Father of Lies

by Sarah England

  Had she really said that out loud?

  It must have been Chester. It couldn’t have been herself. No way!

  She looked over at the sink but Chester wasn’t there. Nausea rose in her throat.

  And from far, far away, the nurse and her friend whispered together. Something about not being ready for home yet, odd behaviour, totally out of character.

  “And there’s another thing,” Noel was saying.

  Becky strained to listen as the whispering continued.

  “We’ve now got the CCTV coverage of when she fell. She said there was someone rushing up the corridor who she bumped into. But there’s nothing there, Kelly. Absolutely nothing. She just fell forwards and knocked her head onto the crash trolley - almost as if an invisible hand pushed her. Are you sure they didn’t find anything on the scan? I’m really worried there might be a… ”

  As the door shut softly behind the pair, the light in the side ward faded to grey. Becky, left in silence, looked over to the plastic chair for her cheery companion to reappear, but there was no one there. She was all alone then. Alone in the dark bowl of her own madness.

  Funny. She kind of missed him.

  ***

  Chapter 14

  Woodesend Village. 1995: Age 7, I think.

  I’m lying in bed. Watching the clock on the bedside table tick through each minute. Another hour has passed. No sounds now except the drone of canned laughter on the television downstairs. Probably Mum’s asleep on the sofa waiting for him to get home. He can’t be back yet. It could still happen tonight, then.

  I hug the blue bunny with floppy ears Nana Cora bought for me. She said I was a special child, but it made my sister mad I got the bunny and we fell out again - I hate it when we fall out. Nana bought me some clothes too but I hid them. It makes me wonder if Nana Cora knows?

  He says it’s a secret and if I tell my sister he’ll kill her - not me - her! And if I tell anyone else he’ll have us both put into care and we’ll be separated. But Nana Cora doesn’t buy stuff for my sister - just me - and it makes me wonder why, and why she says I’m special like he says I’m special? She knows - she must do - but I can’t tell her or we’ll go into care. But if she knows why doesn’t she help me?

  My sister lies next to me and I can hear her rhythmic breathing. Fast asleep in rosy dreams. I hope it always stays that way for her.

  How many times have I lain here? Wanting someone, anyone, to catch the tears and hold me, to say it will be all right? That nothing bad will happen.

  I sat in the forest last night, watching the sun go down behind the trees. I was in my favourite place down by the river. The pink light of home and love was painted in the sky. I could see that love and feel it, but it couldn’t make me whole. I’m trying so hard to remember what it felt like to absorb that love, hugging my pillow so tight to stop the fear from rising in my tummy, and if I try hard enough I can be back there again.

  Then it happens…gone the pink sky.

  And I’m staring into his ice-blue eyes. Reading the mood. Measuring the anger and how bad I am, reflected in them. Watching as the hand comes down and roughly grabs my hair.

  He yanks me out of the warm bed. My sister murmurs in her sleep and turns over into the warm dip I’ve left. While he reaches above the door and gets the stick. It’s a good place to keep a stick - you’ve got to run underneath to get out. I wonder if he realises how clever that is? Funny the stick is so perfectly rounded and smooth. So pleasing to touch. Until, it’s brought down hard across your legs.

  Keep quiet. On the cold landing floor while the house sleeps. Don’t make a sound. Take it, just take it.

  After the first swipe and the praying, it will be done quickly.

  Nana Cora says we must go to church and pray. I sit next to her on Sundays with my hands clasped tightly. Eyes shut fast even through the sermons. Over and over I pray. Please God, please help me. And he does - you see I’m no longer in my own head but floating high into a princess sky of meringue castles with drawbridges and moats. And my body is not mine anymore - no longer a bony sparrow-child in pink pyjamas - but weightless and free. There is burning on my thrashed legs now, and searing pain scoring up the buckling skeleton of my body; sick lodged in my throat, which I’m desperately trying to swallow down; and stinging tears in the ghost child’s eyes - the one crumpling onto the floor.

  But I am not there.

  He shouts and spits in the ghost child’s face about how bad she is. Not me. Another child - a really bad one.

