"Do you understand, that our hospital is the best place for patients like your sister? There`s no other way."
"I do understand, that at home she won`t be so well cured like in here but… Doctor, she`s dying in here. She`ll get much better at home, she won`t feel herself that sick and… abnormal. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, my dear. But you have to hear me. Your sister is dangerous for you and for other people. Think hard before you take her home". The voice of the psychiatrist was calm, but I knew him too well, so I didn`t believe him. Trembling notes in his voice betrayed nervousness and anxiety. Dr. Bachman didn't want me to leave his hospital.
"I have already thought about it."
Cecilia never wanted to hurt me. I remember the day she came to the hospital to take me home. At the time, I didn't know how to react to this event. On the one hand, I was very happy to finally leave these walls, and on the other... except Cecilia there was no one waiting for me at home. I had a father, but he insisted that I must stay at St. Patrick's. He's probably more comfortable that way. I guess it makes him feel like I'm suffering enough for everything I've done.
"Remember about her disease. Remember about it every minute you stay with her or leave someone with her alone. Look closely if she takes the pills or you`ll have terrible problems. "
"Many thanks". A cold and strict answer from Cecilia had pointed and end of the conversation.
Cecilia told the truth. I was dying in that hospital. Patients were treated badly, often to the point of physical abuse. I didn't know that from hearsay. I often dreamed of how I, fresh and rested, will sit in the office of my doctor, with a smile of gratitude and listen to him saying that I am healthy and allowed to go home. And I would go! I would buy the best cigars for my dad, flowers for my sister, and went home bringing good news. My father would probably forgive me. But the days went by, and I got worse. Crazy (like me) became even more insane, being in the walls of this mournful refuge. I knew that firsthand, too. A mental disease, you say? Where would it come from? I didn't know when I gone crazy. I doubt anyone knows. It just happened, that's all. It just happened?..
"Amanda," a quiet voice of my sister has broken the silence. "Amanda, can you hear me?"
I was just sitting and stupidly staring on the wall. I could hear my sis talking to me, but I didn`t want to answer.
"Amanda?"
"Cecilia," I mumbled, parting my parched lips.
"Yes, dear, it`s me. I came to take you back home. Are you happy?" Do I really hear tears in her voice?
I didn`t answer her. I just slowly shook my head. No, I am not happy.
I really didn`t want to go back home. Doctor said that I`m sick. My father thinks that I`m sick. Everyone around is afraid that my insanity can hurt someone. Why would I be happy? Do I have to be happy, if my family volunteered to take upon its shoulders such a burden? I often thought that a lot of people would have a better life if I died here or never had a chance to leave the St. Patrick`s house. Really, a lot of people would feel better. My father would be calm and sister… Cecilia would not suffer because of me. Although I lost a touch with reality, and most of the time I spent being insane, I still knew how much effort she makes every time to visit this God damn place. That's why, when she came there that day, I tried not to pay attention at her, hoping that Cecilia finally understand the pointlessness of her visits and go home alone and I`ll stay here forgotten.
"I have no idea why did you brought her here! I really have no idea! I can`t even look at her and I don't want her to live with us!"
"She is her daughter! If only Amanda was healthy she would never hurt anyone of purpose. And you know it."
"But she is not healthy. She doesn`t have a place here."
"I could not leave her there, dad!" Cecilia burst into tears. I felt like I`m gonna cry too. I didn`t like Cecilia crying. "Amanda was suffering in that damned hospital. She`ll get better at home."
"I`m sure she will. How about me? How about you? How are you going to set up you life if you`ll have to look after her? How can you just see her and not to remember what she`s done?"
"I can. Yes, I really can. I have lost too much and I don't want to lose Amanda, too. She is not ok, but she never wanted to hurt anyone."
"Just remember who helped you to lose that much!"
"I`ve managed to forgive and forget all that horror we`ve been through. For my own sake, for Amanda`s sake and for mother`s, too. Mom would never blame Amanda, she loved her."
Knew my dad was right. I used to sit for hours in the living room, watching the dust in the air, the wind swaying the curtains through the open window. If Cecilia or my father turned on the TV for me, I stared blankly at the screen, not even thinking about what I was watching. Even though it was a white noise, I did not look away, staring at the black and white snowflakes on the TV. That day, as usual, I was sitting in the living room, holding a book in my hands and staring thoughtlessly at the letters as if I had never seen them in my life. No, I wasn't reading, I was just looking, like I was hoping I'd see something new or the letters would suddenly start dancing in the middle of the page. But the room was lightless. Nothing happened. When I heard Cecilia and dad's voices from the kitchen, I listened. I didn't hear anything new, but then it spurred me on. I needed to hear everything I thought about myself from someone else's lips in order to fully understand and realize everything. It was the end.
As I left, I threw the book on the floor for the first time in many hours of "reading", seeing its name. On the cover of the book was a cute blond girl flying into a rabbit hole. Stepping over the book, I took a firm step away.
