Poison in the Well Read online

  But April would pop in and see me whenever finishing her shift. It started as a quick ‘Goodnight, is there anything I can get the sister to get you?’ to ‘Hey stranger, anything you need from me?’ We became close, so quickly. I couldn’t remember a time that I felt so attached to one person, to have even had the opportunity to talk to the same person on so many occasions.

  As I lay in my bed with only the distant bleeping from someone else’s monitors keeping me from drifting to my other world, I tried to remember something. Anything. I recalled sporadic memories of my life. Most of them involving running away from something, being dragged along by the only other person I remember being part of my life; the man I called my father.

  But aside from that, my life resembled nothing more than a blank canvas with a few errant splodges that the artist of my existence had made in one moment of anger, frustration and lack of inspiration.

  The first time I remember crying since waking from my coma was when I realised, most worryingly, that I couldn’t even remember my name.

  April had asked me numerous times and I always laughed off the fact that I must have been suffering from some form of post-traumatic amnesia. But in that moment of solitude and complete clarity, I became rigid and cold at the thought of not knowing who I was.

  The simplest and first thing I should have ever been given – my name – was nowhere.

  A violent chill gripped me. I pulled the thin sheet up to my chin and, drawing my knees to my chest and turning onto my aching and bruised side, I tried to sleep.

  But it never came.

  *****

  My anonymity plagued me for the next two days. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. And I didn’t even want to talk to anyone, as April was the only one that I wanted to speak to and she didn’t show for that time either. I was at a loss for what to do. Actually being able to do anything was impossible; despite the amount of drugs that I believed the doctors were still pumping into me as I slept (from the conversations I overheard when I was in that happy place between being asleep and awake), I still found it hard to move. The searing pain that ripped through my sides whenever I tried to turn, or every time I had to try and take the embarrassingly slow walk down the hall to the bathroom, taught me to not want to move.

  I was trapped. I felt like a prisoner in my bed. I was starting to tire of looking at the plain four walls, and the smell of my own sweat on the bed sheets was now making me feel nauseous. I found myself trying to think of anything I possibly could to take my mind off of the absence of my own identity, trying to convince myself that my confusion was a direct effect of the trauma I had experienced and the drugs still in my system.

  I clenched my eyes shut when it all became too much, when the whispers in my head once again became louder. I tried to picture April’s face, willing her to walk through the door. Even one minute of her company would comfort me as much as a week’s worth of whatever substance they were drip-feeding into my veins.

  However, every time I closed my eyes, it wasn’t her face that appeared. Nor did I have the comfort of the White Room, it would seem. The world behind my eyes remained dark, until the shadows gave way to swirling clouds of red. A rouge mist gathered at my feet as I looked down. I knew I was asleep – or simply unconscious again – for the simple fact that I was on my feet and felt no pain.

  But where was I?

  The terrain before me became clearer, despite the thickening clouds above my head and around my ankles. The horizon gave way to tall hills and vast fields, their once-lush-green faces now broken, scarred. Deep cracks ran along the earth, from which the fierce red glow reflected across the sky now emanated. As I cast my eye across the world before me, it shimmered with the heat.

  I felt that I belonged there, wherever there was. But the place terrified me. I watched as thick black clouds dropped heavily from the sky, gathering together into one form. The form grew. It became elongated, gained height and bulk. I watched as the band of cloud and smoke became the image of a man. But not any living man; a monster shrouded in darkness, its features masked by a heavy black hood and cloak.

  And then it moved. It appeared to still be miles away, but still large enough for me to make out every movement. I began to calculate how large he would be by the time he reached me…

  I turned to run, to scream. But no sound or movement came. I looked down at my feet, only to see that the dark mist that had been swirling around my ankles were now twisted into many gnarly hands, holding me in place. I felt as though my feet were sinking into the ground, every minor struggle that I could muster only making my predicament worse.

