by Amy Cross
“I'm not -”
“The cameras follow you!” he hisses.
“I'm sorry?”
“Haven't you noticed? Everywhere you go in this ward, in this entire hospital, the cameras all turn to watch you! That's because he's the god of cameras and he controls them all!”
I shake my head, refusing to believe a word of this. I've been carefully avoiding even looking at the cameras since I got here, because I know I could end up becoming paranoid again.
“And that camera outside the main office?” he continues. “The one that couldn't turn? The one that's broken now? I watched it happen! You walked past, and the camera tried to turn to watch you. It couldn't turn, though, so it just shook itself to pieces until it fell apart!”
“I'm sure that didn't happen,” I tell him.
“I watched it happen!”
“I have to go,” I reply, slipping my arm free and hurrying inside.
“He's coming for you!” he continues, grabbing me again. “Please -”
“Leave me alone!”
“He might seem friendly now, or benign, but he's only going to want more and more of you!”
“Is everything alright here?” one of the nurses asks, coming through from the nearest ward.
“I want to go to my room,” I reply, “I just -”
“Samuel, leave Jessica alone,” the nurse continues, putting a hand on Samuel's shoulder. “You don't want more trouble, do you?”
“She doesn't understand!” Samuel hisses, trying to grab me again. “It's coming for her! The new god! Nobody should live to see that! We all have to get out of here before it arrives!”
“Go to your room, Jessica,” the nurse says, as several of his colleagues come through to help with Samuel.
“I'm sorry,” I stammer, “I only -”
“Right now!” the nurse says firmly, as Samuel starts fighting with the others. “I need you to go now!”
As I turn and hurry to my room, I hear Samuel screaming in the distance. He's calling my name, and rambling about cameras and gods, but I can't afford to listen to him. When I reach my room I push the door shut, which blocks him out a little better, and then I wait as I hear his cries getting further and further away. For a moment, just a brief moment, I think back to everything he said, but then I realize that I can't afford to let myself think about those things.
Samuel was just a madman. After all, why else would he be in a place like this, with the rest of us lunatics?
***
“Samuel was a very troubled individual,” Doctor Goodman says later that afternoon, as we sit in his office, “and it would be best for you, Jessica, to not think too much about anything he said to you.”
I nod.
He wants me to nod, so that's what I do.
“When you first arrived here,” he continues, “an incident like that would have set you back considerably. Now you seem to be taking it in your stride.”
“I don't know,” I reply. “Maybe.”
“Another sign of progress,” he adds with a smile.
“I don't know.”
“Which is why I was happy to sign your release form this morning.”
I immediately tense as I hear those words. “Release?”
“You'll have proper support,” he continues, “and a treatment plan. Everything will be carefully considered, to give you the help you'll need. It won't be like last time, Jess.”
“This seems a little soon,” I point out, struggling to contain a sense of panic that's starting to rise through my chest.
“Of course it does,” he replies. “All our patients say that. But we have a great deal of faith in you, Jessica. I really hope you won't let this tragic incident with Samuel affect your improvement.”
“But I -”
Stopping suddenly, it takes a moment before I realize exactly what he just said.
“Tragic?” I continue. “What do you mean? What happened?”
“Samuel suffered a seizure a short time ago, and unfortunately we weren't able to resuscitate him. There was nothing more that anyone could do, but I want to focus right now on the schedule for your release. Just give me a moment to find the papers, and then we can talk about a timetable.”
He gets to his feet and heads over to a desk on the far side of the room.
“How exactly did Samuel die?” I ask. “What kind of seizure? What -”
“I'm afraid I can't discuss the matter any further,” he replies, interrupting me. “Now, here we go. I've got the papers. Jessica, all being well you'll be out of here within seventy-two hours. And trust me, this time you're going to be absolutely fine.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Careful,” Mum says as I step into the hallway. “You don't want to trip.”
“It's my head that's messed-up,” I point out, setting my backpack down before turning to her, “not my feet.”
“Still, better to be careful.” She shuts the front door as Dad comes inside, and then she starts leading me through to the kitchen. “I don't know about you, Jess, but I need a nice cup of tea. That drive from the hospital always leave my head right done-in.”
“I think I'm fine, thanks.”
“Oh, just have one. It'll do you good.”
“I'd rather -”
“Tea always used to make you feel better in the old days. Just give it a chance, eh?”
As she heads over to the counter, I can't help feeling that she's fussing more than ever. It must be hard for my parents to have me come back to the family home, and for them to have to look after me, but I still wish Mum could act a little more normal around me. Then again, at least she isn't making excuses to keep me at arm's length, which is what Dad has been doing. Even now, I can hear him heading back out to the car, ready for a trip to the supermarket. He doesn't want to get too close to me, as if he thinks my mental illness might somehow be contagious.
“There,” Mum says with a smile as she sets the kettle on to boil, “won't that be nice?”
“Did Doctor Goodman tell you about the treatment plan?” I ask.
