Chapter Six:

There was no way of telling how much time had passed between the start of her rampage, and the knock on the door. Her clock and phone were both smashed to pieces, lying on the floor in amidst the rest of the wreckage of her life. All Zosia knew was that it was now dark outside, there was an annoyingly persistent knock on the door, and that she hadn't drunk nearly enough yet.

She tried to ignore the knock, but it wouldn't stop. "Zosia?" called a voice on the other side of the door. "It's Arthur."

"And Dominic," added a second voice. "Zosh, are you in there?"

"Of course she's in there," said Arthur peevishly. "What, do you think she locked herself in, then climbed out of the window?"

"Not helping, Diggers."

Arthur sighed. "Look...we're just...ah...worried about you. You just walked out of work today without saying a word..."

"Levy would not stop bitching about it," added Dominic.

"And now...well, all of the alcohol in the flat - which was quite a bit - has gone. And while I'd like to think you decided to live a bit healthier and thrown it out..."

"Judgemental much?" muttered Dominic.

Arthur ignored him and continued: "I think you might have it...well, in there with you. Coupled with the fact that as soon as we got home the neighbours were complaining about someone screaming and apparently smashing the place up..." He sighed again. "Look, I don't think that - in your current state - getting drunk will help matters. Although...it's probably already a little late for that. Basically, Zosia, we're both worried about you - aren't we, Dominic?"

"Well, of course. That's goes without saying."

"And...well...we'd like you to open this door and just...um...reassure us that you're okay."

Zosia stared dully at the featureless wall opposite her. A small part of her insisted that she should, at least, tell her flatmates that she was all right. Even though she really wasn't. "I'm fine," she said flatly, her mouth dry and scratchy. She took another swig of wine - the vodka having run out by now - to try to alleviate her thirst.

"What?" said Arthur.

"I said I'm fine," she said, a little louder this time.

"Zosh?" It was Dominic. "We're sure you are, but...it would really be helpful if you'd open this door. We're your friends, and we just want to help you."

"No-one can help me," she whispered. "Just...leave me alone."

There were more requests and protests from beyond her door, but Zosia didn't care to hear them at this time. She'd said all she wanted to say at this point, and there was more drinking to do. She didn't feel nearly numb enough yet.

Eventually both Dominic and Arthur ceased their pleading at Zosia's door. She tried to sleep, but couldn't. Staring at the ceiling only made her think of her mother, and made her break down, sobbing into her mattress. No matter how much she drank, she couldn't numb herself to the point where sleep would take her. So she sat on the mattress, and drank, and watched the night turn to day, and back again.

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As night rolled around again, there was another knock on the door. "Go away," she called, thinking it to be Arthur or Dominic.

"Zosia?" It was Miranda.

"Miranda..." said Zosia softly.

"Arthur and Dominic called me...they said you haven't come out of there in almost two days. I've been trying to call you myself, but it goes straight to voicemail."

"I'm fine."

"You're clearly not." Miranda's voice softened. "Zosia, what's wrong? Let me in, please. I can help you."

"I'm bad for you. I'll hurt you."

"Why do you say that?"

Zosia gave a hollow laugh. "I hurt everyone."

"That's not true, and you know it."

"I destroy everything I touch. I'm poison."
"What happened, Zosh?" pleaded Miranda. She sounded on the verge of tears. "Yesterday you were fine...happy, even. Tell me what happened, and let me help you."

"Just go, please," begged Zosia. "Please. I'm begging you. I just...I just need time, okay?"

Miranda gave a deep sigh. "I don't want to leave you..."

"It's what I need...please go. I promise I'll call you soon." That was a lie, but anything to get Miranda to leave. It was for her own good. Zosia cared for her too much to let her get hurt - something that was bound to happen if she stayed with Zosia.

There was the sound of Miranda getting to her feet. "I'm going," she said hesitantly. "But only because you say it's what you need, and I'm choosing to believe you. But...please call me as soon as you can. I'm really worried about you."

