When Monday morning came round again, Collin treated him to a full tank of fuel to show how pleased he was. Then after lots of hugs and promises to drive home again soon, they set off back to Swansea.
After Neil and Josh had left to go to Neil’s parents’, and in the spirit of travel, Bronwyn and Aeron bought themselves a pop-up tent in the January sales at a third of the retail price.
Chucking it, and various warm supplies, in the boot of Aeron’s Ford Focus they headed into The Brecon Beacons National Park. They spent their time enjoying one another’s company trekking beside the Afon Mellte (River Mellte) and its famous waterfalls.
The absence of students left the house in darkness, much like Elin’s mood. She knew they’d come back, but the lack of life within symbolised too acutely her terrible plight. She was going insane. Periods of manic tapping on the window interspersed with hours and hours of catatonic trance with no-one to interact with, nothing to read, and nothing to do. Nothing.
Her imagination failed her. She flirted with the notion that if she was stuck here in a dream—her subconscious—then if she could dream somewhere else, she could be somewhere else. But nowhere seemed real and simply faded away—street art washed away in a deluge of despair.
With images of her family fleetingly in mind, she tried talking to them. Entering their dreams, telling them her plight and begging for help. It might work, but it didn’t seem hopeful. The struggle she faced evoking her beautiful family for more than a transient moment devastated her. She was losing them.
Picturing the house residents was easier given the frequency she saw them, but infiltrating their dreams was less convincing. She felt no connection. It was worth persevering perhaps. It would be foolish to dismiss any possibility of help with so much time on her hands, but it felt pointless.
Introversion tested her to her limits. The strain driving her crazy. Her own company had always been her favourite, but with her thoughts deserting her she felt more trapped than ever. This circle of light was all she had, with no reprieve.
The novelty of flying around the light had become an irritation weeks ago when her resemblance to a disorientated moth became disturbingly authentic. Now depression showed its evolutionary purpose and kept her just below the surface of her unbearable reality: prudently apathetic.
There would soon be longer periods of time when they’d be gone. Easter and Summer Holidays; and, of course some of them might be about to complete their courses and leave for good. If her body was still viable by then, she thought, choking down bitter bile that surfaced, she’d have to muster the strength to try something. But what was the point? If she couldn’t get people who knew about her to help, there’d be no chance with strangers.
Sat leaning against the lamp post, she couldn’t even muster a tear. Her eyes numbed to the pain. She couldn’t do this forever, she knew. The time to give up and let herself go drew closer, and gripped her very essence somewhere indefinably within.
Her brain worked in the background to her thoughts, throwing up suggestions over and over; rarely new, and even more rarely positive. A hideous notion fought to the front to be acknowledged. What if things were already worse than she’d supposed. Even a coma was an optimistic theory.
She could have been found dead after the exorcism. Maybe this is what ghosts were. Fragments of consciousness trapped in their last dream for all eternity. A lump grew in her throat and she threw her hand to her mouth. Her poor mother. Her poor family.
Maybe she was missing something. If she could just think outside the box, read between the lines, or any other clichéd terms for alternative thinking, there might be something else she could do. She had to hope. If she let go of that, it would be the end.
Chapter Thirty-two
Glenda struggled most with the predicament of her eldest daughter. It was a mother’s prerogative. To make matters worse, plans had been made to switch off the life-support late next week to see if Elin could sustain her own breathing. A cloud hung over the procedure. The risks were played down, but the doctors had to admit that if Elin didn’t respond favourably, it could be the end.
Glenda stifled a sob recalling the worry behind the eyes of Elin’s consultant. She clung to the hope it might be positive. It could be the moment Elin woke up and came back to her. But her red eyes showed her true misery.
It wasn’t good to be retired from work now. With nothing pressing to distract her, she’d become unwilling to leave her bed. For the first month she’d barely left Elin’s side. But every time Emyr and Alis forced her to come home to shower and rest, it had been harder to go back.
Something inside her knew Elin wasn’t really there, and part of her—a selfish part—wanted to remember her full of life and not see her passing moments. She was going back today.
Initially, she’d stayed for herself as much as for Elin. Today, and any future days she had left, she would go for Elin’s sake. Much as it pained her to watch her beautiful daughter’s deterioration, she knew that if she passed, she’d need her family, and definitely her mum, close by.
Alis had needed to go back to Uni. She came home every opportunity she got, but Emyr persuaded her that her sister wouldn’t want her to jeopardise her future. It was too late for that. Alis’s concentration was non-existent and her course-work had suffered badly. She plodded on, resigning herself to repeat the year when Elin pulled through. She, unlike her mother had not yet given up faith her sister would make a full recovery. Not that she would admit at any rate.
Her lecturers’, aware of her situation, were being appropriately lenient. The distraction of lectures proved useful, but left two unscheduled days each week with nothing to do. Of course, that was when she was supposed to be using what she’d learned on her coursework, but that didn’t happen. Instead, she slept her way through the days, waking only to go to pubs and clubs and get incredibly drunk.
