Chapter Twenty-Seven

PRESENT TIME

I hadn't been able to shut my mind off since Paul's visit. As usual, he had shocked me in one way or another. I wondered what he was trying to accomplish.

I stared out of the window at the sun, which was setting fast. I hadn't moved since early afternoon, not that I really felt like it. It was so much more comforting to sit and think.

What I had said to Candace was true…Paul had changed. Sharp bitterness seemed to characterise each word; there had been resentment in his eyes, I realised now.

The sun momentarily disappeared behind some thick cloud, distorting the light and plunging my cell into darkness. I sighed and braced my back against the wall. One would think that things would get easier, being cut off from the rest of the world. But it wasn't; if anything, everything was amplified because there was no way to escape it.

My thoughts were cut off by a shrieking as someone was carried past my cell. I stuck my head out the door so see a twenty-something woman called Aina being dragged down the hallway by two wardens, clearly having one of her 'episodes'.

"UNFAIR TREATMENT! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!"

I sighed and closed the door again, listening to her shrieks weaken as they dragged her further away. Even though it was warmer in the hallway than in my cell, I still returned to my sitting position against the wall. Time passed, and soon the moon filled my cell with silvery light, pouring through the barred window. I shuddered as a blast of wind seemed to come out of nowhere, whistling and wrapping itself around my arms and legs, before disappearing. I hugged myself tighter, my teeth chattering.

It had been a long time since I had felt that sensation. It usually meant that there was a ghostly presence hanging around and it was time to mediate. It brought back a feeling of nostalgia I never thought I would have felt. I wondered if Paul still mediated, still shifted. Did he still transcend? Still close his eyes, like he had taught me, and slip into the alternate dimension that ghosts resided in, saw things the way they did. I hadn't had the chance to ask him.

I probably already knew the answer, anyway.

I tried to focus on something else, but it happened again. I hadn't transcended in so long because it scared me to do so in here, but at the same time it was an appealing idea. I hadn't done it because I couldn't help anyone but myself. But it would definitely break the monotony of sitting here and doing nothing.

Without further contemplation, I lay down on my cot

Like I had many times before, I evened out my breathing and emptied my mind. The first time I had ever done this intentionally, I had been holding hands with Paul. He'd coached me on what to do to get there, and what to do once I'd transcended. It had been one of the scariest experiences of my life, but at the same time it had brought absolution. I finally understood the feeling I had on occasion when I went to sleep, as if I was growing colder.

We have our differences, but I'm grateful to Paul every day for figuring it all out, because I probably never would have, even after learning about Shadow land. We'd been two teenagers back then, trying to take on the world.

Actually, not much has really changed.

I went.

My skin was growing cold, and seemed to seep from my chest, enveloping my entire body. I shuddered, but kept concentrating. Once I felt it reach my toes, I opened my eyes and sat up.

My physical body remained on the cot. I looked unconscious.

My cell was all washed out colours and pastel hues, and covered in mist, and looked more depressing than before. It was like Shadow land, but the world I knew. This was the plane of existence ghosts walked on. To mediators like me, the two planes were not mutually exclusive.

There were no ghosts around, not that I expected there to be. If they had of wanted to be seen in my cell before I'd transcended, I would have seen him. With nothing left to do, I moved through the door and looked down the hallway. Still nothing. Several wardens walked past, some passed right through me. I shuddered; you never grew used to the feeling that you didn't technically exist. It was cold, too. A cold that permeated your bones. It was worse here, because at least Shadow land didn't look like our world. I wrapped my arms around myself and continued to walk through the halls, calling out for the unnamed person who had signalled me in the first place. Nobody answered, and I groaned. I was going to have to seek them out in the old fashioned way: by looking.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't an exercise devoid of fun. It was amusing to peek in the staff room and witness the nurses in their natural habitat, some sleeping with their mouths open, others picking their teeth or engaged in a variety of unflattering behaviour. I wondered what Jesse was doing, and then quickly disregarded my thought. I couldn't care about that. He was probably home, after all, having a life and doing normal things.

"Hello?" I called out. My voice was distorted; it didn't contain the clarity of the normal dimension that I was used to. I searched for a while, until the only place remaining was the high security section. I didn't want to go back there, but I knew I had to. I walked past the heavy security, men and women patrolling the halls and looking like they wished to be elsewhere. And then I saw her, leaning against her old cell, looking younger and healthier.

Henrietta.

I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was. "You're still here," I said, stating the obvious.

Henrietta seemed indifferent. "That I am. I see you are, too."

"Turns out I wasn't very good at staying free."

"You did better than me."

I bit my lip. "Why did you do it?"

Again, she was indifferent. "There is nothing left for me here. Don't tell me you've woken up excited, looking forward to the future. It's been seven years. I'm done."

"They might have released you eventually."

"The way they might release you?" she studied my expression and nodded. "I thought as much. No point."

"There must be. You're still here."

She shrugged herself off the door and walked over. Her face was fuller, prettier. How she looked seven years ago. "Yeah, I haven't figured that out yet. Thought you might be able to help me."

This was why I hadn't mediated in nearly three years.

