Tainted

by Alexandra Moody

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The therapist’s office is quite different to the rest of the ARC. Most places down here have a clinical feel to them, with rigid metal chairs and tables, or stark white walls and floors. This room, however, is all beige tones. It has a warm, soft feel to it and seems suspiciously inviting.

  As I enter, the therapist introduces herself as Dr. Foster, though she asks me to call her Simone. Her voice is pleasant, and similar to the other therapists I’ve seen, in that it almost has a soothing quality to it.

  It doesn’t matter how understanding her voice is though, I already see this woman as the enemy and don’t trust her.

  She offers me a seat on one of the beige leather chairs in the room and then proceeds to sit down in a similar one across from me. The seat is incredibly comfortable, but I cannot bring myself to relax into it. My back stays rigid and my eyes are alert. The session hasn’t even started yet and I’m mentally geared up as though I’m about to be attacked.

  ‘Is it alright if I call you Elle?’ Dr. Foster asks, as she gets comfortable in her seat. She’s younger than the other therapists I’ve had before, though it’s been a while since I’ve been close enough to anyone taken to warrant any sort of therapy.

  Simone watches me, waiting patiently for my response. I can’t be certain how understanding she is though. It’s difficult to distinguish her patient, waiting face from what could be an irritated or angry face. Her eyes have held the same look of consideration and interest since the moment I entered the room.

  I try to avoid eye contact with her. I’ve always had this irrational fear that with one look a therapist will see into the depths of my soul. Instead, I stare at the bookcase that runs across the wall behind her, feigning interest in the titles that run along the many book spines.

  I don’t want to be here, and I definitely don’t want to answer any questions she has. Unfortunately, unless I want to spend my life in therapy, I know I have to engage with this woman.

  ‘Elle’s fine,’ I respond to Simone indifferently.

  It’s funny how two simple words can send her into a frenzy of typing on her tablet. Was it my tone of voice? My lack of eye contact? Maybe the words used alone are worthy of analysis?

  After a few seconds she looks up from her tablet. ‘So, what brings you to therapy today?’ she asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.

  I highly doubt that a message on my cuff is the answer she wants to hear, so I tell her the truth. ‘My friend Sebastian was … taken,’ I say, my voice stumbling over the word ‘taken.’

  She nods her head up and down several times before she continues. ‘You were fostered with his family for several years. Would you say that you were close to Sebastian?’

  My fingers, which are clenched in tight little fists on my lap, seem to clench impossibly tighter upon hearing his name. ‘We were close,’ I respond quietly. Even closer than she knows I imagine, but I daren’t tell her just how much he means to me. Especially not when I have so much difficulty admitting the truth of how I feel to myself.

  My eyes drift over and settle on the lampshade that sits on the small round table next to her chair. It emits a soft golden glow, quite different to the other lights in the ARC. Like the rest of the room the light seems to radiate a feeling of safety and comfort. It’s as though they think one golden light will make me open up to some stranger about my deepest, darkest secrets.

  ‘What would you like to get out of your sessions with me?’ Simone asks.

  I sit in silence as I consider her words. I don’t want her help, but saying that will only prolong this process. I learnt that the hard way with the therapist who saw me after April was taken.

  Assuming this woman can help me, what do I want? She can’t change that Sebastian was taken and there’s nothing she or anyone else can do to bring him back. What can talking to her give me that action cannot?

  ‘I want to be able to move on,’ I say quietly. The words are hard to say and make me feel like I’ve plunged a dagger into my chest. Staying here and moving on was never the plan if one of us was taken.

  Simone nods and starts quickly tapping away at her tablet again. I think I’ve given her the answer she wanted, but it feels a far cry away from what I want inside.

  After therapy I head to school, which is bad. Very bad. People watch me constantly. They watch me in class, between classes and they even stare at me as I wash my hands in the bathroom. It’s like I’m some horrible accident. They know it’s bad and they shouldn’t look, but they just can’t seem to tear their eyes away.

