‘It's no big deal. We were only ever a casual thing. He never really forgave me for taking a job abroad, even if I didn’t end up staying very long.’
‘You’re young yet. Plenty of time.’
‘You sound like my Dad.’
‘Cheeky sod. I’m only twenty-five.’
‘What about you anyway? Any romantic involvements that have been neglected due to hunting for a missing booty call?’
‘No. Not my scene. I didn’t mean for what happened with Eden, to you know.’
‘Happen?’
‘Yeah. Relationships aren’t my thing. Neither are one-night stands.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘It’s okay. I’m getting used to you being nosy.’
I play punch his arm. ‘Thanks for listening, and thanks for the offer of sitting.’
‘No problem. Has she said anything yet about why she thinks I saved her?’
I shake my head. ‘No. But then again, she’s hardly said anything at all.’
‘It will take a long time. We don’t know what she went through.’
‘You’d think she’d want to be out of her room, making the most of being free.’
He shrugs. ‘A long time ago, my mother rescued a cat. It had been trapped in a neighbouring yard for days. The cat was petrified. My mother made my father rescue it. He got scratched to pieces.’ He smiles in recollection. ‘She made him carry the cat to our spare room. Anyway, this cat, she didn’t come out from under the bed for days. My mother used to fill her food tray and water bowl and leave her to it. It took weeks. Eventually, the cat came out and walked up to my mother’s hand. I used to watch from the doorway. If my mum moved her hand, or I fidgeted, any sign of movement, the cat would dart back under the bed. It was months, but eventually, with careful coaxing from my mum, that cat came downstairs and lived a normal life. She was never one for sitting on laps or cuddling, but she loved the outdoors. She’d even meet me at the bus stop on my way home from school and run up the street with me.’
‘Are you comparing my friend to a cat?’
He laughs. ‘Yes. I am. I’m saying that if you keep coaxing, hopefully with time and encouragement, you’ll get Eden out of that room. But you need to go carefully and let her build her confidence.’
‘Okay, Dr Xavier. I hear you.’ Standing up, I pick up my shopping list. ‘I’d better get these to reassure my new rescue.’
He nods.
‘What was her name, anyway?’ I ask.
‘Chloe. Her name was Chloe.’
‘That’s a pretty name. Was she a pretty cat?’
‘Oh. Sorry. The cat's name was Geri. She was ginger. We named her after Ginger Spice.’ A hint of a blush tints his cheeks. ‘I thought you were wondering what put me off relationships.’
I make my goodbyes and head off to the shops. Wondering who Chloe was and why she put Xavier off dating.
When I return, I knock on Eden’s door.
‘Yes?’
I push the door open a fraction, still hesitant to walk into her room at this stage.
‘I’ve bought you some bedding. After I’ve laundered it, I’ll bring it to you, okay?’
‘Could I smell the washing powder?’
‘What?’
‘Please. Could I smell the washing powder?’
My brow creases, wondering if she’s going insane, I fetch the box and she comes to the doorway and smells it.
‘That will be great. Thank you.’
‘The wash powder passes does it?’
Her eyes fasten on mine. ‘I don’t want it to smell like there.’
I want to hit myself in the face with my stupidity ‘Oh, Eden, I’m sorry. I never thought.’
‘It’s okay. Thank you for the rest of my stuff.’
‘Listen. Will you do one thing for me?’
She tenses.
‘Just, if you don’t want to be disturbed at all, keep the door closed. But if it’s okay, leave it open an inch maybe? That way I know you’re okay. Well, not okay, but-’
‘That’s fine, Kara. Listen, you need to get on with your life. I’m grateful for what you did but you should be abroad.’
It’s like she’s slapped me. She’s not pushing me away, no matter how hard she tries. ‘I’m not going anywhere right now, so don’t even bring up the subject.’
‘But -’
I hold up my hand. ‘When you can get out of this room, go outdoors and have some semblance of a normal life. Then, and only then, will I consider my own future. That’s my final word on the subject.’