  I looked up again to find the monstrous dark figure now so close, on the opposite side of the very field in which I stood, trapped.

  I mustered every morsel of strength I had, to try and run once more. But nothing.

  The phantom grew larger and closer still. He was so close now that I could make out a hand protruding from beneath the heavy cloak. The skin – or what was left of it – was bloodied and burnt, blisters bubbling where his knuckles should have been. The monster raised his arm, and suddenly I could make out an object in his fist that he now held aloft.

  I stared at the object as the monster drew nearer. With a twist in my gut, I realised that it was a human head. As I stared closer, the figure spun the head round so that I could see his face.

  The image was more than I could bear. I summoned every fibre of what was left of me to act, to bind together to make a sound. I felt my chest ache and my throat burn with the silent scream.

  In my head, no-one heard me. Not even myself.

  But then someone grabbed hold of my shoulder and shook me violently. I suddenly felt my breath catch in my throat, the familiar chill running through my chest. I felt fear. That’s when I knew that I was awake again. It took me a few more moments to dare open my eyes, but when I did I was back in my world of white. Not the weightless White Room, but the white-washed walls and beeping monitors of my hospital room.

  And where the dark phantom of my nightmare had been moments before, inches from my face, was now an angel with blonde hair and a ring of light around her head.

  Once I focused my eyes some more, the ring of lights receded back into the bright lamp in the corner of the room. The angel, however, remained.

  ‘Hey, are you okay? Talk to me, please…’ she said. ‘It’s okay, it’s me.’ April sounded almost as panicked as I felt. I mistook my own frantic breathing for hers.

  I lurched forward, not noticing the pain as a few of my stitches holding my side together were torn free, and wrapped my arms around her. I held her tight enough to feel her own heart beat against my chest.

  ‘I’m okay…’ I muttered breathlessly, ‘I’m okay, don’t worry.’

  *****

  A moment of true awkwardness existed between us as I pulled away from her, allowing my eyes to focus. She looked confused but, fortunately for me, not perturbed. At least, she didn’t show it if she was.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I offered as I sat back against my rapidly-flattening pillow. She shook her head, her way of telling me not to worry. Inside I was tearing at myself for being so stupid, so dramatic. It was only a dream after all! ‘I didn’t think you were here tonight,’ I said, trying to change the subject.

  ‘I wasn’t, but I was just passing and thought I’d drop this into you,’ she said, reaching into her satchel. She brought out a paper bag, bruised with grease stains. The smell of the melted cheese drifted into my nostrils, instantly awakening my senses and making my stomach growl. I suddenly realised that I hadn’t eaten for days. ‘I know I probably shouldn’t have, but…’

  April handed me the three-cheese-and-ham toasted wedge. The sudden rush of saliva made the corners of my jaw ache. ‘You shouldn’t have,’ I replied, ‘apparently they have me fasting for another seventy-two hours. Something to do with whatever rubbish they’ve pumped through me lately.’

  ‘You mean the drugs that have helped save your life?’ April teased.
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br />   ‘You say tomato, I say tom-ay-to…’ was my best offering. We both laughed, before the effort made me feel tired and I let my head flop back against the pillow again. The bed was far from comfy now; it was like a prison. My back was in agony; I was desperate to be able to just get up and walk around. My gaze fell sideways towards the floor. April managed to catch me just as my mind began to wander back to my dream…

  ‘Tell you what; I will leave it here,’ she said, placing the sandwich in the top drawer of the dresser next to me, ‘in case you get pecky during the night. I doubt it will affect any tests too much.’ She winked, making me smile again, despite it making my face ache.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t mention it. You sure you’re okay? I mean, what was that just then?’

  I couldn’t answer to begin with. I still hadn’t deciphered my vision enough to be able to make any sense of it myself.

  ‘A dream, that’s all.’

  ‘Just a dream? You sure? You don’t strike me as the kind of person who had dreams,’ she teased again, this time nudging her knuckles playfully against my shoulder.