"I'm gonna be honest with you Henrietta. Do I look like I'm in the position to help you?"

"Not just yet. But if you play your cards right, you might be soon."

"How so?"

"I've been watching you," my face must have darkened, because she rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it. I don't have anything else to do. But something big is coming, and you'll need to be ready to take the chance when it comes."

"Could you be any vaguer?"

"They call it a self-fulfilling prophecy. If I give you the complete a to z right now, it might influence your decision. I just want you to be ready."

I rubbed my hands over my face. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She laughed. "Actually, I am. I now know why ghosts did it to us all the time."

The wardens were moving around us; a shift change. It was getting late.

"I have to go," I said to Henrietta.

"I'll be here," she said.

So would I.

When I returned to my cell, I was greeted with a very strange sight indeed. My body was still lying where I'd left it, but there was another person in the room now, shaking my body, his voice growing more frantic by the minute.

I swore, and bounded towards my body, concentrating hard. The first thing I felt when I returned was the sting of my cheeks. I opened my eyes.

The worry in Jesse's brown eyes drained away, replaced by relief and confusion. "You're okay."

"I was sleeping."

"I was slapping your face."

"…I'm a heavy sleeper?" I offered. He raised his eye in disbelief.

"You were unresponsive. I thought you were-"

"I'm fine," I cut him off. I'd been careless, leaving my body unattended for so long, thinking it would go unnoticed. I sat up, and Jesse moved back. "What are you doing in here?" I asked. "My examination isn't for another couple of days." My heart was pounding, but I wasn't sure if it was from Jesse or from transcending. Maybe both.

"There is a loophole."

"Oh?" I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"It's my responsibility to check on the wellbeing of patients. You seem to be having a hard time adjusting."

I raised my eyebrows and quirked the corner of my mouth. "You don't say."

Jesse nodded. He seemed relaxed. "Yes. Paul visited you again, and this seems to be causing you great internal con-"

"Save the professional talk. Seriously," I cut him off. "I don't care if you speak normally—at least I'll be able to understand you then."

He laughed and ducked his head, looking sheepish. Finally, he met my gaze again. In the semi-darkness, his eyes almost looked black. Usually I would have found this eerie, but since Jesse was anything but scary it didn't bother me. It entranced me, more than anything. "Paul affects you a lot, am I right?"

Jesse mentioning Paul reminded me all over again about what Paul had said to me. Be careful. He could have been referring to anything. He could have been just trying to unsettle me. "Anyone is affected by Paul. He's the kind of person who can get anything done by any means—and it's that fact alone that makes you wary of him. But that's only a minor part to me, of course. There are other reasons."

"Like the fact you used to be emotionally involved?"

"Irrelevant now."

"No, it's not," he disagreed. I looked over at him in interest, but I was distracted by the sight of how he had mimicked my way of sitting, so that he was resting his back against the wall. I gave a laugh before I could stop myself. "What?" he asked.

"You're taking the whole doctor-patient equality thing a little far, don't you think?"

Jesse grinned. "It looked very comfortable. God knows you always sit like this. I was wondering."

"I stick to the tried and tested."

He smiled again. "I noticed." His smile seemed to soften his face, making it that much more…

Not going there.

"Where are you from?" I asked him, out of the blue.

Jesse looked confused. "Where do I live, you mean?"

"No, you have a slight accent I can't place, and it's been bothering me. Where were you born?"

"Guess."

"I'm terrible at that game. I'll probably offend you."

"Try me."

"South Africa?"

"Nope."

I took in his black hair. "India?"

He gave a laugh at that one. "Do I sound Indian to you?"

I screwed up my face. "No, you don't. I told you I was bad at this."

Jesse gave me an expectant smile. "I'll give you a hint. Think southern hemisphere."

"Australia?"

He nodded. I looked at him in disbelief. "But that's so far away."

"Yeah," he said, leaning forwards a little, sounding secretive. "There's a new invention called airplanes. They're very effective at transporting people across large bodies of water."

I poked my tongue out at him. "You don't look Australian."

"I was born in Spain, but I moved a lot with my parents when I was young."

"How long has it been since you left?"

"Several years."

"Why'd you leave?" I'd always wanted to live overseas, but had never gotten the chance.

He looked contemplative. "Wanted to see the world, I suppose. I don't like feeling boxed in."

"Which is why you work at a mental institution?" I asked, fighting a laugh.

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?"

"Do you ever go back?"

Jesse nodded. "Every now and then; my family lives there, still."

"I have friends there, too."

"Where?"

"No idea. I haven't spoken to them in a while."

"Ah," he said. I could feel the conversation growing awkward, which was disappointing. I saw him sneakily glance at his watch, so I gave him an out.

"I'm okay," I whispered. "You don't have to worry about me."

Jesse leant his head against the wall and looked at me. "No, Susannah, you're not."

I exhaled gustily, which helped to release some of the tension that had built inside of me. "Yes, I am," I murmured. "You have no idea, do you?"

His tone was a little cautious. "I probably don't, no. That's why I'm asking you."

I shook my hand, feeling frustrated. "I just…I can't tell you anything, okay? Anything I do say you can just use against me for your diagnosis."