She sighs. ‘Okay.’
‘Good. In the meantime, I’m going to ask Rick if I can have your old job, or a new one. If he says yes, Xavier will be coming over while I work, to make sure you’re okay. Right now, you get babysat, whether you like it or not.’
She twirls a piece of her messy hair. ‘Xavier’s coming here?’
‘Yes. He knows you want to sit in your room alone for now. He’ll be outside if you need him or anything. That’s if I get the job.’
Eden looks at the floor. ‘Has anything happened between you and Xavier? You seem really friendly.’
‘Fuck, no. Where’s that come from? I don’t want your cast-offs.’
A hint of an almost smile appears on Eden’s lips.
‘Now do you want a drink? I’m making myself a cup of tea.’ I leave Eden in her room and notice she leaves the door open an inch.
The next few days pass and Eden leaves the door open a little wider each day. My new job starts tomorrow evening so I decide it’s time for a spring clean. I dust, sweep the laminate floors and clean the windows. I wander up to Eden’s room.
‘Hey, you. Does your room need sweeping?’
Eden takes one look at the broom and her eyes bulge. She emits what I can only term a primal scream, runs into the corner of her room and curls into a ball. ‘No. Please. No,’ she shouts. Her muscles are tense. She covers her face with her hands.
I walk over to her. ‘Eden. I’m sorry. It’s me, Kara. I wouldn’t hurt you. You’re okay.’
Feral, she hits out, first scratching my arm. It hurts and I try to stop her arms flailing. One arm free, she punches me in the cheek. I reel back, nursing my face. Her eyes are wild, her focus glazed and elsewhere. I watch as she crumples to the ground. She rocks, pressing her fists to the side of her face, still repeating, ‘No. Please. No.’
I rush from the room, closing the door and ring the psychologist whose number I was given when we arrived back in the U.K. She has been briefed on Eden’s history and Eden had an appointment to see her in a couple of weeks’ time.
‘It sounds like she’s having a flashback. Make sure there’s nothing around that she can hurt herself with. I’ll be over in a couple of hours. I have one more appointment then I can leave.’
‘Thank you.’
I sit on the floor outside Eden’s door. I can hear mumbling but no movement. Here I stay until the psychologist arrives.
I greet Marnie at the door. The therapist is about my height, so tiny in other words. She has jet black hair in what was once a bob but now needs a cut. She stares at the red mark on my cheek.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m a little shaken. I’ve only been able to guess at what’s happened to Eden. We haven’t spoken about it, but her reaction to the broom was, well she went crazy. Do you think she was beaten with one?’
‘I don’t know, but if I find out I won’t be able to tell you. Patient confidentiality. I’m afraid you must be patient and see if she confides in you. It could be, however, that she may never want to discuss what happened with you.’
I nod, then stand there, unsure of the etiquette of meeting a psychologist when they have come to visit your broken friend. ‘Er, would you like a drink or anything?’
‘No. I’d better get straight through and see Eden. Have you checked in on her since you called me?’
‘I’ve sat outside the door. I daren’t go up to her again.�
�
‘That’s understandable. Right. I’ll go and talk to her.’
She knocks and enters the room. She’s with Eden for an hour and a half. When she leaves, she informs me that Eden wishes to be admitted to a psychiatric ward and is packing her belongings. The psychologist accepts a drink and spends time on her mobile phone arranging the admission. I see nothing of Eden until Marnie goes back into her room and escorts her from it. She doesn’t look at me, keeping her eyes on the floor.
‘As next of kin, you’ll be able to ring the ward for updates,’ Marnie says to me in a low voice. Then they are gone.
I hold it in until maybe ten minutes have passed and then I walk into my own bedroom, throw myself down on the bed and cry with a force so violent that I struggle to catch my breath afterwards. I am hopeless. My friend needs help I can’t give her. I can only hope and pray the hospital can.
Chapter Twenty-four
Eden
The broom.
I was back there.