  Don’t breathe in or you’ll vomit. Don’t cry or you’ll be hit again. Don’t hold your legs or he’ll sneer at you and hit you harder. Don’t look. Don’t hear. And most of all don’t think about what’s coming next…When his rage is spent…

  ***

  Chapter 15

  Drummersgate Hospital. Present Day: December 2015

  Kristy found Ruby in the art room with Amanda Blue - someone she had worked with many times - and found highly competent and open minded. A little brusque at times perhaps; but with Amanda there was none of the sceptical, academic pontificating Kristy found so negative and depressing in many of her colleagues: Amanda simply had a no nonsense - ‘let’s do everything, try everything, listen to everyone,’ approach, which was refreshing, and in this case a huge relief, because frankly, Ruby was going to need the strongest and most open of personalities to cope with what was coming.

  After several sessions of intensive art work with Amanda, it had become clear Ruby’s personality was highly fragmented - way more than any other patient either had worked with before. Kristy realised Ruby had a rare case of poly-fragmented DID, which involved not dozens of alter personalities, but possibly hundreds. A major breakthrough would be for Ruby, in time, to recognise that, and become the host of the system, which controlled her, rather than its victim - because the victim lost time - hours, days even - which would explain the fact she had no recollection of her frenzied attack in Woodsend.

  Whatever worked, in terms of helping Ruby come to terms with who she was and to function in a reasonably self-reliant manner - well that, they decided over the phone, would be their aim.

  Amanda looked up as Kristy sat down, her tentative smile indicating satisfactory progress had been made today. Yes it could take years, but there was hope now. Right in front of their eyes.

  Ruby’s tongue was sticking out slightly as she drew with crayons in the exact same way a child of around five would. The house she’d drawn had a one dimensional aspect - a box with four windows and a doorway in the middle. The sun was a yellow ball in the top right hand corner and there were stick figures with scratchy black hair and triangular bodies, standing on a patch of spiky, green lawn.

  To the side of the picture, stood a tree. In the tree was a cat. Underneath the tree were grave stones, and on the trunk - a red mark.

  As Ruby drew, humming to herself, ‘Four and twenty blackbirds…baked in a pie…’ Amanda silently passed previous drawings to Kristy. Eyes. Lots and lots of eyes. Crosses. And a church with a spire. All as seen and depicted by an infant-aged child. In addition to these were castles with moats, princesses looking out of windows, and a fairytale, turreted palace balancing precariously on a high rock, surrounded by clouds and angels. Fairies and elves and lots and lots of daisies, and yet more trees. Trees with cats in them. Trees with engravings on the trunk, and pictures of the moon.

  With a flourish, Ruby finished her drawing of the house, dropped her crayon, and sat back. Done.

  “These are really good, Ruby,” said Amanda. “Is this where you used to live, then?”

  A slight frown creased Ruby’s brow. Her voice was breathy and childish. The image she projected was of being extremely small, her body folding in on itself as she looked up from under a floppy curtain of hair. “Mmm.”

  Amanda began to gather up the materials, chatting brightly. “We’ve had a lovely afternoon, haven’t we, Ruby? Do you want to tell Kristy what you told me about being a beautiful princess in a c
astle? That was when you were very little, wasn’t it?”

  The tiny girl inside Ruby, appeared to diminish further, as if she was disappearing altogether now the painting was over, and attention had focused on herself again. Over her head, Amanda mouthed a word to Kristy, ‘Tara.’

  Kristy nodded. Okay so she was dealing with Tara today. Amanda had explained that Tara was the child who presented herself during art lessons. Sometimes a babyish persona would appear, who didn’t speak but snuffled with misery. Another time there would be a bolshy teenager who called himself Dylan; or a girl who appeared to be almost indecipherable from Ruby, but whose eyes were more unfocused. This girl had a bit of a temper - like a teen who’d been told she couldn’t go out that night. This was fifteen year old Eve.

  But today it was Tara. Possibly five years old - maybe six - Tara did not seem to be educated, or able to read and write.

