by Kate Sten
I was so sweaty and hot that my vision completely went black. I was hyperventilating in my seat. There wasn’t much I could do to stop that from happening.
‘What happened?’ I shrieked in bafflement, as I pushed myself up from the three seater in Doctor Salter's office, my head feeling as if it had been run over by a steam roller.
‘What is all that? Is that.. Is that blood?’ I shrieked again, as my eyes focused on the red liquid seeping through the fabric of my green ninja turtles T-shirt, my panic stricken face unable to come to terms with the drama that was unfolding before my very eyes.
‘Don’t look at it! Look away!’ Molly admonished me, as she took hold of the base of my shirt.
Where did she come from? She wasn’t meant to be in the head doctor's office!
Guess, I must have passed out for quite a while. It scared the pants off me whenever I lost track of time like that. It felt as if chunks of my life had been stolen from me when that sort of thing happened.
She gasped in utter shock when her eyes caught sight of what was hiding beneath my clothing. There was a slight whimper coming from her gaping mouth.
My eyes unintentionally caught a glimpse of the mirror which wasn’t too far away from me. My entire chest had been covered in scratches. Scratches that spelt out the name I had come to be fearful of. There wasn’t a flood of pain ripping through my body.
I should have felt exactly that way. But I guess when you were sort of crazy that type of thing doesn’t really register in your conscious brain.
‘You silly, silly child! You shouldn’t do this to yourself!’ Molly sobbed bitterly, pressing a hand on my shoulder, pushing some of her weight on me, as if to impress a point upon me.
‘What are you talking about? I don’t understand? I didn’t do this!’ I looked down at Molly, who was knelt before me with her hand plastered over her mouth to keep her from screaming out on top of her voice at me. ‘Really, I didn’t.’
Molly wasn’t dissuaded from thinking the worst. Her eyes were sore and swollen from all the waterworks. She must have utterly been convinced that I did this for kicks, or maybe to prove some sort of point.
‘What is it going to be next, John? Am I going to come home to find you in bathwater, drowned in a pool of your own blood?’ Molly cupped my chin in her hand, making sure that I could see her, in my face, speaking directly to me.
‘What do you want me to say to that? I didn’t do this to myself! I already told you that but you just won’t listen! Nobody listens!’ I raised my voice, screaming back at Molly in utter frustration.
‘Well, the doctor tells me you have not been very forthcoming. You are not fully cooperating with therapy. This stuff is hard work, John and you can't just slack off, and not give feedback when things get a little deep.’ Molly bowed her head, and hissed in disappointment.
‘You have to let Doctor Salter help you deal with this! You have to!’ Molly added.
SEVEN
JOHN
‘Another waste of NHS time! Does he even know he is flushing tax payer’s money down the bog? How... How do you even get through to him when he is so damn obstinate?’ Molly scratched the edge of her chin anxiously.
‘These things don’t always work as smoothly as expected. It takes time for people to feel comfortable enough to open up. Your boy clearly does have some trust issues, and it might take a while to crack that recalcitrant exterior of his. But I am confident that we will find the chinks in his armor of protectiveness which he has put up all around himself.’ Doctor Salter beamed a confident smile at Molly, hoping to calm the nervousness that was eating away at her.
‘That doesn’t sound so bad. I mean - The way you put it puts my mind slightly at ease.’ Molly swiped on the face of her iPhone.
‘Slightly?’ Doctor Salter raised her eyebrows at Molly's analogy.
‘Uh sorry! I didn’t mean to talk down what you are doing with John, honest!’ Molly blurted out an instinctively defensive reply.
Doctor Salter's lips went flat and her probing eyes fixated on Molly's face, as she glared crossly at her. It was almost as if the Doctor was putting Molly on the naughty chair for daring to put a dampener on what she considered to be brilliant work.
The older woman with the notepad pressed against her chest had the ego the size of ten cathedrals all rolled up into one mountainous self-gratifying personality which was doctor Salter.
‘That’s okay. I was just messing with you. The look on your face,’ Doctor Salter giggled mischievously. “The boy has got post traumatic stress which has the nasty side effect of making his mind create delusions. The delusions are his go to place when things get tough. He will have to cooperate more with therapy for a more in-depth diagnosis.”
Molly somehow saw some gratification in those last few words from the child psychologist’s lips. Perhaps, knowing that more could be done was better than hitting an immovable brick wall. That was Molly in a nutshell, ever the caring one, always wearing her heart on her sleeve.
My mashed up mind was to become her cause to seek a solution to, no matter how painstaking such a search would be. She was a staunch guardian, standing solidly behind me. I Often wished that we were linked by more than a few bits of paperwork transferring guardianship from my deceased parents to my current care giver, Molly.
She was a good one.
Me, I wasn’t sure that I was anywhere near resembling a bastion of purity.
The thoughts that plagued the core of my mind were not the things that should be displayed in public. There would certainly have been nods of disapproval if such dark impulses were to be shared with someone other than myself.
This is why I tried not to say much. This was why I was a master of the art of tongue-tie when people tried to get beyond the surface. There was nothing but rot and decay beneath the apparently calm persona, which I had rehearsed repeatedly, and religiously incorporated into my psyche.