  ‘Screw ‘em,’ Gemma says to me at lunch. ‘If they want to stare they obviously haven’t got anything better to do.’ With Gemma by my side, glaring at anyone who even thinks about looking at me, the staring is almost bearable.

  Unfortunately it’s not just the staring that’s disturbing. It’s the sickly sweet kindness from everyone, especially the teachers. Even Kate is being nice and it seriously makes me want to vomit.

  Eventually the bell rings signalling the end of the day. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders as I exit school. I don’t need to keep pretending to be okay.

  Gemma catches up with me as I slowly traipse down the hallway towards the Atrium.

  ‘How are you after today?’ she asks.

  I raise my eyebrows as though she’s just asked the silliest question ever.

  ‘Yeah people suck,’ she says. ‘So, no basketball tonight?’

  ‘No. I’m behind on my community service hours. Besides, I can’t really bring myself to face it,’ I reply. ‘I’m just so worried about him Gem!’

  ‘I’m certain nothing bad happens to the tainted. They just have to live somewhere else is all.’ She says it in an attempt to comfort me, but her repetition of the Council line isn’t exactly cheering.

  ‘It doesn’t change he’s no longer here,’ I respond quietly. There’s nothing she can say that will make that fact better. I glance over my shoulder to check the corridor is clear before I continue. ‘Have you ever wondered if it’s possible to go after the tainted?’

  Gemma grabs my arm roughly pulling me to a stop. She glances over her own shoulder before turning back to me. ‘Elle that’s crazy! Don’t say that… Don’t even think that!’ Her voice is quiet, but her words are firm. ‘No one follows after them. It’s too dangerous, you could get sick too!’

  ‘Sorry—yeah, you’re right—of course you’re right.’ I shake my head at the idiocy of what I’ve just said, but I feel confused. While it sounds idiotic, for some reason, it doesn’t seem like such a stupid idea.

  Gemma is reassured by my response and lets go of the firm grip she has on my arm. She still seems upset though. Just the mere mention of attempting to find someone tainted has her giving me the silent treatment—I guess most people would react the same way. As we continue walking I can’t stop thinking about it. I should be terrified at the idea of trying to leave, but instead the idea comforts me and for the first time since Sebastian left I feel hopeful.

  I say goodbye to Gemma at the Atrium and continue on to the Aged Care Ward, where I’m assigned to do my hours today. The ward is shunted to the far corner of the Hospital Wing, so it’s a long trek to reach it from school.

  The entrance to the ward is fairly nondescript. A plain pair of swinging doors and a small plastic sign on the wall with the ward name embossed across it. I take a moment to compose myself before entering. While reading to the elderly is not my dream assignment, one of the teachers at school recommended it, as it would look good on my apprenticeship application. So today marks the first of many community service hours for me over here.

  The doors swing easily open and I walk into a sparse reception. A simple desk and several plastic bucket seats lined along the wall are all that occupy the space. The whole place reeks of disinfectant.

  A small, middle-aged woman sits behind the reception desk. Her head is bowed down over a tablet and she appears to be completely absorbed in whatever s
he is reading.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, as I approach the desk. I hate having to interrupt her when she’s obviously so riveted to her tablet screen, especially when even to my own ears my voice is completely lacking any enthusiasm.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asks bluntly. It’s clear from her tight set lips and her piercing stare that this woman is not to be messed with. It takes me a second to recover from the shock of her brusque attitude.

  ‘I’m from the school,’ I finally say. ‘I’m here to log some community service hours.’

  ‘Name?’ the woman requests sternly.

  ‘Elle Winters.’

  ‘Sign in here.’ She points towards the CommuSensor on her computer, before focusing down on her tablet again. I bump my cuff against the sensor and wait for further instructions.

  ‘You’re in room 36 with Mrs. Mayberry today. The room’s just down the end of that hallway and on the right,’ she says, still looking at her tablet and shaking her hand over in the direction of a corridor directly to the left of her desk.

