4| hallucinations
WHEN SHE OPENED HER eyes, she was lying in bed. Her hand shot up to her tongue, but her fingers were clean of blood and there was no injury to be found. She got out of bed so quickly that she fell, but she didn't pay her aching knees any mind as she desperately searched for any sign of her breakdown yesterday. Why couldn't she find any stains, any proof? Had she hallucinated it all? She couldn't have, not with how real it felt. The sharp pain still was shooting through her, even now, even when she could speak and her tongue was whole.
"Am I going crazy?" she whispered, the words forming too well for her to have been wounded.
She dazedly grazed a hand past her hair, but could feel it had become thinner. At least she hadn't hallucinated someone pulling her hair out, though she wasn't sure which one of her parents it had been anymore. Her heart was beating so loudly it felt like her ribs would shatter, an immense fear consuming her as she placed her hands down on the carpet, but was unable to feel anything. Was this even real? What if she was just back home and had dreamed this all?
It couldn't have been. She jumped up, reaching out to grab the bars in front of the window, but only touching glass instead. There weren't any roses outside, she thought numbly. Where had they gone? Her hands slammed against the window again, more desperate this time. They had been there before, she was sure of it. Two hundred and — Wait, how many had there been? She had counted them over and over, there was no way she could have forgotten. If they had really existed, that was. The sight of them was seared in her brain, but not only her sight seemed to be failing her lately. Her head was filled with mist as she numbly turned around towards the door, her body not feeling like hers anymore.
There was no time for her to have a breakdown right now. First, she had to do her job, if she still had one. She didn't know from what point she had spiraled downwards into what had probably been her third medication-induced psychosis in these last five years, but all she could do was pick herself up again. Though she had gotten off the pills her mother had given her, it was hard not to take some to reduce her anxiety at times, or some to make her perform better, or to treat her insomnia — It didn't matter. All that did was that she clearly had gotten the measurements wrong again for how much she could take a day, even though she had been sure she had perfected it.
Her hand was still resting on the doorknob and she wasn't sure what outcome she was hoping for as she gathered the courage to open it. Did she want to be home or did she want this all to have been real, only so she wouldn't truly have to acknowledge that she had been losing control over herself for a while now? She breathed in, closing her eyes as she turned it, slowly.
With a click, it opened. Her eyes snapped open, wide in surprise as she looked at the dark hallway in front of her. For a moment, the complete lack of sound somehow made it feel eery, but when she switched on the light she knew she was really back home. Her heart slowed down again as she descended from her stairway, the creaking of the third step so familiar she knew this couldn't be fake.
O my God, she really was losing it. Everything had felt so real, the kidnapping, the solitude, but as she looked through the window of her living room and saw her street shrouded in a peaceful quiet instead of blooming with red roses, she could feel those memories fading. She had to do damage control, find out what she had done. Should she call Dante first? Before she could even make the decision her phone rang, gaze flicking towards where it was lying on the table. Thankfully she had at least placed it somewhere safe. She wouldn't have put it past herself if she had thrown it against a wall and broken it in one of her delusions.
With a sigh she sat down, placing it against her ear as she looked at her ceiling.
"Hello, this is Helene," she said softly.
"Helene! Where have you been? I've been trying to get a hold of you."
Quickly she straightened her back, even though she knew he couldn't see her, voice louder when she replied.
"Director," she said," I'm so sorry, I don't know what must have come over me."
"I don't either," he sighed, clearly sounding stressed again," I told you I was putting Nathan in solitary and you flipped out. Dante tried helping you, but you kept screaming something about not wanting to be alone."
Her cheeks tinted red in embarrassment as she scraped her throat, beginning to realize what had truly happened. The thought of having failed a task had been too much for her, especially one she had been as invested in as Nathan. It was no wonder she had spiraled, not after she hadn't slept in days again. Dante had probably brought her back and then she had been gone for however long her psychosis had lasted this time. Jesus, how much more of a bother could she be to other people?
"I apologize," she said," truly. I'd understand if you wouldn't want me to come back, but if you can give me a chance, I really think I'm the right psychiatrist for Nathan. Please, I don't think putting him in solitary is the right option."
