I was sick.
Diagnosed with a type of disease that not only would end up taking my life eventually, it also took most of my memories while I was still living. Every day I was waking up more confused, more scared, and then the moment of realization would hit.. I was really going to die.
It was a nightmare I’d been experiencing daily, and it had taken its toll, I was exhausted both physically and mentally. And then of course, the hallucinations had started, seeming so tangible I could nearly reach out and touch them.. Almost.
The doctors said it was a part of the disease, and there wasn’t much they could do.
They gave me pills to take, but they made me feel sicker than I already was, so I only took them every now and then, and seemed to welcome the hallucinations like an old friend. A bit, albeit scary at times, of twisted entertainment in my fucked up life.
I guess that’s why mum had the idea to book the seaside escape, we both knew there wasn’t much time left. Maybe she wanted me to make some good memories, instead of dwelling in the not real.
“You loved the beach when you were little, claudy.” she beamed at me when she handed me the brochure.
I thought back to 7, 8, 9 years old. Splashing in the ocean, not a care in the world. Life was so much easier back then, and I’d never even appreciated it at the time.
The brochure showed a quaint little beach house, right on the waters edge. It looked beautiful. It looked peaceful.
I smiled as best I could manage through gritted teeth, the agony that my body felt was indescribable, thanking my mother for her thoughtfulness and seeing her smile made that pain bearable, at least for a moment.
It wasn’t safe for me to drive, given the circumstances, not to mention that the hallucinations made it even more difficult to distinguish what was real and what wasn’t. Not safe, that’s why I had to take the bus.
Mum had loaded me on, giving me the crochet blanket she’d worn over her own knees throughout my adolescence, as well as packing me a lunchbag of curried egg sandwiches, like she used to many years ago when I was a school boy.
“Safe travels, my love. I’ll see you soon, once I’ve finished up at work.” she stood waving as the bus peeled off the sidewalk, and I watched out the window as she got smaller and smaller, until I couldn’t see her anymore.
Nausea prevented me from eating, so the sandwiches grew stale over the trip, I snuggled back into the seat, eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep. I managed fine with sips of water here and there when I woke up, grateful for my headphones, drowning out any noise from the other passengers making it easy to rest.
A taxi driver was waiting for me when we arrived, standing in the bus depot, holding a sign with my name. He was old and grumpy looking, no trace of a smile on his face as he grunted back at my hello.
The car ride was silent, not that I cared. I was enchanted by the scenery,the smell of the salty sea air. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, allowing my mind to travel back to my younger years, when escaping to the beach had a whole different meaning.
I settled in quickly to the beach house, dumping my backpack on the double bed and laying down beside it. Even though I’d napped on the bus just hours earlier, I needed another nap. I fumbled lazily for my pain medication, finding it entangled in a pair of underwear in my backpack. I’d never been much of an organised guy, but I was pretty proud Id managed to remember everything I needed. That’s what it was all about, the doctors voice was bouncing around my head, You’ve gotta celebrate the small wins, Claud.
He was right, but I wouldn’t tell him. We had a kinda love hate relationship going on, and I didn’t want to go soppy on him all of a sudden.
I could hear the waves rolling in as I began to drift off to sleep, a smile on my face, I felt the most relaxed I’d been in years.
When I woke, daylight had faded into night. The moon, full and blindingly bright, seeped through the flimsy sheer curtains, illumating the room in an eery yellow glow.
I felt around for my water bottle, sure I’d sat it on the night stand earlier, but it was no where to be seen. I was contemplating going back to sleep when I heard it. A shuffle, a scratch. It was silent again for a moment, and I began to think my hallucinations were visiting, but then I heard it again. It was louder, more frantic and it sounded as if it was coming from the front door.
A cat, perhaps, or maybe even a wild animal, a possum, lost and trying to find it’s way in, looking for food or shelter.
I stood, slowly. I’d learnt that rushing up to do anything when I had been sitting or laying, often resulted in a trip to the hospital due to a fall from blacking out.
It took what felt like an age, but I eventually made it to the door, hobbling painfully along like a man a lot older than I was.
There was no cat or possum at the door, there was nothing there.
My face flushed with exhaustion and indignation. I was definitely hearing things. I decided i was going to start talking the medication every day now, maybe I’d even call the doctor, get him to up my script a bit more.
