Copyright © 2007 M. E Ellis
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
This excerpt contains some strong language and disturbing content. We do not recommend it for those under 18 years of age or for any one who is bothered by violence or profanity.
More words came easily once I'd spoken that first word. Especially after I moved to the Klinter Institution. It was a long slog, I'll say that much. Struggling to get the syllables to sound as they should made me feel like one of those weird people, you know? I suppose I was one of those weird people, but when you're in the same situation as they are, you don't see yourself as such. Can't be happening to you, see.
My therapist, Jen, patience of a Saint (fuck off, Mags! Mother's adages still slip in from time to time, annoy me to Hell and back), sat and waited for me to finish what I'd just attempted to say, then answered me as if five damn minutes hadn't just passed. She must get paid shit loads, that's all I can say. No way I'd sit and listen to some retard spitting and spluttering, lips slack from disuse. You gotta be dedicated to do Jen's job, and she certainly is, dedicated, I mean.
I remember one such time when the words came a little faster, and my mind had learned to slow down to the pace of the words and not the other way round. Jen sat behind her desk in her big leather chair. I sat opposite in my wheelchair.
"So, Wayne. It's obvious you have things locked inside, things you need to say to enable you to move on. Do you trust me enough now to talk about them?"
Did I trust her? I fucking loved her. I mean, how often does a total stranger give you their undivided attention and try and help you through your crap? Not often. I'd been lucky. I'd had Barb too. She'd cared for me like no one's business. But then she left me. No. I'll rephrase that--must start telling the truth, stop camouflaging everything to suit myself. Barb had finished her nurse's training and had been placed elsewhere. She had no choice but to leave me, I accept that now. I do, really.
Back in the hospital, you know, when I slept, I made myself a little world of my own. Barb (her real name was Harmony) was my nurse. In my head, I wanted her for myself. The reason? She cared for me, and that was a big thing, 'cos no other fucker had ever truly cared for me before Harmony came into my life. With no other way to make her mine, I took her into my world of slumber, kidnapped her, and locked her up in the kitchen larder. Kept her with me for a couple of months, I think...
I blinked, forced myself out of the past.
Did I trust Jen? Jen, with the short blonde hair, the pixie features, the slight build.
"I trouth you, yeth, Jen."
Jen seemed to light up before me. Like what I'd said was the best thing since sliced bread. A tickle of excitement bubbled inside me at making her so happy. Her eyes, they widened, and her cheeks flushed slightly, making her look young and vulnerable and beautiful all at the same time.
"Well, Wayne. That's just wonderful. Truly wonderful. I'm so happy that you trust me. I would love to become great friends with you during our time together. We'll get you all better, you'll see."
I swear to you, she literally beamed. One of those pictures of the Virgin Mary slid into focus in the air before me. Bright light behind Jen, my Mary, made the outline of her blonde hair glow. At that moment, ethereal was the only word to describe her.
Thoughts of what I must look like to her flitted through my mind. Some guy in a wheelchair, untoned legs flabby from disuse, batwing arms. I know I had a double chin back then caused from too much time spent in bed with no exercise. I'd been asleep at the hospital for who knows how many years and at Klinter for quite some time too. Come to think of it, I don't even know how long I've been at Klinter. Don't even know how old I am now.
Shame burned my cheeks, made them itch. I wanted to scratch them, or at least rub my palms over them, but my hands firmly gripped the armrests of my chair. Sometimes my limbs didn't obey my brain's commands. Bastards.
"Better, yeth, Jen. Then I can go h-ome."
Jen smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, her lips just did the motions.
"I don't think you'll be going home, Wayne. Not to the home you knew, anyway." She straightened up and leaned back in her chair, placed her hands over her stomach. "Wouldn't you prefer to make your own home, Wayne? Why would you even want to go back there?"
Did I prefer to make my own home? I mean, I left the hospital after a couple of months and came here to the Klinter Institution, and I was shit scared of the change at the time. But I settled in and love it here now. Could I do it again? Get better and move on? Or could I go back to my childhood home? Despite it being hell, it was all I knew. Sometimes it's a case of better the devil you know.
"Umm. I think I'll make own h-ome. Be nice to do that."
Jen smiled, and this time, it did reach her eyes. Blue as the sea they are, complete with the reflection of the sun on their surfaces.
"Of course, despite having your own apartment, it would be warden controlled. You'd be able to go down to the communal room in your apartment block and make friends. And the warden would look after you."
I'd have to make friends? Shit, I wasn't sure I could do that.
"Thcared making new friendth, Jen."
Jen's sea-eyes flooded and she sniffed. "I know, Wayne. But you'll be fine. You'll see." She lurched forward and tidied up some already tidy papers on her desk. "Right, then. Let's get some talking done, shall we? Show Them Upstairs I'm earning my wages, hmm?"
The thought of making Jen proud of me made starbursts dance inside my chest. We'd show Them Upstairs. Together, we'd make a proper person of me yet. I took a deep breath--you know the kind, where your lungs are fit to burst--and exhaled slowly with my eyes closed.
I thought of Mags, my mother. I'd need to talk about her. Of Scott, her husband, and the tainted peas he forced me to eat. Of Dad, dead in his grave all this time, used by Mags during their marriage. I decided that yes...yes, it was time. I'd open up and let it all tumble out, instead of keeping everything in my head, where it festered and grew like an unruly fungus fed by my hatred.
I'd have to battle to keep my insane ramblings to a minimum. No way could I risk letting my mind wander and lose the chance of getting out of here.