Descension

by Shani Struthers

  The closer they drew, the heavier the atmosphere became, akin to wading through treacle. She tried to resist turning her head in the direction of the secure unit, but gave in. Aaron Hames was there, on the edge of the estate, and not only there, he was everywhere, his energy, and the dark attachments that clung to it like a stain continually spreading. Her sigh was heavy. They all had their work cut out for them tonight, not just her.

  Just as Eclipse had lifted the fencing for her, so did Cash. Once inside, she turned to him, noticed him crouching. “Don’t, Cash. Stay there.”

  His eyes grew darker as reluctantly he straightened. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just hate you going in there alone. It’s not safe, not for someone with your ability.”

  “I have to.” Behind her the building loomed, although she didn’t turn to look at it, not yet. “I need them as much as they need me.” God, it was obvious how much he was fighting with himself to do as she’d asked. “Cash,” she continued, “if these bricks and mortar are being attacked tomorrow, then the walls in their minds have to come down tonight. To encourage that, the walls in my mind need to come down too.”

  “Really, Ruby? Is that the only way?”

  “It is. Me and them, we’re in this together.”

  He took a deep breath and then gently exhaled, the shine in his eyes nothing to do with the moon above. “Have you got your torch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you got your phone?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “If anything goes wrong…”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise.”

  “Jed’s with you?”

  “Jed’s just left your side, he’s by my side now.”

  “Good, that’s good. Is there really no way I can change your mind?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  He stood perfectly still. “I’m on the end of the phone, remember?”

  “I won’t forget.”

  “Don’t lose the phone.”

  “That’s the one thing I don’t plan on losing.”

  “Not funny, Ruby.”

  “Sorry.”

  Cash held his hand up to the fence. “I wanted to kiss you before you went in there, but I guess this’ll have to do.”

  She lifted her hand too, and pressed it against the wire mesh, matching her fingers to his, one by one.

  Again there was silence, as if the world had caught its breath.

  “I love you, Ruby. I didn’t stand by you in your happiest hour, and in your darkest you won’t let me. But somehow, some way, we’ll rectify that; we’ll make us work.”

  “Cash, please…”

  He had to go, leave her to it.

  Slowly he started to back away. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he turned, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped, a somewhat dejected posture. If he looked back, Ruby didn’t notice, as she’d turned too, to face the building in front of her – a blackened shape, a husk, a monolith, abandoned but not forgotten, not by those who’d endured being inside it. Jed whined and she inhaled. Could she do this? Could she really do this? It was madness. And then a slow smile crept across her face. Of course it was. She knew it, Cash knew it and the team knew it.

  “Best get on with it then,” she muttered, as she and Jed pressed forwards.

  The door that Eclipse had shoved open was still hanging off its hinges. It was a calm night, a pleasant night even. There was no wind soughing through the trees and in the woods behind her no animals stirred. Tomorrow evening, this building probably wouldn’t be here – there’d be a vast emptiness instead. But, as she’d said to Cash, if she gave up on her plan, the walls would still be standing in the minds of those who couldn’t believe that peace existed in any other realm; in the minds of the beaten and the abused, the meek and the misunderstood, all of whom were in there, so many of them, more than she knew. Ordinarily, it would take years for the team to connect with each of them, even with all their time devoted to the task. But now it was her alone, and she didn’t have years. She had hours. And so the extraordinary was needed.

  “Jed, stay here and stand guard. You don’t need to see this either.”

  Jed whined and refused to settle.

  She bent down, so that her face was level with his. Those eyes, in a way they were so like Cash’s, deep and soulful. They were her protectors, but some things nobody could shield you from.

  “I need my freedom. Just tonight. Only tonight.”

  Still Jed fussed, but at last he sat. Before rising, she reached up and removed the tourmaline necklace she always wore – her charm, her talisman, and her inheritance. Bringing it to her lips to kiss the precious stones, she then placed it on the ground beside Jed. “I can’t take this in there, I’m afraid. It wouldn’t be fair. I need to level the playing field. Look after it for me, will you?”

