Mary Hades: Beginnings: Books One and Two, plus novellas Read online

  Her chin wobbles again and I really regret my words this time. She persuaded me to come here, but it really isn’t fair to blame her for it. Imagine having to make that decision for your daughter? Imagine having that responsibility? I can’t. Dad glares at me as he puts a hand on hers.

  “We should go,” Mum says. She reaches down and clasps her bag.

  “But you just got here,” I protest.

  “No, we should definitely go. I’m glad you’re doing well, Mary. It’s lovely to meet you, Lacey.” She flicks out her black hair and refuses to meet my eyes. Before long she’s on her feet and heading towards the door. I stand and watch her, open mouthed.

  “Your mother is a little emotional because she misses you a lot,” Dad says. “Don’t take it personally. She’s going to really regret the way she left, today.” He sighs and stares after his wife. After a moment or two, he breaks the spell and pulls me into a bear hug. “Keep safe.” Then he turns to Lacey and shakes her hand. “Take care of my little girl for me.”

  Lacey salutes. “Yes sir, that is the aim of this week’s mission. I won’t let yer down, sir, leave it to me.”

  Dad chuckles on the way to the door. When he reaches Mum, she leans forward and whispers something into his ear before letting her shoulders sag. She glances back to me and they leave the ward. Dr. Gethen shows them out. His shoulders hunch over and he walks so slowly Dad almost walks straight into his back.

  “Mother issues or what, man?” Lacey says. “I guess even you posh lot have your problems.”

  Johnny’s words drift back to me. I’m not tough enough. He’s probably right. I’m not tough at all, but I definitely belong here.

  Chapter Six

  Frankie’s screams are worse that night. I thought my body would be too tired to let me stay awake for another night, but I was wrong. I toss and turn through my second night, thinking of life and how it ends, or begins, or ends again. It’s still bad weather outside; the news report warned of floods. The nurses chatter about it in the lounge outside. How will they get home if it floods? One of them lives ten miles out of the city. There’s no buses or trains running at night. She’ll have to sleep at the hospital and arrange childcare for her four year old.

  There’s something about 2am that drops a veil between reality and fantasy. I hear people talk about veils between worlds, but I think there are veils in the mind. When you’re stressed, tired or ill, those veils flutter away and for a moment you forget what’s real and what isn’t. It happens to me at 2am, because for a while I think that Johnny is talking to me at the end of my bed.

  “Still think I’m not tough enough?” I ask.

  “Pretty much, yeah. You’re afraid. Afraid of the darkness.”

  “I’ve never been afraid of the dark,” I boast. “It’s stupid to be afraid of the dark. The most awful things that could never happen to you are just as likely to happen in the daylight.”

  He laughs. “Trust me, you’re afraid of the darkness and, before I tell you, you have to stop being so afraid.”

  “What is it? What are you going to tell me? I need to know!”

  “I can’t.” He starts to fade away. “I can’t until you’re not afraid anymore.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” His voice is an echo. Where did he go?

  The dark takes me into sleep.

  Lacey wakes me brutishly with a poke in the ribs. “8am, bitch, get up.”

  “All right.” I groan and roll over. “Five more minutes.”

  “Nope. Now. You’ll thank me when you get hot water.”

  I know she’s right, but my body tells me otherwise. It tells me that sleep would be super amazing right now.

  Breakfast passes with a blur. Marcus bangs on about his bets and getting Helen’s crisps. “You’ll thank me at weigh in. Hand them over, yeah.”

  Tom seems a bit withdrawn. Maybe he had a bad night, too. Frankie almost falls asleep in his cereal. The care worker has to nudge him to keep him awake. Natalie has gone, checked out before breakfast. Yasmeen and Anka push the food around their plate and stare at the rain out of the window. Lacey sings pop songs and wiggles in her chair.

  Mo leans closer. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, why?”

  “You’ve got a certain look in your eye. It’s one I recognise.” His gaze is kind and even. I like his composure, always so still and together. I can’t ever imagine him out of control, but that’s exactly what put him here in the first place. “Trust me when I say I recognise that look.”

