by Nikki Dudley
I know you won’t hurt me. I can’t wait to get out of here and spend time with you in the real world, among the birds, the wind that thrashes in the trees, the coldness of the lake outside the window I can never touch.
I particularly love the bird you made me. It gives me hope that I will escape one day. I can’t wait to see you again; I’m waiting for you here.
There is no signature. Yet the letter needs none. This is written by me, there are no doubts. If I needed clues, I could even authenticate my identity by underlining the references to not having you around anymore and someone who I cared about hurting me ‘in the worst way’.
You know all about it, don’t you, Mum? We can’t deny that it’s me in this letter.
This is my handwriting. This is a letter written in a hospital. This is a letter to the man I pushed in front of a train. All the details point to me being the author yet I can’t understand this. I am submerged in water; my fingertips are burnt to numbness, my nose clogged with blood. What do these combinations of black marks really mean?
This letter is a classic example of a yearning lover writing to her beloved. Even when I reread it several times, I have a notion it must be a prank or something that Daniel wrote to torture me. Yet the handwriting is undoubtedly mine. I can’t deny it more than I can deny my own reflection.
I drop the letter and tear open another envelope. This letter contains much of the same musings. I toss this one down and grab the next one, shivering as I read yet more similar expressions of adoration. I almost scream when I get to the bottom where in shaky writing, I see: I think I love you Daniel.
I screw the paper up and hurl it aside. I jump up and stamp on the origami army beside me before they can lead a mutiny against me. I start beating my fists against the tree behind me and kicking it until my toes bruise and groan in my shoes.
How could I have written these things? I have no recollection of any of these words, their combinations, or even the thought of picking up a pen to scratch them out. It is as if I am staring at a pile of vomit confined to a page, I have no idea where to start picking it apart to make sense.
Is it true that I cared for Daniel, Mum? And if I did know him at the hospital and had all these feelings for him, how did it result in my pushing him in front of a train? I wish you were here to help me understand this. I wish you were here to hold me and stop me shivering.
I slump next to the tree again, my breath a rag that seems as filled with holes as my memory. Trying to refocus my heartbeat and sensing the water layer over my eyes blistering, I drag the file towards me. I figure things can’t get much worse.
I fight off the elastic bands around the file, imagining I am a child prodding my fingers into a mousetrap. I have to succumb though. I have no choice but to continue with my journey into the darkness of my unknown past. The file opens easily and I prepare myself for a shotgun to annihilate my dizzy head.
The first page is nothing alarming. It is my admission record to the hospital, all the standard details: age, name, gender, date of admission, current drug treatment, notes on special requirements, the reason I’d been sectioned.
There are several dull pages of this. Then something different; some handwritten pages making notes on some of my counselling sessions with Doctor Rosey. None of this is particularly new to me either. I can’t recall the memory of actually talking to Doctor Rosey but the subjects seem familiar. The subjects are those I discussed even just before I left the hospital. The guilt over losing you, the helplessness of being taken advantage of, the confusion over why you left me, the anger and fear of living a day-to-day life. I have no idea why they let me out of there…
Still pondering the failures of the system, I come across another strange document. On the header it has the address of the hospital and the word ‘memo’ written in large red letters. Underneath are the words ‘Attention: Serious Issue Reported’. I continue reading. The memo describes an incident of a staff member being caught acting inappropriately with one of the patients. Apparently, the reported staff member was suspended (pending investigation), but the memo also notes that several witnesses had come forward saying the staff member and patient were definitely having an inappropriate relationship. Furthermore, the staff members had stepped up their vigilance on this particular patient, a certain patient named Alice…
The evidence is a mountain that towers above me. The branches are waving at me. I watch them stretching higher in the sky or maybe I am sinking into the mud, or the tectonic plates of the earth have hiccupped underneath me.
33 The Awakening
As Thom cradles Aunty Val on the sofa, the door blasts open. Richard rushes over to Aunty Val and wrestles her out of Thom’s arms. “What have you done to her?” he asks, shaking her gently. She is already stirring but keeps her eyes closed. Richard is staring at Thom like he is holding a knife covered with blood.
“We were just talking. She’s fine”.
“She doesn’t look fine”, Richard screeches.
“I didn’t hurt her, Richard”, Thom says, yet swallows heavily. Is he sure about that? He just told her about her recently deceased son knowing he was going to die? Surely that is hurting her, not physically, but nonetheless…
“I can’t believe the way you’re acting. You’re being exactly like him before he died”. Richard is stroking Aunty Val’s hair. She is mumbling but Thom can’t understand a word.
“What?” Thom sits on the edge of the sofa, trying to look open for negotiations.
“He hurt her too”, Richard tells him, shaking his head as if he should have known this would happen. Thom can’t believe Richard could draw these comparisons between him and Daniel. How long has he been thinking these things? Why hasn’t he said something before?
“How did he hurt her?” Thom asks, not bothering to defend himself again. He doesn’t think Richard wants to hear it; he is convinced he is Aunty Val’s protector and Thom the attacker.
“He hit her”, Richard answers flatly.
