by Carys Jones
“No, I see it,” Sebastian agreed regrettably. “She’s not been herself since the accident. I keep hoping that my sweet, loving Marie will return to me but each day she grows more distant.”
“Then we do what needs to be done, she has to get better.” Bill folded his arms and tried to keep his head up though it threatened to buckle beneath the weight of being the family’s patriarch and having all decisions rest upon his shoulders.
“I’ll call Dr Colton,” Sebastian was already scrolling through the contact list in his phone.
“She will get better, Bill, the doctor will know what to do.”
“I hope so,” Bill sent a worried glance to the ceiling, to the pink prison above them where Marie had locked herself away.
In the kitchen the kettle screamed as the water came to the boil and Sebastian stepped outside to make the call. Beneath the Christmas tree the motorized train finally came to a standstill, its batteries having run out of energy.
*
Marie sat on her bed with her back against the wall, looking over the small room she had grown up in. Some of her once beloved stuffed toys were collected in a far corner, along with numerous photographs tacked to the walls of happier times. In all of the pictures Marie was beaming in to the camera, hugging girls who had been her friends, kissing boys who had been her lovers. Where were those people now?
Marie’s life seemed much more isolated than the life she had apparently led in her youth. She looked happy and carefree and seemed to be adored by those around her. In those pictures she could pass as a princess. In Azriel people still cared about her like that. They wanted to be near her, to share a dance, a wave, a smile. Their adoration made her feel alive. Without it she felt lost, like a leaf detached from a tree and dancing in the wind, powerless as to where it would eventually land.
There was a quick knock at the bedroom door.
“Go away,” Marie shouted sullenly. The door creaked open despite her protest. Carol came in brandishing a peace offering in the form of a fresh cup of tea.
“Mum, go away,” Marie said through gritted teeth.
“I can’t,” Carol admitted, placing the cup down on the window sill. “I can’t go away because you are my little girl and you need me.”
She placed herself down on the edge of the bed.
“You think I’m crazy, same as everyone else.”
“No, I think you are spirited and creative, you always have been. When most people would have been lost to darkness, you created this rich, sumptuous world to escape in to, and I think there is something wonderful about that.”
“I didn’t create the world, Mum. I went there, it exists.”
“I’m sure it must feel like that but darling, you never even left the bed.”
Marie sighed, aware that no matter how hard she tried she could never make them understand. The only way they could see the truth in her words is if they visited Azriel themselves and currently Marie had no idea how to get back there.
“Let’s just try and enjoy Christmas,” Carol dared to reach out and put an arm around Marie. When she met no resistance she tightened her grip around her daughter.
“I always liked Christmas,” Marie remembered vaguely.
“Yes, you did,” Carol smiled.
“But the girls from these pictures,” Marie gestured to the photographs around the room.
“Where did they go?”
“People grow up and move on,” Carol tucked a piece of hair behind Marie’s ear and looked fondly at her only daughter.
“They left me?” Marie wondered, feeling hurt.
“No,” Carol shook her head. “You left them. You left Manchester for London and your friends didn’t follow, they carried on living their lives here. But that’s always been your style, Marie. You’ll follow your dreams, no matter what the cost.”
*
Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time when magic and mystery filled the air, making the whole world appear to sparkle. Children would strain to hear the soft jingle of sleigh bells as they excitedly awaited the plethora of presents which they would find nestled beneath the tree and within stockings the following morning.
Marie used to adore the festive season, especially Christmas Eve. She’d bake fresh mince pies with her mother and go carolling around their small estate. Then she’d sit by the fire with her parents drinking Baileys over ice and watching a Christmas film. It was a time to be with family, a time to be happy with what you had in life.
But this year Marie couldn’t see the sparkle which Christmas usually brings, instead she felt as though she were being plunged further in to an empty darkness. Alone once more in her bedroom she curled herself up in to a ball and wished the day away. She searched her mind for the answer which it didn’t hold. The secret to returning to Azriel. The longer she spent away from her kingdom the more desperately she wanted to return.
As the afternoon passed her mother, father and fiancé each took it in turns to try and lure her out of her bedroom to partake in festivities. They were each well-meaning but she saw in their eyes the way they pitied her, how they thought she was crazy and lost to some mental world she had created in her mind.
Marie scornfully saw each of them off. She wanted to be alone.
As the sun set the street came to life with Christmas lights which seemed to shine even brighter as if they knew that the all-important day was almost upon them. Children eagerly put out hay and carrots for reindeer and mince pies and milk for Santa Claus himself. All the while as the world celebrated Marie remained locked in her bedroom, locked in her misery.