Jack assaulting me with the broom handle. The pain. Stop it. Please stop it. Please. Please. Oh, God, it hurts so bad.
Then the fog clears and I realise I’m in my own room.
I have skin under my fingernails. My knuckles hurt. I realise that I attacked Kara. I’m not safe to be here. Kara isn’t safe with me here.
I daren’t move. Body rigid, I stare at the wall, concentrating on a piece of chipped skirting board.
That could be sanded.
Then it could be painted.
It’s amazing how many thoughts you can have about walls when you don’t want to think about life.
Try as I might to be perfectly still, my eyes fill with tears thinking about how I attacked my friend and that I might have lost her. The thing is, I can’t promise I won’t do it again. I’m unstable. Unsafe. I curl myself as tight as I can, folding my arms around my legs and place my head on my knees. This is my life now. Frightened of living.
There’s a knock at my door, which causes me to hurtle backwards. I slam my body against the wall. The door opens and a small Asian woman stands in the doorway. She introduces herself as Dr Weir but says I should call her Marnie. I’m too exhausted to call her anything.
She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. Although I’m still wary, she’s giving me space and I’m grateful for that. I know I need her help.
‘You don’t have to talk about any of it right now if you don’t want to, okay?’
I nod but don’t turn towards her.
‘I’ve read your notes. At some point, I’ll need to carry out a full assessment, but I’m not going to do that now. For now, I’d just like to get you off the floor. Okay?’
I hear her but I can’t get up. I am frozen here. She keeps saying okay. I am not okay. I am stuck. I need to stare at the wall and let some time pass.
‘You aren’t to blame, Eden. What happened to you wasn’t your fault. You’re safe now. Those people are being held in prison.’
‘I chose to live with them,’ I mumble, surprised to hear my own voice.
‘You did not choose to be abused. Do not think you asked for this. Right now, Eden, you are not in that villa. You are not in their house. You are staring at the wall. Look at it. Whose wall is it?’
‘Mine.’
‘That’s right. Let your head focus on moving away from the wall and look around your room.’
I slowly turn my head and do as she says.
‘They are your walls. This is your room. You are safe here.’
‘I don’t feel safe,’ I confess.
‘I know. It will take time. I can help you. That’s what I do. I have lots of experience with PTSD.’
My face crumples with confusion. ‘What?’
‘Post-traumatic stress disorder. Your body thinks it's still being threatened. That’s why you attacked your friend. We can help you. There are treatments.’
‘Medication?’
‘It’s a possibility, but before that we try CBT. Sorry, I’m abbreviating again. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. I’ll help you find ways to cope with your distress.’
‘Have a magic wand, do you?’ I snap, having heard enough definitions and psychobabble.
‘Eden, I’m not saying it will be easy, but we’ll give it our best shot, okay?’
‘I can’t face Kara. Please don’t make me see her.’
‘Would you like me to admit you to hospital?’
Interest peaked, my eyes meet Marnie’s. ‘How?’
‘I can arrange admission to a psychiatric unit. We can treat you in there. There are lots of qualified staff on hand to assist you if you have further flashbacks.’
I chew on my top lip. ‘What about the patients who hear voices telling them to kill people? Might some of them attack me?’
‘Patients who are categorised as a higher risk go to different units. You’ll be in a bay with three other women.’
Categorised. If I go to the unit, it's accepted I’ll behave like a crazy person.
I think about Kara being outside the door.
I get up off my feet, having to shake out my legs to get feeling back into them after being on the floor for so long.
‘Yes, please. I want to go there. Can you admit me?’
‘Of course. When would you like to go?’
‘I’d like to go now.’
‘Okay, I’ll make some calls. Do you think you’re up to packing a few things?’
I nod. ‘I don’t need much.’
She leaves the room and I walk to my wardrobe and remove a plastic bag that Kara had given me containing toiletries. I pack the few clothes I own into it. I’ve no idea where all my old clothes went. My captors are saying nothing. I more or less own what I’m standing in, give or take an extra pair of trousers, a top and some underwear. It’s like I barely exist.