  Smiling at him one last time, she straightened up, then, forcing one foot in front of the other she entered the building and stood just on the threshold. It seemed those inside had taken a deep breath, curious about the woman who’d returned, alone this time and with something different about her, with such a look of determination on her face. She knew they could see her and soon she’d be able to see them, even without a torch. But first it was time to allow the emotions of all that had happened in the past two weeks, numerous extreme emotions, to rise. No longer could she wallow in the comfort of numbness. What had there been in the beginning? Excitement, that’s what: making contact with Peter Gregory, the man she thought was her father and meeting him, actually meeting him. She’d liked him and he’d liked her, and another meeting had been quickly forged. The future had seemed so bright! But then came bewilderment, and it had tarnished that happiness. Cash had split up with her – temporarily as it turned out, but she didn’t know that, not at the time. On top of that was the ‘set-up’ by Kirsty and the subsequent crushing disappointment that Peter wasn’t her father after all. Hot on its heels came the awful truth of who really was. She’d rushed home to Jessica and Sarah for answers, only to find the past unravelling in ways that had shocked both her and her mother when they learnt about her grandmother’s actions and all that she’d done in the name of protection; the fury that she’d unleashed and the deaths it had led to, Sarah’s included. She was dead – Gran was dead. Her heart had simply given out, her spirit fleeing. Where to, home? Ruby hoped so. She prayed so. And finally the meeting with Hames, still in the grip of madness, his eyes as he’d turned them towards the camera to stare at Ruby, penetrating her soul. And, damn it, something in her had responded; had squirmed; had known exactly who he was.

  Of all the emotions that engulfed her, despair was the chief one, although, like spoilt children, grief, confusion, bewilderment and shock wanted their fair share of attention too. And anger, there was plenty of that. It was the latter she coaxed forwards from such encrusted layers; boiling, blood red anger, an energy in it that made her want to run, lash out, scream and yell and threaten anyone who’d ever threatened her. With Gran gone, there were no barriers anymore. With Cash, Jed and the team giving her free rein, she could be who she needed to be in this dark and terrible moment; her father’s daughter. On her tongue she tasted his madness – it was bitter, acrid, the foulest poison – and in her soul, the light that so many insisted burned so bright was ready to be extinguished.

  At one with the darkness and with those that resided in it, she burst into action, her feet carrying her down that long, long corridor that had so many rooms and corridors feeding off it. Her mouth twisted, her eyes wide, her fingertips trailed the walls on either side, walls that writhed and shuddered at her touch. The spirits were terrified, she sensed that, but it was no big deal. They were used to terror. They understood it.

  On she ran, a shrieking in her ears, in the confines of her skull, pushing past the tide of human misery, withstanding it this time. She’d no longer let it bring her to her knees. The misery, the suffering, the indigni
ty, she’d let it soak her soul instead.

  Above the shrieking – not just hers she realised, the cacophony came from many others too – there was a hint of music. La Vie En Rose – such a haunting melody.

  Her feet skidding to a halt, her head whipped to the right.

  Where’s it coming from? The music?

  It was the ballroom. Of course! Such a grand room, so ornate, not what you’d expect to find in a place of the damned such as this. From her standpoint, she could see shadows again, scores of them; some clutching at each other in a mockery of dancing, others slumped on chairs against the walls, just as they’d been in the dayroom. There were numerous straight-backed figures too, nurses perhaps, doctors even. Some of whom were well meaning, but not all of them, oh no, not all of them. There were those who fed off madness, who perpetuated it.

  Give your heart and soul to me

  And life will always be

  La Vie En Rose

  Her lip curled as she remembered the words.

  “Heart, soul, mind and body, that’s what you took – to use and abuse!”

