All the Lost Girls

by Bilinda P Sheehan

  “So you’ve replaced me,” I said. The bitterness I was feeling fed into my words.

  “I had to,” he said. “You were shot. It’s not like you can just hop out of the bed and— Alice what are you doing?”

  As he spoke I sat up in the bed and flipped back the covers. The pain in my shoulder was almost unbearable. Tears blurred my vision as I picked at the large clear sticky plaster holding the cannula in the back of my hand.

  “I’m coming back to work,” I said through gritted teeth, managing to pull up an edge of the plaster. “I don’t like hospitals and I’m fine anyway…” I was babbling, I thought, and cut myself off abruptly.

  I tore away the rest of the plaster and the plastic tube of the cannula that sat in my vein moved, sending a weird spasm up through my arm.

  “Alice,” he said gently, “you’re not coming back to work. You’re in no fit state.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted, pulling the cannula free. It didn’t hurt; the deep throbbing ache in my shoulder blotted it out.

  “You watched a man die.”

  “I didn’t watch him die,” I said, my mind instantly replaying the sound of the shot as it rang in the early morning air. It was enough to bring a picture of Dan on the ground, eyes staring at the sky…

  I shoved it away violently.

  “Alice.” Gerald’s tone was sharp and I jerked, suddenly noticing that he’d crept closer so that now he was standing directly in front of me.

  “Alice, your hand.” He gestured toward the bed and I sluggishly followed his gaze down to where my hand sat against the brilliant white sheet. Not that it was white anymore. My blood was pooling between my fingers, still trickling out from the puncture wound left behind by the cannula.

  “Shit,” I swore emphatically and reached for the box of tissues on the bedside locker, momentarily forgetting about my arm. The second I reached for the box, pain lanced through my body, making me feel like I’d been shot all over again. Sound formed in the back of my throat but so intense was the pain that it stole every last ounce of air, leaving me with nothing to vocalise with. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my arm dropped back to my side.

  “Christ,” he said. “See, you’re not fit to come back to work. You need to take some time to recover, get your head on straight. You’re white as a sheet.” He peered down at me curiously. “Do you want me to call a nurse?”

  I tried to shake my head but even that was too much.

  “I’m going to call a nurse and we’re not going to talk about you coming back to work until you’re good and ready.”

  He disappeared out behind the curtains, giving me a chance to draw a shaky breath in through my nose. The pain was slowly subsiding. Definitely not how they did it in the movies, I thought to myself. The hero, if he was shot, would be back on his feet in no time, capable of chasing down the bad guys and charming the heroine into his bed. There was never a scene with him sitting on the side of the bed, on the verge of vomiting because he’d reached a little too quickly for a box of tissues.

  The thought drew a laugh from me that sounded suspiciously like it bordered on hysteria.

  I couldn’t let Gerald take my work away from me. It mattered too much to me. It was the one thing helping me get out of bed every morning. Without it…

  A moment later Gerald appeared with a nurse in tow.

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said, her Scottish accent instantly distinctive as she grabbed the cannula I’d discarded on the bed. She tutted as she noted the pool of blood and the damp patch left on the sheets from where the cannula and I had both leaked.

  Gerald grinned at me. “Must make you feel like it’s home,” he said cheerfully.

  I stared uncomprehendingly at him.

  “Tracy, here,” he said nodding in the direction of the nurse. “Her accent. She’s from Ireland too.”

  Tracy paused for a moment, her eyes finding mine. We exchanged a look, a moment of solidarity.

  “Scotland,” she corrected, her smile never faltering.

  “Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to.” Gerald laughed. “I’m not very good with accents,” he said, as though that excused how rude he’d been.

  Tracy nodded, her smile fixed in place but I could see the slight flinching around the corners of her eyes. “If you don’t mind now,” she said, “Alice, here, needs her rest.”

  “Of course,” Gerald said magnanimously. “Tracy is right.” He addressed me as though I were a small child. “You do everything she says. We need you better.”

  He headed for the curtain and lifted it aside, revealing the bustling ward beyond.

  “Don’t even worry,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ll take good care of Zoe and the rest of your cases. Jennifer is more than happy to take on the extra workload. I don’t know where she gets all the energy from.”

  Anger bubbled in my veins. He knew I didn’t get along with Jennifer, knew the relationship between us at the best of times was strained so why did it feel like he was rubbing my nose in it? Was I being too sensitive, paranoid even?

  “I’ll come visit soon.”

  Before I could say anything else, he left, letting the curtain drop back into place behind him.

  “He seems pleasant enough…” Tracy said. I nodded and smiled but ultimately zoned out as she helped me back into bed, fixing my drip before she did my obs. My heart rate was elevated and my temperature was up.

  Her level gaze met mine. “How’s the pain?”

  “Fine.” I bit the word out. The pain was excruciating but I wasn’t going to get out of hospital fast if I admitted to it.

  “Look,” she said, “if you need pain-relief, just say. There’s no shame in asking for help when you need it. You’re just stressing your body out unnecessarily.”

  “When can I leave?”

  She laughed, a happy sound that made me like her all the more. “You’ve only just woken up. Doctor’ll be around in the morning, he’ll decide then.”