"I will," lied Zosia, and as she heard Miranda's footsteps disappear down the hall she told herself that it was for Miranda's own good - that Zosia was doing her a favour.

It didn't make it hurt any less, though.

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Finally, some time after Miranda had left, the combination of alcohol and sheer exhaustion finally drove Zosia to sleep. She had been staring at the wall, regularly swigging from a bottle of...something - the exact nature of what she was drinking didn't bother her as long as it was alcoholic - and sheer fatigue weighed down on her eyelids. She didn't want to close her eyes - every time she did she saw her mother, but now she had no choice. Her eyes closed, her senses faded, and she fell into unconsciousness.

No sooner had she done that, Zosia realised she was in a familiar place - the Labyrinth. Somewhere she hadn't been for weeks now. As she walked down the cold corridor, she finally realised why she was here. Why she was always drawn to this place when she left the real world behind.

Her mother was here, and she was calling to Zosia.

Of course she was calling to Zosia - after all, Zosia was the reason she was here, wasn't it? As the enormity of the revelation hit her, Zosia sank to her knees. "I'm sorry!" she yelled. "I never meant for this to happen! If you'd have...have just...talked to me..."

Zosia knew her excuses were meaningless, though. They were obviously meaningless. All the excuses, all the apologies, they couldn't change the cold, hard truth - that her mother was dead, and Zosia was responsible. Sobbing, she gasped out apology after apology into the darkness, crying to her mother that she was sorry, that she loved her. But there was no answer. A freezing wind blew down the passageway, and Zosia screamed, the pain and guilt overwhelming her.

Her eyes snapped open, and she was awake again, still in the wreckage of her room. She dared not close her eyes again, and by this point there was no alcohol left. Desperate to find something - anything - to stave off sleep, she staggered to her feet and unlocked the door to her room. Mercifully, the flat seemed empty - Arthur and Dominic must have both gone to bed.

She made her way through the flat as quickly and quietly as possible, trying not to alert anyone. As she shut the front door behind her, the cold night air hit her, shaking her out of her dazed state slightly. She walked through the Holby streets as fast as she could, her head still swimming from the events of the last two days.

That thought made her mentally take a step back - it had only been less than two days since her conversation with her father. It made her give a hollow laugh - how a life could change completely in such a short amount of time! Her current actions weren't likely to get it back on track any time soon, but she could not bring herself to care. There was simply too much flying around in her head, and she desperately needed some way of distracting herself.

Zosia reached her destination quickly enough, and before she did anything else, she found herself questioning the wisdom of this decision. Desperation and exhaustion forced her hand, however, and she banged heavily on the door in front of her. After a few minutes of repeated banging, the door opened, and an angry-looking Miranda Cowley, clad only in a vest and shorts, stood before her.

When she saw who it was, Miranda's expression shifted to one of worry and disbelief. "Zosia?" she asked in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Fuck me," pleaded Zosia.

"What?"

"Fuck me," repeated Zosia. "Just...take me inside, and fuck me, because I...I can't think straight any more, and booze just isn't working, and I need to just...lose myself." She stepped forward and took Miranda's hands in her own. "I want to lose myself in you, do you understand? I...I want to fuck you...and you to fuck me...and not think of anything else but you..."

Miranda squeezed her hands supportively. "I understand," she whispered softly, "but that's not what you need right now, I don't think."

"Please..."

"Come in." Miranda led Zosia inside, and shut the door behind them. "God, you stink. When was the last time you showered, or washed...or ate anything?"

"I don't remember."

Miranda leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up first, okay?"

Too tired to do anything but agree, Zosia nodded. Miranda smiled, led her into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. She pulled Zosia's clothes off and got her into the shower. Then, she stripped off her own clothes, and got in as well. Totally drained now, Zosia stood in the hot water, letting it wash over her, as Miranda cleaned her up, washed her tangled hair, and washed the funk of the past two days off her.