‘Get that belt wrapped around your waist, John! We don’t want your face smashing into the rear window, do we?’ Molly threw her face back to give me a telling off.
‘I was going to do that. You just never give me the chance to do anything before you pile in with all the aggravation,’ I hissed contemptuously, dragging my backside along the face of the leather seat, edging towards the right.
I always loved seating on the right. The seat was slightly more elevated than the left which had been flattened from the shopping that Molly usually dumped there.
I clicked the seat belts into place, and leaned backwards to rest my already agitated head. The hornet’s nest had been kicked, back at Doctor Salter’s office, and I had barely escaped the session without it escalating into something deeply regrettable for the both of us.
I hadn’t clawed at the Doctor’s arm or left scratches on her pale, loose-hanging skin on this occasion. I could recall having her skin under my nails. The blood was still wet on my finger tips when I had awoken from the frenzied state I had fallen into, on account of Doctor Salter putting me under hypnosis.
If I had sunk my talons any deeper, she most certainly would have needed stitches. The Doctor’s wounds were a few millimeters away from becoming nasty gashes. Restraint had kicked in somehow, and stopped myself.
Orderlies were called in, but they did not get in early enough.
I heard the piercing screams that erupted from my mouth, but it did not feel like that was me. I did not feel in control of anything. I felt hidden behind clouds of raw animal instinct, lashing out for reasons I could not place my of fingertips on.
Forcing what was hiding in the depth of my broken memories did not work out so well in that previous session.
EIGHT
JOHN
There had been lots of prodding, and unrestrained poking at whatever the grownups in the white overalls had thought to be the source of my seemingly unreasonable behaviour. Unreasonable - I believe that was the word Doctor Salter had batted back and forth with her colleague once or twice, probably not aware that my
eyes and ears were wide open and trained on them.
Bright lights burned the surface of my tired eyes, forcing me to squeeze the unyielding flaps of skin which hung over my eyeballs shut. I only managed to push them halfway shut. Apparently exhaustion had dulled my reflexes and gotten the better of me.
My head bumped against the window next to me, as the car I was in came to a skidding halt. I was often used to taking the odd nap in the backseat, as Molly was often a more reserved and meticulously composed driver. She wasn’t one to cut corners, or jump into the next lane, ahead of another vehicle. She barely ever raised a fist in anger whenever some other guy in some other car pulled a ridiculous move to get ahead of her.
Some drunken idiot had probably driven in front of us on this occasion? Surely, that must have been why she put so much force behind the wheels and took a sharp swerve into an adjacent lamppost? The long, broad base of the steely bulb holder was the only thing standing between us and oblivion. The sound of screeching tyres and smoldering rubber from the sheer force of the friction between rubber and concrete made my stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot.
My face must have been ghostly white, or I was sure it was, had I been able to catch a snapshot of it. It was one of those situations when you knew that the reaper had come calling and maybe, just maybe your number was up.
We could easily have ended up dead in a ditch somewhere at the bottom of the river, beneath the bridge we were about to cross.
‘Are you guys okay? Can you hear me in there?’ A deep male voice boomed in our ears, as strong manly fists pounded hastily against the front window of the car, on the driver’s side.
Muffled, high-pitched noises drummed ceaselessly on the inside of my ears. I could barely make out what the noises were. The noises whooshed like wild winds, drowning out everything else. My fingernails dug into the flesh of my palms as I anticipated the worst.
The shock was overwhelming and paralyzing all at once. Focusing in such a situation was difficult - And was even more difficult for a clueless young boy like myself.
‘Boy! Boy! Are you hurt?’ Same male voice cried out with greater urgency in his tone.
The fog of desperation had indeed gotten thicker, gathering more intensely before those deep blue eyes on the other side of the cold glass. I had shut my eyes for a few minutes to avoid the light.
When I eventually forced them open, It seemed a few seconds had morphed into half an hour. It was winter and the frost was merciless at that time of the year. The stinging cold drove numbing chills through the tips of my small fingers. I could have killed for some warm chocolate drink. Something piping hot with steam dancing on the surface of the sweet liquid drink.
‘Wake up boy! You need to wake up now!’ Hands banged harder against the glass, urging me to get my shit together.
‘Cough... Cough…’ I held a fist over my mouth, as thin plumes of smoke gushed subtly into my nostrils, stuffing my chest with an uncomfortable congestive feeling. I pulled at the zip that was so close to my chin. Molly always made me zip my jacket all the way up.
It keeps the cold out, she often said.
Now, the damn thing was helping me choke to death even faster. I was scared of many things but the feeling of helplessness was the one that I could scarcely face up to with a smiley face. I was young but not a complete imbecile. I could tell when things were bad and when things had gotten from bad to absolutely critical.
‘Molly. Molly, can you wake up. We need to get out. The car is filling up with smoke.’ My little hands tugged on the edge of Molly's collar.
My eyes froze at the sight of red stains sprayed sparsely over the white fur of Molly's leather jacket. My mind overloaded with all sorts of negative thoughts, filling me with grim expectations regarding her immediate welfare. Assuming she wasn’t already dead on the spot where she sat behind the wheel, hands slackened on either side of her unusually still body.