  “I’m okay, really. I had a bad night’s sleep, that’s all.”

  “If you need anything… shout up, okay? I’ve been in and out of this place too long. If I could go back and get the help I needed at the right time, well, I think I would have had it a bit easier. If I can do that for you, I will. Or I’ll try, anyway.”

  There are a few occasions in my seventeen years that I’ve been bowled over by certain events. Once, when I was seven, Mum and Dad bought me a puppy for Christmas. I’d wanted one for years and they’d always said no. Then, on Christmas day, there he was, with a bright red bow on his collar. After the incident at school, when everyone hated me, I found my locker covered in graffiti and my best friend trying to wash it away before I saw it. Sure, I hated the fact someone wanted to hurt me, but it meant so much more that my best friend tried to save me those hurt feelings. That’s how it felt. Who’d have thought I could find kindness in a mental hospital?

  As I spend too long trying to find the right words to thank him, Lacey starts wolf-whistling. “Mary and Mo, sitting in a tree—”

  “Oh, come on, Lace. Don’t be that guy,” Mo says. “We’re nearly adults.”

  “Aw, but you make such a cute couple.” She pouts.

  “Guys, check it.” Marcus points towards the door. Outside, there’s another family in tears, shaking the hand of a doctor in a long white coat. “Another one bites the dust.”

  “Come on, man. Don’t talk about people like that. A human being has passed. Show some respect,” Mo says.

  Marcus’ eyes glint with anger. “You disrespecting me, bruv?”

  “No,” Mo says with a sigh. “I’m really not. Wind your neck in, eh.”

  “Don’t tell me to wind my neck in. You mind your own fucking business, yeah.” Marcus’ eyes bulge from his skull.

  Mo shakes his head. “Just calm down, mate.”

  Yasmeen places a hand on Marcus’ arm. “Come on, love.”

  Nurse Granger is upon us, as quick as a lion on its prey. “What’s going on here?” Her usual soothing tone is gone and replaced with a cold, abrupt air. “Do I need to get Roger and George?”

  “Who’s that?” I whisper to Lacey.

  “The porters. They’ll carry you away if you mess around. Then you usually end up in the white room.”

  “Is it padded?” I ask, suddenly morbidly curious.

  She nods. “Yep.” But there’s no spark of curiosity or humour in her voice. For the first time since I’ve arrived, Lacey is quiet and withdrawn. I wonder what it’s like in the white room.

  “No, Nurse Granger,” Mo replies. “Everything’s cool. We’re just messin’. Right, Marcus?”

  Marcus grumbles a reply and Nurse Granger leaves after shooting us a glare that suggests: ‘I’m watching you. All of you.’

  Marcus chucks his spoon into the cereal bowl and stalks off, leaving a quiet Yasmeen behind.

  “That kinda came out of nowhere,” I say. The others don’t seem as surprised as me.

  “Not if you know Marcus,” Mo says, with raised eyebrows.

  “Hey, leave him alone. You know it’s hard with the withdrawals,” Yasmeen says. “He’s only trying to get by and you come out and treat him like shit.”

  “How was I treating him like shit?” Mo replies. “You need to stop defending him when he’s wrong, Yasmeen. He’s got help. You’re the one enabling his habit and his moods.”

  Yasmeen stands up and scrapes her chair against t
he hard floor. “You do not run this place, Mo. The sooner you realise that the better. Where d’you get off, judging people like that? Who are you to say these things?”

  “All right, Yas—”

  “Don’t ‘all right Yas,’ me.” She pauses and lowers her voice to prevent another visit from Nurse Granger. “Why don’t you do us all a favour and concentrate on you? We’ll take care of ourselves, right?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  As Yasmeen walks away, I pretend there’s something fascinating in my cereal bowl. Mo sighs, clears away his breakfast things, and leaves. Tom and Anka have already left, leaving Lacey and I sat here.

  “That was some intense shit,” Lacey says.

  “Oh good, you’re shocked too, I thought it must happen all the time or something,” I say.