  After several seconds of silence I realise this is all the guidance she’ll be giving me for my session today. I say thank you quietly to the woman, not wishing to disturb her again, and set off in the direction she had waved to.

  When I reach the door with the shiny metal number 36 on it I stop. The door is open and inside I can see an old woman lying back on her bed, sleeping quietly. I go to walk into the room, but my feet are cemented to the ground and they refuse to budge. I feel torn. I’m here to sit with this woman, but I can’t bring myself to walk in there and disturb her when she looks so peaceful.

  Before I can make up my mind, the door across the hallway bursts open. Two male nurses appear, attempting to drag an old man out of his room and into the hallway.

  ‘C’mon Dr. Wilson, you can’t put your testing off any longer,’ one of them shouts over the man’s desperate struggles. I clamber backwards to the opposite wall.

  ‘No!’ he screams. ‘No! You can’t take me!’ he yells even louder. ‘I know about the tainted. I practically diagnosed it! Don’t you think I’d know if I was tainted?’

  ‘Yes Dr. Wilson, but we still have to follow protocol,’ the nurse says.

  The old man continues to struggle and then his eyes lock on mine. ‘Don’t let them take me,’ he pleads with me. The nurse roughly tugs at his arms.

  ‘No!’ The old man begins yelling again. He lunges forward and somehow manages to break free of the nurses’ grasp causing all three of them to fall to the ground. The man scrambles to his feet and then stumbles towards me with surprising speed. I’m terrified, but rooted to the spot as he grabs me by the arms.

  ‘Don’t let them take me,’ he whispers again, as he leans in close to my face. I can clearly see the panic in his eyes. ‘Don’t let them take me. I’m not taint…’

  Before the old man can finish one of the nurses rips him away from me and pins him against the wall. The other nurse brings out a syringe and injects the man in the arm. Immediately his whole body begins to slouch and his yelling dies down to a quiet mutter, as he allows himself to be dragged away.

  One of the nurses looks over his shoulder at me as he leaves. His eyes are threatening and my feet, which had moments ago felt glued to the floor, begin walking like they have a mind of their own. Before I know it I’m running back through the reception.

  The woman at the desk shouts something after me, but I don’t listen. Instead I make a beeline for the exit. People stare as I run through the hospital. I can feel their eyes burning into my skin with disapproval.

  More than once I hear yells of ‘slow down’ or ‘no running,’ but I need to get away from here as quickly as I can.

  Once I’m out of the Hospital Wing I fall against a wall, leaning one hand against it for support. Short, shallow breaths grip me and I am unable to fill my lungs. My chest is tight and feels like it’s burning inside. I firmly press one of my hands against it as I try to calm down, but I still can’t seem to breathe.

  I close my eyes tightly shut and try to force deep breaths of air back into my lungs. With my voice quaking, I count to ten. As I count my breathing slows and gradually the air manages to make it down into my lungs.

  When my breath is steady I open my eyes again. The hallway is empty and I feel relieved no one witnessed my breakdown. I’m quick to huddle my arms around my body and begin the walk back to my room.

  I’ve always heard they use brute force when people refuse to attend their testing. But having seen it with my own eyes, especially on someone so old, has shaken me to the core.

  I’m grateful to find my room empty when I return. Quinn has been so kind to me since Sebastian was taken, but she looks at me like I’m a fragile piece of porcelain china teetering precariously over the edge of a table.

  I throw myself on my bed and burrow my way under the sheets. For a minute I stare at the ceiling and try to imagine where Sebastian is right now, but my thoughts are dark and bring me too much pain. I roll up into a ball and try to block them out, desperate to simply fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. I toss and turn restlessly though. My whole body is covered in sweat and I can’t seem to completely nod off, but I’m unable to stay completely awake either.

  As I drift turbulently in and out of consciousness I am aware of Sebastian’s voice echoing through my mind.

  ‘You promised you would come for me,’ his voice whispers, betrayed.