THE PATIENT IN ROOM 13
THE PRISON VISIT
Wednesday, January 17th – 1:00 PM
The prison was a gray stone building on the outskirts of Ravenwood, surrounded by high fences topped with razor wire. Sloane had visited many prisons during her career as a forensic psychologist, but this visit felt different. This time, she was not here to evaluate a patient. She was here to see an enemy.
Dr. Helena Marsh had been incarcerated at the Ravenwood Correctional Facility for three months. She had been found guilty of conspiracy to commit fraud, obstruction of justice, and involuntary manslaughter. She had been sentenced to twenty years.
Sloane signed in at the front desk, surrendered her phone and her keys, and waited in a small room with plastic chairs and vending machines. The walls were beige, the floor was linoleum, the air smelled of bleach and despair.
A guard appeared.
“Dr. Vance? Follow me.”
The visitation room was larger than Sloane expected, divided by a thick glass wall. Telephones hung on either side. Sloane sat down on the visitor’s side and waited.
Dr. Marsh appeared on the other side of the glass.
She looked older than Sloane remembered. Her hair was grayer, her face more lined, her shoulders hunched. She walked slowly, carefully, as if the weight of her crimes was pressing down on her.
She sat down.
She picked up the phone.
Sloane picked up hers.
“Dr. Vance. Thank you for coming.”
“Teresa asked me to.”
“I know. She told me.”
“She also told me you wanted to apologize.”
Dr. Marsh looked down at her hands.
“I have done many terrible things. I have lied. I have cheated. I have covered up deaths. I have destroyed families.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid. Afraid of the Watcher. Afraid of the truth. Afraid of what would happen if anyone found out.”
“So you buried the truth.”
“I buried the truth. I buried the bodies. I buried the memories.”
“And now?”
“Now I am paying for my crimes. As I should.”
Dr. Marsh looked up.
Her eyes were red.
“I am sorry, Dr. Vance. I am sorry for what I did to your father. I am sorry for what I did to the patients. I am sorry for what I did to the families.”
Sloane was silent.
“You don’t have to forgive me. I don’t expect you to. But I needed to say it.”
Sloane leaned forward.
“Why now?”
“Because I am dying.”
Sloane’s heart stopped.
“What?”
“The doctors found a tumor. In my brain. It’s inoperable. I have a few months, maybe less.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No one knows. I haven’t told Teresa. I haven’t told anyone.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because you are the Keeper. You remember the forgotten. I want to be remembered. Not as a villain. As a human being who made terrible choices.”
Sloane looked at the woman on the other side of the glass.
“You will be remembered, Dr. Marsh. As the woman who helped cover up the deaths of dozens of patients. As the woman who lied to families for decades. As the woman who let the Watcher consume the vulnerable.”
Dr. Marsh’s face crumpled.
“But also as the woman who finally told the truth. Who finally apologized. Who finally faced the consequences of her actions.”
“That is not enough.”
“No. It is not enough. But it is something.”
Sloane stood up.
“Goodbye, Dr. Marsh.”
“Goodbye, Dr. Vance.”
Sloane walked out of the visitation room.
She did not look back.