Page 24 of A Sorrow of Truths
“You’ll feel more like yourself soon,” he replies, sharply. “It takes to time. I’m running the reversal medications slowly to ease you out of them.” He grabs at a clipboard on the side of my bed, flipping pages of notes over.
“Medications?” labours out of me.
“Hmm. Four days’ worth so far. You really did have a party of your own.”
Four days?
“How did I get here?” I mumble
“Jackson brought you.”
He stands and walks to put the chair back, keeping his eyes away from me. Time seems stalled for a while. Just me and him in a room again. Only this time it’s filled with light and sunshine, no dark corners to fall into. My body hums at that, at odds with the vison and for some reason finding less sense in the daylight around him than it does in the shadows.
“Was it purposeful, or a mistake?” he suddenly asks.
I blink, unsure what he means, and keep watching as he looks out of a window. More time stalled. More sunshine streaming in, highlighting the sharp bones of his jaw, the almost luminescent chestnut colour in his eyes. It makes me think, remember more, and then question who I’ve been spending time with more than I already have done. So calm. Like a normal person. Other than this clinical room and the fact that I don’t know where I am because of him.
He sighs and looks back at me, a frown on his face. “Attempting to kill yourself?”
Kill myself? I didn’t do that, did I?
I search my scattered thoughts, trying to remember anything over his presence in front of me and the memories that brings. A muddled image of the cemetery gates comes to me eventually, dark and foreboding, no stars in the sky, foggy. Rick. Death. Betrayal. Pills in my hands, fingers tapping sharp gravel and stones. The red pill, the one that makes it all go away.
The images make me grumble to myself, more sickness rising. Gray did that, too. He gave me thoughts and feelings, then he took them away from me. He betrayed the very essence of what we were becoming, regardless of him telling me all along that it wasn’t real. Itwasreal.Isreal. It’s still here in me, towing me forcefully, churning my stomach with memories and connection. I just … I don’t know how to reach it or him. And I’m so tired.
Exhausted.
I shrug in tighter, wrapping the sheets around me, and roll over so I’m not looking at him anymore. I can’t process when he’s in my face. Too handsome. Too intoxicating. “I want to go home,” I mumble. I do. I did at the cemetery gates, and I still want that now. I’ll sleep there. Find sense. Or maybe I’ll stay forever and live in no sense at all. “Where’s Malachi?”
“Malachi is not your home, Mrs Tanner. He never was.”
My lips sneer at that, irritated with his self-righteous attitude and his continued use of a name that is not mine anymore. And how would he know where my home is, anyway? The only thing he apparently knows is that he is not it. “Where is then, Gray? You tell me where makes sense if there doesn’t.” I cough again, trying to clear my throat to carry on, then can’t be bothered explaining or asking anything anymore.
The sound of his shoes move, a door opening soon after. Silence. Good. Better. If he doesn’t have answers or truths, then I’d rather be on my own so I can wallow in this misery and try to work it out on my own. I groan and close my eyes, part happy to be rid of him for now. I can’t deal with him, can’t deal with the barrier he’s creating either. This isn’t my Gray. This is nothing but a replica missing parts, a fraud that lies and deceives.
“Here is,” he eventually says.
My brow arches, neck twisting to look back at him. No compassion on his features. No sense of home at all and no show of the man I remember. “Until you are ready to deal with reality, you’re not going anywhere else.”
Asshole.
***
Laughter. My eyes snap open at the sound of it. A woman laughing and then singing softly to herself. She sounds happy, content, as she hums her way around a lilting song, occasional lyrics coming from her mouth. Where is that? I turn and look at the window, keeping my body tight on this bed. It’s open slightly, low sun filtering in. It’s only after I’ve listened for a while that I realise everything’s clear now. Vibrant and alive. I am too. I feel better. Less muddled and disordered. Not shaking anymore either.
A new strength pulls me upright until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and looking around clearly at my surroundings. Therapy Centre. Gray said something about that. Mount something. Can’t remember. Doesn’t matter. He’s here somewhere. Wherever here is.
I look back at the sides of the bed, noticing all the machines and devices that must have been by my side for however long. They’re all turned off, no sound coming from them or lights flashing on screens. My feet gingerly hit the floor beneath me, toes feeling pressure under them. Cool. I smile and ease forward, taking my full weight and testing my balance. Everything’s fine. Normal again.
Good.
Making my way to the window, I reach for the empty glass and jug of water. That’s the only thing that does feel at odds still. My throat hurts. Scratchy and painful. Long glugs of water soothe it, and I look out into the unknown. Fields of green expand in my view under bright blue skies. I stare, flummoxed at my location, and peer at a large house dominating the horizon, as crisp winter air filters back at me. I don’t know here. Never been here. Pretty, though.
I shiver and look around the room for a robe, anything to cover against the cold, and see a pile of clothes in the corner neatly folded. Underwear, T-shirt, hoodie, some track pants and sneakers. Where are my clothes? Still, I wander over and get dressed, wondering what to do next. Maybe I should leave now, but at the moment the sound of this woman’s voice still humming is calming, making me smile and relax, regardless of me not knowing where I am. I can’t see her. Just the noise. Gentle. Tender even.
“Mrs Tanner?” I jump at the sudden sound of another woman, body swinging around to look at her in my room. She smiles and waves her hand at me, a blue nurse’s uniform on. “Good to see you up. Would you like to have some dinner?”
“Um. Yes, I guess.”