by Al K. Line
"Of course not, no. But you still need to take care of yourself. This isn't over yet, not by a long way."
"You're telling me. I know we've got a lot to deal with, but at least she's back. So let her sleep."
Amanda let the voices drift away. She was hallucinating again, dreaming of things she would have called familiar, but were now just there to torment her, to taunt her into thinking that if she opened her eyes she would see Dale and Peter, rather than a padded cell or an endless procession of women that looked just like her: half-dead, the same as her.
~~~
"Okay, this is getting ridiculous now, it's been another whole morning, surely she must wake up soon? Won't she need a pee or something to eat?"
"I dunno, maybe it's just her body trying to cope. She's been through the wringer and no mistake. That damn place is an abomination. Those poor women. Well, at least we got her out, or she got herself out I suppose. She's not looking better though, it's like she's wasting away there."
"Should we move her into the bedroom?"
"No, I don't want to move her unless we have to. The sofa is comfy enough, let her sleep."
Meow.
"Oh, hello, Woz. How you doing, little man? Ow, bugger. Someone needs to clip those claws of yours. Haha, good boy."
"Well, at least Wozzy has perked up. I've never seen a cat eat so much."
"I know. He hasn't stopped since he got home. I'll have to go shopping, he's had all the tuna, six tins of sardines, and he even ate half a tin of baked beans."
"He's just building his strength back up, aren't you, Woz?"
Meow, meow.
"See?"
"Hmm."
"Hey, is she moving? I'm sure I saw a smile then. Amanda? Are you awake?"
"Peter, be quiet, let her sleep."
"Sorry. Fancy a cuppa?"
"Please."
Amanda heard footsteps pad across the carpet. It sounded suspiciously like Peter was wearing his shoes in the living room. He wouldn't dare, would he? Hmm, maybe I'm feeling better? Can I be home? Is this really where I belong? Am I all right?
Amanda opened an eye just a little, as slowly as possible so she could still pretend to be asleep. She shifted her head slightly, aware for the first time that it was sunk into a nice soft pillow. It was a lovely bright day, the clouds not totally dominating the sky from what she could see out of the window. But it was the sight of Dale that she was most interested in.
He sat in the chair closest to the window, peering out at the garden. His profile was a little more stark than she had pictured it all these months, like a thinner version of the him she had either imagined or remembered, although thankfully it seemed like she had remembered, not merely dreamed.
Dale looked pale and stressed, with lines creasing his forehead. He was constantly fidgeting with his hands, wringing them like he could take away a deep trouble. He glanced over at her, but Amanda shut her eyes tight, hopefully before he saw. She couldn't face it, not yet, not any of it.
"It's okay, honey," whispered Dale, "you take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."
"Promise?"
"I promise. I love you, Amanda."
"I love you, Dale." Amanda was back to sleep moments later, the first time she'd slept with a smile on her face for almost five months.
Dale got up and adjusted the blanket, laying it loosely over her, not tucking it in, as when he'd done that Amanda had begun to thrash and wail in her sleep as though she was being strangled.
Dale went into the kitchen to drink his coffee with Peter. He was smiling too.
While Amanda slept the happiest sleep in a long time, her unconscious mind let the calming voices of Dale and Peter filter through, slowly weaving their way back into her memory, trying to repair the damage caused by months of drugs and hypnotic suggestion when she was in no state to fight the warping of her mind that entailed.
It would be a long journey back — if she ever made it.
How Long!?
Present Day
"Five months!? I thought it was about three," said Amanda, sitting on the bed next to Dale, feeling better than she could ever remember in terms of cleanliness. She was wrapped up in a heavy white dressing gown, a towel tight around her head and every inch of her scrubbed until she gleamed. Her shower took over an hour and Dale had ended up calling to her to check she was okay. She was better than okay, she felt almost like a human being with her own identity for the first time.
"No, it's been just over five months, and every day I've been trying to find a way to get you out but nothing has worked up until now."
"What do you mean? You knew where I was, right?"
"Well, yeah, but it wasn't as easy as that. It was in the future, so I couldn't exactly go to the authorities and try to explain, and besides, Hector was so goddamn rich that he had just about every politician and person in the police force in his pocket. It was the promise of a damn Hexad, it meant the place was strictly off-limits."
"People knew?" Amanda was shocked. Surely nobody would allow such craziness to go on?
"Not exactly. They just knew it was a no-go zone, that the person who owned it was heavily invested in Hexads and if they so much as stepped foot through the gate then it would mean no Hexad for them. But they didn't know it was Hector, nobody knew who was really behind the Hexads. Ugh, you should have seen the craziness once that billionaire did a jump live on TV. Do you remember seeing the big screens in the town center?" Dale turned to her, clearly not wanting to freak her out or force memories on her that weren't coming naturally — he had been gentle in the days since she had finally got up off the sofa. It was obvious to both of them that things were far from normal, and may never be again.
"The town center? Um, no, not really. Should I?" Amanda turned to Dale. By the look of concern on his face it was clear that she was far from being the person she was supposed to be.