*
“It just doesn’t seem right to go carolling without Marie,” Carol Schneider noted sadly as she pulled on her bright red woollen hat.
“She’s in no mood to go,” Bill answered gruffly as he shoved his large hands down in to his black gloves.
“She’s just hurting, Bill, she feels like we don’t understand her,” Carol said softly, glancing longingly up the stairs, wishing that Marie would suddenly materialise at the top, wearing her trade mark smile and be full of her contagious enthusiasm for the season. But the top of the staircase remained dark and empty.
“She needs help, Carol.”
“And she’ll get it. Sebastian said he’d speak to her doctor.”
“Mmm,” Bill didn’t enjoy discussing his daughter’s mental state. He understood when her limbs were snapped, her lungs punctured. But the possibility that something within her mind wasn’t right truly scared him as it was beyond his limited realms of understanding.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t go,” Carol lingered in the lit hallway, still casting hopeful glances up the stairs.
“No, you love going carolling,” Bill edged his wife towards the front door. “If Marie were herself she’d want you to go. She’d insist upon it.”
“I just don’t like leaving her when she’s like this.”
“Sebastian is here with her. Now come on, else we’ll be late.”
Carol conceded and allowed her husband to usher her out in to the cold evening air. A group of neighbours were already waiting for them at the base of their driveway.
“Marie couldn’t make it?” one asked with disappointment when only two Schneiders came out of the house.
“She’s still not strong enough to get out much,” Bill explained as song sheets were handed out.
“Well, let’s go share some Christmas cheer,” Carol forced a smile knowing that it was her own home that was most in need of some festive spirit.
*
From her window Marie watched the group of carollers depart. A part of her wished she’d gone with them but then a larger, more prominent part of her reminded her that she didn’t belong there. She never had. Her place was in Azriel.
Looking out in to the night Marie tried to remember the golden spires, the immaculate buildings and the fountains but the images were becoming increasingly faded. She knew it wouldn’t be long until she forgot about Azriel altogether. And what then
? Her family would rejoice and say that she was cured. But things wouldn’t be so joyful for the people of Azriel. They’d be lost to eternal darkness, all because she couldn’t figure out a way to return to them.
Marie closed her eyes, wincing with guilt. There had to be a way back, there just had to be.
*
Dr Colton answered his phone the third time he saw Sebastian’s name flashing on the screen.
“Ah, Mr Fenwick, you’ve been most persistent in trying to get hold of me.” He sat up on the bed as he spoke and began buttoning up his shirt.
“Hi, Dr Colton, I’m sorry to bother you on Christmas Eve but it’s about Marie.”
“Oh?”
“Her condition has deteriorated.”
“How so?”
“She’s having hallucinations about this make believe world where she thinks she went to during her coma. She also says that people from that world have been approaching her in the street, begging her to return there.”
“I see,” Dr Colton mused, rubbing his temple.
Behind him on the hotel bed a slender blonde stirred slightly so he quickly waved a dismissive hand at her.
“Well I’m not sure what I can do for you this close to Christmas, I can certainly see her again in clinic after the holidays.”
“I’m not sure it can wait that long,” Sebastian noted gravely.
“Are you suggesting that she has become a danger to herself?”
“Quite possibly, yes.”
“Her level of detachment is certainly cause for concern,” Dr Colton agreed. “I’d obviously need to assess her myself before any formal decisions could be reached. Could you have her back in London on Boxing Day?”
“Yes.”
“Great, okay. Well I could assess her then and decide if she needs to be placed somewhere…secure.”
“Indeed.”
“I assume you have to consent of her parents to proceed, since you aren’t legally her next of kin?”
“Yes, I’ve spoken with them and they’ve witnessed first-hand the extent of her delusions.”
“Okay, okay. Well one of them will need to accompany you back to London to sign any necessary paperwork.”
“I understand.”
“Alright then, Mr Fenwick. I’d say have a Merry Christmas but it doesn’t sound like you will.”
“No,” Sebastian agreed sadly. “But you have a good one Dr Colton.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” Dr Colton grinned as he hung up the phone and turned to face the early Christmas present he had bought for himself.
*
Guilt seeped through Sebastian’s body making his bones ache with regret. He pulled himself up off the sofa and wandered aimlessly through the Schneider household. Upstairs Marie remained locked away from him.
The thought of her being in some sort of mental institution devastated him but what else could he do? He was losing her. He couldn’t wait any longer and let her slip away entirely. He had to act. Marie said she was being approached by people in the street, surely she was going crazy?