"I -" he began, but he didn't finish his sentence, her stomach turning at the long silence.
And then, he sobbed.
"Please," he said," please, I've done what you asked."
"What?" she said, but before she could even say anything else, a vase shattered behind her, immediately making her turn around.
There, illuminated in dusk and blood, stood Nathan Parker, smiling ear to ear as he waved at her, ever so casually. It was the man on the floor that her gaze snapped towards though, his face contorted with fear as he let the phone fall out of his hands. When the director looked up at her, she could see the tears streaming down his face, the pure terror in his eyes. She could also see the gun pressed to the side of his head, Nathan's finger loosely on the trigger.
"You're so sweet, Helene," he smiled," even when you are faced with the terrible realization that you can't trust yourself, you push that aside to focus on helping me. I really like this side of you, you know."
"What?" she said, but the words were coming out with difficulty," how did you —" She closed her eyes then, shaking her head. "This isn't real. It isn't."
"Perhaps," he said," but if you don't look back at me right now, I will blow his brains out. Do you want to take the chance?"
She breathed out, slowly opening her eyes again as she forced her gaze back on him. He looked at her so warmly that it was almost hard to believe he was holding a gun against someone's head. That is, if any of this wasn't imagined. Her hand clenched around the fabric of the chair she was sitting on, relief washing over her when she could feel it. She was at home. This was just a delusion.
"A month has already passed, Helene," he chuckled," longer even, but you don't realize that. You can't even rely on yourself to count the days anymore, never mind to know what you're seeing. That's why you also didn't hear us, even when we were standing right behind you this whole time when you were calling."
"I'm still out of it," she said, talking more to herself than him as she repeated the reassurance quietly.
"Perhaps," he said, a hand on the director's shoulder as he raised the gun towards the ceiling," don't you want to find out if you can trust yourself again?"
"I do," she whispered, hands tangling in her hair," I do, I do — I'm not crazy, I'm not."
"I'll give you the opportunity to prove that to yourself," he said," tell me, am I real? If you guess right, I'll let him go. If you don't -" His finger was back on the trigger again, gun digging against the man's head as he leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Boom."
Sawyer, she remembered then. That had been his name. There was a certain acceptance in his gaze as he looked at her, his tears having stopped as he closed his eyes. He didn't look nervous anymore.
"I -" she said, but the weight of a life was so heavy around her neck that she wasn't able to say anything else.
Nathan grinned at her, his canines sharp in the moonlight.
"Come on, Helene," he said," you and I both know it doesn't matter. Whatever happens, this world is an illusion anyway. That's why it's fine, no matter what you say."
What could be more plausible? Her having hallucinated her whole kidnapping from start to finish or Nathan having brought her back simply to make her think she was losing her mind? Wasn't she insane either way?
"Yes," she said," you're real."
When he smiled, he looked so angelic she forgot everything for a moment. It was something about the curling of his lips, the sincerity in his eyes, it disentangled all the knots in her stomach, breathed fresh air in her lungs again. For some reason it felt rewarding to be able to see the human behind the monster, the heart behind the bones. She always had had a habit of seeing sunlight where there was none. It was no wonder all the flowers in her mind did was wilt, two hundred and twenty-two times over again.
"Oh my dear Helene," he said, raising the gun towards himself," I think you're right."
"Nathan?" she said, panic beginning to fill her," what are you doing?"
"Fulfilling my promise," he smiled as he placed the gun against his head.
She jumped up, running towards him even without knowing why. Her hand was trying to grab the gun, if only to see if she actually could, and then, so quickly she couldn't react, he turned it back towards the director and shot him in the head. The blood splattered everywhere: on her carpet, his shirt, her hands. It was warm, but when she blinked it was cold again. She had forgotten his name.
"Perhaps we can dissect the body together," he said fondly as he crouched down beside the corpse," you can teach me the way medical school has taught you, I'll show you how to do it the way I like it. It'll be romantic, don't you think?"
"Where am I?" she breathed.
"You're beautiful, Helene," he said, almost sadly," I want to wipe that dirty blood off your hands, but I can't. If I touch you, it'll be real."
When she blinked, she was back in bed again.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top