Mum was right. I needed to live in reality while I still could, even if it was more terrifying than any hallucination i had ever had.
The next day I woke feeling energized, in a way I hadn’t for a long time. I got up and dressed immediately, not even bothering to stop and brush my teeth, and I was out the door making my way down to the beach before I knew it.
It was breathtaking, the cool air in my face, seeing the waves crash, hearing the seagulls cry. I wanted to stay in this moment, forever.
That was until the screaming started.
It was so loud and unexpected that my body jolted with the sound. Instinctively I put my hands up to my ears, covering them from the admonition that was that noise.
I glanced around the beach, the sea, the dunes behind me, to see where the sound was coming from, but I was totally alone.
I stumbled back to the beach house, grateful that there was no one else around, for I truly would have looked like a mad man. I was already thin, shockingly so, drained from my disease. I hadn’t shaved or showeded in days. There seemed no point, not when I was going to be alone for a few days until mum arrived. I was dressed in ratty old track pants, much too big on my slim frame, I’d had to make a makeshift belt out of a scarf I found lying around. Now here I was, stumbling, hands covering my ears, my eyes darting back and forth like a deer in the head lights, I looked like the definition of crazy.
In retrospect, I wasn’t surprised to see the woman on the couch when I finally made it back into the house. I ignored her even, rushing straight in for the tap, which I took a long gulp of water from, stopping only to catch my breath.
The woman remained on the couch, her expression neutral as she watched me with a sort of bored curiosity.
“Aren’t you even going to say hello?” she seemed put off, a slight frown creasing her nose. “or even ask why there’s a stranger in your living room?.”
I almost balked. Usually my hallucinations said odd, hurtful and down right scary things. They didn’t normally interact as if they were having an every day conversation.
Still, my health was going down hill, there was no denying that. Maybe my hallucinations were just getting more realistic as i got worse.
I continued on ignoring her, or it, whatever it was as I heated a tin of soup for dinner. It wasn’t much, but my appetite was basically non existant, so I begrudgingly tried to down as much disgusting mouthfuls as I could without the need to vomit.
I placed the bowl and spoon in the sink, turning the light off as I left the kitchen to go to the bedroom. Moments later, I’d not even made it halfway down the tiny corridor, there was a smash, the sound of glass shattering against tiles. I should of went back, but I was too scared. As soon as my head hit the pillow, The screaming began.
I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t. I tossed and turned fitfully, afraid of every shuffle and scratch that sounded at the front door, every shadow I saw under my own door. I kept waiting for the door knob to turn, but it never did. The screaming didn’t stop for so, so long. I don’t know how long exactly, my phone had gone flat and I wasn’t game enough to get up and look for the charger, but the scream was still going when dawn broke.
I lay in bed, red eyed and drowsy, wondering if I should call the police. Or maybe a psychologist. Then as quickly as it had started, seemingly out of the blue, it just stopped. Abruptly, cut off mid scream. The house was quiet now, deathly quiet, until a knock pounded on the bedroom door.
“It’s mum. Open up, sweetie!” the voice, in not my mums, voice said. “I need to make sure my honeys okay. Now, open UP!”
The pounding began again immediately, this time the hammering on the door didn’t stop for a while. I had the covers pulled up to my chest, shaking. The door was open. Whoever, whatever, the hell that was could of just opened the door up to come inside, but they didn’t, they just kept pounding on the door.
After what felt like an eternity, and just like the screaming, the pounding stopped. I waited with baited breath, wondering what I was going to do. I needed the charger, I needed to call mum and tell her what was going on. She always knew the right things to say, to help me. But that meant braving whatever was on the other side of the door.
The hallway was empty, no monsters to be seen. I tiptoed down to the lounge, which was empty as well. In the kitchen, the bowl I had used for last night’s soup was smashed in pieces across the tiled floor. I grabbed the broom and swept up as much as I could while I put my phone on the charger and waited for the kettle to boil.
First, coffee
Then solve the crazy, if that was even possible.
Mum never answered. I left a message, and then another. By the time three hours had passed, I was growing concerned. She always had her phone on, incase anything happened and I needed her.. And she always rang back, always.
I thought about her plans, trying to remember what she told me. It was hard, the strain so difficult I suddenly felt ill. I needed a nap, just a small little sleep and then..