  “Well, yeah, Marcus has a temper, but I’ve never seen Mo and Yasmeen go at it. They used to go out, you know. I think something bad happened between them when Mo went psychotic. He was obsessed with her for a while.”

  “But they’re in the same ward? Surely they wouldn’t put two people with a history in the same ward? They have to see each other every day!” I say.

  “Where else are they going to go? You reckon Mo’s parents can afford to send him to a private hospital? They have to get on with it. He’s been under twenty-four hour observation for a long time. They stopped it a few weeks ago.”

  I can’t believe it. When Mo talks about his illness, he makes it sound as though he’s in control. The way he checks in and out of Magdelena makes it appear almost trivial, something to laugh about; a unique tale to tell. But the reality is much different. It sounds funny when someone tells you they used to think TV programmes are real, or that they ate a lot of crisps, but when you really think about what they’ve been through, what those stories mean, and how it’s affected those around him… it really hits home. I wonder if Mo is someone I can genuinely be friends with, or whether he’ll always be a guy I knew in a mental institute, like a colourful anecdote. The same with Lacey—can I imagine inviting her to my eighteenth birthday party? Can I imagine her chatting with my school friends, telling everyone about my non-existent bad habits and exaggerating every mundane event into a five minute story?

  Is this how my friends see me?

  Am I the person they talk about when they’re all together? The girl they aren’t sure should come to the pub, because it might be ‘awkward’? It dawns on me so quickly and so intensely that Lacey snaps her fingers in front of my eyes.

  “Earth to Mary! Drug time!”

  *

  Over the next few days, I pull away. It’s something I’m both conscious and unconscious of. I’ll find myself sitting in a corner, alone, reading a book. I’ll not know why at first. Then I realise I’m spending more time in my room, less time talking in group therapy, and Lacey gives up teasing me about being quiet. She leaves me be. It’s only then that I realise I’ve distanced myself from everyone in Magdelena. I’m like Natalie.

  Every morning I sit facing the glass doors and watch the people going in and out. Marcus says they take the bodies out on the other side of the ward. I’ll never see a body bag or a trolley covered with a lumpy sheet. I’ll only ever see the families, leaving in mourning. I can’t stop watching. There’s a fascination driving me to sit, transfixed, staring into the corridor, almost willing people to come out in tears.

  And every morning I guzzle down blue pills. Why are pills so large and uncomfortable? I’m actually glad Nurse Granger watches me take them, because then at least I know if I choke, someone is there to administer the Heimlich manoeuvre.

  Half an hour after the pills I get this sensation of a veil falling over my eyes. It’s the exact opposite of the other night, where I dreamt of Johnny. It’s like a fog. Sometimes it’s almost tangible, like I could put my hands out in front of me and touch the thick cotton wool of the pills as they wrap around me, again and again.

  I’ve not seen Johnny for days, not even in group therapy, so I guess he’s gone: checked out. I don’t blame him. I envy him.

  When my parents visit, we talk about the weather.

  Sometimes Mo looks at me funny in our therapy sessions. His brow furrows and he frowns. He has the expression of someone who wants to say something, but doesn’t believe it’s his place to do so. It’s the same expression Mum gets when we’re visiting her friends and they talk about their children, or their ex-husbands, or their gambling brothers.

  During my mid-week consultation with Dr. Harrison, he examines me with a lowered chin and I get a good view of his bulging eye-bags. “Everything okay, Mary?”

  “Yes,” I answer, aware that he probably has a reason to ask me that.

  “Only Miss Burton doesn’t think you’re engaging in group therapy, anymore. Is that correct?” he talks as though he’s addressing a child with a temper.

  “I don’t have anything to say. The discussion topics aren’t relevant to me.”

  “They aren’t supposed to be,” he reminds me. “At least not right now. But they are relevant to some people in the room, and they might be relevant to you in the future. The point is to equip you with as much knowledge as you need to live well after you leave Magdelena, and to also talk about your issues. They are useful for getting you to engage with others which, in itself, is a treatment.”

  I shrug. It’s all I have energy for. Why is he having a go at me? For some reason I imagine Johnny laughing at me in the corner of my mind.

  You’re afraid of the darkness.

