Page 8

“Thanks,” I murmur to Gladys as she hands over my morning dose of prescription drugs—sadly none of the good stuff I’m accustomed to. I detest this routine, despise it with every fibre of my being. My skin was too tight, it itched and crawled. I needed to dig it out, cut myself open just so I could fucking breathe. I’m not a mindless sheep made to be contained and controlled. I’m wild, an untameable tempest of darkness, untethered and broken beyond all hope.

I’m painfully aware of why I’m here, both mentally and physically shattered—a dying star, pieces of space dust floating in the cosmos. Even when I feigned amnesia in that hospital bed, to evade questions about my identity and the events that transpired, the nurses and doctors might have been fooled by my blank stare, but not Jenna. When she entered my room, she pierced through that facade effortlessly. Though she may not have unearthed my secrets or understood the depths of my hidden turmoil, she could perceive the anguish that had woven itself into the fabric of my being.

She could see my monsters. The demons that haunt the corridors of my mind, relentlessly tormenting me. Despite my reluctance to open up during our mandated bi-weekly sessions, to be blunt I’ve offered her nothing... yet she sees me all the same. It scares me how much it makes me want to run, but with only the clothes on my back and the shoes on my feet I wouldn’t get far. I need a plan, I need money and I need time. Time to heal, time to grow and time to accept that I might not be able to kiss his lips ever again.

Everything I do from now until my last breath is for him. In the name of protection and the name of love. Death is not the greatest loss in my life. The greatest loss is what I’ve watched die inside him while he’s still breathing. He might not even realise but the truth and the lies that we’ve breathed like oxygen over the last ten years have poisoned him—riddled his body like an incurable cancer. All I want is to set him free, even if it means culling all the stars in the sky.

Locking that thought down I stir some golden syrup into my porridge, and stuff the plastic spoon into my mouth. My arm aches, the healing bones protesting at the cool temperature in the main food hall. Unlike everyone else who’s sat at a table or confined to their wheelchairs, I shimmy onto the window sill and stare out at the dew tipped lawn that glitters like diamonds in the early morning sun. The pale blue sky clears as the minutes pass; the early morning cloud cover burns off and the sun pitches higher in the sky. People move around me, the low murmur of voices, a constant buzz but no one bothers me—even though I feel their eyes on me and their whispered words hit like barbs. I don’t fit in. I don’t belong here. Not that I have anywhere.

The only people who talk to me willingly are Michelle and Kait, the others steer clear knowing I’m a whole different kind of monster. One they don’t dare to cross. What I struggle with most is their self imposed importance, the big egos they carry around like flashing signs above their heads. I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re the son of a lord, if you go to Eaton or shit like that. We all shit the same, so pretending theirs doesn’t stink just rubs me up the wrong way and leads to my fist in their face. They’d look much better with a missing tooth or blood splattered across their perfect features. They’d look real, and that scares them more than anything. I smirk as the image of Malcolm laying flat on his back springs to mind. No one touches my stuff and that little weasel learnt his lesson fast.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, my body innately knowing there’s a predator close. I hear his shuffling steps before his reflection wavers in the glass in front of my eyes. Randall slithers his way through the room heading in my direction. A full body shudder takes hold and the porridge in my mouth tastes like dirt. I’ve not yet figured out how to tell Jenna he’s dangerous, he’s fucking unpredictable. Unstable even but he’s left bread crumbs, footsteps in the blood of the innocent. He likes to collect trophies and I know where he hides them.

A cold hand lands on my shoulder, I go stock still—every muscle locking up tight—not even daring to breathe. “It’s time for your session with Jenna.” Randall purrs in my ear, his acerbic breath hitting me with its full force. I gag on instinct which makes him chuckle, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.

“I can get myself there,” I growl, my tone low and menacing.

His fingers flex, digging in hard, nails into skin. “You’re under my care.” He muses, his chest brushing flush with my back. “Make sure you’re a good boy and we won’t have any problems.”

“Fuck you.” I clench my fists so I don’t wipe that sadistic grin off his face that I see glowing in the windowpane.

