Maddie had no idea that the solution to this horrendous problem would come from within the hospital. She’d had a day of trying to stand and walk tentative steps with the physios, which was no easy manoeuvre with a plated pelvis and thigh, and the complication of her shoulder recovering from dislocation made it all rather awkward. But she was nothing if not stubborn and whilst mentally she was struggling to deal with the last two weeks, physically she was determined to get better, and physical pain from the effort and exertion was far more manageable than the emotional pain and scarring that occupied her otherwise.

After the session she was sat in her chair, breathing through the pain and wondering what wondrous offerings the hospital would supply for the meal formerly known as lunch, when a man who introduced himself as Dr Michaels approached. He was a middle aged man with tufty grey hair and very bushy eyebrows, and he told her he was a psychiatrist. Instantly Maddie’s teeth were on edge.
                "I’m not mad y’know?" She was very quick to announce.

The older man smiled, “I know that, but I hear you’re having a few issues with recovering, and Mr Callaghan thought talking to me might help.”

She turned her head away, his simple status making her feel more emotional than she had until now. Why wasn’t she coping? What was different this time? She wasn’t sure; all she knew was that she felt as though she were in the deepest darkest depths of despair, and with each passing day she was losing her grip on reality more and more.

                “At the end of the day,” he continued, seeing her difficulties with the topic, “emotional recovery is more important than physical. You have to realise that you aren’t the only one that has ever felt like this. We all manage so many problems, but sometimes our defences are shattered by things that happen.  I run a rehab unit, we specialise in cases like yours, whereby physical and emotional needs are essential, and I have a team of more therapists than you can throw a stick at! Physical, occupational, psychological...the list is endless. I really think you’ll feel at home there. And that we can help you of course."

He presented a well rounded case; if other’s felt this way then maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault? She thought for a moment, "why should I come?"

Smiling he reached in to the briefcase he carried and handed her a brochure, "no one can make you do anything Madeleine, there’s no force involved in this,  but the fact that you have given up interest in returning to your life seems so hard to take. I hear that you are very motivated, that you love your job, love your life. Yet you sit here, unkempt, unmotivated, disinterested."

                “I’ve worked hard with the physiotherapists,” she protested.

He nodded, “I hear that, but you’re not taking your medicine, you don’t want to dress, and you’re refusing visitors.”

That was only the last few days. Seeing her friends, and in particular Evan, hurt. She wanted to put distance between her and them, for a while.

Maddie looked up at him and sighed, "I don’t know how I can get past all the things that have happened." She wiped away a stray tear, "I want to go home, to my job, my home....ha! I don’t have a home now!" The bitterness rose in her mind as she remembered her friends were moving on. So why should I be thinking of going back?”

                "And Evan?” He prompted, “tell me about him."

She shook her head vehemently, "I can’t Dr Michaels, I can’t do that."

He smiled at her, "and there lies your problem. Come to Sandstone, my unit. We’ll get through this."
                "I don’t want any visitors." She bargained, that was a hard and fast point.

He lifted an eyebrow, “None?"

She shook her head.

Smiling Dr Michaels stood, “I’ll let you read through that book. See you at the unit in a few days then.”

From then on it all happened very quickly, within a couple of days she’d moved across the city to the purpose built unit. The staff didn’t wear uniform, and she was met at the door by a woman probably her own age.

                “Madeline, I’m Monica, I’m one of the staff nurses here, can I show you to your room?”

When she nodded Monica took over the wheelchair guiding her deep in to the building, through the reception, lounge, dining room, and then onto a corridor that housed many individual rooms.

                “This is your room; it’s one of the larger ones, what with you needing to get the wheelchair in, dinner’s in half an hour. Do you want to settle in then make your way to the dining room?”

Maddie nodded completely overwhelmed.

The room was more like a bedroom than a hospital room; she had a TV, bed, and an en suite shower room. On the bed sat a large bag, her bag...crossing to the bed, she opened the

                “Packed some things - your fave clothes, a photo of the three of us...and a huge bag of Maltesers. Get well soon Mads, we ALL miss you SO much, Cindyxxx”

Despite her pushing her friend away, she had taken the trouble to do this for her; she didn’t deserve friends like her.

Maddie was able to hobble around on crutches for very short distances around her room, but her shoulder was weak, so she spent most of her time in a wheelchair. She realised there were probably thirty other people in the building, she saw them at breakfast and lunch. Some of them attended group sessions, but she was quiet in those sessions, she spent at least an hour with Dr Michaels a day which was very important to her, as well as an hour of both physio, and hydro therapy a day.

It was exhausting times, and she was shattered every night and slept like a baby. Another positive thing for her.

                “So,” Dr Michaels sat across from her as he had the last four days since she’d arrived. “What’s happened since I last saw you?”

He didn’t push her, didn’t try and force her into confronting things, and she liked that about him. Being in his company was the only time she felt safe, that she could be herself.

She shrugged, “John tried to get me to paint, but I told him I wasn’t a basket case!”