"It doesn't matter, you just need to rest. Don't worry about anything apart from eating and getting well. You'll be right as rain in no time. How about some breakfast?"
"Ooh, yes please, now you're talking. Can we have the works? All I've been eating for months is rubbery scrambled eggs and crushed pills."
"You got it, baby." Dale smiled and kissed her gently on the forehead. He frowned, shock on his face. "I'll go make the breakfast, you take your time."
I must seem like a zombie, he acts like I'm not even the same person any longer. I guess I'm not.
What Now?
Present Day
Dale walked into the kitchen, deep worry lines creasing his brow.
Peter sat at the kitchen table, stroking Wozzy. He'd let himself in again as usual.
"What's up with you? She's awake at last, isn't she? And she looked a lot better last night before you took her to bed. She even sounded almost normal."
"It's not her."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I hadn't noticed until now with all the stress and I hadn't actually, you know, got close enough to give her a kiss. Plus, she stank of cabbage and that weird bleach smell hospitals always have. She's clean now, and it isn't her. I've made a terrible mistake, Peter. I've brought the wrong Amanda home."
"Shit."
"Yeah, you can say that again."
"Shit."
"Peter, I didn't mean... Oh, never mind. Bloody hell, what am I going to do now?"
"Get used to her?"
"What, and leave Amanda in that terrible place? I don't think so."
Amanda hugged herself tight, wrapping her arms around the thick dressing gown, and crept back into the bedroom. She'd gone to ask if she could skip having eggs but got a lot more than that.
I'm not her, I'm not her.
Who am I? This isn't real, this isn't real. I'm back at The Ward. They'll look after me, they'll make me well. I'm ill, I need help. What's happening to me?
Help me someone.
Amanda fell to the floor.
Is That Me?
; 37 Years Future
Amanda sat in her chair, playing dominoes by herself, not understanding the numbers or how the game should be played, just enjoying the clack as she placed the tiles down, making pretty black lines across the scuffed table-top.
She lifted her head as the screams and howls of the women filtered through into her drug-filled mind, turning only when she heard the nurse shout and then all there was was pain, like someone was hammering at her skull with a tiny, sharp hammer. It was the buzzing, the buzz, buzz, buzzing coming from all around, stabbing at her mind, making her retreat further into herself.
She parted her lank hair from her eyes with fingernails cut short by Nurse Emily for her own protection and lifted eyes dark with confusion to across the room where the women were shouting at the window.
An Amanda clambered through a window and then dropped out of sight, taken by the darkness just as Amanda's mind had been so many months ago.
Amanda returned to her game.
Clack, clack, clack.
Such nice patterns, such nice dots. She wondered what they meant. Maybe they were trying to tell her something, but she couldn't decipher the message?
It didn't matter, nothing did. As long as she didn't have to think then she was happy.
Wasn't she?
Yeah, but no
Present Day
"Hey, are you okay? You had a bit of a nasty fall there?" Dale looked deeply concerned, but Amanda found it hard to appreciate his worry, she was preoccupied with what she'd just overheard.
She wasn't her, wasn't the right Amanda. Did that mean she was somebody else entirely? Did it mean everything she had been told over the last few months was true? She'd just been hallucinating, making up incredible stories? No, of course not. This meant that what she had believed really was true, that there were other versions of her and that time travel existed. It did, didn't it?
Or was she still lost to herself, truly lost and just letting her mind make up incredible stories to cope with the fact that she was maybe not even really here, but was strapped down tight in an asylum somewhere?
"Amanda? Amanda? Can you hear me?" Dale peered at her closely. Peter hung back at the door to the bedroom, not wanting to intrude on what was clearly a delicate situation.
"I'm okay. No, no I'm not okay. I heard you, I heard you two talking in the kitchen. You said I'm not me. If I'm not me then WHO AM I!?" Amanda couldn't help it, she was screaming, up and waving her arms around wildly, shouting and staring at first Dale then Peter, defiant and angry. Angry for what they'd said, for what had happened to her. For everything.
"Damn. Look, it's okay, Amanda, everything will be okay. Things have just got a little mixed up is all. Look, let me explain. You need to hear what's been happening, why things are the way they are. We can help, right, Peter?" Dale turned to their friend, eyes pleading, looking for a way to calm her down.
"Right. It's all got a bit messed up but don't worry, we'll explain."
"Explain? Explain!? How can you explain me being locked away with all those women, all those, those... Amandas, unless what Hector said is true and they weren't really me, they were just other patients that needed to have the special care I had, that had to have the lumbar punctures to relieve the mess it was making of our brains? Ugh, I don't know what's real any longer, I don't even know if I'm really here."
Dale and Peter exchanged worried glances. This was the most Amanda had said since they'd brought her home. She hadn't spoken more than a word or two since she'd arrived until this morning, and now it had gone horribly wrong.
"Listen. Look at me, Amanda." Dale waited until Amanda looked him in the eye then said, "You are you, okay? We don't know exactly what has been going on at that place they kept you, but I do know that they were trying to mess with your mind, to make you believe things that aren't true, so they could keep you there, forever. You have to trust me. Can you do that?"