“What? When?” Thom lurches towards them, making Richard hug Aunty Val even closer to his chest. Thom settles back again, not wanting to frighten Richard’s information away.
“About two months before”. Richard’s answers are curt; his lips so tight Thom can’t see even a minute fraction of his usual smile. Thom can’t remember seeing Richard this angry. In a way, Thom is proud to see him stand up for something, yet he wishes he didn’t have to be the receiver.
“Why Rich?”
“She wouldn’t say”. Richard gestures to the awakening Aunty Val. “I just came home to see this horrible purple bruise on her face. She tried to lie but I could tell straight away. Something had been going on with them for months”.
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Thom jumps to his feet. “Maybe it would’ve helped with everything, with finding out...”
“Shut up!” Richard shouts, so bloodthirsty that Thom halts instantly. “This has nothing to do with your stupid quest or whatever it is. This is about him and now you, hurting my mum”.
Aunty Val opens her eyes and stares up at her devoted son. I envy her for having someone whose job it is to protect her, who will always love her no matter what. Even though Thom has pretended he can play that role too, he isn’t her real son and he isn’t doing a good job of protecting anyone, even himself.
“I love her. I wouldn’t hurt her on purpose”, Thom insists, squeezing his bandaged hands until they begin to ache. He deserves the pain so he increases the pressure the more they throb.
“But you still did!”, Richard shouts.
Thom feels like someone has stabbed a needle into his lung and is letting all the air rush out of him. He remembers the day he received the phone call from Richard, the tears in Richard’s voice. He has failed them.
“I’m sorry Richard… Aunty. I haven’t meant to do anything bad”.
“I should smack you in the face like I did him”, Richard swears but Aunty Val grabs his clenched fist and holds it against he
r cheek. He slackens the tension but gives Thom a dark look, warning him that he is still capable.
“He didn’t do anything, Richard”, Aunty Val says, letting him help her to sit up. He holds onto her torso like a human stabiliser.
“Why were you unconscious then?” Richard persists, feeling like a child being lied to. He is certain he has missed something and wants to be included.
“We were just talking, weren’t we Thom?” She reaches a long way in order to touch Thom’s knee again, nodding in a discreet way only he understands. She doesn’t want him to tell Richard what he told her. Why? Yet, Thom nods quietly anyway.
“I just felt a bit woozy”. She waves into the air and proceeds to gently peel away Richard’s hold from her chest. Richard stares at his rejected hands.
“What were you talking about mum?”
“It’s nothing darling”. Aunty Val gives him a broad smile. Thom’s stomach spins at the sight of it. He can’t help feeling she is a mother protecting her last innocent child from the world. Thom is already lost, Daniel already dead, she only has Richard now. He wants to hold out his hands and beg her save me too; I need you to keep me from falling apart. Yet Thom can’t make his muscles tense to speak, they are tumours impeding function and he doesn’t know if they will ever be granted freedom.
“I think you should leave, Thom. At least for a few days”, Richard suggests coldly. Thom doesn’t hesitate; he ejects himself from the sofa and attempts to eject himself from their lives. Feeling he is now the tumour, he decides to hack himself out as quickly as possible.
“No, Thom”, Aunty Val chases and grabs him by the hand. “We need you here”.
Thom shakes her off. “He’s right, I think we all need some space”. Aunty Val grabs tighter so Thom pulls away more roughly. He may as well have kicked her to the floor. In the next moment she sinks to her knees anyway.
“I need you Thom”.
“Aunty Val please…” Thom dismisses her, with a desire to stab himself in the heart instead of watching this sad display. Richard stands up behind her and presses her against him. She is still on her knees so she holds onto him through his legs. He is staring at Thom, a solemn lip clashing with his furrowed eyes.
“You have to come back”, Richard tells him firmly. Thom nods, fascinated by the words. Come back to where? To the house? To his old self? To them?
Thom turns sharply and shuts them in, pausing in the hallway. He glances up the stairs, expecting to see Sarah on the top step or hoping to visualise his way back. He takes the few small steps to the front door and leaves the house. The wind whispers to him outside come back, come back. He doesn’t see Aunty Val peering out of the front window, her face raining on the inside.
34 The Nose Bleed
I run all the way back to the Mansen house, doubled over with breathlessness and sickness by the time I arrive. Crouching in the middle of the road for several minutes, I gasp and suck in air, not concerned if a car were to speed around the corner and bulldoze me into the asphalt.
My bag feels like it’s swelling with rocks but I haven’t been able to let go of it. I don’t want to lose the evidence or let my past escape from my memory ever again. I want to be able to say I have knowledge of something, even if it’s something bad.
Mum, it’s time to get the past back. It’s time for me to realise you can’t help anymore.
I think about going back to the house but my feet don’t want to go that way. They walk down the middle of the road, slowly and even leisurely, until I reach the part where the ascending road begins to roll downhill again. I reach my hands into the air and begin saying ’Michael’, louder and louder until I am screaming and sobbing.
I am sobbing heavily when the figure appears out of the darkness. He presses me against him like he wants to seep into my body, trying to calm my moaning. His familiar smell wraps around me like his embrace and I run through several memories in my mind of a time when we were happier, when we didn’t stand on two opposite ends of a scale that were never level.