"You shouldn't jump to those conclusions. If you wanted someone to talk to, I could be that person. You only have to say."

He had no idea how right he'd sounded when he'd said that. But it was impossible, everything was. He was my doctor. Not my friend. Then there is the fact I have permanent residence in a mental health hospital. That has to count for something. I shouldn't matter.

So why was he making out that I did? Why did he care? This was just making me more upset.

"Honestly Jesse, thank you for the offer. It's appreciated, truly. But I just can't. I'm not supposed to matter anymore. I messed up, hugely. But it's over. So why do you want to know?"

There was a silence at the end of my rant. I removed my hands from my eyes, and felt a warm tear escape and slide down my cheeks. I bat it away impatiently.

"Susannah…" he said softly, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. His hand was warm on my cold skin, and I felt goosebumps arise. "It'll be okay."

I laughed without humour. "Really? Do you know what it's like for everything to think that you're completely crazy, and that you don't have the capacity to do anything of importance anymore, much less act like a normal human being?"

I heard him sigh, and his hand slid off my shoulder. I missed the contact the minute it disappeared. "No. I can't say I do. But I can say this: you're not crazy."

I froze and looked at him, my eyes wary. "What?" My voice was tiny.

"You're not crazy. You never were. I realised soon after the passing of Michelle Wilson. You…your reactions, your thoughts, the way you were…were too genuine. It was clear you were mentally sound. Which got me thinking—what are you doing here in the first place?"

I stared ahead at the wall, not knowing what to think. Admittedly, what he was saying was almost a relief. He thought I was normal. But it obviously hadn't helped much.

"Choosing not to acknowledge your past can't help, and I think you know this."

I did. I bit my lip, contemplating. Then I made my decision. "No. I won't talk about it. If I'm going to try and get over it all, move on or whatever, I can't just keep dwelling on it."

"It's quite the opposite, actually. If you can talk about it, acceptance will follow."

"I don't want acceptance. That will never be possible. I just want to forget about it." I turned my head away, staring out the window. I was losing this argument, and badly.

Jesse was getting braver, though. He obviously knew he was close to breaking through the surface. This was both frustrating and enlightening; not too many people were brave enough to push when I'd made up my mind. I felt his hand on my arm again, lightly tugging on it.

I kept my head turned away, my stubborn streak driving me.

And then it all fell to pieces when I felt that same strong, calloused hand creep up my neck and to my jaw, making its way over to the other side of my face. I inhaled as he cupped my cheek and gently turned my head around to face him.

I froze.

This was so…surreal. And unbelievable. So many revelations, so much closeness, in such a small amount of time.

"Wha…" I began, but it died on my lips when we made eye contact. His hand on my cheek was one of the most beautiful feelings in my life; not like he was intruding, but like it was fine that his hand was there…more than fine.

I thought he'd move his hand once he'd been successful in turning my head around, but to my surprise it stayed there. I was stuck staring into his sincere gaze. His eyes were dark pits, and emotion I couldn't decipher pooled there. They were so unreadable—in a way, almost as hard and unattached as Paul's were now—except they didn't chill me every time I looked at them. That didn't mean they didn't have a hold on me. Oh boy, they did. The distance between us was heady with unspoken words and anticipation. I felt like I couldn't move, as if the workings of my body had shut down at his touch; I couldn't do anything else except stare.

He caressed my cheek with his thumb and spoke softly, comfortingly. "You aren't alone. I will always be on your side. You don't have to go through this by yourself."

My eyes were filling with tears, but for an entirely different reason. I could barely register what was happening; how Jesse…Dr DeSilva…was on my side. More than that, he was touching my face. It only took me a few seconds to realise how close our faces actually were. They were closer than they should have been, by rule. There was something unspoken passing between us, and it was so intense I barely noticed that his face was coming closer.

Soon, I could feel his breath on my lips, his nose almost touching mine. The close proximity, the electricity between us, was making me nervous, anxious, excited…

I was thinking with my heart, and not my head. Actually, I was beyond thinking.

And then it ended, so quickly that I was almost convinced it had never happened in the first place.

"Hey! Hey! I hope you aren't too depressed that you forgot to eat!" Candace yelled through the door, in a high pitched voice.

Her interruption acted like an electric shock between us, and we both jumped back from each other as if we'd just burst into flames.

And then it sunk in…I had almost kissed Jesse.

I couldn't look at him. I felt his weight shift and as he stood quickly, opening the door. "Evening, Candace."

"Um…hi? I hope I wasn't interrupting your session."

I heard Jesse clear his throat. "No, no, you didn't. We were finished here." I felt his eyes on me, and I looked up. His expression was even more unreadable than before. "Sleep well Susannah. And you, Candace."

She grinned and waggled her fingers at his departing figure. "So…" Her voice was laden with expectation.

I tried to sound detached. "He was just checking my psychological state after the whole Paul thing."

"Huh," she nodded. "Well, you didn't answer me. The wardens are getting everyone to the dining hall. Are you hungry, or not?"

I definitely wasn't hungry, but something told me I should probably go with her. I'd have plenty of time to think later on tonight, because I sure as hell wouldn't be sleeping.