"My God, Amanda!" Cecilia stumbled. "Did you hear all of that?"
We ran into each other in the hallway. Cecilia looked tired, exhausted and incredibly upset. "Why would she look like this?" I thought venomously.
"Heard what?" I looked at Cecilia with a blank stare, feigning genuine misunderstanding.
"Never mind. Are you going to your room? We could watch a film or play cards. You loved cards once."
"Yeah.. John knew that." I blurted out.
"He did. I was him a couple days ago. He sends you greetings." I was mute. "So… So what do you say?"
"OK. But I go to the bathroom first." I tried to smile, but it turned out so-so. Sis, seeing my smile, became sad and seemed to be going to cry again. Pursing his lips, Cecilia patted me on the shoulder.
"I love you, Amanda. Whatever it is."
I did not answer her, only turned around and slowly began to climb to the second floor. Only coming to the bathroom door, I said I in a quiet voice: "And that`s in vain."
The bathroom was on the second floor. I always hated that bathroom. The ugly, cold, blue tile pressed against my eyes, and I wanted to tear that tile away from the walls and never look at it again. But I knew it had to end there. In that bathroom. It's the only way I could make it right. And if you want to correct a mistake, you should definitely start from the beginning. When I entered the room, I thought I was already in Hell. The pale blue tile was stained with blood. I flinched. Did anyone cleaned the blood for so many years? Blood was fresh. Wasn't it supposed to curl up? Taking a step forward, I barely held back the urge to vomit. The rug under my feet was soaked with blood. Father probably didn't put it all away on purpose and didn`t let Cecilia to. It was done for me. Thanks, daddy. He knew I'd want to end it here, and he took care of it.
No one in the whole world knew how difficult it was for me to get over myself and close the door behind me and stay alone with this nightmare. With my own past. The curtain over the bathroom was closed. Once white it was now decorated with an intricate pattern of blood, which dazzled the eyes. It seemed that the walls around me breathe, pushing me to something what was hidden in the bath.
With each step, the fear receded. I knew what I'd see behind the curtain. The beginning of all this madness. But I wasn't afraid anymore. It was necessary. I reached out, grasping the edge of the curtain. Strange, but my hand didn't feel any touch, only the moisture of fresh blood, which miraculously preserved here.
In the bath, behind the curtain, there was my mother. She smiled at me with her usual kind smile, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Should I say Hello? The answer was a bizarre cacophony of gurgling and wheezing; unfortunately, that was all my mother could tell me. Her throat, cut almost from ear to ear was bleeding; crimson streams of dark venous blood trickled down her chest, lost in the folds of her nightgown. She couldn't talk to me, but she obviously wanted to. Every time she snorted, moaned, or wheezed, the wound on her neck parted, revealing the mutilated cervical vertebrae. Yeah, if there was no bone, she'd have lost her head.
Not being able to speak, she beckoned me with her hand, inviting me to sit with her in the muddy, bloody water. I obediently climbed into the bath. First my feet were under the water, then I sat down and water covered my breast. My mother looked at me tenderly, and I knew she approved the thing I was going to do. Suddenly her other hand came out of the water, clenched into a fist. My mother winked at me conspiratorially, and I held out my open hand to meet hers. She dropped a small metal plate on my hand. It was the blade that started it all. I smiled. These blades have not been produced anymore. It`s been five years, probably, as they disappeared from all stores. When I brought the blade to my wrist, my mother nodded approvingly, smiling terribly. Yeah, baby, that's right. As she nodded, the wound in her neck closed and parted with a nasty slurping sound, releasing more and more streams of blood each time. It seemed that I was sitting not in water, but in blood. When I took a look down I assured. Water doesn't get that thick.
One sharp move, and it was over. My blood mingled with the mother's blood, and cold lights overhead began to dim until extinguished for me permanently.
They had to break the bathroom door. Cecilia's father brought a tool from the garage and broke the lock in a couple of minutes. Amanda went to the bathroom a long time ago — no noise of water, no sounds of fuss could be heard. Isn't that something to worry about? Especially, if you live in a house with a mentally ill person.
When the door finally broke the heavy metallic smell of blood hit Cecilia`s nose. Did someone say the blood have no smell? Forget about it. The blood smells. Smells like death, pain and madness; it all depends on the case.
When Cecilia saw her sister, she thought her heart would stop. Amanda, her beloved younger sister, was lying in a cold, empty bathr, fully clothed — each of her arms had been cut deeply by a large incision from her wrist to the elbow fold. The blood had already left her body, and Cecilia even thought she saw the damaged ligaments on Amanda's arms. The air suddenly left her lungs, Cecilia began to choke. Shock, misunderstanding, grief, pain — all this at once rushed on the woman, and she fell on a floor without feelings.
Amanda Crane left the world of the living.