“Now, now,” his voice drops low, slithering across my skin. “I’m the one that does the fucking here, little boy.” I gnash my teeth together as my heart rate picks up. My arm jerks back just as his spindly fingers wrap around it squeezing hard right over the healing fracture eliciting a grunt of pain. “Play nice kid or you’ll be on your hands and knees.”

“I said fuck you,” I grit out between my clenched teeth. “You won’t lay another finger on me if you want to keep them.”

A malevolent chuckle leaves his curled lips. “Maybe I don’t want boy, today.” He taps his forefinger over his lip. “Hmmm, maybe I want, little girl.” My eyes dart up to his soulless black ones that bore into me. “Maybe, mhmm, yes. Yes, she will do.” I follow the direction of his stare to see him locked onto Michelle where she sits curled up on the sofa in the corner flicking through a magazine.”

“No!” I shout as he slaps his hand over my mouth before I can continue, pulse pounding in my ears as the monsters in my head roar beady eyes glowing in the darkness.

He leans in so close his nose brushes along my cheek. His lips licking the shell of my ear and it takes everything in me not to vomit. “Do as I say otherwise that little bitch gets it.” Unlocking my jaw I sink my teeth into his hand hard enough that the copper tang of blood coats my tongue.

“You little shit,” he growls, ripping his hand away, backing up a couple of steps. I jump down off my perch, my forgotten bowl clattering to the floor. He spins on a sixpence, stumbles over his feet and quickly strides from the room with me hot on his tail. That’s it motherfucker time to be afraid. I have nothing left to lose—anymore—a smirk lifts the corner of my mouth as I hunt my prey.

I catch up to him in the hallway, his bravado gone now we’re on equal footing. “Your life will not be worth living if you. Fucking. Touch. Her.” I enunciate the words, spittle hitting his cheek as I pin the pathetic twat to the wall, my arm across his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs underneath me making me grin manically at him. Blood stains my teeth.

“I’m untouchable.” I increase the pressure as I lean into him, smelling his fear.

“Even gods fall,” I whisper, looking straight into his empty eyes. “I don’t know what was done to you as a child.” He shudders at my words. “Our monsters might not be all that different, Randall.” I cant my head to the side, studying him in a new darker light, a new level of understanding dawning in me. “But mine has the taste of your blood now, and it’s hungry.” I gnash my teeth at him as he flinches to the side, slipping out of my hold. “I won’t let you hurt her.” I seethe, trailing after him in the direction of Jenna’s office as he all but runs.

“We will see about that, won’t we.” he sneers at me as he opens the door ushering me through. I’m barely inside when he slams it shut behind me the sound of his quickly retreating footsteps music to my ears.

I slump back against the wall—lightning striking through my veins—sliding down till my ass hits the floor. I brace my arms over my knees as I suck in shuddering breaths trying to gain control over my breathing as my body vibrates out of control. Fuck this is the last thing I need before a session a fucking panic attack I can’t subdue with drugs. An untameable energy I can’t release without my blade, fuck I miss it. “That fucking rat is going to pay for his threat against Michelle. He will pay with his fucking life.” I chant in time with each inhalation as my eyes slowly sink closed.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

“Grab a drink and make yourself comfortable.” Jenna’s voice carries across the room to me from the ajar door that leads to her personal office. “I’m just finishing some paperwork….”

I nod in assent even though she can’t see me. Steel myself, fortifying my walls and haul my weight onto my shaky feet. I wander over to the big bay window that looks out over the front of the grounds. The Georgian manor house sits amidst a couple of hundred acres of manicured grounds and woodland. The winding driveway meanders off into the trees that obscure the property from the road about a mile further out. I’m counting down the seconds until I leave this place a flicker of exhilaration blooms in my chest almost reaching, my finger tips only to be extinguished in reality’s cruel grasp.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

It’s the perfect setting here, really, for an exclusive ‘retreat’ for the elite who are battling mental health issues that they don’t want anyone to know about or at least that is how part of this facility is spun. There are other buildings on the grounds that cater to those who have court ordered sections against them for treatment and rehabilitation. Then there are those who are locked up for being a danger to themselves and others—I’d be right at home in that building behind locked steel doors in a padded room. Locked away with the other monsters.