  ‘I didn’t,’ I said without humour. ‘I mean, I always saw things but it was more than just a vision, if you know what I mean? I actually went somewhere. But it was the same place every time. But this time, just now…’ I shook my head, unable to find the words to explain my nightmare. How could I possibly tell her about a red world with flaming earth and demons forming out of billowing smoke?

  ‘Tell me about it,’ she said softly, placing a hand over mine. ‘I mean, only if you want to.’

  And so I did. It was the first time that I felt compelled to tell someone what was really going on in my head, and the places I seemed to drift off to. But I had spent a lifetime, it seemed, running from things that I couldn’t explain. Not simply because of my fear for being an outcast – even more than I already was, anyway – by those I would tell it to, being branded as ‘a crazy’, but also maybe because talking about it would actually mean me facing up to the things that – however deeply rotted in me they were – truly frightened me. The things in the world that I couldn’t explain.

  But looking into April’s eyes at that moment, I saw no hint of a person that would chastise me or judge me. And so I told her. I spoke about the White Room, telling her everything I could remember, sparing no details of my strange memories as a newborn baby. I watched her eyes, looking for any hint that I was losing her. Any glassing of her eyes, or vacancy in her stare, which would tell me that she was hearing but no longer listening.

  But there was none. She was with me through it all.

  Then I moved on to my latest vision, stalling only as I described the part in which I saw the severed head in the phantom’s hand.

  ‘What was it?’ she asked. I told her, the best I could. She pulled away slightly, not letting go of my hand, and gave a mock shudder of horror. ‘Grim! How and why the hell did you dream that up?’ she asked, letting out a sweet laugh.

  ‘It was real to me!’ I snapped, causing the smile to fall from her face. She drew her hand away and I instantly felt foolish once more. ‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered under my breath, sullenly.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun,’ she replied. ‘Really, go on. I’m still here.’ She held my hand again to prove that she was.

  As she held my hand, my entire arm started to tingle. Then it grew stronger. It started to sting, my entire arm through to my fingertips was burning, as if flames were running beneath my skin. But I couldn’t let go. I simply did everything I could to ignore the pain.

  ‘It wasn’t just the image of the head that scared me. I have seen worse things over the years, I can assure you. My stomach can withstand dismembered body parts usually. No…it was the face. I knew the face instantly.’

  I started to drift from my hospital room once again, from her distant but warm - no, scorching - embrace, back to that red place, those burning fields. My eyes began to sting as I started to feel the heat all around me. The thickness of the shadowy smoke clogged up my lungs. I was unable to breathe. My eyes glazed over as the tears flowed. I felt arms around me, pulling me tight, and I was back in my room again. The smell of April’s skin acted like a sedative, immediately calming me.

  ‘Who was it?’ she whispered as she held me.

  I breathed deeply, choking back the tears that I managed to quell. ‘It was my father’s.’

  *****

  The silence felt good to begin with. It gave me the chance to reflect on what I had just said, vital moments to replay the words over in my head a few more times. But then I needed to hear something other than my laboured breathing.

  ‘My god…I…I’m so sorry,’ April said eventually. ‘Is your father…’

  ‘Dead?’ I interrupted, the word coming all too easily. ‘Yes.’ She had no further response for a few more achingly quiet moments.

  ‘You remember him?’ she asked. A pointless and absurd question, some may think, but I knew why she felt the need to ask it. As hard as it is for even me to explain, I may have no recollection of my own identity but I remembered the man who brought me up, as clearly as if my entire life had existed within the last few weeks.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied flatly. Before I could continue any further, April’s mobile phone sprang to life, blaring out a god-awful pop song with each ring. She silently apologised with her eyes and left the room to answer the call. I closed mine briefly, pleading not to be transported back to the dying world from my nightmare. I didn’t want to be confronted by the shadows any more that night.

