Wendy brought Irene to the asylum the following week.

Irene was much prettier than I expected from Wendy's many stories about her. Maybe words were not enough to describe her beauty. She was pale, cold-looking, shy. Typical features of an autistic patient. But she was outstanding, if I had to put that in another way.

What surprised me the most was that, she seemed quite dependent to Wendy. It was not easy to gain trust from autistic patients.

I wondered if Wendy was a psychiatric genius or the two just had a special bonding. As a professional, I rooted for the latter possibility.

My office had big windows with a bird’s eye-view of the asylum’s garden. I was the vice superintendent after all. And I saw them sitting on the grass. Side by side. They shared the earphones of Wendy’s iPod. If I was right, Irene had one side in her left ear while Wendy had the other in her right.

And Wendy could not hear with her right ear.  She rather listened to Irene’s seldom talk than her favorite music.

They just sat there for hours. Occasionally, Wendy would talk to Irene. Sometimes, Irene would reply her with a few words. Sometimes, she just stared at the other girl. So, I started thinking maybe Wendy could also read minds. Who knows? Everything is possible for me after I met this girl.

Irene tended to steal glances at Wendy while the latter was just looking at the sky. When Wendy looked back at Irene, Irene would look away. They did not have much eye-contact neither.

They got me rethinking what friends are. Maybe they were more attached or connected than we “normal” friends did. Like, on a spiritual level? I couldn’t tell.

At the dawn, I went to Wendy’s room. She greeted me brightly, as always.

“Doctor, finally!” She was watching TV, a cooking program.

“How’s your day with your friend?” I sat on a chair not far from her bed.

“She’s really nice. I asked her to meet you but she refused. She is shy.” 

“Take it easy, girl. She has autism.” I tried to remind Wendy the fact that her friend has psychosis.

“Oh, yeah….. I thought I could make her open up more.”

“If you could, I should offer you a job here.” I joked.

“I mean it, Doc.” She looked serious. 

“Why?” I needed to know. 

“Because she seems to understand me, like, apart from you of course.” Wendy curled up into a ball on her bed, eyes on her toes.

“Wendy, is there something you want to tell me?” I had always known that an all-time bright girl like her would always tend to hide her pain under her smiles.

“I…. She listened to my worries.” She nervously scanned through the room before she continued. “There’s a boy…... following me.”

It sent chills to my spine for a second. “Even now? Why is he fter you?”  

“H-he is dead and believes he was murdered. But the Police report said he committed suicide.” 

I did my best recalling recent news and one rang a bell, “Was he about 9? Lived next town? Reported missing last month?” 

“Yes! Is it on the news?” Wendy jumped a little in excitement.

“It was last week’s.” 

“Tell me more.” Her eyes sparkled with hope.

I took out my PDA and googled it, “Name’s Taylor. 9 years old. Parents filed him missing last month. His body was found in the bushes last week, with signs of hanging himself. 

“He mentioned one day when he was playing in the backyard, he got chloroformed. He woke up in an old two-storey warehouse.” Wendy closed her eyes trying to remember everything she had heard.

“Any more details? Like the attacker’s face?” I thought maybe I should talk to the Captain later.

“Hmm, huh? Okay……” She suddenly turned and gazed at the other side of the room. “He just talked me again…….. He said there were 3 attackers, all masked. They didn’t speak. They just kept beating him and threw him food. He was chained all the time. One day, he got dragged outside and got hanged. End of story.”

“So this is not ordinary kidnapping? I felt like he might know the murderers.” 

“I don’t know. Please help him and solve this case. He just won’t let me go. He is driving me crazy.” She started pulling her hair, looking paranoid. 

“Wendy, calm down. It didn’t happen before…….You haven’t been haunted like this.”

“It’s because nothing had ever happened so close to me.” 

“I see. I’ll call the Captain right away. Do you need some pills?”

“No. I don’t wanna take so many pills.” She sighed.

“Fine. Call the nurses if you need to. Have a good night.” I tucked her to sleep.

The Captain of the Police had been well informed about the conditions of our patients, since the mentally-challenged were usually seen as dangerous. He had been dubious about Wendy’s “ability” too.

I had phone call with him that night. He would not believe a 9-year-old could kill himself either. But they did not have any evidences.

Well, they had then with Wendy’s help.

In the next day’s afternoon, the case was solved. It was the parents and his uncle.

They did not want this child at the first place. And they figured insurance money was worth a shot. What a tragedy. I saw it on the news and immediately headed to Wendy’s room.

She was crying in front of the TV. I dashed to her side and gave her a hug. “Wendy, it wasn’t your fault. You’ve done a good job.”

“He is gone now. I…… I am just sad for him. How could they? He was their child.”

“Some people are cruel. Now at least people know the truth, he knows the truth.”

She soon recovered and started chatting with me again.

“Wendy.”

“Huh?”

“Can you read minds too?”

“No.” She was certain.

“Then how did you manage to get close with Irene? I watched you two yesterday. You barely talked.”

“Not the more we talked, the closer we could get.” She looked at me sincerely.

“You played music for her, while you waited for her to speak.” I poked further.

“Oh that……” She got my point, unknowingly touching her right ear. “She doesn’t know yet.”

“But she knows about your 'ability'?”

She gave a solid nod.

“What did she say?”

“She believe me. I told her about her aunt...... I think it’s because nobody care to listen. It’s not what she said, it’s what she meant.” She suddenly blurted out.

“I understand now.” I had another question came to my mind. “Wendy, what do the dead usually say to you?”

It got her thinking for some minutes.

“Usually, they just want to talk. They are lonely. They cannot accept that fact that they are gone. I cannot do them any flavor anyway...... They tell me their stories. I comfort them. That’s all.”

“Do you like them? Their stories?” I carefully asked. 

She chuckled. She was not laughing at me. She sounded rather cool and composed. “Whoever gave me this, I think it’s a test for me. Not a gift. It doesn’t benefit me that much. I am learning from it. I learn about life, I learn about death, I learn about love…… I learn to listen to myself. And how to truly listen.”

It stuck me hard. Yes, I did try to put myself in her shoes. That’s what a psychiatrist should do. But I did not know I could have seen it in that way.

“So, if you have a choice….. Will you keep it?” I asked her as a friend.

“Yes, I will. I am willing to bear it in this life of mine. ‘Cause I know there must be poeple who need someone like me.” Wendy smiles softly. “Also, I feel like I am redeeming myself. Maybe I can free from this in my next life……. I really hope so.”

Her smile warmed my heart but somehow I wanted to cry.