A few guys propositioned her and she’d succumbed to temptation once or twice. But thoughts of her poor, beloved sister, lying helpless in her hospital bed crushed her desires.
Dancing was freedom. A few minutes lost in music and she could almost forget. Her guilt threatened to spoil it, but alcohol proved a worthy ally, not least in blocking memories of waking up with strangers in her bed.
Every weekend back home, she managed to appear supportive and helpful. But she knew she was spiralling out of control. If Elin didn’t come round soon, she dreaded where it would all end.
Emyr remained strong for his girls. He felt confident that’s the impression he gave, but really, he was fooling no-one. His haunted eyes sat distraught in his gaunt face. His appetite, beyond poor since Elin was rushed to hospital, had made him shed several stone.
The pallid smile forever applied to his features whenever Alis or Glenda were near did nothing to disguise his torment. They both appreciated the effort though. Someone had to take the strong role. Someone needed to organise practical things such as meals and travel. And someone had to speak to the doctors about Elin’s prognosis. Emyr’s feeble smile flagged his willingness, if not his ability, to take on this responsibility.
Staff at Morriston Hospital remained at a loss what to do. Elin was unresponsive to all of the usual tests, yet there continued to be no detectable cause for her condition. Whilst that made them optimistic if she did come round, that she may be lucky and survive with no loss of neuro-function, they were becoming increasingly pessimistic of her ever waking up at all.
They knew all too well how distressing it was for the family to keep loved ones in a vegetative state for a prolonged period. It was often kinder, and obviously less costly, to let them go. Only then could the healing process of grieving begin.
They had scheduled, with the family’s consent, a time next week to try Elin without life support. They’d see if she could breathe on her own. Often the urge to breathe pre-empted other neuro-responses. If it did, it would likely still be a long recovery, but it might be something they understood, something they could work with.
They’d warned the family of the risk that Elin may prove unable to breathe independently. The moments of forcing her to try could begin the natural shutting down of her vital organs. They might have to seriously consider not resuscitating and letting her go. There was plenty to consider for medical professional and close family alike. Next week was a big deal. A very big deal.
Elin somehow sensed the urgency of her situation. There hadn’t been a night when she’d not banged on the window even though she realised her suspicions were correct and she must have scared away the boy from the front bedroom. She’d seen no sign of him since that first occasion.
Now with the increasing daylight she kept missing the comings and goings. The students were coming back from their lectures while it was still light, she presumed, because she rarely witnessed their return. So when noise of raucous revellers reached her consciousness she sprang to action.
Shouting and yelling got her nowhere. Even touching them, they’d not felt. Tapping them with something? That might work. If she could break a branch from the hedge, she might get their attention with it.
As the sound of them edged closer, Elin frantically tugged at a brittle looking twig, bending it to and fro. They were almost upon her when it finally snapped just as they took their first steps onto the path. Desperate not to miss the opportunity, she lunged forward and jabbed each of them sharply with her little stick.
“Geddoff!” one of them cried, flapping at his shoulder.
“Hey, stop shoving!” another complained.
“Thank goodness,” Elin gasped. “You felt it. Please, I need your help. I’ve been trapped out here since your exorcism! You must get the priest back and reconnect me with my body. You see, I’m in a coma, or worse. But I wasn’t dead when you exorcised me, just dreaming. And I hope I’m not dead now…” Elin rambled on but no-one paid her any heed. She poked out again with her stick and it ensnared in the thread of the larger boy’s jumper.
Flapping his arm round, flailing in his attempt to free himself, he slurred, “Wait up, guys. I’m caught up in the bloody hedge.” The other three turned and laughed to see him comically fighting off a phantom twig just beyond his grasp. Extended fingers finally gripped it and threw it to the floor beyond Elin’s reach. Soon they were all guffawing, holding one-another as they stumbled the rest of the way up the path.
“Wait! Please help me. Please. I need you to help me.” As she went unseen, Elin got louder. “Hey! Don’t ignore me. I need you to help me. You put me here. If you don’t help, that’s murder, or manslaughter,” she babbled, “because if you leave me out here, I’ll die and it’ll all be your fault. Don’t go. Come back. You have to help me!” But they didn’t come back. They carried on, ignorantly slamming the door with extra gusto to underline her hopelessness.
“Come back and help me, you…” she couldn’t think of a word to express her contempt and her despair. She couldn’t think of anything. She gritted her teeth and prepared for her next disappearance, aching for tomorrow to bring a fresh chance.
Chapter Thirty-three
Neil’s successful driving test meant there were two drivers in the household now. Combined with the mild early spring weather, it gave plenty of opportunities to get away. They’d become frequent day trippers; sometimes to Cardiff or Newport and even Bristol, and other times into the mountains for picnics. They’d even taken a weekend at Center Parcs.
The house dynamic had changed and they’d definitely become friends. Matthew’s departure was a factor, too. Everyone had found him bombastic and irritating and his absence a relief, but they tactfully avoided mentioning it.
His room remained vacant. It was difficult to fill because all the students found accommodation well before starting their courses in September. With only a term and a half before the end of the year, takers were unlikely. It thankfully wasn’t their responsibility. With separate contracts with their landlord, Matthew’s family would have to sort it out.
