There is only one solution. I creep into Mam’s en suite and go straight to the cabinet. I grab a container of pills and then head back to my room. I turn my laptop towards me, open a new Word document and type the word ‘sorry’. Then I fill a glass of water and pick up a few tablets. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, too afraid to see or think about what I’m doing. I really don’t want to do this but I know it’ll solve all my problems so I just keep swallowing them.
‘Please, God, may being dead be OK, may it not hurt or be scary or lonely,’ I pray.
When the tablets have all disappeared I wonder if I have taken enough or whether I should look for more. I decide to lie down on the bed while I’m thinking about it. I pull the blanket over me and close my eyes.
CHAPTER 18
I wake up spluttering and coughing with some damn contraption down my throat that I try to pull out but can’t. I start vomiting and can’t seem to stop, over and over my stomach heaves and retches. Even when I think there’s nothing left, I’m still getting sick. After what seems like hours it’s over and I lie back exhausted on the bed. I close my eyes and try not to think.
‘Felicity … Felicity.’
I can hear a voice in the distance but I’m too tired to respond. A light flashes in my eyes then it’s gone, then tightness on my arm and people pulling at me and that voice is still there, calling me, hounding me. Eventually, reluctantly, I open my eyes.
‘Felicity, do you know where you are?’
I try to focus on the blurred vision in front of me.
‘Felicity, can you tell me where you are?’
I close my eyes. In the distance someone’s talking, then another voice, closer.
‘Felicity,’ Mam says, ‘can you open your eyes?’
I prise my eyes open and look towards her. I put my hand on my neck; my throat feels raw and gravelly.
‘Are you all right honey?’ she sobs. Tears are streaming down her face. I can’t think why. Dad puts his arm around her.
‘She’s going to be OK.’
All I want to do is sleep, and so I do.
It’s dark when I wake up. I open my eyes and look around, trying to figure out where I am. A drip hangs from my arm and some sort of monitor is attached to me. I close my eyes and try to ignore my pounding head and sore stomach. There’s a rotten taste of charcoal in my mouth and it feels dry and rough. I would give anything for a drink of water. It’s a while before I hear the voices and I look towards the door. I can see Mam and Dad outside talking to a doctor. I close my eyes and turn my head away. They come in after a while and sit beside me, stroking my hand. I don’t want to open my eyes, don’t want to see them, don’t want their pity and don’t want to answer their questions.
‘Felicity,’ Mam says.
I don’t respond.
‘Felicity,’ she repeats. ‘Felicity, how are you? Are you all right?’ she bends and kisses my forehead.
Then Dad comes over, bends down and hugs me.
‘It’ll all be OK sweetheart, don’t worry about anything,’ he whispers.
The tears slip down my face. I can see them looking at one another, wondering what the hell to do.
‘Can you talk?’ Mam asks as she squeezes my hand tighter.
‘Yeah,’ I croak.
I can see the tears in her eyes still.
‘Thank God,’ she breathes. ‘Oh, thank God. We’ve been so worried, we –’ She stops and looks at Dad.
Silence fills the room. I close my eyes and pretend to go to sleep.
* * *
When I wake the next morning it’s to the sound of voices. Mam, Dad, Kev and Fee are over near the door whispering. I close my eyes, wishing again that the tablets had worked.
‘Thank God you called in last night, Fiona,’ Mam is saying. ‘Otherwise we wouldn’t have found her till it was too late. When I think of what could have happened …’ She’s crying again.
‘Don’t,’ Dad says. ‘We found her, she’s safe and well and there doesn’t seem to be any serious side effects; let’s just be grateful for that.’
‘How is she now?’ Kev asks.
‘Sleeping,’ Dad replies. ‘She needs it, so we’ll just let her be.’
‘Do you know why she would have done it?’ Mam asks.
My ears prick up in anticipation.
‘No,’ Fee says.
‘Neither do I,’ Kev says.
‘It must have something to do with those nightmares she’s been having,’ Mam says.
‘Let’s not talk about this here,’ says Dad. ‘Why don’t we all go and have a coffee?’
‘I think I’ll stay with her,’ Mam says. ‘I really don’t want her left on her own.’