I can't even trust myself, but this is Dale, he's real. He'll help me to understand, I know he will.
"I trust you, Dale, and you, Peter." Amanda smiled at them both, tried to act normal — she just wished she knew what that was.
"Okay. Now, how about we have some breakfast? Then we can tell you what's been happening and you can tell us what's been going on inside The Ward. Okay?"
Amanda nodded. "Okay. Can I please get dressed now?"
"Oh, god, sorry. Yes, of course. Come on, Peter, let's give the lady some privacy."
"Sorry, Amanda, unless you need a hand with getting dressed? I'd be happy to help."
"Haha, some things never change do they?" laughed Amanda.
Dale just stared at Peter. "What? Thought it might lighten the mood a little."
Maybe I'm not so crazy after all. This all feels familiar, this feels real.
Dale closed the door as he and Peter left to make breakfast.
Amanda unwrapped the towel from her head and opened the wardrobe doors. The clothes inside were familiar yet not quite right. The colors were a little different to the items she remembered, the style slightly more somber than she liked, and there was a distinct lack of shoes.
Then she remembered. It was because it wasn't her wardrobe, not really, just as it wasn't her Dale, and Peter wasn't quite the Peter she knew.
How am I going to get home? Where is home? When is home?
Lost but Found
37 Years Future
Amanda shuffled back into the dormitory with the other women when it was time. They hardly needed to be told — for the majority of them it was so much a part of their routine that they moved on auto-pilot, the same as her.
The incident in the rec room was all but forgotten by the rest of the women, but something had finally stirred inside of Amanda. She'd been lost for so long, unaware of what was happening, unaware of who she really was. It was the only way to cope.
As her meds were lowered, Amanda had a catastrophic reaction to the reality she was imprisoned within and had seizures — the lies she had been indoctrinated with simply didn't hold once she experienced life without severe medication and her brain crumpled under the onslaught.
That was weeks ago, and since then she had been dosed up to the eyeballs, just as many Amandas before her had been and continued to be. Some coped better than others, able to believe the lies they were told, the subtle and not-so-subtle manipulations of their minds under hypnosis that allowed them to convince themselves they were ill and weren't simply imprisoned in a madhouse full of unfortunate Amandas taken from their own realities and used as food for the machines.
Since her brief foray into reality she had been stuck deep down — partially through a potent chemical cocktail and partially through her own thoughts retreating far away from anything that could risk the tenuous strands of reality still clinging to hope at the dark recesses of her mind.
Amanda undressed numbly, muttering about cats and windows, unaware she had said anything at all.
Soon it was lights out and the women were silent — no noise was to be tolerated once the switch was flipped and partial darkness, never total, enveloped them. Each faded into their own dark dreams, at least those not highly medicated. A blissful blanket of nothingness came to those some felt were lucky to have such oblivion.
Sleep came easily — even when she was awake she wasn't really conscious or fully aware. Within a few seconds of Amanda's head hitting the pillow the glorious emptiness took her and dragged her down into the depths of the perfect escape — oblivion.
Throughout the night she was perfectly still, never stirring, never moaning or twitching, comatose as only a drug-fueled sleep permitted. But early in the morning, as the light changed and the birds could be heard singing their dawn chorus, something began to stir. Amanda's mind had filtered through the evening's excitement and found herself wanting. Memories and emotions flooded back into her brain and she woke with a start, no longer able to sleep through the onslaught of a past that had been locked down for months and she had been told was nothing more than a
lie — the ravings of a sick woman.
She was back. Amanda, a woman who had jumped through time in many incarnations, who had seen The Chamber and had recently found out she owned a cat named Wozzy and was lost in the future when she should be back with Dale, arguing over whose turn it was to cook breakfast and laze about in bed on Saturday morning until she couldn't stand the chatter of the birds any longer and got up to refill the feeders.
"This is who I am," shouted Amanda, before she clamped a hand over her mouth and quickly lay back down, pulling the itchy blanket up over her head so nobody watching the cameras could see her smiling.
Keep it together. If they think that was anything but a dream then they'll pump you so full of pills you'll be rattling around the place for weeks.
Amanda giggled into her pillow like a schoolgirl.
"I'm back," she whispered as quietly as she could. She needed the comfort of her own voice to reassure her that she wasn't still under the influence of the medication. Amanda tried not to laugh out loud.
A plan was needed, and fast. If she didn't get out of The Ward then by the time breakfast was over she would be semi-comatose again and good for nothing. What did they give the women? It was certainly strong. Amanda tried to think back over what she assumed was many months since she'd first found herself falling to the floor in Hector's office, Laffer looming over her like a hairy statue, Wozzy clawing at her belly before he ran off with Hector and Laffer grabbing for him but managing to get out of the small open window and disappearing for good. She hoped he was all right, poor little guy.
Her time in The Ward was nothing but a blur. All she could remember were her meetings with Hector where she seemed to be at her most lucid, her mind clearing throughout the day but then often having to be restrained by Laffer part way through her session as she often lost the plot completely, refusing to cow-tow to him like he was some kind of god.