I jerked myself, lunging forward to get a better look at the state of my current minder/legal guardian. That proved to be a Herculean task for someone my size, considering that the strength of the belt wrapped around my waist was holding me captive in the exact spot where I was sat. Getting out of those restraints was going to take more brute force than my slender muscles could muster.
The lock on the belt was jammed - I was pinned down in a bad situation. I could barely see beyond the windscreen which hand been blacked out by the soot and smoke that seeped through the mangled bonnet of Molly's car.
‘Get down! Do it now!’ The lone male voice on the outside of the car beckoned with great authority behind his cadence. I couldn’t hear the words. I managed to see his lips move though. Turns out being bounced around from foster home to foster home had its uses. I had been amongst children with varying range of disability in the past - after my parents had passed. I picked up a thing or two from the deaf ones, useful things like sign language.
The shiny end of shimmery metal shoved past the top of my head, missing my temple by inches. I could have got it between the eyes if not for sharp thinking and my dexterity - And maybe luck might have had something to do with that too. Not that I would associate the word - lucky - with myself. My life story was the entire antithesis of good luck.
My eyes caught sight of the image of a green serpent on a bulky arm. The arm of someone a lot stronger than a scrawny, pale boy, defenseless against the awful tide of mishap that had set himself and his minder up for certain oblivion. The chiseled arm smelt of fresh plaster and alcohol.
The lights clung to the shafts of short hair above the approaching mans face. I could not tell if he was friend or foe; angel or demon. More smoke rushed into the car, funneling through the gaping hole that the short-haired guy had emerged from. His fingers yanked on the straps that were holding me down, ‘Damn it. The belt won't budge.’
‘We are going to die, aren't we?’ Hot tears streamed down my face, as those calm, lucid words ejected from between my frayed lips. My nerves had not gone haywire yet, but raw emotions bubbled up in my chest, making it harder to inhale.
‘Real optimist, aren't you boy?’ Short-haired man's steady voice reeled, as he let out a slight but deliberate chuckle.
‘You cant help us, can you? You can leave and save yourself, you know?’ My palms went over my nose to keep the fumes from getting into my lungs.
I could hear a brief pause in our would-be savior's breathing and then a deep sigh ripped through the silence that ensued.
‘Look, you don’t know me, or what my intentions are! Whatever happened to you to make you this wound up and uptight?’ Grunts of frustration echoed from above the square jaw, face obscured behind the fumes. ‘I am going to get you out. That is all you need to focus on right now.’
‘Grown ups always lie when things get bad and they get scared. You don’t have to act like you're not.’ I batted some home truths back at the voice that had engaged me in conversation.
There was a tear on the strap of the belt that had held me down. Then I heard it rip further. Short-haired man must have cut it with a pocket knife of some sort. I had felt the warm breath from his nostrils brush over my face. He did not bother to finish the job with the sharp tool in his possession. He opted for brutish force and tugged on the belt with such vigour that it ripped in half at the seams where it had been partially cut.
Without uttering another word, I found myself being flung through the window, tumbling quickly through the air and eventually landing on my side. I felt bruised on my rib area. Perhaps a bone had splintered? I wasn’t sure if I had punctured a lung but my side pulsated with debilitating pain.
Tongues of fire started to rise and race along the trail of leaking fuel around the car. The spectre of death was already hovering low. I didn’t want Molly or the guy that had dove into a burning car to rescue us to be burnt to a pile of dust. But my feelings was nothing but mundane musings to the wheels of faith as they played out before my eyes.
I dragged myself across the ground, back into harms way.
I could not stand with the sharp pain in my side so I resulted to crawling through the dirt. The walls of despair came crashing in hard and fast, as reasonable doubt crushed any faint feelings of hope that lingered at the forefront of my mind.
I saw the windows crack. I saw fire mushroom and engulf the car, blowing the doors off their hinges. I was knocked to my back again. This time I lost consciousness. There was a dull, consistent ringing in my ears when I had awoken to find myself laid out on a bed.
It had steel railings on either side and monotone linen draped over a standard single mattress. There were some paintings of bears and other things that most other children would have found fascinating - They just seemed to ring hollow in my mind, holding very little interest to me.
I shimmied off the bed and sauntered through an empty hallway. There was a thickly built nurse behind the desk, by the time I had gotten to the end of the hallway. Her face seemed buried in a brown folder which was held firmly over her face.
‘Hello!’ I croaked shyly, throwing both hands behind my back with my belly pushed out.
‘Oh, you are awake? You must want to know where your mom is?’ The Nurse raised a brow, looking intently at me.
‘Yes I am awake and I would like to know where she is?’ I nodded in agreement to what was being said to me.
There was a brief pause. She did not give an immediate further response to my enquiry and swung the chair across the space behind the counter - towards the flat screen panel behind her. She played a little with the keyboard and then climbed off the chair which she was perched on.
‘You are John? John Bishop, yes?’ The nurse tugged on the frame of her spectacle, pulling them closer to her face as if to get a better view of the slender boy before her.