Although my case is a little different. I’m more of a pet project for Jenna. I’m here under doctor and mental health advice. Not mandated but trapped all the same, another prison with glass walls. I can wander the grounds but I must be in my room by nine p.m. and then I’m locked in. I have the illusion of freedom, but there’s a tracker in my neck just at the base of my hairline. I’m not sure if everyone in the main house has one, or if I’m alone in that.

I heave a shaky breath and snag a bottle of Pepsi from the mini fridge under the worktop to the left of the window and drop down into the large love seat that sits opposite Jenna’s chair. My eyes wander around the room noting the subtle differences from Regina’s all white ice castle of an interrogation room. Here the walls are a soft green, calming and inviting. The soft furnishing is a hodgepodge of different colours and fabrics, an eclectic mix that immediately makes you feel at ease, rather than making your skin crawl in its white perfectionist grandeur. I trail my fingers over the deep purple crushed velvet arm as I wait for Jenna to make her way in, contemplating what she’ll try and eek out of me today.

The click of a door makes me jolt up right in my seat, if she notices she doesn’t mention it. “Sorry about that, I had a couple of invoices I was behind on.” She shrugs. “And well you know, the bills don’t disappear if you ignore them.” Jenna gives me a small smile as she grabs herself a coffee and places it on the low oak coffee table between us.

“Mhmm,” I hum.

Settling herself into her chair Jenna casts her eyes over me, a furrow forming in her brows as she does. “How are you today, Max?” Her voice is soft and inviting, she could befriend anyone but my lips remain sealed. She waits to see if I’ll correct her knowing full well my name isn’t Max, it’s just the one Michelle decided suited me during my first week and it’s stuck ever since.

“Huh.” I lose a breath, my fingers twitching and fiddling with the ribbed edge of the chair. Jenna sits back observing me over her steaming mug of coffee, patiently. She tips her head to the side inviting me to expand as she takes a sip of her drink, blanching as the hot liquid slips down her throat.

“Shit. That’s hot.” I chuckle as she fans her hand in front of her face, a warm smile blossoming on her face as she continues to wait me out.

“Been better,” I mumble, dropping my eyes to my feet, the residual feeling of my panic attack still clawing at my insides.

“Max,” she sighs. “These sessions are for you, you know.” I hold her gaze as she continues. “They’re not for me, or my records. I’m here to help and support you with any issues you are facing.” I snort. “What did I say to derive that response?”

“Nobody wants to help me.” It was a statement of fact. Those who were ‘meant’ to help only wanted to use or control me in some way. They didn’t care, not beyond appearances.

“Well I do.” She states bluntly. “But I can’t do that if you don’t open up to me.” Her fingers tap the side of her mug like a Mexican wave.

I tilt my head watching her, watching me. It feels more like a Mexican standoff than anything else. The ticking of the clock on the wall draws my eyes to the chrome arms moving at a variation of speeds, counting down my imposed time in this room.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

“Max,” the weighted word pulls me back to her. “Do you want to be able to go home to your family? To someone special?” Unable to control my flinch at her words, understanding blooms in her eyes as if she’s just unlocked a secret I’ve kept hidden. The itch under my skin growing hotter. “To do that you need to be able to remember who you are to be well enough to go back to them.” My eyes squint as she continues. “I’m not here to judge you for your past actions, or what led to you being in that hospital bed but you can trust me.”

I scoff. “You’d judge me just like everyone else.”

Pursing her lips she takes another sip of coffee before putting her mug down on the coaster. “That’s probably the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me.” she spreads her arms. “In the whole time you’ve been here.”

I grab my Pepsi and gulp down the cool liquid that sizzles and tickles my dry throat. I open my mouth to continue but slam it shut before the words can form.

“You know—” I roll my eyes. “—you can trust me, Max. I’m not here to judge you, just help and support you.”

A snort escapes me, “Before you judge me, make sure you’re perfect,” I mutter.