  A chilling sensation spreads over my skin and the room goes in and out of view. I blink, trying to focus on Dr. Harrison. With a jolt I realise one of my Thing visions has come back. The skull face appears at the window with a manic smile. Its finger squeaks along the glass, writing in the condensation its breath leaves there.

  Take.

  Take.

  Take.

  I will

  Take.

  Take.

  Take.

  “Mary? Mary?”

  The words and the skull man disappear. Dr. Harrison is leaning across his desk.

  “You were hallucinating, weren’t you?” he asks.

  It’s typical. Why did the Thing appear to me here and now? Why couldn’t it have been when I was alone, so that I could copy down the message, figure out how to interpret it, and not be bothered by psychiatrists?

  “No.” I’m not lying, I’m really not. The Things are not hallucinations. They are visions. Why won’t anyone believe me?

  “I’m upping your dose,” he says.

  “No,” I blurt out. “No, please don’t. I hate these pills. They make me feel like crap. I’m not me, anymore. Please don’t.” I reach out to him, but it happens too quickly and it seems as though I’m grabbing for him. Dr. Harrison lurches back, away from me, and presses a buzzer beneath his desk. Less than a second later, two large men enter the room and pick me up, one at each arm. “Wait. What are you doing? Stop it!”

  I’m stupid enough to struggle, and I keep struggling as they drag me through the communal area, where everyone stares at me. Lacey’s eyes are open wide. There’s a mixture of pity and annoyance. Frankie points and screeches. Mo’s eyes beseech, with their level brown irises. He makes a steeple with his fingers and presses his lips against it. I’ve let him down.

  Johnny sits in the hallway with his hood up, laughing his head off. “Told you, girl. Not tough enough. Not yet!”

  “I am! I am tough enough!” I scream. “You’ll see. You’ll all see!”

  They push me down onto the padded bed. My arms are stuffed into the jacket then tied behind my back. A needle plunges into my skin. I hate needles. I really hate them… darkness…

  Chapter Seven

  At 2am, a veil lifts. But what happens when you don’t know the time? What happens when the light never goes off? That’s what it’s like, in the white room. It’s limbo. It’s neither real nor fantasy. It’s not life and it’s not death. Time doesn’t ma
tter here. I’m not sure what does, really.

  At least I can think about the skull-man and his message. It means something, I’m sure of it. When I first arrived at the hospital, I had a strange sense of foreboding. A cold dread seeped through the cracks in the floors and walls, reaching for my skin. I thought it was me, my fears, the monsters, coming to haunt me. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there is something wrong with this place and it’s up to me to figure out what it is.

  It will take.

  Take what? People? Lives? Money?

  What would skull-man want?

  Somewhere before sleep, Johnny comes to me again.

  “Am I tough enough, yet?” I ask groggily.

  “Not quite, but you’re getting there,” he admits.

  “Why don’t you put your hood down?”

  “All right.” He pulls the hood down and I get a good view of his face. He’s kinda beautiful, and that’s not something you usually say about a guy. If he shaved away the stubble and wore a wig you’d think he was a model or something. He’s one of those people who would be beautiful in both genders and in any country.

  “Why are you here? Why doesn’t anyone talk to you, or talk about you?” I ask.

  “You know.”

  I laugh. “You talk in riddles.”

  “Nope, I don’t. I don’t think you understand what a riddle is.”

  “Tell me one then,” I say.

  “There are those who fear me, and those who crave me. Some try to find me, while others run from me. I come to all. An end to a beginning, a beginning to an end.”

  “Death,” I say.

  The two porters wake me. They unstrap me and help me to my feet. Nurse Granger hands me a tiny plastic cup with two large, pink pills. I take it and tip the pills into my mouth. She hands me a glass of water. I chase the pills down my throat. She examines my mouth. I’m free to leave.

  *

  Lacey is pretty quiet that afternoon. She doesn’t look me in the eye anymore and she doesn’t make any jokes. She simply sits and reads her book, a romance about an alien boy and a disturbed girl. The cover has a skull on it and I can’t stop thinking about skull-man and Johnny.