  The room around me fell silent as my eyes suddenly lost their fight to stay open. I was awoken by a gentle shaking on my shoulder. It took a few moments for my bleary sight to clear, enough for me to make out April’s face.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. My boyfriend will be here any minute to pick me up.’

  Boom! There it was. That single word hung in the air and resounded louder and louder, over and over, like a string of tiny explosives detonated in my mind.

  ‘Your boy-‘ I blurted, before catching myself. ‘I’m sorry, I had no idea.’

  ‘Well, my ex actually. He helps me out from time to time to get home. He only works around the corner you see…’

  ‘No need to explain,’ I cut her off, relieving her of any further awkwardness. ‘I shouldn’t have kept you. I shouldn’t have expected you to spend time taking pity on me. Nobody should.’

  I hated myself as I listened to the words spew out. Bitterness had a hold of me, making me sound like a child. I willed myself to stop but felt powerless. My subconscious was firmly in charge now.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ she urged, the hurt evident now in her voice. April took a step closer and offered her hand again. Like a child, I pulled mine away, clutching it close to my chest whilst turning my head to look away from her. I was suddenly aware again of the pain her touch had brought me moments ago. I felt a needless tear form in the corner of the eye I was hiding from her.

  ‘It’s ok, April, really. I get it. I’m sorry, I’m just so very tired.’

  Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to make her believe I was drifting off to sleep involuntarily. Even without looking at her, I could tell she wasn’t buying it. ‘I will be here for you again tomorrow and we will talk more. I want to. I promise.’

  I listened but showed no movement. I wanted to believe her. I suddenly felt cold and so very lonely. Again. She said nothing more, but brought a warmth to my face as I felt her kiss my cheek and squeeze her hand over mine. Then she was gone. But the pain had returned, and this time there was no stopping it.

  I laid there for what seemed like hours afterwards, listening to the silence as the burning sensation finally abated. I eventually did drift off to sleep and, much to my relief, dreamed of nothing. I never did eat the sandwich that she left in the top drawer next to my bed. And neither did I get to talk to April the following day. The doctor who came by the next morning came armed with news t
hat would propel my life onto its next course, and I would never see that lovely angel again.

  Chapter Three

  I awoke naturally that morning, the sun creeping in between the drawn blinds masking the window, creating neat patterns of light over my bed. Wherever I had spent the previous night whilst I slept had been more comforting than any place. There was just a vastness of darkness, an absence of light and life. Nothing to disturb me, nothing for me to tthink about, look at or speak to.

  Nothing to fear.

  Bliss. Pure bliss.

  The face I awoke to was not a pretty one, however, The nurse was the closest thing I would have imagined a fairy-tale evil queen to look like; a shock of dried grey hair protruding from beneath a tight cap on her head, her face portly and unattractive, a wart on the end of a hooked nose. When she saw me awake, however, she smiled. At least her teeth weren’t yellowed or missing. I smiled weakly in return. She pulled up the corner of my mattress and curtly tucked under the corner of the fresh sheet.

  I looked down around me to find that the linen on my bed was fresh, and the pillow behind my head felt like a cloud. I had no idea how these people had managed it, but they had re-dressed my bed without even stirring me for a moment from my slumber.

  ‘Morning chuck,’ the nurse said. ‘I shall go and get the doctor for you. He’s been waiting for you to wake. Has some good news.’

  Leaving me feeling dizzied and slightly confused, she left the room. She returned with a doctor who I had seen once or twice before recently. A tall man, a brown and silver moustache resting above his protruding top lip. Thin spectacles perched on the edge of his nose. He introduced himself as Doctor Chandler.

  ‘Ah, good morning, young man. How are you feeling today?’

  I took a moment to consider my response. I hadn’t had a chance to take stock of my condition fully since waking up, but only then realised how fine I felt. I shifted my weight gently from side to side and was relieved to find no pain in my sides, no splitting of my wounds.