I wanted this over.
Completely over.
CONOR
“How are you feeling?” Dr Harper asked me, her hazel eyes penetrating through me.
“Good and bad days, I suppose.” I shrugged as I lay on the couch in her clinically white office.
“That’s normal, Conor. You have been through a lot in the last five months. But you have also come such a long way from when I first met you.” She gave me a reassuring smile.
“I don’t feel like that,” I admitted, picking the skin on the side of my nails.
“Talk to me. Why don’t you feel like that?” she asked, putting her leg over the other one so they were crossed. Her long brown hair was tucked behind her shoulder, her head bowed as she started to jot down notes. The notes. I hated the fucking notes. I hated being documented, being judged.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, and she pushed her black, thick framed glasses up her nose.
“It’s the nightmares. The not having closure on Chase.” I shook my head.
“Tell me about the nightmares,” she said, her pen scratching on the paper. It was eating at me.
“The screams are the worst, and they are always Chase’s. I know that sounds silly, but I am trapped in the dark, damp room. It stinks. I am dirty, hungry, broken. It’s always the same. I hear the men walking towards my room, then I hear Chase call me, screaming for me. I run to the door, banging, pleading for them to let me out, pleading for them to let me see him. Just to make sure he is okay. Just so I can keep my promise. My promise that we would both come home.” I shook my head “But I can’t. The door is opened, and I am shot through the chest by someone in a mask with golden, hazel eyes. I fall on the floor as I’m gasping for breath, the air being pulled out of my lungs. I can still hear Chase, but now he is begging me to help him, begging for me to get to him and bring him home. I hear their voices again. But I can’t do anything now, I can’t respond.” My heart is beginning to race in my chest, the blood pumping through me so fast I can hear it in my ears “I am bleeding out on the floor, everything around me blurring out when I hear another gun shot and I am thrown into darkness.” I sniff, fidgeting on the couch then I take a breath before I carry on.
“Then there is light, the light that is Darcey. It’s always Darcey. She is standing there, looking down at me, the sun shining behind her beautiful face, her blonde hair blowing softly in the wind. She is smiling at me, holding her hand out to help me up.” I smile “We are on a beach, she whispers the words, ‘I love you,’ then she is gone, she is fading and moving away from me. But I can’t move. I can’t run after her. I go back to bleeding out in that dark, damp room before my eyes close again, but this time when I wake, I am in the hospital. The dream continues on loop, constantly, until I open my eyes. When I do finally wake up, I am sweaty, my throat sore from the screaming, I’m assuming. I am just exhausted with it all. I am broken. I want this over, I want to go home and get out of here.”
My heart is racing just talking about it. I can feel a cold sweat coming on. My eyes dart round the room as I grab the glass of water on the table next to me, drinking it as fast as I can.
“Conor, these dreams are normal. You have had a very traumatic experience that no one should ever have to go through. It is being made worse by the fact that you don’t know what has happened to your best friend. You are being kept in the dark. Also, you’re not allowed to go home and see your family, and I couldn’t imagine being where you are now. But, we will get through this together, we will get you home. You said about keeping a promise… Promise to who?” she pried, no writing this time, just a sincere question.
“To Darcey,” I said quietly.
“You haven’t broken that promise, have you,” she said, her eyebrows raising, not sure if she was asking me or telling me.
“Well... I have to an extent. Because I am safe, but he isn’t. I will be going home, he may not,” I admitted, my eyes looking at the ceiling.
“But you can’t let your recovery slow down because of a promise you haven’t broken. You are being too hard on yourself,” she said softly.
That was the final strike.
My blood boiled.
I had no control on my temper.
“TOO HARD ON MYSELF?” I screamed at her as I stood from the couch, my fists balled, grabbing my glass with my water in it and throwing it across the room.
“I HAVE BROKEN MY PROMISE. I BROKE THE PROMISE TO THE GIRL I HAVE LOVED SINCE I WAS SIXTEEN. MY QUEEN. THE GIRL I AM SO DEEPLY IN LOVE WITH IT SCARES ME. DON’T BULLSHIT ME WITH YOUR THERAPY SHIT.”
My teeth grit, my veins pop in my neck.
I hear the siren, the siren that she had pressed because I have just lost my shit.
She stood slowly. “Conor, you haven’t broken anything. Go back to your room, cool off. We will continue this tomorrow.” Her voice is cool and calm.
I look behind me as I see two male carers waiting to take me back to my cell. My box room with a shitty view. I drop my head in disappointment. One step forward, ten back.
“Take your medication with your lunch,” she said as I walked out the door like a scolded child. “It’ll help.”
I turned my head and looked over my shoulder at her. My eyes apologizing for my behaviour.
I saw her mouth, “it’s okay,” with a hint of a smile on her thin lips.
I focussed on the airy, light hallway in front of me and walked towards my room. My anger slowly leaving my body as I got further away from her office.
I was slightly relieved when the meds kicked in, my heart rate slowing down completely, my rage non-existent. I hadn’t a clue what they were giving me, and in this moment, I didn’t care. They were helping.
I laid there, stretched out on my bed, staring at the white ceilings, my eyes fluttering between sleep and the dream world. I just wish it was the dream world and not hell where my mind kept taking me.
I just wanted it to all be over now, but I feared it wouldn’t be. I feared I would be haunted for the rest of my life.
A few hours later, I woke to find Dr Harper sitting on the edge of my bed, her eyes gazing down at me, her smile soft.
“Hey, Conor.” Her voice was quiet and calm.
“Hi,” I muttered as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I said, slowly sitting up.
“That’s good, the medicine helped then?” Her smile appeared again.
“They did.” I nodded. “Will I have to be on these for life?” I was terrified of the answer.
“No, just until the nightmares get better,” she said. “Just until we can clear your mind a bit.”
She scooted closer to me, taking my hand in hers. “We will get there, you have already made such great progress in the last five months. I am really proud of you Conor. Get some rest, we will discuss tomorrow.” She patted my hand, then stood from my bed as she walked out the room.
After dinner, I reached under my bed and pulled out a tin box.
My box full of letters from Darcey.
I opened the lid, smiling as the scented paper filled my nose from her perfume that she sprayed on each of her letters. I read every single one, like I did most nights, just so I could feel close to her.