  “Who am I speaking to? Am I talking to Tara?” Kristy asked the child-woman kicking her heels against the chair.

  A faint nod and shy smile.

  “Do you think you could go and get Ruby for me? I’d really like to speak to Ruby today. Tell her it’s Kristy.”

  No answer.

  “Please tell Ruby it’s safe. It’s Kristy, her doctor.”

  Kristy kept her voice steady and reassuring, softly requesting Ruby to come to the fore and take control.

  The switch, when it came though, was shocking. The light in Ruby’s pale blue eyes faded rapidly, registering Tara’s surprise at falling backwards down an internal corridor - followed by a trance-like stare. For several minutes of unblinking nothingness, there was no personality in there - no conscious mind in the driving seat. It was like, Kristy thought, looking at a shell, a human body devoid of any spiritual presence.

  She waited, repeatedly saying, “Ruby, it’s okay. Ruby, come back. Ruby, you’re safe….”

  A flicker of an eyelash. The slotting in of a person behind the eyes. Confusion as the face adjusted to its new owner. A flash of fear and then finally, recognition. Ruby blinked and swallowed.

  “Hi there, Ruby. It’s me - Kristy - your doctor. Would you like some tea with sugar?”

  Ruby nodded. A brief flicker of a smile - maybe relief.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Have I been in ’ere long? Only I…” She looked around at the art work spread all over the table. At the child’s drawings. “Were that me?”

  Kristy handed her a cup of sweet tea and nodded. “I take it you don’t remember?”

  “No.”

  “Nothing?”

  Ruby shook her head and looked away.

  “Are you aware you lose time? That when you came into the art room it was lunchtime, and now it’s going dark?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you don’t recall what happened while you were here?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, I know that happens a lot, but there’s good news! I can help you. On a practical level, your main problem is you’re timing out and losing control of your own body. We need to keep you conscious and in control, but to do that we have a lot of work to do.”

  Ruby nodded.

  “Are you good so far?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I need you to work with me. It’s going to be very difficult and it may take years, but I have a lot of experience in this field and believe me you are not alone. What you’re suffering from Ruby, is something called Disassociatve Identity Disorder. This means it’s highly likely something very traumatic happened to you as a child - maybe repeatedly - and as a child you protected yourself by pretending it wasn’t happening at all, at least not to you! This was where you were very clever indeed, because many people can’t do this: in order to keep yourself safe, you made up other personalities and pretended it was happening to them while you yourself went somewhere else in your head. Somewhere nicer. We call these made-up personalities ‘alters’, and it seems you’ve got quite a few of these alters. You had an amazing imagination! But because you were growing up and your mind was still developing, these alters became part of your own personality, do you see? They and you are one and the same thing! And what that means is - when they are in control, you are not - and so you don’t remember anything. It can be very distressing because you lose time…”

  “I’m there sometimes.”

  Kristy stopped short. “As in co-conscious?”

  “Whatever - kind of like I’m in the back seat but someone else is driving. Sometimes it feels like I’m falling back and someone else is doing the talking, but I can’t stop them saying whatever they want. But I can like, hear it. That’ll be Eve usually. Yeah it’s Eve who does a lot of talking. Eve talks to Becky.”

  Kristy took in the information, sitting in silence for a moment. So Ruby knew all along that she had other characters acting out for her!

  Ruby smiled faintly. “It doesn’t always happen - she just sort of shoves me aside and I can’t stop her.”

  “She’s a tough cookie, is she, Eve?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes, though, I kind of like Eve taking over cos I’ve like, had enough.”

  After a while, Kristy said, “It’s good actually. It’s good that you know when it’s happening and who some of your alters are. That will help us piece it all together bit by bit, and put you more in control. What do you think?”

  Ruby sipped her tea for a while. “Bit of a mind fuck, innit? Bit much to get my head round thinking there’s like a whole bunch of us in here? Like - it could be mad Dylan who attacked that bloke they said I tried to murder? Do you think he did it?”

  “We’ll come to that,” said Kristy. “But not until you’re ready. Like I said it could take time.”