Neil had meant to check the state of the room since his glimpse at the chaos within when Matthew’s dad came to get his stuff. It was no good presuming his cleaning would be sufficient. If it wasn’t, they’d be in danger of attracting rats.
He must remember to look. He wasn’t promising to clear up if anything needing doing, but he would tell the landlord. A pang of guilt gave him a queasy knot in his stomach. He should have done it weeks ago, and although the same could be said for any of his housemates, it was him who’d seen the disgusting state.
Promising himself he’d check it out soon appeased his guilt for now, so he got on with his coursework. Well on top of things, giving more priority to his leisure time had relaxed him and paid off. And Neil wasn’t the only one. Everyone’s work had improved. They were all relaxed and happy, completely oblivious to the turmoil they’d created in the Treharne family mere minutes away in the local ICU.
“Of course, you’re right,” Elin’s consultant advised. “There is a chance attempting to incite your daughter to breathe on her own could back-fire. But even so, honestly? We’re running out of things to try. We don’t know how much of her cognitive capacity might already be lost.
“If she takes over her breathing. That will be an essential positive step towards her recovery. But equally, if it isn’t successful; if she’s unable to breathe un-aided, it would probably be the right time to let her go, I’m afraid.”
He nodded in agreement with his own monologue. “Certainly, keeping her alive in a vegetative state would only serve to increase the likelihood that, if we were ever to successfully wake her; and that would be unlikely verging on miraculous, then she’d probably be a mere shadow of her former self.
“She would likely struggle to do any of the things she could do before. And that may not be fair to Elin. Certainly not fair to you.” He removed his glasses in a sweeping motion to illustrate he was rounding up. “In these situations, it is usually kinder, and more practical, to recognise the limitations of what is achievable. It is the healthiest option for you to attempt to move on.”
The atmosphere in the room was as black as forever. Moist eyes of her stricken parents stared intently at the middle distance, somewhere between the floor and Hell below. They would shatter if they looked away. Then Dr Lewis threw them a bone.
“Of course, there’s every reason to be optimistic for Monday’s outcome. The fact we’ve been unable to find anything wrong with Elin should be seen as a positive. There’s no cause we can decipher why she is unconscious. There is, therefore, nothing stopping her from waking up. We hope breathing for herself will fire her brain into activity and begin the process of recovery.
“While we ask you to be prepared for the worst, we also urge you to try and remain positive. If Elin does wake up, she’s going to need you.”
Alis, a hundred miles west on a train from Bristol, glanced anxiously at her phone, awaiting a call or text to tell her the outcome of the meeting. She’d already excused her absence from lectures so she could be with her parents on Monday morning, and a lot more besides if it didn’t go well. She gulped down emotion as a wave of nausea forced her hand to her mouth at the thought of what might come to pass.
How would they possibly cope? Her sister was her world. She admired her so much. Her kind, calm, optimistic cool-headedness. She’d pretended her encounters with boys might make her jealous. But she knew Elin was just waiting for the right person.
In reality, it was Alis who was envious of Elin’s assuredness that Mr Right was out there somewhere whilst she had clung onto Mr Right Now. Although she billed it as her wild lifestyle, she knew it was born from desperation; a strategy to make sure she was with someone hoping that when they were ready to settle down it would be with her because she was there. Elin always told her how beautiful and attractive she was. She’d fall apart without her.
As the carriage clattered on, the rat-a-tat-tat over and over drove her crazy. Her ear buds had been cast aside some time ago when she couldn’t stand any of the music. The inane d
rivel from the DJ’s was too much today.
She’d known it had been foolish attempting to read her latest young adult novel, about a girl discovering her absent father was an elf, and gave up after reading the same page for the fifth time.
Candy Crush Saga and Subway Surfer had offered brief respite, but now she sufficed with staring steely-eyed out of the window. Flutters of adrenaline wafted through her the more mountainous the scenery became as she realised news of her sister’s prospects grew ever-closer.
Eventually a text arrived. It didn’t say anything bad directly, but the instruction to get off the train at Swansea instead of continuing to Llandovery told its own story.
She almost walked past Emyr waiting on the platform. His bullet-hole eyes framed with purple bags sunken into his sullen grey face made him unrecognisable.
“Cariad,” he said quietly. Alis did a double take before walking back to her dad and throwing her arms around him. He felt so frail. He’d aged years in the last few weeks. Alis feared she would lose them all.
Emyr stiffened in the swell of his younger daughter’s sobs. He was committed to being the strong one for all three of his girls. He knew he was failing.
“They’re going to switch her off…” he managed to croak before breaking down. Alis galvanised her own courage, attempting to be a bolster, but with every quiver of her once robust dad’s tortured body, her heart broke a little more.
They got in the car and made their way in silence to the hospital ready to join Glenda in staring at their beloved daughter and sister for as long as they could suffer. She looked so lovely. Her graceful elegance hadn’t faded any in the weeks since she’d slipped into unconsciousness.
Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9) Page 52