pay, but all he could focus on at that point was getting her into his arms and getting out of the damn hospital.
Bianca’s eyebrows furrowed as her eyes fluttered open and she looked at Cortland. “Cortland?”
“I’m here, baby. Hold on,” Cortland muttered as he finally freed her wrists from the straps. His hand brushed along her cheek and his heart stuttered when she turned her head to press further into his touch. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“You’re not a hallucination this time,” Bianca whispered as her voice cracked and his heart broke at the hell she must’ve gone through.
Cortland slid his arms under Bianca’s legs and back and lifted her into his arms, cursing at how light and fragile she felt, compared to when he had last touched her over three months ago. Bianca’s head fell to his shoulder and her hand gripped onto the collar of his shirt as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Without a second glance, Cortland hurried them out of the room and back down the hallway toward the stairs.
He listened to Bianca’s even breathing and he felt her fingers tighten around his shirt, as if reminding herself that he was truly there. She no longer smelled of her floral perfume, but her skin retained the softness that had always contradicted his rough hands. It was her skin against his that slowed Cortland’s pounding heart – she was there and in his arms and he wouldn’t let go of her again.
“Cortland,” Bianca murmured as he began the descent back to the reception area of the hospital, as quickly as possible while keeping her secure in his grip.
“Yeah?”
“I’m happy you’re here.”
He ignored the prickling of tears behind his eyes and his arms tightened around her. “I’m never letting go of you again.”
Bianca snorted and Cortland smiled for the first time since realizing she had disappeared. It sounded just like her. “That’s not very realistic.”
“Sure it is,” Cortland replied with his lips against her hairline, Bianca jostling in his arms as he trotted down the steps with speed. “I’ll just take you along with me back to filming and we’ll have to change the script a bit to include you as a weird conjoined twin –”
She snorted again and he swore he would do whatever it took to have her make the sound again. “You’re absurd.”
“You love it though.”
Bianca’s fingers trailed along the line of Cortland’s jaw and he would’ve looked down at her bright eyes if he wasn’t actively hurrying down a staircase and would risk killing them both if he tripped. “I do.”
Cortland heard rising voices as he neared the main floor of the hospital, recognizing Renard’s clipped posh accent bickering with Nurse Smith again. He hoped Dr. Keller would be able to get them out the door and into his car without complications; he really didn’t have the energy to deal with any more problems.
Nor did he have any more money in his wallet.
As soon as Cortland’s feet landed in the reception area, Renard looked over his shoulder and spotted the couple, rushing to follow them straight out the front door. They didn’t mind Smith’s shouting nor Jones’s bleeding nose nor the curious peering faces of other staff that had come to watch the spectacle; they simply hurried out the large double doors and into Renard’s parked car.
Renard swung open the backdoor and Cortland slid into the back of the car and sat her on his lap, with her legs up and resting on the seat and her head against his shoulder. With the backdoor shut and Dr. Keller behind the wheel, they peeled out of their parking space at Severalls Hospital and left the cursed place in the dust.
Cortland’s hand curled around Bianca’s, who tucked her fingers in the space between his. His other hand curled around her once-bouncing curls and he met eyes with Renard through the rearview mirror, whose gaze immediately shot away.
“Dr. Keller, we’re going to have a nice long chat,” Bianca spoke and Cortland’s heart thrilled at the venom in her voice. “But for now, I’d rather not deal with you.”
Renard nodded silently and Bianca shifted in Cortland’s lap, pressing her nose into his throat and his Adam's apple bobbed with a gulp. “Wake me when we’re home?”
Cortland brushed a kiss against her forehead and her lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks. “Of course.”
Bianca drifted in and out of consciousness during the extent of the drive back to London, her nightmares chased away by the press of Cortland’s hand against hers and the smell of his sandalwood cologne. She could still see his limp body in the snow, painting the snow red outside of the train, and she could still hear him tease her as the princess of parallelograms.
The memories of the two paths still existed in her mind, but she felt the clear separation. Bianca was sure she’d continue to be haunted by those memories, just as sure as she knew she loved Cortland. He needed to know what had happened for her to end up at that blasted hospital. He needed to know the depth of her love.
He needed to know the lengths she went through to keep him alive, the pain she felt during those few months where he was dead and she was desperate for Dr. Shaw to come through with his invention.
She would tell him. But for now, she would rest.