Once showered, dried, and dressed in fresh clothes, Zosia was placed on the sofa in the living room. Miranda lit a cigarette and handed it to her. "Here. To calm your nerves. I'm getting you a drink." Before Zosia could say anything, she added: "Coffee, that is. I think the last thing you need is more alcohol."

Zosia didn't argue - depressingly, Miranda was probably right.

The coffee was hot, bitter, and actually did her clear her head slightly. Miranda sat down next to her as she drank, and placed a supportive hand on Zosia's leg. "What's wrong, Zosh?"

"I killed my mother," mumbled Zosia.

"What?"

Zosia turned to face Miranda, tears in her eyes. "I killed my mother. She refused treatment because of me...she died because of me."

"Oh Zosh..." said Miranda sadly. "You know that's not true...you loved your Mum, I know you did. Whatever her reasons for withholding treatment were...they aren't your fault."

"Doesn't matter how much I loved her...doesn't matter what anyone says...I know it's my fault." Zosia shook her head. "All this time...I wanted someone to blame...and I should have been looking at myself."

Miranda laid her head on Zosia's shoulder. "What brought this on? Something must have triggered this..."

"I was talking to my Dad...he told me the whole story." Zosia laughed mirthlessly. "God, I've been such a bitch to him, and all the time...it wasn't his fault...it was mine!"

"Did he tell you that?" Miranda sighed. "Shit. I was afraid this would happen."

"Eventually - I had to drag it out of him, but..." Zosia paused and frowned. "Wait, what did you say?"

Miranda looked up at her, confused. "Just that I was afraid of this. Why?"

Zosia abruptly stood up, causing her head to swim some more. She rubbed it angrily, trying to make sense of the confused, fragmented thoughts running through her head. "You asked if he told me that - like you already knew he would."

Miranda also stood up, shaking her head. "What? No...I was just putting two and two together. You said you'd spoken to him, and..."

"And you said that you were afraid that this would happen." Zosia jabbed her finger at Miranda. "Like you knew more than you were letting on."

"Zosh, you're not making any sense...I meant that I was afraid that all this digging around wouldn't make you any happier, and it looks like I was right, doesn't it?"

Ideas and suspicions were flying around Zosia's head now, and she felt unable to articulate or examine any of them to any real degree. But she knew that she was onto something here, even if she didn't know what it was.

Then it hit her.

"Oh God," she said angrily. "I've been so stupid. Of course he's behind this, isn't he?"

"Who?" said Miranda nervously. "Zosh, you're starting to worry me here."

"My father! He put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Up to what?"

"This!" Zosia made an expansive gesture. "All of this! I should have known, really. Every time you tried to persuade me to leave things alone, to not investigate Mama's death, that was him, wasn't it?"

"No! It was because I was worried about you!" Miranda paused for a moment in thought. "Wait, do you actually think that I was told by your Dad to go out with you?"

"It's the sort of thing he'd do!" yelled Zosia, the force of her voice causing Miranda to take a step back.

"You think that our relationship, everything we've shared, my...feelings for you - you think that's all fake? That I was doing all of it because I was told to?" asked Miranda, her voice cracking as she talked.

"Just admit it!" screamed Zosia. "Why won't people just...just...leave me alone? My father tries to run my life...my mother kills herself because she thinks she knows what's best for me...why can't I just..." She took the coffee cup she was holding, and threw it against the wall as hard as she could, her voice degenerating into a formless scream of rage.

"Zosia!" yelled Miranda in a terrified voice, and Zosia looked over to see the other woman practically cowering at the other side of the room. "You are scaring the shit out of me! Calm down, please!"

Zosia looked down at her hands, and realised what she'd been doing and saying. How could she have even thought that Miranda had been fake? That didn't even make sense. She'd just been ranting about nothing but nonsense, getting herself angrier and angrier, and now Miranda was terrified. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucked up."

Miranda seemed to calm down at Zosia's change of mood. "I know," she said quietly. "And I want to help you...but...but...I can't be with you right now. You're scaring me, and I can't...I just can't deal with that."