The doctor rolled his eyes, “John is here to help you, he can organise anything you want within reason, it’s important for you to fill your days, especially as you refuse visitors. How are you going to manage on the weekend when neither me, nor the physio therapists are here? We are the only people you converse with!”

Shit! She hadn’t thought of that, but really she didn’t feel she truly belonged there. Over the last few days she’d begun to wonder whether she was there fraudulently.

                “I told you before I’m not mad. I don’t need a baby sitter, and to be honest I’m not about to make friends with the other crazies, this is not Girl, Interrupted and I’m not Winona Ryder.”

Doctor Michaels laughed, “you’re not wrong, for a start you’re here by choice, yet you seem resentful of things, of us. If you want to leave you can. Today.”

That scared her, and she knew the doctor knew that too. “Look,” he continued, “use this as an opportunity to explore new avenues, ok?”

She wasn’t convinced, “I’ll think about it.”

                “That’s all I ask. Do you want to talk about the accident?”

She shook her head, didn’t want him to know that she couldn’t remember anything beyond the image of Jake haunting her, laughing at her.

                “Tell me about your job. Why do you love it so much?”

Sigh...this was a safe topic.

                “It is the greatest thing...” her eyes lit up and her confidence returned as she told him all about the office, the mechanics of the flirty, girly Gina, the over the top Eric, and the building, modern, glass walls, and the work - which was both easy, but also offered her chances to do more, learn new things.

                “So you’re looking forward to starting back?”

She nodded, thinking of her office, the wallpaper she’d set on her computer the day of her accident Gina had sent it to her, a topless and bloody picture of Alexander Skarsgard in honour of the upcoming series of True Blood...which she hadn’t seen.

                “What is it?” Doctor Michaels cut into her mental confusion.

She laughed but knew that she was also crying at the same time, “I’ve missed a lot of things these last couple of weeks.”

He nodded, “you have. What do you miss most?”

The laughter was more anxiety than humour as she muttered, “Eastenders?”

It was a turning point of sorts, he was slowly making her realise that there was help there for her, if she wanted. That evening she ate dinner in the dining room with the other residents, and she was joined at her table by Rose, a woman in her sixties, and Selena who Maddie presumed was younger than her.

Initially she let the other two talk, mainly about the weather, the food, and what was on TV that night. She listened, and ate her food, then later made her way back to her bedroom. In the corner was the sketch pad and watercolour set that John, one of the therapists had brought her the previous day. Lifting the cover, she let her mind wander for a moment. She’d never known herself be artistic, but there was something quite cathartic about slapping paint onto paper, and by adding darker colours she found she could just about ruin them all. But two hours later with several immature efforts adorning her desk, she realised that she’d barely felt panic or anxiety and hadn’t thought about the past.

Maybe there was method in Dr Michaels' madness?

For Evan the last three weeks had been the hardest of his life. He called the psychiatrist daily, but due to patient confidentiality, all he could tell him was that Maddie was well and hadn’t changed her mind about visitors. And it was not seeing her that was killing him. Danny had tried to drag him out of himself, and failed, and now he was sat waiting for Adele to arrive as she too professed to be worried about him.

The last thing he needed was people pestering him, he really wanted to be left alone to wallow in his own self pity, but there was no way Adele would do that. She remembered how he was after Stephanie the supposed love of his life left him for his now departed business manager.

Sighing he found his shoes and pulled them on, she was due any second, and they were going out to dinner. Great.

He thought he’d loved Stephanie, it was only now, looking back that he realised she was convenient, and fitted in to his lifestyle. She probably deserved more than he’d given her, time and attention that is, because she wanted for nothing materially. Now that he reflected, it was easy to see that he was more angry than upset, he’d lost her and his business ally at the same time, and it may have been that betrayal that hurt him. Whatever it was, he felt NOTHING like he did now, bereft, lonely, frustrated and so helpless.

The door bell ringing alerted him, pulling him from his depression, and he smiled at his sister stood on the doorstep, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

                “Evan, you look like hell!”

He laughed, “nothing like my big sis to bring me down to earth with a bump!”

She took his arm and led him out to her car, “you brother need to hear a few more cold hard truths.”

Groaning he climbed into the car, “you’ve got a husband and three kids, how the hell do you have enough energy to mother me too?”

Adele’s laugh was a peal, “Evan! You were the first person I ever mothered, so I’ll not give that up for a long time!”

She drove him out to their favourite restaurant, and the owner, a flamboyant woman from Sicily showed them to the best table with a flourish.

                “The best for my best critic!” She used the same greeting as usual. Evan was still a known influence in the culinary world, even if his face wasn’t universally recognisable.

                “So,” Adele leaned back in her chair once they’d ordered. “Mum’s worried, I’m worried...”

He sipped his wine, a great cab sav with huge fruity tones, then smiled at her, “look, I’m finding this hard Adele, that’s no lie, but you’ve no need to panic. I’m not about to top myself.”

                “Can I do anything to help?”

He sighed, “make her see I’m not the enemy?”

Adele reached across for his hand, “if it’s meant to be it will be, and she inspired you to start your new business project. Surely completing in, making it a success is the best way of keeping that love alive?”

When did his sister become so astute?