There was a creak on a floorboard and Sebastian turned sharply to see Marie standing in the living room looking pale.
“I’m not crazy,” she told him softly as though she could read his mind.
“No one thinks you are crazy,” he came towards her and placed his hands upon her shoulders.
“We just want you to get better.”
“I used to love Christmas,” Marie noted forlornly, looking round the room at all the festive adornments.
“I used to go carolling on Christmas Eve and wake up early the next day to open presents. This world held magic for me then but it doesn’t anymore. I don’t want to feel like this,” she sighed despondently.
“I don’t want to keep feeling like I don’t fit in.”
“But you do fit in,” Sebastian gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You fit in with me.”
Marie wriggled free of his grip and walked over to the Christmas tree. She was still limping though she was currently walking without her crutches. She studied the green plastic branches and fingered some of the brighter ornaments.
There were china reindeers, red baubles and endless amounts of tinsel which made the whole tree glitter magically. It reminded her of Azriel, the way it shimmered as though it were alive.
“There isn’t magic here,” she stated simply. “We pretend there is, but there isn’t.”
Sebastian watched this stranger who inhibited the body of the woman he loved.
“You used to love Christmas,” he whispered.
“So I’m told,” Marie tilted her head to the right as she continued to survey the tree.
“You can get back to that,” Sebastian urged. “Let’s go back to London on Boxing Day, get you some help.”
He took a step towards Marie and she instantly flinched and took a step back.
“You can’t give me the help I need,” she frowned at him.
“At least let me try,” Sebastian pleaded. “All I want for Christmas is my old, vivacious fiancée back.”
“She’s gone,” Marie declared coldly. “She’s gone and you should let me go too. All I want is to return to Azriel, to where I belong.”
“But it’s not real Marie.”
“Would you say the same of heaven, or of hell? Just because you’ve never been there doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“You’re comparing this place to the afterlife? You’re making no sense! It was a dream, Marie! You need to let it go.”
“I can’t,” Marie snapped as she fixated on a golden bauble hanging towards the top of the tree. She stroked it with her fingertips, admiring its colour.
“I’m going to bring you back, Marie,” Sebastian said sincerely.
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s not, it’s a promise.”
Marie released the golden bauble and turned to face him.
“I suppose that Christmas is a time for miracles,” she told him. “Perhaps one of us will get what we want.”
*
That night Marie didn’t lay awake listening for sleigh bells. She’d struggle to hear them over Sebastian’s incessant snoring from his position on the floor. Instead she lost sleep to frantically pouring over ways she could return to Azriel. Did she need to recreate the car accident? Did she need to be back in a coma? She’d heard about medically induced comas. Perhaps she could pay some doctor to put her in one of those? Only temporarily so she could reconnect with her beloved Azriel and find a more permanent way to get back there.
With her head upon her pillow and her eyes wide open Marie heard her parents come stumbling in from their night of carolling, merry from mulled wine. Their laughter carried up the staircase and in to her room. For a brief, blissful moment they were released from the stress of worrying over Marie. They could forget about their broken daughter and just be free.
Marie envied them. She envied their ability to escape their troubles. She felt like she was constantly drifting in darkness with no obvious way out, no release.
A familiar ache began to form behind her eyes which soon progressed to a sharp, piercing pain as though someone had taken an ice pick and was stabbing her soft, delicate brain matter with it. Pressing a hand to her temple Marie squeezed her eyes shut as the pain intensified.
She wondered what these outbursts of pain were. They were becoming more frequent and more debilitating.
Pulling herself in to the foetal position she wished the pain away as her body broke out in a light sweat. Beside her Sebastian slept soundly, like her parents he was temporarily released from the pained anguish of loving her as she remained so beautifully broken.
Denial
The presents beneath the tree remained unopened. Previously, Marie would have eagerly ripped off the decorated paper to get to the precious contents inside whilst it was still dark out. But this year they were still perfectly wrapped and placed beneath the tree as the family settled down to breakfast.
Carol Schneider was wearing a jumper on which was stitched a smiling snow man. She grinned widely as she greeted her daughter that morning, wrapping her arms around her and wishing her a Merry Christmas.
Bill and Sebastian were less concerned with the festivities of the day. They both sat quietly at the kitchen table, studying their food. Neither had any appetite.
“Come on, eat up,” Carol urged them merrily. The small radio in the kitchen was on and filling the room with Christmas songs. It should have been a jovial scene but something was off.