She was back. My eyes were closed, but I could feel her staring at me. Anger bubbled inside, I was so sick of this! I had enough on my plate, being sick, now being worried about mum.. I didn’t need these hallucinations making anything harder than it already was. My eyes snapped open, and I looked up, pure hate radiating out of my stare.
It was the girl that had been sitting on my couch the night before, the one who smashed my bowl. She was staring back at me just as intently, not breaking eye contact. She wasn’t smiling, just that same neutral expression. I opened my mouth to speak, but it was a scream that came out. The same one I’d been hearing.
Animalistic, inhumane.
“What do you want?” I roared, slamming both my hands down on the table top with a strength I didn’t know I had left in me. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“It’s really not a question of what I want, or even why I’m doing this. If you must know, I’m actually trying to help you.” she smiled now, and for all the resentment I felt towards her, even I had to admit it was beautiful.
“I don’t understand.” my voice came out defeated, tired. “I came here to relax and feel better and.. And now my mum is missing, she could be hurt and I’m sitting here wasting my time on a hallucination.” I spat the last few words, bitterness rising once again in my chest. My eyes burned with hot, unshed tears, but I wouldn’t let myself cry, I couldn’t.
“I’m not a hallucination. I might not be like you.. But I’m real.” she leaned across the table and yanked on my shirt, pulling me forward, then with a satisfied smirk, she held up her arms in a ‘see’ expression. “And also, your mum isn’t missing.” the girl let out an uncomfortable sigh. “I really hate this part.. It never gets easier.”
I wanted to ask her what she meant exactly and what the hell was going on, but she continued on before I had the chance,
“Remember back, Claude. Remember back to when you first even heard about this place? I know you belive your mum booked it, but she didn’t. It was suggested to you by one of the drug therapists you have seen. There had been others, others who had come here to get clean and rejuvenate. It is a beautiful place, after all.”
I frowned at what she was saying, not knowing whether to burst into laughter, or get as far away from her as possible. She was clearly insane.
“Okaaay. Look, I don’t know who put you up to this. I’d belive some of it, if I’m being honest but for one, I’m not any addict. And I didn’t book this house myself, mum organised it all, down to my sandwiches.” now it was my turn for the triumphant smirk, but the girl didn’t smile, she looked sad.
“ Sometimes it’s harder with others.” she seems to be saying to herself. And to me, she smiles, her face a tad disappointed .” I’m really sorry you can’t remember. And that I’m the one that has to do this. Claude, your mum isn’t missing because she isn’t alive anymore. She hasn’t been alive for a long time now.” the girl holds my hand in hers as she leads me to my backpack, where embarrassingly I’ve left the sandwiches I couldn’t stomach to eat on the bus in. The brown paper bag is empty. It has no crumbs. But it doesn’t mean anything, or course. I could of easily ate the sandwich and forgotten all about it.
“It’s not your memory playing tricks,” she says, as if she can read my mind. “There were no sandwiches to begin with. Your mother is not alive, she couldn’t have made them. Try and remember back, her funeral? You were in quite a state, fueled mainly by pills but not the pain type. Not back then. Remember how your brother made everyone laugh with happy tears at the eulogy he wrote? It was beautiful and described your mother perfectly.”
My head aches, I can see a casket. I can remember crying. I see Henry, my younger brother, up on the stage, wiping tears from his eyes.
“ No.” I say.
Now it’s her turn to scream, and it smashes every window in the house. She rises in form, larger than life. Her eyes once Grey, flash red. “YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!” the foundation of the beach house waves, threatening to crumble under her bellowing voice.
“No.” I say again, because I can’t. It doesn’t matter what is true, I can’t go back. I can’t remember. Anything is better. Even this.
I feel it all at once, a burning sensation that rips through every Fibre in my being. I see flashes, memories of a past i had left behind. A stormy night, arguing as rain pressed up against the windshield. The sound of metal on metal. The wrongness of being upside down in the air, spinning out of control. I saw myself, and I was instantly sorry, I remembered it. But it didn’t change a thing.
The pain was radiating through my body now, I wanted to beg her to stop whatever she was doing, let me go, but I couldn’t speak. She glared down at me from where she had me gripped in her oversized palm. “REMEMBER!” she commanded, and I did.
I am at a doctors office, crying. My hands are shaking, my body in a pain I never knew existed. I was begging for more pills, and the doctor was looking down at me with disdain.
