Authors: Amy Cross
Alice - Twenty years ago
“Okay,” a voice says firmly, somewhere in the distance, “get her onto the stretcher. She's lost a lot of blood, so let's move!”
Alice - Twenty years ago
“But do you understand why you're here, Alice? Do you understand that the court felt this would be the best place for you to be incarcerated, while you're assessed by a specialist team?”
He falls silent for a moment.
Is he waiting for me to say something?
“Alice? Are you listening to me?”
“Do what you want,” I whisper, hoping that he'll leave me alone. “I don't care.”
“I wanted to talk to you today about your father,” he continues. “I know this is most likely going to be a rather upsetting topic for you, and I know you didn't want to discuss him during the court appearance yesterday but... As part of our therapy sessions, I believe we should -”
“It's not upsetting,” I say calmly. “It's just... not particularly important. It's in the past now.”
Silence again, and then I hear him shifting slightly in his seat. Now that I can't see anything, I'm becoming much more aware of the sounds all around me. This doctor, for example, seems unable to sit still for more than a few seconds at a time.
“There's only one thing I want to hear from my father,” I continue finally. “I want him to apologize for what he said to me all those times. I want him to admit that he was wrong when he accused me of killing that little boy.”
“Alice...”
He seems hesitant, perhaps even a little nervous.
“Alice, are you aware that your father -”
“He's dead,” I reply, interrupting him. “I know that.”
“But a moment ago you said that -”
“He's still in that house.”
Another pause.
“What do you mean by that, Alice?”
“I mean exactly what I said.” I feel a faint flutter of frustration. “I want to go back to the house. His ghost is there, it has to be, and I want him to apologize. He wouldn't do it while he was alive, but perhaps he'll do it now that he's dead.”
“I see.”
I listen for a moment to the sound of him writing something down.
“How long do I have to be here?” I ask.
“At the hospital? Well, that depends on what the court decides. I'll write a report at the end of the month. The court might decide that you should be sentenced to stay here with us, and that's most likely what I'll recommend. But they might also decide that you're well enough to be moved to a prison.”
“But how long will it take before I can go back to the house?”
Silence.
“I'm very patient,” I continue, “but I'd like to know a ballpark figure. A year? Two years? Five? Ten?”
“I can't really say, Alice.”
“I killed my father,” I add. “And my brother. Please, if you get the chance, tell my sister-in-law that I'm sorry. Malcolm was an accident.”
Again, the doctor's chair squeaks slightly.
“Clearly I'll be here for a while,” I say after a moment. “That's okay, though. I'm quite certain that his ghost will be waiting for me when I finally get out. And when I
do
get back there, I'll make him apologize to me. He has to. After all, everything he said to me was wrong, and while he might have been an awful man, he wasn't a fool. He'll admit he was wrong.”
“Is your father's forgiveness important to you?”
“Not forgiveness,” I reply, correcting him. “I just want him to admit that he was wrong. I don't think he ever admitted being wrong about anything, but he was wrong about me.”
“You're referring to the times he accused you of killing...”
I hear him shuffling through his paperwork. He can't remember the boy's name.
“He accused you of killing Anthony Harper.”
I nod.
“A lot of people accused you of the same thing,” he points out. “Anthony's parents, some of your colleagues, figures in the media...”
“But my father should have been kinder,” I reply. “Don't you think so?”
“Well, that's one of the things we're going to discuss in these daily sessions, Alice. We're going to talk about your family, going right back to your childhood. I believe you never knew your mother, so perhaps that's another matter we should address. And I believe your full name is Rachel Alice Bradshaw, but that your father insisted on using your middle name whereas your mother preferred to call you Rachel. That seems like an odd situation. I also need to understand why you chose to remove your own eyes. Obviously that's rather an extreme reaction to events.”
“I wanted to not see the boy anymore,” I tell him. “I thought Anthony was haunting me. Now I realize he was just a figment of my imagination, caused by my father's words. At least, I
think
he...”
I hesitate, before reaching up and touching the bandages that have been taped over my eyes.