“Eh?” She heads over to the cupboard and starts taking out some mugs. “Oh. Yes. Of course he did, sweetheart.”
“So you know it might take two years before I'm better. For want of a better word.”
“Don't worry about that now.”
“I'm not worrying. I'm just facing facts.”
“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“I'm pretty sure we've come to it, crossed it, and burned it by now,” I point out, as she continues to fuss over mugs, pots and teabags. “Mum, can we talk about this?”
“I'm just making tea, dear.”
“But -”
“Don't you think we've talked about you enough already?” she snaps suddenly, turning to me. “For the past six months, your father and I have talked about nothing other than your little meltdown! And that's after all the times we talked about you six years ago, when you had your first meltdown! Believe me, you've been very much the main topic of conversation in this house for a long time, so please don't -”
Stopping suddenly, she stares at me for a moment before sighing.
“I'm sorry, Jessica...”
“I'm going to go upstairs and unpack.”
“Wait -”
“I'll be down in a few minutes,” I add, figuring that I should at least try to extend an olive branch. “Just in time for a cup of tea.”
***
“No, I'm fine,” Chrissie says over the phone as I sit on the bed in my old room. “I'm sorry I can't come to see you right now, Jess, but I'm crazy busy.”
“Is it -”
Before I can finish, there's another burst of static on the line, and it takes a few seconds before I can hear Chrissie's voice again.
“- I'll be back, but you'll be the first to know. Honestly, I can't wait to see you again and -”
More static flares for a moment.
“- like that, you know? It's difficult to find the tim
e. I'm always -”
Sure enough, another burst of static cuts her off. Wherever she is right now – and I still haven't been able to get a straight answer – it's clear she doesn't have very good cellphone reception.
“- exactly ideal,” she continues a moment later, “and I don't know when I'll be back, but you'll be the first to know. Honestly, I can't wait to see you again and find out all about your adventures.”
I open my mouth to reply, before realizing that she seems to have repeated herself. I swear, those last couple of sentences are identical to something she said about a minute ago, right down to the tone and inflection of her voice. As I wait, the static swirls again and I can hear her voice getting lost in the mix. Just as I'm about to ask if she's okay, however, I realize there might just be a second voice in there somewhere. Something darker, something that's booming through the noise. For a moment I think back to all the crazy things Samuel said, but I quickly put those thoughts out of my mind.
I have to stay focused on my recovery.
“Chrissie?” I whisper. “Are you -”
Before I can finish, the static bursts again, this time with so much force that I drop my phone. Startled, I sit back and stare at the screen as a static crackle fills the room, although the noise quickly fades and I realize I can hear Chrissie's voice again. Cautiously, I pick up the phone and hold it back against my hear, just in time to hear her talking once more.
“be nervous,” she says, “and I understand why, but I really hope you have a good time. You don't need me at the wedding, Jess. You'll have a better time if I'm not there. You'll be forced to mingle more, and you never know, you might even meet a guy. Now I hate to rush, but I've got to get going.”
“The wedding?” I reply. “Chrissie, the wedding was six months ago.”
“Of course it was,” she continues. “Ignore me, I've been on the wine again. Listen, I have to get going, but it's been great talking to you and we have to catch up again soon. I'll let you know when I've got a spare second, okay?”
“But -”
Suddenly the call ends, and I'm left sitting on the end of my bed with the phone still in my hand, trying to figure out exactly what just happened. At first I was glad just to hear Chrissie's voice today, but something about that whole conversation is starting to feel very wrong. It's almost as if she was just repeating fragments of sentences that barely quite fit with what I was saying to her, although I quickly remind myself that I'm not the most reliable witness. Maybe I'm just overreacting and imagining things in every direction right now.
A moment later I hear the doorbell ring, followed by the sound of voices downstairs in the hallway.
Mum's probably having to explain to one of the neighbors that, yes, her grown daughter has moved back into the family home for a while, and yes, I haven't been well. I guess people love to gossip, although a moment later I hear the door shut, followed by the sound of voices coming up the stairs. And then, finally, there's a gentle knocking sound before my door clicks open.
“Jessica?” Mum says with a hopeful smile. “I don't know if you're up for visitors, but a friend has come to visit. He wondered if you'd like to take a trip out to a cafe?”
“A friend?” I ask cautiously. “What friend?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Doesn't that air feel good in your lungs?” Doug asks as he leans back in his seat and takes a big, theatrical breath. “Nothing beats getting out of town and spending a few hours in the countryside. Seriously, Jess, it'll make all the difference.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, forcing a smile.
To be honest, this is the most excruciating coffee I've ever drunk in my life. Doug persuaded me to join him for a trip to this little cafe in the park, and somehow I felt like it'd be rude to turn him down. Mum was clearly very pleased that I was going anywhere at all, and I guess she wanted to pretend that I was doing normal things. So far, however, I've been feeling very much as if I'm out of my depth, and Doug's forced friendliness is just making things worse.