  On a big intake of breath, she flung herself through the double doors and into the ballroom, heading straight towards the shuffling figures, as the tune played on, a note missed here, or too high there. Reaching the centre of the room, she threw her arms out and started dancing too, twirling round and around, her movements far from smooth, but wild and jagged, her brown hair flying.

  “I want to know all your stories, every last one. Your pain is my pain. I want to suffer like you do, I am suffering, but still I want more. I’m begging for more. Tell me!”

  The shadows scattered and became misty figures, fading as the music died. Then they grew more solid again and crept closer. As they did, Ruby welcomed them, a grin on her face that threatened to split it. Their stories, their lives, filled her mind to bursting. A vision of that: her head exploding, made her laugh; a sound she didn’t recognise as it was far from usual. Those around her, however, had heard the like many times and didn’t flinch at all. The bombardment continued. There were so many emotions, and even those that were new to her, she embraced. It was so easy to go with it now she was willing; surprisingly comfortable.

  Look at her, one voice whispered above the rest, she’s wrong, all wrong. They said that about me. They stood over my cot and pointed. ‘We can’t keep something that’s wrong.’ That same voice became a snarl. My body was twisted, not my mind! But at Cromer they twisted that too. I hate this place! I hate them! I hate everyone!

  “Me too,” Ruby whispered in reply and it was true: in this moment, hate besieged her. She wanted to hate, loved to hate, it was a relief to hate – the bad wolf inside her attacking the good wolf, and tearing him limb from bloodied limb.

  Another voice broke free from the mass. We’re mad, we’re mad, we’re all fucking mad! It was a singsong voice, high-pitched.

  “We are!” Ruby declared. “We’re all mad in the madhouse! Stay with me, all of you. Follow me.”

  Laughter in the room rivalled hers, so many voices babbled at once.

  Where are we going?

  What are we doing?

  Follow! Follow! Follow!

  To the theatre?

  Is that where we’re going?

  “Not yet,” answered Ruby, laughing so much she’d started to hiccup. “We’ll save that ’til last, just like they saved it ’til last. We’re going upstairs.”

  To the nursery?

  To the wards?

  To the cells?

  Ruby nodded her head vigorously. “We’re going everywhere!”

  Like the Pied Piper, in charge of her raggle taggle band of misfits, Ruby started to run again. Leaving the ballroom behind, she retraced her route back to the stairwell. Joyfully booting debris out of the way, she flew up the stairs, often two at a time, she was so eager. Graffiti on the top landing gave her more cause to giggle: ‘It was more fun in hell!’

  There were giggles too from those behind her, guffaws, whoops and snorts – everyone finding it so funny, having a party, the best night ever.

  She turned her head from left to right, left to right, left to right.

  “Where to?” she said. “Where to?”

  Before anyone could answer, she darted to the left. Like downstairs, there were so many rooms and corridors feeding off the main corridor, the walls covered in yet more drawings, some intricate, but others only half finished.

  At the far end, a door swung open.

  The nursery! It’s the nursery!

  She knew what it was, she didn’t need the voices to tell her. Rather than the screams of the mass, it was the cries of the innocent that filled her head as she approached it; the young of Cromer, who’d been born into this life. Entering the room, the high-pitched wails surged to a crescendo. There were no cots in the room, it was empty, so those around did her the courtesy of showing what it was once like: the beds that had been like cages with babies imprisoned as their mothers were, and crying at first, railing against how unnatural it was to be torn from their mother’s arms; those cries quieting to mere whimpers as they became more and more listless – resigned, even at that age. The grounded spirits showed her more graffiti on the wall: You’re here because the outside world rejects you. But now no one was laughing. Not anymore. Anger filled the air again and it was as black as any demon she’d ever had the misfortune to encounter; a fury so intense it couldn’t be restrained. She opened her mouth again but not to laugh this time; to howl alongside the spirits of the children who’d grown in height but not in mind, who’d been baptised with unholy water and christened imbecile.