‘Cathy, we’ve been here all night and now it’s morning, she’s asleep and the nurses are constantly in and out checking on her … Anyway, we’ll only be gone for ten minutes. Come on, you need a break.’
Within seconds I hear the door click closed. Then silence. I’m just breathing a sigh of relief when it opens again and feet walk towards me.
‘Flick,’ Fee whispers. ‘Flick, can you hear me?’
I reluctantly open my eyes and look at her.
‘I told your Mam and Dad I’d left my mobile in here so I can’t stay long. How’re you feeling? I was so worried.’
I shrug. I think of the picture and the fact she knows everything and I want to shrivel up and die.
‘I wish you hadn’t found me,’ I croak.
‘Well, I’m glad I did,’ she says, ‘and I’m glad you’re OK.’
I start to cry again.
‘I haven’t told anyone anything,’ she continues, ‘and I won’t, I promise.’
‘It’s not what you think,’ I say, ‘the photo, I mean; it’s not what you think, I swear.’
‘I know, I know,’ she says. ‘Look, stop worrying about it; you can explain later and like I said, I won’t say a word about anything.’
‘It’s probably too late,’ I begin, ‘people will automatically think the worst when they see it.’
‘No, no they won’t, it’s gone already and Kar’s saying it was just a prank.’
I sniff and hang my head. ‘Mam and Dad are going to hear, and Kev,’ I snivel.
‘No, they won’t; they won’t know a thing. Please, Flick, don’t worry about it. We can fix it; we can fix everything.’ She bends and gives me a hug. ‘I better go … they’re waiting on me. I’ll see you later, OK?’
‘Wait,’ I say, ‘I don’t want anyone at school to know what’s happened.’
‘I can just say you have food poisoning. Loads of people come to hospital with that. What’s the name of the Chinese beside the taxi rank? I’ll say it was that one.’
‘Thanks, Fee,’ I whisper. She squeezes my hand then turns and runs after the others.
I’m staring out the window at a beautiful, bright blue sky and thinking of the mess I’m in when the door opens again. I instinctively close my eyes without looking around. A shadow looms over me before I hear her voice.
‘Hello, Felicity, how are you this morning?’
I don’t want to answer and yet it’s like she knows I’m just pretending to be asleep.
‘Oh, hi,’ I say as I stare at the heavy-set nurse in front of me.
‘I’m Kate and I’ll be looking after you for the day so if there’s anything you need?’ Her voice and eyebrows rise simultaneously as she pauses, waiting for a response.
I give a vague nod. ‘I’m fine,’ I murmur. She smiles, and I know she’s thinking that I’m a million miles from being fine.
‘OK, well if you need to use the bathroom or anything,’ she begins.
‘Actually, yeah,’ I say. ‘Where is it?’
She insists on bringing me to the bathroom and waiting on me while I’m there. I’m so embarrassed. But within seconds I’m ready to shout for joy, to do somersaults around the room, to hug and kiss anyone I can find. Yes, oh yes, thank you God, thank you so much! I think as I sit and cry with relief. I’ve just gotten
my period!
CHAPTER 19
By Sunday evening Mam and Dad are still glued to my bed. I don’t think I’ve spent so much time with them since birth and we ran out of things to say hours ago. So they sit, hiding their worry behind smiles and pointless conversations (and, in Dad’s case, the paper) while I stare out the window, thinking.
I’ve gotten my period; now if only I could come up with some story that would get me off the hook with that photo, then maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be so bad. I rack my brain for possible stories: I was out for a breath of fresh air and this girl just came up and started kissing me; I was off my trolley and she looked like a he; it wasn’t me! Nothing sounds even remotely plausible and I close my eyes with a sigh.
I wake in the middle of the night, dying to pee. Mam and Dad are nowhere to be seen so I figure they’ve gone on home. I buzz the nurse to unhook my drip and monitor and wait for ages for her to come. After twenty minutes I buzz again, but there’s still no sign. When I’m finally about to burst I get up and unhook myself before making my way out the door and down the corridor. Most of the lights seem to have been turned off and there’s just a dim glow in the hallway. To make things worse, there’s absolutely no one about. I walk a little faster, wishing the toilets weren’t so far away. I’m relieved when I finally reach the cubicle and have locked the door behind me. When I’m finished I open the door ever so quietly and just as I’m about to make my way back to my room I hear a small, frail voice in a room just to my left.
