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HISTORY
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    After her maternal mother and paternal father were killed, Ivy saw Paula Laub, M.D. From the age of 9 to present, she’s been seeing Donna Lamb, PhD.
    Has your child ever been admitted to the hospital for psychiatric treatment? No.

S HE ’ S HERE. S ITTING AT A table in the rec room, in a chair that’s way too small for her. Dr.
Donna looks like a little kid.
    “Hi,” I say, in a voice that’s just as small.
    She doesn’t hear me. The TV’s too loud.
Wheel of Fortune
. I snatch the remote from the bookcase and lower the volume. No one who’s watching seems to care, or maybe they
just don’t notice.
    “Hi,” I try again, taking the seat across from her. Somehow, despite the obvious change of space—not her stuffy office but the common area of a mental hospital—I still
slip into rote routine, imagining this like a rerun on TV, suddenly wishing I could click away.
    IVY: Thanks for coming to see me on such short notice.
    DR. DONNA: Of course. I’m always here for you, Ivy.
    IVY: So, I’ve been thinking a lot about the case.
    DR. DONNA: Have you been thinking as much about healing?
    IVY: It’s him.
    DR. DONNA: What’s him?
    IVY: The man who killed my parents, the Dark House amusement park killer...they’re one and the same.
    DR. DONNA: That’s one theory that the authorities are working on.
    IVY:
Excuse me?
    DR. DONNA: There are a number of theories, Ivy. The authorities are doing their job by looking into all of them. They want you to do your job too—by getting
     rest and getter better enough to go home. Don’t you want that as well?
    IVY: So, they’ve obviously been keeping secrets from me.
    DR. DONNA: Do you think that rather the authorities don’t want to burden you with the details of the case as you’re trying to heal?
    IVY: I think they owe it to me be honest, especially when I’ve been telling them everything I know, everything I remember. I mean, I’m part of this
     investigation too, aren’t I?
    DR. DONNA: This might feel like an injustice right now, but it’s important to put things into perspective. Your disorder can often make feelings seem
     exponentially bigger, stronger, and more profoundly relevant than they need to be.
    IVY: This isn’t about my disorder. And my feelings
are
relevant.
    DR. DONNA: Of course they are. That’s not what I meant.
    IVY: My parents’ killer was a fan of horror movies. He re-created his favorite scenes from horror flicks for his crimes—just like the Nightmare Elf
     killer...the way he used Justin Blake’s films as his inspiration for the Dark House weekend.
    DR. DONNA: Okay, but why would your parents’ killer go to all the trouble of organizing the Dark House amusement park weekend, holding a contest, and involving
     others if he only wanted to come back for you?
    IVY: Because he wanted to make his own horror movie, and he needed more than one character. He handpicked all of us contest winners for his cast.
    DR. DONNA: And how would he know that you, specifically, would enter the contest...someone who hates anything even remotely fear-inducing?
    IVY: He kept e-mailing me his newsletters, ignoring my attempts to unsubscribe from his supposed list. He sent me contest opportunity after contest opportunity,
     awaiting the day I’d finally enter one of them. I told that to Parker—how I kept getting the Nightmare Elf’s newsletters—and he seemed really confused. He never knew the
     Nightmare Elf even had a newsletter. None of the winners did. They all found out about the contest through various fan-flavored sites—places the killer must’ve posted once I’d
     finally entered.
    DR. DONNA: You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought.
    IVY: I have a lot of time to think in here.
    DR. DONNA: What’s that?
    IVY: What?
    DR. DONNA: On your palm and wrists. Don’t try to hide it, Ivy. Have you been writing on yourself?
    IVY: It’s just my notes. The doctor confiscated my notebook, so I have no other choice but to jot things down