“Six months, eh?” he continues. “That's a heck of a long time. I've gotta tell you, Jess, everyone was worried about you at the office. There were all these rumors going around about why you have to quit, but I set them all straight.”
“Rumors?”
“Never mind.” He takes another sip of coffee. “I can't believe I slept through all the nasty business at the wedding. The first thing I knew was when I woke up in the morning and saw all those police cars outside the building. I mean, I've gotta tell you, my first thought was that terrorists had shown up. I was almost relieved when I found out it was only...”
He hesitates for a moment.
“Well,” he adds, “you know what I mean. I can't imagine what could be going through someone's head to make 'em leap off a tall building like that. No matter how bad things get, you should always be able to cling onto a little scrap of hope, shouldn't you? Did she never say anything that made you think she might top herself?”
Feeling a shudder pass through my chest, I shake my head.
“You never know what's going on in someone's mind, do you?” he continues. “It's like -”
“I think I'd like to go home now,” I tell him suddenly.
“Huh?”
“I need to go home. I just don't feel like being out right now. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but can you take me home?”
***
“Spots of rain,” Doug mutters as he climbs into the driver's seat. “I knew that was coming. Bloody weather.”
We're parked a little way from the cafe, in a remote spot with a view of the rolling countryside. A few drops of rain have fallen on the windshield, and a strong wind is starting to pick up as Doug pulls the door shut on his side.
“You wanna see something fun?” he asks, before switching the engine on and then tapping at a screen on the dashboard. “Cameras on all the sides of the car, to warn me in case I'm about to hit anything.”
I don't quite know what he expects me to say, so after a moment I force a smile.
“Look,” he continues, tapping at the screen and bringing up camera views from the car's different sides. “Clever, eh? High-tech and everything.”
“I'm sure it's very useful.”
He taps at the screen for a few more seconds, before switching the engine off and sliding the key out of the ignition. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he leans back in his seat.
I wait for him to pull his seat-belt across, but instead he simply sits and – after a moment – turn to look at me again.
“Can I tell you something, Jess?” he asks finally.
I swallow hard, just wanting to get out of here. “What?”
“You'll laugh, but...”
He pauses, and again he seems to be eyeing me with a hint of concern.
“Right,” he continues, “you'll laugh, but I've always had a little bit of a crush on you.”
With that, he reaches over and places a hand on my knee.
I shudder and pull away.
“No, hear me out,” he says, keeping his hand in place until I brush him away. “I know I'm probably not your usual type, but then maybe that's a good thing. Your usual type hasn't exactly worked out for you, has it? How long since you last had a fella, anyway? I know I'm a little older than you, and I know I'm not one of those blokes who puts on a big show, but maybe you should give me a shot. Maybe you'll find that still waters really do run deeper.”
“I'd really like to go home now,” I tell him.
“How about we kiss?”
I stare him in shock. “What do you mean?”
“How about we sit here and have a little kiss, and see how it feels? If it's rubbish, fair play. But if you think it's alright, we can maybe think about going out to grab some dinner some time.”
“I'd like you to drive me home, please.”
“Just one kiss. What harm can it do?”
He leans toward me, and he tries again when I pull away.
“Come on, Jes
s, just -”
“I'll walk home!”
Unbuckling my seat-belt, I reach out to open the door, only for Doug to reach past me and pull my hand away.
“Alright,” he says, “don't sweat it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll drive you home and we can forget I said anything.”
I hesitate for a moment, before realizing that maybe he understands he made a mistake. In fact, I feel a little bad in case I led him on. After all, I invited him to go to a wedding with me, and then today I came out to this remote cafe. I've never really been very good with men, and they've never shown much interest in me. I'm quiet and mousy and a little bland, so I've always been ignored. This is the first time any guy has ever tried to make such an obvious move.
“It's nothing personal,” I tell him, “I just don't think I'm in a position to be involved with anyone right now.”
“I understand completely.”
“I've got a lot going on at the moment.”
“Say no more.”
“So would you mind driving me home?”
He pauses, and then he nods with a hint of sadness. Sighing, he leans back in his seat and slips his keys back into the ignition, but then he hesitates again as if he's lost in thought.
Rain is falling a little harder against the windshield now. Hard enough to create a pitter-pattering sound that somehow makes the silence in the car seem more obvious.
I wait for Doug to start the engine, but something seems to be holding him back. I guess maybe I offended him, and I feel bad, but at the same time I just want him to drive me home so I can go back to my room. Coming out today was the worst idea and I think it'll be a while before -
Suddenly he turns to me and leans closer, trying yet again to kiss me. I try to push him away, but this time he's more forceful and I feel his tongue trying to slip between my lips. I keep my mouth firmly shut as his stubbly face brushes against my cheek, and finally in sheer panic I shove him back into this seat before opening the door on my side and stumbling out of the car. Almost slipping and falling, I hurry across the empty parking lot, filled with panic.