Say My Name

I made it to the street this time.

My feet burned as I traipsed through the slushy gray ice. The wind whipped around me, numbing my ears and tearing at my nightdress with icy fingers. I turned left, though the darkness had me disorientated… no longer sure which way would take me home. If home even existed anymore. At any rate, it didn’t matter, because within minutes I was captured.

The taxi driver pulled over to the side of the road and I was delighted to see him, the marigold yellow cab like a beacon of freedom. I pulled open the door and collapsed inside, the smell of pine and leather almost as comforting as the warmth blasting from the air vents. He turned to look at me, a puzzled frown on his face.

“It’s awful late to be walking the streets, Ma’am. Are you lost?”

My teeth chattered as I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. I want to go home, please!”

“And where’s home?” He waited for directions.

“I… I don’t remember.”

The street name seemed to dissolve in my mouth. I could feel the shape of it, the familiar rhythm rolling around my tongue as I tried to expel it. Some kind of tree – Tulip, perhaps? Magnolia? It was gone, lost in the haze of the medicines they dosed me with.

“That’s okay, Ma’am. I’ll take you to the police station, they’ll help you figure it out. There’s a blanket on the back shelf, warm yourself up. It’s bitter out there.”

He meant well, I’m sure of it. His eyes were kind, I don’t think he was one of them. He had no reason to think the police were in on it. Yet as soon as we pulled up outside the building I knew my fate was sealed. I was returned to my captors within the hour.

The uniformed policewoman had her arm around my shoulders, steering me firmly towards the reception desk, where a sallow man sat, eating a sandwich.

“Hello Frank, I think this lady is one of your residents?” She said, and the man in white looked relieved.

“Yes! Where did you find her? We were just about to call it in… she’s been gone nearly an hour!”

I tried to pull free, but she was stronger than she looked, and now Frank was grasping my arm, his massive, ape-like hands pinching my skin.

“Let go! You’re hurting me!” I cried out, but my voice was thin and reedy.

“You’ve given us all quite the scare, Katherine. What on earth were you thinking, sneaking out in just your nightclothes?” He marched me down a green corridor, and I turned to beg the policewoman for help, but she was already headed out into the night.

I’m not stupid. I’d have got dressed if they left my clothes in the room. The drawers are all empty – no sweaters, cardigans, anything. The closet is padlocked. I haven’t seen my shoes since they brought me here.

Frank unlocked the cell door and pushed me inside. “Wait here, I’ll send a nurse in to clean you up.” I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, waiting for him to leave.

As soon as his footsteps receded down the hallway, I was up and trying to open the door. No good, he must have locked it. I went to the window, but that was no use – I was on the third floor, too high to jump even if I could get it open. Trapped.

The door opened, a friendly-looking black woman in a nurse’s costume walked in. “Miss Katherine, what’ve you been up to, huh? Look at your poor feet! You must be frozen. I’ll run you a hot bath, that’ll be just the thing.” She headed into the bathroom and fiddled with the taps, adjusting the temperature as the water gushed out. I looked longingly at the door, but there was no point making a break for it now – they were all on alert.

“There you go,” She said, unbuttoning my nightie like I was a child and lifting it over my head, leaving me shivering and vulnerable in my birthday suit. “Take my arm, I’ll help you into the tub.”

I had no choice, so I obeyed. The hot water was a relief, my frozen feet tingling as the circulation returned to them. I hugged my bony knees to my chest, choosing to stay quiet as she washed me.

“You gave us all a fright, Miss Kathy. You can’t just up and leave whenever you like – it isn’t safe.” She poured water down my back, then turned to get the towel that hung on the back of the door.

I let her heave me up, rub me vigorously with the rough towel as though I were a child. I hated feeling so frail and helpless. Tears stung my eyes, but I was too proud to let them fall. They won’t see me crumble. She pulled a clean buttercream yellow nightdress out of the locked cupboard, fastening the buttons all the way up to my neck. It was too tight and itchy where the lace rubbed, but I said nothing. I always hated yellow. This couldn’t be my nightie. Whose clothes was she dressing me in?

She led me to an armchair by the window and tucked a lap blanket in around me, so firmly it acted like a seatbelt, anchoring me in place.

“Can I get you anything, Miss. Kathy?” She asked.

“My name’s not Kathy,” I mumbled.

“Why, of course it is! Look, why don’t you go through your memory box? I’ll be back in a while with your meds and a hot cocoa.” She placed a brown cardboard box into my lap, then turned on the small table lamp and left me alone.

I didn’t want to open the box. I had a bad feeling about it. More of their trickery. When I was young there was a movie called The Matrix, where people lived their whole lives never knowing it was simply a computer simulation. This box felt the same – once opened I would know why I was here, ensnared in their system, doomed to live the same day over and over forever.

I trembled as I lifted the lid. A layer of brown paper, tissue-thin, protected the contents. Beneath it, a birth certificate. ‘Katherine Angela Yare’, female, born in 1980. It seemed uncomfortably familiar, like a pair of old school shoes after the long summer break. I knew it belonged to me, but this moniker had been cast off, shed like a snakeskin in favor of a shinier, new identity. I may once have been Katherine, but she was long dead.

A framed photo lay beneath; a young couple in fine silks and velvets… a wedding, perhaps? The word felt right. “Mr. & Mrs. Whelan, 2005.” Whelan. From the Irish, faolán. Wolf. Had I slipped out of my former skin and into this wolf’s fur, then? Was this young man with the smiling eyes my husband?

It would be nice to believe it. This box, filled with happy lies – baby photos and locks of hair, holiday snaps of golden beaches, and turquoise oceans. A pile of puppies, husky-mixes – fluffy and adorable. An elderly dog basking in the green light that shone through a leafy canopy. The box was someone’s whole life, their crowning achievements, their bitter-sweet losses. It made me sad to sift through each layer, delving down into school reports, handwritten poems, a prefect badge.

I let it tumble from my lap, the glass cracking over the faces of the young couple. Such hope for their future lives together. Such promise of times to come. Such lies.

The pretty nurse came back, with her hot chocolate and her serpent’s smile. She handed me some pills and I pretended to swallow them down. “There now, Miss Kathy, I bet you feel better already!”

“I’m not Kathy!” I knocked my hand against the arm of the chair, sending the drink flying to spill all over the photos in the box.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done!” She bent down to pick up the items, rubbing them dry on her apron. “You've spoiled your precious things!”

“They’re not mine. I’m not Kathy, you’ve got the wrong person.”

She sighed, kneeling beside my chair as she picked up the shattered fragments of the mug. “It said in your notes you had a nickname… would you prefer me to look that up for you?”

Angel, my name is Angel – he changed it from Angie when we first met… Always Angie, never Katherine. Angie and then Angel. Don’t forget! His Angel.

I was suddenly exhausted. I closed my eyes, resting my head on the chair back and wishing away the hostile white room. The nurse with her sad, sympathetic eyes. Blast it all to hell. I wanted no part in any of it.

Just let me die already, I’m done with this charade.

Except I’m not. Whether I was born with it or not, the wolf is inside me. And the wolf is restless. It paces inside the enclosure of my mind, testing the locks that keep it in place. Wolves are wild animals, they need to be free. Tonight I would let them tuck me into that hospital bed, recover my strength.

But next time... next time I would get farther than the street.