The corner of her lips curl, “No one is perfect Max. We all make mistakes because we’re human and it’s part of our nature. But I promise you, you can trust me.”

The bottle cracks in my hand as I squeeze it fighting against the injustice that boils in my veins. “When trust is broken, again and again, it means nothing. A word that’s meant to bring comfort only brings fear.” My eyes sear into her, willing her to understand. “What makes you think I can trust you, Jenna?”

Silence hangs between us like an immovable force, neither one of us willing to back down as we were locked in a battle of wills. The only thing to be heard above the gentle cadence of our breathing is the ticking of the damn wall clock. As the seconds turn into minutes, the silence becomes weighted, almost suffocating.

Jenna breaks first, with a sigh. She blinks her deep brown eyes, swirling with emotions I can’t place. “Do you want to know why I opened this place?”

“‘Cause they pay you the big bucks?”

She snickers. “No, I pay myself a living wage, nothing more.” Huh, I wasn’t expecting that. Jenna can’t be more than late thirties, early forties at most and she what owns? Runs this place? Clasping her hands over her crossed legs she leans back in her seat, “Does that surprise you?”

I study her for a beat, “I guess I thought you were just in it for the money. I mean, that’s what drives most people.” She nods. “Money and power.”

A thoughtful look crosses her face. “I’m not most people.” She inhales sharply. “You’re right most people are driven by those needs, those desires. Things they think will make them happier, but inevitably don’t. They end up feeling unfulfilled and think the only way to feel better, to be better is to have more wealth and more power. However they end up chasing an impossible dream that leaves them feeling empty, hollow.”

I nod, because I’d seen it. Been subjected to it all my life. Even my mum chased money like it would fill a void inside herself but once she married Neil, she changed. Became even more distant and unhappy until she inevitably switched off to life and especially me. I ceased to exist to her as a person, as a son—someone she was meant to love and protect.

“And you expect me to believe you’re different?” I hedge this is where she is trying to lead me, down a rabbit hole that will allow her to sink her claws into me. I don’t believe she is like Regina but I also wasn’t born yesterday. No one did something so noble without getting something out of it. I just didn’t know what drove her. What she wanted from me… I guess only time will tell. I drag my nails along the exposed skin of my arm that small bite of pain, calming the itch beneath the surface.

“I can see you don’t.” She hums, flexing her fingers. “How about I tell you something that no one else here knows.” I arch my brow. “That includes the staff.” Interesting but why?

“Yeah, right! You think I’m going to fall for that? You want us to trade secrets?” I bite out.

She regards me with nothing but compassion, eyes soft and understanding, the ghost of a smile. “I just want you to understand my motivations, and that I’m not here to get one over on you or whatever you believe people like me have done to you previously.” My breath hitches and she nods. “I know you say you don’t remember who you are or where you come from, but I think it’s a method of self preservation. A way of protecting yourself from something or someone you’re running from.” I blanch at her words, they hit home. Hard.

“So you say.” I cross my arms over my chest putting another barrier between us. In retaliation Jenna adjusts her position. Leaning forwards she rests her elbows on her knees, hands hanging loosely, open.

“I trained to become a psychologist, specialising in substance misuse and mental illness because it’s personal to me. Someone close to my heart was diagnosed with Bipolar and schizoaffective disorder, when I was younger. I saw how my family, my parents mostly shunned them. Tried to lock them away and viewed them as a nuisance, a burden.” Her deep eyes glisten as she continues. “They had her shipped off to all kinds of professionals who said they could reprogram her or fix her.” She sniffs, dabbing a tissue to the corner of her eyes. “But she wasn’t broken, she isn’t.” Taking a stuttering breath, Jenna collects herself. “She is perfect just as she is. She might not fit in the ‘normal’ bracket my parents wanted her to but with the right support my sister can lead an almost normal life. But my heart broke when she turned sixteen and they sent her away and ceased contact with her.”

“People are arseholes.”

