She had to see him. It was something in his voice, his eyes.
Sally Taylor had only been working at the institution for a few weeks, but something hit her the first time she had spoken with Tommy. She didn't know quite what, but he always seemed troubled. In fact, he had always seemed haunted. It wasn't quite depression. She knew that depression was a sort of flat feeling, quite common amongst loners in schools, orphanages and other institutions. But he wasn't depressed. It was like he was deliberately hiding his feelings, afraid that he would totally break down if he ever dared to let them out.
And the night he had woken up screaming she realised just how little she understood the extent of his problems. She knew that she probably couldn't do anything to help him, but that didn't matter. She had to t.
She found him in the lounge the next day staring out of the window. It was a Saturday afternoon and most people were fixated on Grandstand. But not Tommy. He was on his own as always. He was staring so intently at nothing that Sally assumed he must be watching the shapes floating around in the vitrious humor in his eyes. She spoke to him softly, but felt that she may as well have been crashing a pair of cymbals in his ears.
"Hi", she said. Tommy sat bolt upright, as if cymbals would have been quiet compared to Sally's voice. "I just wanted to talk".
"What about?" asked Tommy.
"About last night".
"I really shouldn't be talking to you about my problems", Tommy frowned. "It wouldn't be right".
"But something's obviously bothering you and I thought that maybe I could try to help".
"You can't help me. I don't think anyone can".
"Let me try", insisted Sally. Surprisingly he began to speak.
"Al-Mon. He comes for me. Every night when I go to sleep he's there. Waiting for me in my dreams".
"Al-Mon?"
"Yes", replied Tommy, the fear in his voice stepping up a little. "I know that he's always there. He can do things, he can make things happen to me. I just know that he's always coming. But he can't hurt me here. Only when I sleep. I never have a quiet night's sleep like you".
Sally's empathy for him grew. She realised what a terrible pair of worlds he lived in: a loner by day and plagued by unimaginable nightmares by night. She really wanted to help him, but thought to herself that she would be opening a huge can of fat juicy worms. She thought for a whole minute, and then said in the gentlest, most sympathetic voice possible, "Al-Mon isn't real. You're safe from him". She put her hand on his shoulder, knowing that what she had just said must have been uttered to Tommy so many times that it now probably felt like a kick in the shins.
"But he is", replied Tommy. "He's real for me".
"But has he ever caught you?"
"No. I always wake before he catches me. I've never even seen him".
At that moment the sound of a bell rang through the room. It was dinner time. One by one, all the people in the room turned away from Grandstand and walked out to get some lunch. Sally realised that she should go and help out. She did work there after all.
"I'll be back as soon as I can", she whispered to Tommy. She hadn't got two paces away from him when he spoke again. She thought he was just mumbling at first, but when her brain started to process the sounds she realised he wasn't. "But last night, there was someone else in my dream. Someone who's never been there before".
"Another nightmare like Al-Mon?" Sally asked, hoping for anything but an affirmative answer.
"No", said Tommy, his expression at least slightly giving the cloud a silver lining. "Someone who could help. Someone who says he's dealt with things like Al-Mon before. Someone called the Doctor".
"Hey, Taylor!" one of the other nurses broke Sally's concentration. "Lunch time. Are you just going to stand there all day?"
"Sorry", said Sally, red in the face, reluctantly going to hand out whatever cheap food they were serving that day. She walked out of the lounge, wishing with each step that the door would not get an closer to her. But this was reality and in seven short, unwilling strides, she was out of the room. No sooner had she walked through the door when she heard a voice behind her. "Miss Taylor", a rasping male voice said. She turned around and there behind her was Doctor Sneed, new head of the institution. He was about six feet four tall, extremely thin, with balding grey hair and lean glasses. He was immaculately dressed in a black pinstripe suit with an equally black tie and a white shirt. His shoes were so clean that you could probably see your reflection in them. So dark, thought Sally, they were almost blindingly bright. The first time she had seen him, she had thought that he was a zombie. She was beginning to realise that she had never actually modified her thoughts to think of him as anything else.
"Yes, Dr Sneed", she said.
"I notice you were talking to Tommy Boys".
"Yes. He's upset".
"Disturbed", Sneed corrected, an almost snake-like hiss in his voice. "You would be better to just leave him alone".
Sally felt her heart sink and her mouth go dry, just like when her teacher found out that it was she who had spilt the hydrochloric acid on his lab coat.
"What was he talking about?" The question made her jump.
"His nightmare", she replied, practically involuntarily.
"His nightmare, you say. What about his nightmare?"
"He keeps being chased by something called Al-Mon. And last night he dreamed about some kind of doctor". She smiled trying to lighten the situation. "Probably a doctor like you".
Sneed leaned closer to her, thinning his serpentine eyes a little. "Nothing like me, Miss Taylor. Nothing like me at all".
To be continued in chapter 3