“I made a mistake,” I continue. “I should have left my eyes alone, but I wasn't quite thinking straight. I let my emotions take control, but I won't do that again. I need to be more logical. And I need to get back to the house. I know I must spend time here, and I accept that, but eventually I simply
must
return to the house.”
I sit in silence for a moment. Evidently my words seem to have surprised the doctor somewhat, and I can hear him still scribbling some notes. I'm sure he's over-complicating the situation, when really everything is rather simple. I just have to wait until I'm released from this place, and then I can go back to the house and find Father's ghost. I'm not done with him yet.
In fact...
I have to go to him right now!
“I can't stay here!” I say suddenly, getting to my feet. “I need to speak to him!”
“Please sit down, Alice.”
“You don't understand,” I stammer, fumbling as I make my way around the table. I'm starting to feel desperate now, filled with a sense of urgency. “Which way is the door? I can't waste any more time here with you people.”
“Alice -”
“Let me out of here!” I shout, lunging forward and hitting the wall. I reach for a door handle, for any way out of here, but all I feel is a series of padded panels. “You can't keep me here!” I hiss, stumbling back as I start pulling the bandages from my eyes. “You have no right!”
“Security!” the doctor calls out, and I hear footsteps in the corridor outside. “Take the patient back to her room and get Nurse Lucas to join me. I'm going to try a different sedative!”
“No!” I scream, but suddenly I'm grabbed from behind and pulled back. I try to break free, scratching at the faces of the figures that are towering over me, but they quickly force me to the ground and secure my wrists behind my back. “You can't keep me here!” I shout, shuddering violently as I try to get free. “I have to get back to the house! I have to make him pay for what he did to me! Let me out of here!”
***
Sitting alone on the floor of my room at the hospital, I listen to the sound of distant voices. Since I can no longer see anything, all that's left is for me to listen, but the voices are too far away for me to make out what they're saying.
They're probably talking about me.
Even the ones that are all the way out in the garden.
“You're a failure,” Father's voice whispers in my ear. Not for the first time today. Even in death, he seems to have followed me. “You're a disgusting ruin of a human being. You thought you could be a nurse? You thought you could help people? You're a joke!”
“Go away,” I say out loud, leaning forward. “You can't hurt me anymore.”
I try to fill my head with other thoughts, to block Father's voice out, but I know he'll be back soon.
“I believe in you,” I imagine my mother saying. She was always so much nicer. Perhaps if I think of her, there'll be no room for Father. “You can do anything, Rachel. Anything you want.”
Mum always called me Rachel. My real name. It was Father who insisted on using my middle name, and eventually he wore me down and I accepted his decision.
“You sicken me,” his voice sneers.
“You
were
a good nurse,” Mum says, as I try to force her voice to the front of my mind, to drown Father out entirely. “You didn't kill that little boy after all. It was someone else's mistake.”
“It was,” I whisper. “It really was.”
I can hear Father's voice again, but this time I've managed to push him back until he's just a faint murmur.
“Everything's going to be okay,” Mum continues, and this time I didn't even have to pretend I could hear her. It's almost as if she's really here with me. “We're going to get out of here, Rachel. It might take some time, but I believe in you and I'm not going to leave you again. I'm going to help you.”
“Please stay,” I whimper. “If you go, I'll hear
him
again.”
“Of course I'll stay,” she replies, “and one day, when you finally get out of this hospital, I'll take you home.”
“Maybe the doctor was right,” I whimper. “Maybe it would be bad to go back. Maybe a clean break -”
“You
must
go back, Rachel,” she says firmly, interrupting me. “One more time, at least. His ghost will be there, and you can make him say the words you need to hear. I'll be right there with you, though.”
I shake my head.
“Be brave,” she continues. “Wouldn't you like to hear your father's voice as he tells you that he's sorry?”
“He'll never do that.”
“He will. I'll help you to make it happen.”
“How?”
“Just trust me.”
I want to push her away, but I know that if I stop hearing her voice, I'll start hearing Father's again.
“Relax,” she says after a moment, and now she sounds so calming and friendly. “Just trust me. Everything will be okay. You're my darling little girl.”