‘Please, help me, please.’ A shiver runs up my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I look down the empty corridor, hoping to see a nurse, but there’s no one there. I stand, not wanting to go near the room or the voice but I know I have to. I inch forwards really quietly then stop again just outside the door.
‘Please, girlie,’ the woman’s voice says as if she knows I’m there, wavering.
As I push, the door opens with a creak. I hold my breath and look towards the bed. A little old woman is grinning grotesquely and pointing. I look towards where she’s pointing, trying to make sense of it all. Suddenly he’s there, in the room, inches from me. I scream and run. I try to shout for help but the words just catch in my throat. I feel him getting closer, can hear his running feet gaining on me. I dare not look back – if only I could get to my room – but the corridor seems endless and there are no doors to be seen. I feel him closing in. I’m sure his hands are stretching out towards me, ready to grab. I push myself forward with a cry. It’s then that I see it, the dim light, the door ajar. I reach out my hand before swerving in and slamming it shut. I lean against it, breathless, but immediately he’s there pushing against me. I watch as his fingers curl round the door and I know that I can’t keep him out. I race towards the bed, pull blankets over me and scream and scream.
‘It’s OK; there’s no need to be afraid,’ he says, suddenly calm and quiet as he walks slowly towards me. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, I promise; I just want to help.’ But I know why he’s here and what he’s going to do and I won’t let him do it again. His shadow edges towards me. The moment he touches me I go berserk. I box and hit and scream. I think I manage to kick him where it hurts.
‘Relax,’ he shouts, ‘take it easy!’ But I lash out all the more. Then just when I think I have gotten the better of him I feel more hands pinning me down, restraining me.
‘No,’ I shout again and again but I’m unable to escape and as I struggle I feel a sharp sting on my arm and everything turns to black.
CHAPTER 20
Mam and Dad are there early on Monday morning when the doc tells me I’m to be moved to the psychiatric ward.
‘You mean I won’t be going home today?’ I say, shocked.
‘Well, usually after this type of incident we like to monitor patients. Maybe you’d like to talk to someone about your nightmares and what’s worrying you?’
‘Couldn’t I just go home and talk to someone there?’ I ask.
He smiles but says nothing. I’m relieved when Mam corners him just as he’s about to leave.
‘Doctor Molloy, I know we’ve discussed this but may I have another quick word with you about Felicity?’ she asks, moving directly in front of him.
I look from Mam and Dad to the doc, wondering when they had their little chat. ‘I think it might be better for Felicity to come home with us rather than going to the psychiatric ward after all.’ She pauses.
He raises his eyebrows.
‘I, uh … we, uh, just don’t want anything on her medical record that may go against her when she’s applying for colleges or jobs in the future.’
‘Well, Mrs Costello,’ he replies, ‘the most important thing now is to help Felicity deal with her depression and her suicidal tendencies, wouldn’t you agree?’
Mam flinches at the words as if someone has just slapped her across the face, while Dad, who is standing on the opposite side of the bed, looks up angrily.
‘Of course,’ she agrees through tight lips, ‘but I have every right to be concerned about how this, this, this –’
‘Illness?’ interrupts the doctor.
‘Yes,’ she agrees, ‘how this illness will affect Felicity’s chances of pursuing certain career opportunities later in life.’
‘Felicity is a very lucky girl Mrs. Costello. She’s had a very near brush with death and has lived to tell the tale,’ he says. ‘The important thing is for her to go on to lead a full and happy life. I believe she can only do this if she is given the proper care, as we discussed.’
‘Yes, doctor, but will it be on her file for ever or should I get her discharged and take her to a private counsellor myself?’ Mam asks desperately.