  Interesting! Tommy Blackmore had revealed several alters once the aggressive male who dominated him, had been persuaded to take a back seat - the ‘Gatekeeper’ as Tommy called him. Perhaps Dylan was the dark entity Jack had encountered when he hypnotised Ruby?

  Question was - would it ever be possible to cohese all of Ruby’s hundreds of alters into one dominant personality - Ruby herself? Assuming Ruby was the host, of course? With Ruby not knowing who she herself was - well, what if the Ruby character was an alter too? Who on earth was this girl?

  As Kristy’s train of thoughts tunnelled along, another idea occurred - what if the events this girl suffered were too horrific to ever be safely retrieved? Maybe if they were revealed to Ruby it would destroy her, and all the complex mechanisms her child self had put in place would have been for nothing? Could the woman, realistically, ever be made whole again?

  “Anyway, we’ll leave it there for today,” said Kristy. “We don’t want to rush you. And you’ve made huge strides already. Huge. Really well done. You’re a brave girl.”

  A cloud passed behind Ruby’s eyes.

  Kristy, who had been about to turn and get her bag, caught the look and frowned. What? What had she said?

  Ruby’s face had darkened in an instant, her eyes dead.

  She’d switched again.

  Ruby had gone. And someone else was coming.

  Who? Who would it be? Kristy’s hand hovered over her panic alarm.

  It took around forty seconds of ticking silence for the new alter to appear. Kristy’s heart pounded hard against her ribs.

  A new person had arrived: a smiling, secretive teenager. A challenging smirk. Different voice - higher and breathier - as Ruby swept her hair over to one side and examined her finger nails.

  “Who am I speaking to?” said Kristy.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Kristy. I’m your doctor. Who am I speaking to?”

  “Eve.”

  Eve rolled her eyes and slumped back into her chair. Affecting the sullen, bored, I-am-so-embarrassed stance of a typical teenaged girl. Kristy narrowed her eyes - there was still something of Ruby there -the girl was not wholly in character and didn’t seem to be dismayed by the shapeless sweater and jeans she was wearing.

  “Is Ruby there, Eve? Can
you go and get her back please? We were talking.”

  Eve shook her head. “I’m in charge now. She’s upset. Can’t cope and so you’ve got me.”

  “I see. How old are you, Eve?”

  “Fifteen, nearly sixteen. Why?”

  Kristy took a deep breath. “Are you aware of a fragmented personality? That you and Ruby share thoughts and feelings?”

  “God, like, only for ages. Years. There are lots of us.”

  “And how long has Ruby known?”

  “Yeah - ages. But she didn’t want to admit it ’til he left. She thought it was too dangerous for us to come out. He kept us locked in. It’s fantastic since he pissed off. Poor doc, though, eh?”

  “Since who left? Who kept you locked in?”

  Eve looked away.

  “Was it Dylan who terrified you all?”

  Eve snorted. “That jumped-up little twat? Don’t make me laugh.”

  Okay, so not Dylan then.

  “Eve, how many of there are you, do you know?”

  Eve shrugged and then began to count on one hand. Then two. “There’s Ruby, me, Dylan, and Tara. Then there’s the little ones but you’re not speaking to them. And Minnie. And there’s our Gatekeeper - Marie- she’s the one who decides who’s gonna speak to who. And then you’ve got Lucy and Emma but they keep all the bad stuff. And…do you want me to draw it for you?”

  Kristy nodded. Passed her a sheet of paper.

  Then sat back in astonishment as Eve drew a map of what she called, ‘The System’ living inside Ruby’s mind - of tunnels and compartments and secret lock-down places, safe rooms and quiet rooms, communal rooms and a vault. In all, there appeared to be over one hundred different alters in addition to corridors roaming with ghost children who had no names.

  “Do you speak to each other?”

  “I speak to the little ones sometimes. And Dylan - I tell him where to get off, the bastard. He doesn’t want me to tell you about anything that happened. He’s bad. He doesn’t want me to tell you about the baby either.”

  “What baby?”

  “The one we had.”