  I couldn’t hide the disappointment from my face and she sighed. “Look, you’re not going anywhere for tonight so you may as well take advantage of it. Take the pain-relief when you need it and reassess in the morning. You never know, you could be feeling a lot better.”

  I nodded reluctantly. I didn’t want any more painkillers; my brain was already foggy enough. But want and need didn’t always make for amicable bedfellows.

  “Good.” She straightened up. “How about something to eat?”

  I contemplated it but the nausea I was feeling was still a little too strong so I shook my head. “I think maybe some sleep instead,” I said.

  She gave me a sympathetic smile and then slipped out between the curtains, returning a moment later with a tiny paper tub with two pink tablets sitting at the bottom of it. She poured me a glass of water, filling the little plastic tumbler on my bedside locker before handing me the tablets to take.

  Tracy watched me knock them back, making me think of another case involving a teenage boy. He had to be watched every time they gave him his medication, just to make sure he really was taking it and not holding onto it. Hoarding it so he could take an overdose.

  I gave her a grateful smile when she took the glass from my shaking fingers and set it on the locker.

  “The button’s there if the pain gets worse or you don’t feel right,” she said. “Otherwise, Pamela’ll be around to do your obs.”

  She disappeared out through the curtain and I let her go as I lay back against the pillows and waited for the medication to kick in. The moment I closed my eyes, I could see Dan’s wide staring eyes and the dark stain across the soft play area, created by things that should never have been outside his skull. I didn’t want to go to sleep with that in the forefront of my mind but the more I tried to fight the exhaustion, the stronger its hold on me became.

  Until, finally, I slipped into a fitful sleep, my dreams a strange combination of Dan’s dead eyes and Clara calling me.

  Begging for help.

  11

/>   Her skin is soft. Almost baby soft. Supple and so inviting. The invisible downy hairs on her cheeks tickle my fingers. With her eyes closed like this, I can almost imagine she’s sleeping.

  In a way, she is.

  It’s not a natural sleep, not the kind you have when you climb into bed at night and close your eyes. Pray the nightmares stay away. Just one night. Just one night free. Is it too much to ask?

  It always is.

  I trace the outline of purple carelessly splashed against the porcelain skin of her neck.

  Why does she make it so damn hard?

  I contemplate curling my fingers around her throat, splaying my fingers against that soft flesh.

  With my eyes closed, I can feel her flesh give way beneath my nails as I dig my fingers into her, gouging, tearing.

  Staring down at her. I blink. The only mark marring the smooth perfection is the bruise left by rough hands.

  Her eyes flutter open, the hazel so cloudy they’re almost grey, confusion giving her back some of the innocence cruelly taken from her. I could wrap her in my arms, cradle her to my chest.

  She focuses on my face and her jaw works, mouth shifting as she tests the strength of her gag. Muffled sounds gurgle in the back of her throat. Tears spill over tawny lashes, making me think of the blocked drain from last week.

  She blinks, an attempt to clear her vision, I’m sure. Her lashes clump like the thick legs of a house spider. I could pluck them out, one by one. What would it feel like? My fingers pinch together, nails like the tip of a pair of tweezers as I grab a clump of lashes.

  Her head jerks back, eyes widening further, tears coming faster. I stare at my empty fingers, too blunt, too clumsy to be suitable for the job. Next time, real tweezers. I pat her cheek, feeling her flinch beneath my touch, my stomach clenches in anticipation.

  In her eyes a silent plea. It’s always the same.

  It starts with why and as the days whittle away it changes, morphs into something else…

  End it.

  “Not yet…” I whisper, pressing my lips to her cool forehead. She tries to shy away but my hand curls around her throat once more, pinning her in place.

  Taking the small brush from the yellowed bed sheet, I dip it into the powdered blush and spread it liberally across her cheek.

  “But soon enough.”

  12

  The doctor discharged me the following morning. Not that he really had a choice. He had to either agree to let me go or face the consequences of me discharging myself.

  The public bathroom that sat inside the entrance to the hospital smelled strongly of disinfectant and the stronger, more acrid, scent of urine and something unmentionable. There was only so much bleach could do for such high traffic areas like this. Over time, the smell became ingrained in the places between the tiles, seeping into the grout and lurking within the vents that spilled warm air out over my head. Short of ripping the place down and rebuilding over it, there would be no destroying the cloying atmosphere.

  I splashed water on my face with my one good hand. The other was strapped to my chest, immobilised and utterly useless. Getting dressed had been a lesson in humiliation and in the end I’d had no choice but to ask one of the care assistants on the ward for a little help.

  The fluorescent light overhead flickered, the incessant hum that poured off it crawling inside my head like a fly intent on finding somewhere suitable to lay its eggs. My eyes were sunken, the black bags beneath them ageing me. I hadn’t slept. Not a true sleep anyway. The painkillers didn’t agree with me and had caused nothing but nightmares and waking terrors but without them, the pain was unbearable.

  Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

  That had been last night. Now, a prescription sat in my handbag balanced on the edge of the sink and I’d sworn when the nurse had bagged it up for me that I wouldn’t take another one, no matter how intense the pain became.