I lie down on my bed until some time later when Marnie comes to tell me that a bed is available and ready on the ward. I leave with her and don’t look up at Kara once. If I see her face, I will lose the tiniest spark of hope I have. That I can get better and vow I’ll never hurt her again. Right now, I can’t do that, and it's almost breaking me.
Marnie directs me to her car and we drive to the unit.
I’m swapping one captivity for another, but this time, I can be myself, the barely existing Eden without the expectation that I can return to my old self. I feel like that woman has gone.
The ward is clean and basic. I’m classed as an Informal patient which means I can get up and leave the ward if I like. Which I don’t. I want to stay in or on my bed. There are groups like art therapy and there’s a television lounge. Lots of the patients smoke and are forever disappearing to find somewhere to have a cigarette. Even though some of the other patients in here scream sometimes, there are plenty of nurses around and I do feel safe. There’s always someone awake, someone who’s on watch. No-one can get me and take me away. Kara asked the nurses if she could visit but I told them no. This place is separate from my old life, and that life.
‘Eden. What is this you’ve made?’ The Art Therapist knows but asks me anyway.
I stroke the paper.‘It’s a boat.’
‘To save yourself?’
‘Either that or to jump out of. It gives me options.’
‘Do you need options?’
‘I’m not going to drown myself. I can’t even face having a bath yet.’
She says nothing. I’m glad she doesn’t ask because I’ve no intention of telling her that I can’t get naked again. It makes me remember Jack and the doorway of the villa.
‘Help. We need help here!’
I hear a voice shouting in the distance. It’s only later I find out I had gone into another flashback and wouldn’t stop screaming.
I have a named nurse called Bella. She’s lovely. Very young. She tells me she is newly qualified. I like that she hasn’t been many peoples nurse yet. It means her hands are clean. I’ve been here for two weeks now and I know that despite strip washes I am getting gri
my and smell.
‘Bella. Will you help me clean myself?’
She breaks into a beaming smile that lights up her whole face. She tells me today is a major breakthrough. No matter if I don’t manage to wash. The fact I want to try is huge.
Bella runs me a warm bath and leaves me to climb in it. She promises to stay outside the door in case I need her. I carefully remove my clothes, deliberately not looking down at my body. I step into the tub and sink down. My body is immersed under bubbles so I can’t see much of myself. I let my head tip back and my hair goes under. Despite washing it through with shampoo, I can feel knots from it not being brushed for weeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if I have lice. I rinse it as best I can in the bathtub but don’t stay in long. Just enough time to feel clean. It’s a nice and welcome sensation. I feel I can begin to reclaim my body back by washing the slime of those people away from me. I wrap myself in a towel and call to Bella. My heart has started to thud. I explain that the towel reminds me of wrapping the table cloth around me. Of the time before my attack. My breathing becomes rapid. She talks to me. Reassures me that I’m not there. Brings me to the present time.
‘Look Eden. It’s a hospital bath towel. Look at the hospital stamp on it.’
She gets another towel which she places around my head in a turban and I allow her to massage the wetness out of my hair. She removes the towel and I can see in her eyes that she’s wondering how the hell we’re going to get a hairbrush through it.
‘Can you arrange a hairdresser?’ I ask.
She nods, smiling again. ‘Of course I can.’
I grab hold of her hand. ‘Will you stay with me while they do it? I’m scared I might hurt them. They’ll have scissors.’
‘I’ll arrange it for during one of my shifts and stay with you. You’re getting better, Eden, I promise. Slow steps. Now let’s get you some clean clothes. I think you’ll feel a lot better today.’
The following day at eleven-thirty a.m. a mobile hairdresser comes and cuts my hair short, taking away all lugs, tangles and possibilities of a man dragging me down a corridor by it.
Three weeks in and after numerous tries by Kara to visit, I have a new request. Xavier is here. He’s actually in the waiting room.
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