"Please don't send me away," begged Zosia. "I need you." As she said it, she realised how true that statement really was. She did need Miranda in her life - how could she have ever thought what they had wasn't real? She didn't know how she was going to work through her issues, but she knew she needed Miranda to do it.

"I have to," said Miranda tearfully. "Just for now. Just...until I get my head together. You really scared me, Zosh. I'll get you a taxi...I'll make sure you get home safely. I just need...time."

To a rational mind, that would have sounded perfectly reasonable. To Zosia, in her current state, it sounded like a rejection - a rejection in the spirit of her mother's rejection of Zosia's input into her treatment, and as such, familiar bile spread through Zosia. She could almost feel it - the familiar heat of anger that would cause her to lash out, to say something hurtful, to pre-emptively push someone away, before they could push her away.

However, knowing that it was coming could not prevent Zosia from stopping it. "You know what?" she said archly. "Don't trouble yourself. I'll make my own way home. I wouldn't want you to put yourself out."

"What?" Miranda stared at Zosia. "What are you talking about? It's no trouble..."

Zosia held up a hand. "Really, I'm fine. You want me to leave, I get that. I'll get out of your hair. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"Why are you being like this?" Tears were running down Miranda's face now. "What is wrong with you, Zosia?"

Zosia walked to the door and opened it. "I'll be fine - just go about your business - don't even give me a second thought, okay?" She practically spat the last word out.

Miranda shook her head. "If that's how you want this to be, fine. Leave - I won't stop you. But remember, I wanted to help you, and you threw it in my face. Remember that."

Zosia began to walk through the door. As she did so, she heard Miranda behind her. "You know what the hardest part of this is, Zosia? I liked you. I really liked you."

This caused Zosia to pause for an instant, but she didn't reply. She just left, closed the door behind her and began walking back to her flat.

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Dawn was breaking now. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, casting its light onto Zosia. She was standing on the balcony of the flat, leaning on the railing and staring off into nothing. She sighed, and lit another cigarette, the latest in a long line. She couldn't even remember how many she'd had at this point - not that she cared.

The sound of the door sliding open came from behind her, but she didn't turn around. "Very bad for you, you know," said Arthur's unmistakable voice.

She couldn't stop herself from snapping. "Yes, I am a doctor, Arthur, thank you."

"Never mind then," muttered Arthur, and began to close the door.

"Don't go!" called Zosia desperately. "Please don't go."

Arthur sighed. "I thought you'd want to know - Doctor Cowley called. She wanted to know if you'd gotten home safely, given that you were apparently roaming the streets last night. I told her you had."

"Did she want to speak to me?" asked Zosia, despite already knowing the answer.

"Ah. No. She expressly did not want to speak to you," said Arthur. "And I can't say I blame her."

Zosia sighed. "She told you what happened then?"

"Most of it."

"What's wrong with me, Arthur?" asked Zosia plaintively.

"Is that a...a rhetorical question?" asked Arthur tentatively.

"Why do I go off into paranoid rants at the drop of a hat? Why do I push people away all the time? Why am I so..so angry at everything?" Zosia sighed. "Did I push Miranda away because I thought I was bad for her, or just because I'm a fucking bitch? Why, every time it looks like I might be happy, do I destroy it?"

"At the risk of armchair psychology...I think you have serious, serious issues you need help with."

Zosia smiled wryly. "Then why do I explode and drive away anyone who tries?"

Arthur paused. "I don't know," he said finally.

"Me neither." Zosia flicked her cigarette away, and turned to face him. "I wish I knew."

"Look," said Arthur, "I don't know everything that's going on with you, but I know enough, and we - that is, everyone - want to help you, we really do."

"You can't help with the truth, Arthur," said Zosia softly. "I killed my mother, and no matter how much I try to blame others, or seek help, nothing will ever change that fact."