I know those are just words, but I still can't help smiling. Mum went away a long time ago and left me with Father, but now she's back. She's just in my mind, I'm fully aware of that, but she's still very comforting. There's nothing wrong with listening to her, not if I remember that she's not really here.
Suddenly I hear footsteps outside, followed by the sound of my door being unlocked.
“Alice Bradshaw,” the orderly says as he steps inside, “on your feet. It's time for your next session with Doctor Cooper.”
I sit completely still, not moving at all.
“Alice, get up.”
Silence.
“Alice -”
“My name isn't Alice,” I whisper.
“What was that?”
“My name is Rachel Alice Bradshaw,” I continue, as a faint smile crosses my lips. “You have to call me Rachel from now on.”
I hear a faint sigh.
“Whatever,” he mutters. “Doesn't matter either way. Get up, Rachel. Doctor Cooper's waiting.”
Feeling a faint shudder in my chest, I get to my feet and turn, slowly tottering toward the door.
“That's good,” Mum's voice whispers in my head. “Now let's go and see the nice doctor. We have to start making him think that you're feeling better, although it'll probably take a long, long time.”
“A long, long time,” I whisper.
“Yeah, sure,” the orderly mutters, taking hold of my arm, ready to lead me along the corridor. “Come on, Alice... I mean,
Rachel
.” Another sigh. “Let's just get you down there.”
As we make our way toward Doctor Cooper's office, I can't help but smile. One day I'll get back to the house, and I'll make Father apologize to me. I won't give him a choice.
Rachel - Today
Letting out a gasp, I lean over the kitchen sink and touch my ravaged eyes yet again. The wrinkled flesh around the edges is knotted and scared, twisting to the slits that were sewn together long ago. The scars have had twenty years to build, twenty years to knit together and become dry. At least there's no blood now.
And I finally remember that moment.
I remember everything.
“You thought you were just a girl again,” Mum's voice says calmly, from just behind me. “I suppose that's my fault. You regressed during those twenty years at the hospital, and you blotted out the memories that were too painful. After you went back to using your proper name, it was as if you tried to go back to childhood. You became a girl again, at least in your mind.”
“I'm not pathetic!” I hiss, feeling a sudden surge of rage. “I was never pathetic! I just...”
Pausing, I continue to feel my face. I must have avoided touching my own skin for so long, in order to protect the fantasy in my mind. I was convinced that I was a teenager, and the memory of gouging out my own eyes was just one of the many, many moments that I suppressed. Now, however, I remember it all, even the time I spent at the psychiatric hospital. Everything came flooding back at once.
“But you...” I whisper, turning slowly. “Mum...”
“You had no-one to talk to at the hospital,” she replies, her voice filled with more sadness than ever. “No-one who understood, at least. Don't blame yourself, Rachel. It's not your fault that you chose to imagine another voice in your head.”
“You're not real...”
“You never knew me,” she continues. “Your father refused to tell you anything about me. Perhaps it was inevitable that you used an imagined version of me to cover the cracks in your mind. You're getting old now and -”
“It's not true,” I stammer, still feeling my face. “It can't be... I'm young!”
“You're fifty-one years old,” she replies. “No wonder the boy from next door didn't accept your invitation to hang out. What was his name again? Aidan? Poor thing. He was probably rather shocked to be propositioned by a wrinkly old woman. The whole thing must have been very embarrassing for him.”
“No!” I yell, stumbling toward her and reaching out, only to trip and fall forward. Hitting my shoulder against the door-frame, I tumble out onto the landing and hit the floor hard, causing another ripple of pain to shoot through my damaged wrist. Letting out an agonized cry, I roll onto my side.
“Rachel -”
“You're not real, are you?” I whimper.
“Please, Rachel...”
“You're in my head,” I continue, finally realizing the truth. “You've never been here. I've been imagining you the whole time, haven't I?”
I wait, but this time there's no reply.
“Mum?” I whisper.
Silence.
“Mum?”
Nothing.
“Come back...”
No reply.
A wave of shock rushes through me as I realize that she's gone. She kept me going, all through the time at the psychiatric hospital, but now she's left my mind.
“Come back!” I shout, rolling onto my back as I feel a rush of fear in my chest. “Don't leave me here! Mum! Come back!”