“Oh Alice…” He coos and kisses my forehead. “Are you okay?” he asks and I wonder why I have been running away from him for so long. He does love me. He didn’t mean to disappoint me by deserting us. I can tell by his digging fingernails that he is sorry.
“I’m not okay”, I snort, burying myself into his clump of curls. I feel like I am reacquainting with myself, his hair so similar to mine, his bony nose the mirror of my own. I’m returning to the life I thought I lost and it is easier than I imagined. I can talk to him. I can act human. There is hope for me.
“Whatever it is, I’ll help you”, Michael promises, holding my face between his hands like people do when they are being earnest. I rest my forehead against his, reminding myself of his clammy blemished skin. “I love you Alice, I’m so sorry about everything. I won’t let you down again”.
For some unknown reason, I believe him. I have been trying to escape him for weeks but hearing his voice now, it is as strong and honest as a piece of steel. I need him anyway. I can’t deal with these new revelations alone.
“Will you tell me the truth, Michael?”
“I will if I can”. He stares into my eyes, not shaken by the increasingly cold wind thrashing all around us. I feel like we are in a bubble that nothing can touch, everything is frozen except the two of us.
“Tell me about a man named Daniel, then”, I say. Michael’s eyes protrude in response. There is no attempt at disguise.
“How do you know…” Michael rolls silence around his tongue for a moment but finally finishes, “…about him?”
My insides instantly sink. He has confirmed it. It’s true. I don’t even need to ask any more questions, the file is a hub of answers. Yet to keep our interaction going, I say, “I found a file from the hospital”.
“I wish you hadn’t found out about this”. He lowers his head.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“We thought it would make things worse”. Michael pouts. “But if you want to know more, maybe we should take you to see Doctor Rosey”.
I instantly pull out of his hold. He stiffens up and reaches his hands out towards me. “Please, don’t run”. He is standing like he is ready to chase me.
I shake my head and reassure him, “I’m sick of running”.
“Thank goodness”, he sighs happily and brings his feet back together. I want to throw my arms up in victory at this small gesture. It seems that suddenly Michael and I are communicating.
“I don’t trust that Doctor. She wants to take me back to the hospital”.
“I won’t let her”, Michael slants his head, “…not again. You can come and stay with me”.
“But your family…”
“My family will get to know you and support you”. He nods seriously. My chest is threatening to rupture with elation. Another small part of me wonders if Michael is merely trying to trick me. It has happened before. What makes this situation different?
Reading my mind, Michael adds, “you can trust me this time Alice. I won’t let you down again. I’ve realised…” he inhales deeply, “I should’ve been there”.
“I want to believe you”. I begin pulling at my hair and letting the curls spring back. Michael watches, a smile rising on his lips.
“It’s so good to talk with you like this again”.
“I’m still ill Michael”. My admission makes him smile even wider.
“That’s a good step”. He takes me by the shoulders, a brother praising his little sister. It’s obvious but I enjoy every moment. I’ve done nothing for him to praise the last few years.
“Come and see the Doctor now, we’ll talk to her together”.
Michael starts leading me towards his car but suddenly he is wrenched backwards. I spin round and see Thom standing there. He is shaking like an infected dog, salivating as he stares at Michael.
“Get your hands off her”, Thom snarls, his jaws crunching loudly.
Michael instantly remembers Thom and
doesn’t take him seriously. “What business is it of yours?” Michael stares Thom down. What Michael doesn’t realise is that Thom thinks he’s a rapist, that Thom has just been accused by his cousin of hurting his Aunty, and that Thom would love to skin someone alive.
“She told me about you”. Thom jabs him.
I jump in front of Michael and raise my hands. “Thom, you don’t understand”.
“No, I do Sarah”, he growls. “And I won’t let him scare you anymore”.
“You have the wrong idea”, I appeal to him again.
Thom’s nose is hooked upwards with disgust, his nostrils flaring like tunnels. I want to pull him close to me to make him settle but equally I can’t stand to see his face, taunting me with the living vision of the man who has made me sick with obsession and perhaps even love?
“The wrong idea?” Thom cries. “This bastard raped you”. Thom jabs Michael over my shoulder. Behind me, Michael lurches forward like a spring and I am pushed aside.
“What did he say?” Michael shouts, turning white. “Are you crazy?”
“You have the nerve to call me crazy you fucking pervert!” Thom shrieks and grabs Michael by the throat. I hear Michael cough and grunt, trying to claw at Thom’s hand. I pull on Thom’s arm but he shoves me backwards, making me stumble over. I can only watch Thom pushing Michael against a car, throwing his fist into Michael’s face. Whilst I try to hoist myself up, my legs suddenly numb.
Michael is attempting to push Thom off him, his face swelling with desperation and blood. When Thom finally releases him, I am holding myself up at the end of the car, blowing out the air I have been holding. Yet my relief is short as in the next instant, Thom begins punching the still recovering Michael, as if he is a piece of meat he needs to tenderise.