"But you...you can move past it," urged Arthur. "If that's even true, and...and I don't see how it even could be. Look at you...you're so smart, and you're a brilliant doctor, or at least you could be. You're dedicated, passionate...you can be so generous sometimes. You really care. You're..." He shook his head. "You're beautiful, in so many ways, and if you sort yourself out, you could have the whole world in your hands. But if you don't, and you continue on the course you're on..."

"Yes?"

"I think you'll be dead before you're thirty," he said bluntly.

Zosia nodded, almost to herself, and laughed softly.

"It's not funny," said Arthur crossly. "I'm worried about you! I...I want to help you, Zosia, but I don't know how."

"I wish I knew," whispered Zosia. She suddenly looked up at Arthur. "How's Maria?" she asked.

Caught off by the sudden change in subject, Arthur blinked in surprise. "What?"

"How's Maria?"

"She's...she's good. We're good. But what does that have..."

"I'm glad," said Zosia warmly. "You deserve happiness, Arthur. You really do."

"I don't know what to say to that..." Arthur scratched his head. "Thank you?" He paused for a second, as if wondering whether to say something. "You know...it's funny..." He gave a fake sounding chuckle. "Once...I...ah...I thought I might find it - happiness, that is - with you."

Zosia smiled sadly. "Oh, Arthur Digby - you're a romantic at heart. What you want is a perfect relationship, with someone who loves you, and who you love - just like that, with no hidden agendas or complications. A relationship where you can grow old together, supporting each other through thick and thin."

"I suppose so..."

"And does that sound like me?" Zosia shrugged. "We both know it doesn't, Arthur. That's not the life I'm probably ever going to live. Sometimes I wish it could be, but..." She sighed and walked over to Arthur, who instinctively took a step backwards. She smiled. "Relax, I'm not going to pounce on you."

"Well, you do have a habit of doing that..."

Zosia wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder, "for always being there for me - even when I didn't deserve it. Which, let's face it, is most of the time."

Arthur hugged her back, a little awkwardly. "I don't know about that...it hasn't been that bad living with you."

"You're just being nice. I'm a nightmare." Zosia pulled back from Arthur, who frowned at her.

"Zosia, you're not going...I mean, you're not thinking of doing anything...stupid, are you?"

Zosia gave a sad smile, and walked back into the flat. "Why change the habit of a lifetime?" she called behind her, sliding the door closed.

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It was barely an hour before the sight of her bedroom wall drove Zosia to distraction. The dawn light was creeping in through the blinds, even though they were closed, making sleep difficult even if Zosia had been inclined to try to drift off. The room was still a disaster, but she had no inclination to tidy it up. Instead, she sat on her mattress, and tried to find some other way of relaxing, of calming her frazzled nerves. There was no alcohol left, her TV was lying in pieces, and she had no desire to try to read anything. Vaguely, she was aware that at some point she needed to get back into the world and sort what was left of her life out, but for now that was still far in the future.

And so, when the blank wall facing her couldn't be endured any more, she found herself looking around the ruin of her room, and her eyes alighted on the Box - the one she had lifted from her mother's study. Somehow it had survived her swathe of destruction, and it was sitting on top of a broken chair, glistening in the shards of sunlight.

It was a puzzle box - that's what Arthur had said, wasn't it? Perhaps the challenge of solving it could occupy her mind for a few hours or more, depending on how tricky it was to open. She picked it up and sat back on her mattress, studying the Box in great detail. Apart from the fine gold etchings around the sides, there seemed to be no joins in the Box - no clues in how to open it. A cursory exploration of the sides revealed no obvious pressure points to trigger anything.

Zosia frowned. What was it Arthur had said? That some boxes required hundreds, even more than a thousand movements to open? Surely this small device couldn't be that complicated? She tried to think back to her research on the Box, but from what she could recall, none of the sites about the Box had actually mentioned any clues on how to solve it.

All other matters temporarily forgotten about, Zosia peered intently at the Box. She would solve it - now she had a purpose, and she would not be distracted from that.