‘I really would not advise that,’ the doctor continues a little more sternly. ‘We have an exceptional psychiatric unit here and it is imperative that Felicity gets the full psychiatric care and supervision as well as the counselling that she needs. You saw for yourself last night how tormented she is by her nightmares so she will need to talk through her issues with a professional.’ He pauses before continuing. ‘Unless you feel qualified enough to give your daughter that level of support and attention?’
Mam doesn’t reply so he turns abruptly and strides away. I flinch, guilty for causing all of this hassle for her. I quickly squeeze my remaining toiletries into the bag that she’s just bought me but the damn zip sticks.
‘Oh Felicity, don’t do that,’ she says, ‘you’ll break it.’ Just as the words are coming out of her mouth the zip comes off.
‘Oops,’ I say, feeling my eyes well up. ‘I’m sorry,’ I choke. I bend my head and try to concentrate on reat-taching the tiny zip but my hands are shaking and it’s impossible to see through my tears.
‘It’s OK,’ Mam whispers as she leans over and gently takes the bag and zip from me, ‘I can fix it.’ She sits on the bed and I sit down beside her and watch.
‘Do you think they’ll be able to fix me?’ I ask quietly.
‘Oh, Felicity,’ she says, dropping the bag and zip and putting her arms around me. ‘It’s not about fixing you,’ she says. ‘There’s nothing broken, but you do need to talk through the things that are making you so unhappy.’
‘I guess,’ I mumble, embarrassed.
‘It’s good to talk about how you feel … Maybe you’re under pressure from school? Or something has happened with some of your friends?’ She pauses. ‘Well, no matter what the problem is, you can talk to me or Dad any time, about anything.’
She waits. I say nothing.
‘Sometimes it’s easier to talk with a stranger, so if that’s what will help, then that’s what we’ll do,’ Dad says.
I nod and Mam grabs hold of my hand. ‘Felicity, I don’t ever want you to think that there’s no way out of a situation. We’re always here to help, no matter what.’
‘Yeah,’ I say awkwardly.
‘I guess what we’re trying to say,’ Dad adds, ‘is that nothing is ever as bad as you think it is and we’re here no
matter how tough things get.’ For a moment I let what they’re saying sink in. I could say it now, quickly, without thinking about it or planning it, I think. It would finally be out in the open and maybe, just maybe they might not be so hurt or disgusted or disappointed and maybe we could all just go home together. I take a deep breath and open my mouth to speak.
‘Someday you’ll understand that, when you marry and have kids of your own,’ Mam smiles, looking at me.
‘Well, hopefully it won’t be too soon,’ Dad laughs. ‘I know there are plenty of guys queuing up but they’ll have to wait a while longer.’
They both laugh and I give a quick smile.
You see, that’s the thing about my parents; one minute they tell me I can say anything to them, that they can deal with it, but the next minute they’re landing all their expectations on me.
CHAPTER 21
The psychiatric unit is on the fourth floor of this new building. I wonder why they’ve put the unit up so high and how they ensure nobody jumps. Both my questions are answered by the time we reach the isolated wing; it’s obvious they’re keeping us well away from the other patients and although the walls are painted in bright pinks and yellows, the key codes on the doors and bars on the outsides of the windows mean that once you’re inside, you can’t get out. The one saving grace is that, for the moment, I have my own room, even if it’s small with disgusting flowery curtains and a telly beaming down from a ridiculous height on the wall. They’re much stricter on visitors here so Mam and Dad are made to leave and told to come back at six. I feel sick as I watch them walk away. Dad puts his arm around Mam’s shoulder and I know she’s crying. It takes all my resolve not to cry too.
One of the nurses explains that she has to check through my stuff. I’m totally peeved – I mean, I can understand her taking my nail scissors, and even my mirror and tweezers but my dental floss and earphones? Hello! She acts all nicey-nice, of course, and explains that some of the patients in the place could really harm themselves with things like that. She brings me down to the games room after that where there are people playing table tennis, as if they’re on some sort of holiday camp and everything’s hunky dory. Then she tells me about the group sessions for teenagers every day, where we get to talk about what’s bothering us and where they give us advice on stress and peer pressure and stuff like that. Already I’m dying to get the hell outta here. I figure the best way to do that is to go to the damn classes as she suggests, smile a lot and act as happy and normal as possible.
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