“The accident was a year ago, Claude. Everything had healed, nicely. There is no reason you should be experiencing any pain.”
I saw red, I screamed, picking his desk up and tumbling it over. “I’m in pain!!” I yelled, over and over until security came and escorted me out.
I see myself sleeping on my brother’s couch. I see him and his wife arguing, while I hide in the hallway. She’s crying, accusing me of stealing money out of her purse. My brother defends me, weakly, but still.
The next day I empty their medicine cabinets as well as the safe in my brother’s office
It took me a moment to register it was coming from me.
I get three grand, and mums wedding ring.
I sell the ring before the evening is over.
I am vomiting now, snot and vomit run down my chin and soak my shirt. I’m crying. I don’t want to remember. I can’t.
“Keep. Going.” her voice has lost its anger. Perhaps she senses that my will to fight has vanished. She is calmer. But she doesn’t let me out of her grip.
I’m out of my mind on pills,on grief. I steal a car, and I drive out of town. Stop Claude, I can hear my mother’s voice then, but the pains too much. I see a tree. And I put my foot down.
The girl has placed me down. She sits next to me, back to her normal human size. She pats my leg like I’m a dog and I think that’s her way of trying to comfort me.
“I died? And this is.. Hell? Purgatory for what I’ve done, how I treated my family? It is what I deserve.” I want to be shocked but I can’t. Now I can remember, I can understand the why.
“You didn’t die. This is real. You booked the beach house, the bus trip, the grumpy taxi. All that’s real. What’s not real, you seeing your mum, hearing her banging on your door here. The screaming you heard when you’ve been alone. The hallucinations you see. Our minds have a funny way of working, trying to protect us from things that hurt us. Your mind was giving you monsters, a serious and deadly disease tnat was a life sentance, to make sense of everything you felt and experienced.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. It was true, all of it. I remember sitting in the car outside the hospital, but I never went in. I never had an appointment.
“ after your surgery, after the accident”
she does quotations, “I was sent to hang around and keep an eye on you. See how it played out. They didn’t think you’d recover, let’s put it that way.” she smiled now, but it wasnt an overly happy one.
“I’m scared.”
“im not going to hurt you. I’m here to help. Remember? Now it’s all up to you what happens next. I’ve got everything here.” she guestues to a bag at her side and I see it’s filled with white pill bottles. “there’s two options. 1,you take all the pills. It’s what you wanna do. You take all the pills and all the pain is gone forever. Or 2. You don’t.”
I wait for her to go on, but she doesn’t.
“And if I don’t? I mean, I can just choose not to?”
She rolls her eyes, looking irritated. “Well duh. Everything is a choice, isn’t it? I’m just telling you your options, Clause.
You can take the pills and forget it all. Or you can not take the pills. You Can follow through with your withdrawal, you might even be able to end up in some dead end shitty job, barely earning enough to get by. You probably wouldn’t be able to afford therapy, so you’d have to try really hard to stay clean. It sounds hard. But, like I said, it’s your choice. So, what’s it going to be?”
I hasn’t golf anyone about her, not til now. I was scared no one would belive me, hell I barely believed myself some days but then I would glance down at my wrist, see the scar and know i wasn’t insane.
Infact, I was now 8 months clean. I was fit, physically and mentally. And yes. I had my dead end grocery store job, and I loved it.
But anyway back to what’s important, when I was packing up after tonight’s DA meetings, one of the new guys came up to me. He’d been to one meeting the week before, and I remembered to congratulate him on his achievement. It was one thing to come to one meeting, but to come to two In a row, this guy was committed.
“I’m Dave.” he extended a hand, glancing down at mine as we shook. “Nice scar. I noticed it last week, but didn’t want to pry. I’ve, uh, I’ve got the same one.” he pulled his sleeve up to reveal one that matched mine to a mirror imagine.
I didn’t know what to say, I just stared at him open mouthed. I wanted to ask him what he knew, what that thing that changed our lives was, but then I realized it didn’t matter anymore. The past was done. I had a dinner date with my brother and his wife in 30 minutes, that’s all that mattered.
“I’ll see you next week.” Dave smiled and waved as he left, and I waved back, smiling too because I knew he would be back next week, and the week after that. We had made our choice and we both beared the scars to prove it.