  I hadn’t even left the hospital yet and I was already beginning to regret that promise. Picking my handbag up from the sink, I headed for the door.

  Gerald stood outside the main doors waiting for me, trying to smoke his cigarette as inconspicuously as he could. Unfortunately, there had been no one else I could call to come and pick me up. I had no family here and no friends to speak of. He was the only one who actually knew I was in hospital.

  His expression turned grim as soon as he saw me.

  “Are you sure you’re fit to be out?” he said, sounding somewhat irked. His question, coming from someone else, could maybe be construed as concern but not with Gerald. Clearly, the fact that I’d asked him to come and pick me up had seriously pissed him off.

  “I told you,” I said. “I’m fine. They wouldn’t have let me out if I wasn’t fit to go home.”

  “Did you tell them you live alone, that you’ve got no one waiting for you?”

  I bit back a smart answer and nodded. It was a lie. I hadn’t told them anything, not that he needed to know that.

  “Well come on then,” he said smartly. “I’m parked down here.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the road and I sighed, struggling to rearrange my handbag on my left shoulder.

  We started to walk. Each step I took jarred my shoulder, sending tiny flares of white-hot pain down my arm and across my back.

  “I’d have parked in the car park but it’s too bloody expensive,” he said. “A total rip-off. I don’t know what they’re playing at charging so much…” He blathered on and I let him, letting my mind wander as I traipsed after him, my gait slowing with every step that took us further and further from the hospital.

  By the time we made it to his little red Ford Fiesta, cold sweat was running down my spine in rivulets and my teeth were beginning to chatter in my head.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, taking in my appearance. “I think maybe you should go back and—”

  “I’m fine,” I snapped. His expression crumpled immediately and I felt regret edging its way into my stomach. He was doing me a favour and here I was biting his head off.

  “Christ, Alice, I’m just worried about you is all.” He reached out and tucked a stray strand of my hair back from my face. The familiar gesture chased away any feelings of regret I might have felt a moment before.

  I ducked away from his hand and gave him a tight smile.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just really want to go home and curl up in my own bed.”

  “Of course.” His voice was flat.

  I’d insulted him, that much I was certain of. I pulled open the car door as he moved around to the driver’s door and climbed inside. As gingerly as I could, I maneuvered into the passenger seat and tugged on my seat belt as he got the car started up.

  He drove in silence, which for Gerald was most unusual. Under normal circumstances, I might have tried to make an effort to draw him out of the sulky mood he’d fallen into. But I was honestly too exhausted to do it.

  “Ms Clayton asked for you,” he said, suddenly breaking the silence that had stretched between us.

  “Rachel?”

  “Yeah,” he said, putting on the indicators as we drove around the roundabout. “Wanted to know if you’d be coming back.”

  “And what did you tell her?” A bubble had formed in the centre of my chest, making my voice tight.

  “I said you were taking some much needed time off,” he said, casting a sideways glance in my direction. Whatever expression crossed my features he caught it and sighed. “You know you need to, Alice. I’m not sure why you keep fighting this.”

  “I’m not fighting it,” I said. “I just don’t understand why I need to take time off. I mean, fine a couple of days, but…”

  Even I couldn’t argue with needing a few days off. I could barely dress myself. I was hardly in a position to spend the day going from house to house, residential home to residential home, while also tending to the daily necessities of my caseload. Not to mention the fact that I was right-handed, which meant writing and note taking was pr
etty much out of the question. At least until I could figure out a workaround.

  He gave me an incredulous look. “A couple of days isn’t going to cut it and you know that. Deep down at least.”

  “But my cases—”

  “There’ll be new cases.”

  I froze. I felt like I had a huge block of ice sitting in my chest.

  “What do you mean, there’ll be other cases.”

  “Well Jennifer and I, we were talking about it and well…”

  “Spit it out, Gerald.”

  “We were thinking, all this upheaval, it’s not good for the kids so she’s going to take over your caseload permanently.”

  “You can’t do that,” I said quietly.

  “I don’t have a choice, Alice,” he said quickly. “You’ll be out for months. There’s physio and then there’s the assessment and—”

  “Wait, what?” I swivelled around in the seat, the belt catching my arm so that pain rocketed through me, squeezing tears out from beneath my lashes.

  “The assessment,” he said. “You’re going to have to go and talk to someone before you can come back.”

  “That’s not protocol,” I said.

  “No.” He spoke gently, patiently. “It’s not protocol but I think it’ll be good for you.”

  “Is there something here, I’m missing?”

  He sighed and parked the car across the street from my apartment.

  “There have been some questions raised,” he said. “Regarding the situation with Dan and Rachel and Zoe…”

  “What kinds of questions?”

  “We don’t need to do this now, Alice, you need to rest.”

  “Fuck rest,” I said hotly. “What questions have been raised?”

  “Christ, Alice, calm down.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose before he continued. “Like maybe there were signs that you missed.”

  “Signs of what?” My voice was coming from far away, as though I’d grown detached from my own body and I was watching everything unfold from somewhere outside my physical form sitting in the passenger seat.