  Ruby whirled around, both words and spittle firing from her mouth.

  “It was in here you taught madness, you bred it into these children’s bones. You took what was bright and new and destroyed it. And all this you did in the name of duty. You refused to question. You just obeyed the rules. You’re here too, aren’t you, the nurses? And do you know why? Because you’re mad with guilt!”

  Her fury still rising, Ruby raced back into the corridor. The shadows around her, those that followed, had multiplied. They filled the space in front of her, crept out of the recesses behind her. There were swarms of them; hordes as Ness had called them, individuals that had formed a mass, an army, held entirely in Ruby’s thrall.

  “Show me the cells,” she demanded.

  The mass parted as she walked down the corridor, some leading, some skipping, some still shuffling – the Largactyl Shuffle; some with arms reaching out but not daring to touch her. None of them wanted to touch the maddest of them all.

  More doors were flung open. In front of one she crouched and ran her fingers close to the handle. Scratches. Gouges. She knew this to be typical of so many doors in the asylum, after patients had tried to claw their way to a freedom they wouldn’t know what to do with.

  Her fingers becoming claw-like too, she moved her hands upwards and made fresh grooves, digging her fingers into the hard wood, over and over again; not caring about her bloodied nails, about ripping them as the skin on her fingertips became wet and sticky. She scratched and scratched, and beside her a man appeared who was scratching too. She looked at him and he looked at her, neither of them faltering. Eventually, she rose, as did he, his shadow joining the throng. From the cells more shadows emerged, following her to the wards, where people lay on narrow beds, their eyes open but not seeing, their mouths slack. And in the corner, someone was sitting, her hands hugging her knees. She was sobbing, a sound similar to that which escaped Ruby as she sank to the floor to sit beside her.

  My boy, my boy.

  Losing her son had hit her hard. So what had the doctors done about it? How had they treated her? By hitting her again, with the liquid cosh; by incarcerating her.

  “How long?”

  Years.

  “Your name, tell me your name.”

  There were no more answers. The woman shook her head, continued to cry and to rock herself, and Ruby had no choice but to do th
e same.

  Her nose ran as well as her eyes, soaking her lips and her chin, dripping in elastic threads onto the thin jumper she wore and drenching that too; the well from which each tear was drawn seemingly endless. Gran, oh Gran! Peter! Regarding the latter, how could you cry over someone who never was, who was just an idea, a hope? Very easily she discovered, because to her, that hope had been real.

  Ruby fell to the floor and curled up in a ball. So many in the asylum had lain that way, for days that ran into weeks, months and years, alone, yet surrounded by others exactly like them. All like the boy she’d seen with the kindly nurse, in a world within a world.

  The swiftness with which her sobs turned to howls surprised even her. But quickly those that surrounded her started to howl too; more than that, they were beating their chests, bouncing off the walls, crawling along ceilings to drop beside her – shadows, all shadows, that’s what they were and that’s what they had been, even in life. It was a sound to crack your brain in half but there was still comfort in it; the comfort of the masses setting sail on an ocean of grief, all of them journeying together.

  Setting sail, Ruby, not sinking.

  To whoever had said that, she denied it. To her it felt like sinking.

  You can’t afford to lose yourself.

  Was that the same voice, quoting words that were familiar to her, that she’d heard not so long ago? But it was so easy to go under. And so many would help her: there’d be hands, but not belonging to those around her. Other hands. They’d claw and they’d scratch, and they’d pull her down, down, down, all the way down, to lie with them in the dumping grounds. The dumping grounds?

  A choke lodged in her throat. She pushed herself up, forced herself into a siting position, able to breath at last, her chest heaving. This, Cromer, was a dumping ground, but even so, there were worse places to be, far worse. If she did succumb, if she sank much further to lie with the others, she’d never be able to rise. She’d be like him then, Aaron Hames, the one who’d gone so willingly. Two peas in a pod.