“That they are.” Jenna nods. “I was working at a practice in London at the time helping bankers, traders and stock brokers back from the edge when I found out what my parents had done. It took me a year to find out where they had sent her and I vowed when I found her, she would always be safe with me. I would never lock her away in a padded cell and forget about her.”

“Seems like we both lucked out in the parent department.” I offer as an olive branch.

“Thank you.” Jenna offers a genuine smile.

“And where is your sister now?” I chance, somewhat immersed in her story. Whether it’s true or not remains to be seen.

“She’s here, and she seems to be thriving under my care. Once I found where they had her locked up I became her legal guardian and ceased contact with my family.” My look of confusion must show because I had no idea. “No one knows she’s my sister but I do know how well you look out for her, and for that I am very grateful.”

“Huh.” My mind starts to spin about who it could be. I look at Jenna in a new light, her dark eyes open and honest. Her dark hair glinting almost purple in the bright sunlight that fills the room. There are only two people I speak to—Kait and Michelle. An indulgent smile spreads across my face. I’d bet my left nut I know who it is. I go to speak but Jenna holds up her hand, cutting me off.

“I can tell you know. I’d appreciate you keeping that between us—I don’t want anyone to think she gets preferential treatment.”

“Okay.”

“Good. There is one thing I would like in exchange.” I cant my head waiting for the killing blow, my heart rate picks up, sweat beading on my brow. “I’d like to know your real name, Max.”

“I told you, I don’t?—”

“But you do. Your depth of understanding and compassion means you do remember who you are even if you wish you didn’t.” I huff, hating that she’s right as a bead of perspiration rolls down my temple. “I’m going to hit you with a home truth now, from things I’ve gathered from our one sided chats over the last couple of months.” I nod, not knowing what else to do. “Your life might not have had a happy beginning but it does not define who you are. It is only a part of it, part of you. It is the rest of your life, who you choose to be that does.”

“What am I meant to say to that?”

“Nothing. I just want you to think about it and what your future means to you. What you want out of life. Who you want to become. Once you know where you want to go. Who you want to become. We can work together to eradicate those monsters, those demons that stalk your mind and bring you down. We will take away the power they hold over you, so you can have the life you want.”

“Okay,” I breathe. Feeling seen, stripped bare to my dark core—-exposed.

Jenna looks up at the clock, seemingly at peace. “That’s the end of our session today Max. Thank you for listening, I hope I’ve given you a few things to think about, and shown that you can trust me.”

I shrug because although compelling I’m not sure I can trust her yet. Proof is in the pudding and all that. I need to find a way for her to prove that what she said was true—that I can trust her—actions speak louder than words. My mind flickers back to Randall and his threats, it won’t be as satisfying but I would prove the weight of her words. I clench my hands, nails digging into my palms as I take a stuttering inhale. “If your sister is really here, then for her safety and the safety of everyone else you need to look into Randall before someone takes matters into their own hands.”

“What do you mean?” Jenna sits up, nervous energy filling the space between us.

“I assume they go through rigorous checks on the staff?” She nods. “I think his were faked, or he’s using a false identity.” Her eyes widened. “Put it this way, I wouldn’t trust that man with a doormat. He makes my skin crawl. Reminds me of someone I want to forget. Check your CCTV and watch him closely… he is not careful.” The implication of my words is a stark, cold truth. He is a predator who is far too comfortable in his surroundings and will get even more careless, but not before he causes irreparable damage to those who are most vulnerable. “He has a special collection of things.” I swallow down the bile dancing up the back of my throat. “He keeps it in the old beehives in the orchard… I think it might be of… interest to you.”

“Thank you for telling me. I will look into it immediately.” The truth lacing her words—that she believes me—calms the nervous tension inside me, loosening the vice around my lungs. “That’s time for today.” She stands up holding her hand out. “Thank you, Max.”

“Kayden. My name is Kayden.”

She smiles, even as fear coils in her eyes. “I won’t tell anyone. That truth stays between us. Now I must get ready for our new member of staff who’s due to arrive soon.” She opens the door and lets me out and for once I feel lighter after these sessions, something profound and altering happened in there today. It’s new and confusing but I think it feels a little bit like hope.