WALY Ch 3

Sully awoke in a terrifying panic, the words strangled in his throat. "No, Mum!" His heart was racing and he was in a cold sweat, another feeling he knew well. He had been dreaming and reliving one of the most terrifying incidents he had ever experienced and had to learn to live with.

Taking large gulps of air, Sully tried settling the pumping of his heart in his chest. He could not believe that this dream had reared its ugly head again, bringing ghosts from the past to the foreground. Struggling to sit he realised the grey ashes piled in the hearth only had one glowing ember. The room was dark and cold, no light filtered in from the windows that were unshuttered.

Shaking with the after-effects of the nightmare he just sat and tried to control his emotions. Loneliness once again engulfed him. He was crying now; he just could not deal with this all again. His thoughts went back like a black and white picture film that was faded through the use of time. He felt like he was the only audience sitting in the musty theatre on faded red velvet seats. The light streaming onto the screen from the projector was picking up the particles of dust floating in the air.

...

Michaela sat reading the print on the first page of the file she had brought from her office to the Sully farm. She only had it just in case he had agreed to talk to her. She knew it was a long shot but had not regretted travelling into the next valley to see him. But then she was thinking, "See him? If you call looking at a blood shot eye through a crack in a door seeing!"

She had read and reread the file. There was so much sadness, and she wondered how anyone could ever survive it with carrying on life normally.

It read: As a young child Byron Sully's family had immigrated to the United States after the family decided there would be a better future for the boys. She knew his name Byron and thought his mother had been a romantic.

The father had applied for a job on the wharves as a stevedore. The experience drained him. He ended up getting very ill and finally passed away only eighteen months after arriving. The family then struggled; their mother taking in laundry to make ends meet and trying to get the boys educated. When William was killed riding his bike on the road witnessed by his younger brother, his mother had slid into a deep depression from which she never recovered. The final straw was when young Byron aged about ten saw his mother leave the house in her night dress when she thought he had gone to school. He had followed her to a bridge over the Hudson River and saw her climb onto a railing and witnessed her jump. By the time he got to the spot he had last seen her all there was to see was the continuing circles rippling out like when you threw a stone into a pond.

A policeman found the distraught boy crying on the path in the same position, his knees pulled up and his head resting there.

They trawled the river and found her body. After Byron had seen the third member of his family buried in the same plot of land he had been sent to an orphanage.

Michaela could not shake the idea that this could have been Brian although he was a couple of years younger. Take away the maybe thirty years and things would have been so tough on the young boy way back then.

Orphanages had been the equivalent of child slave labor back then. They were recovering from the Vietnam conflict, and depending on the place the boy or girl was put, there was also molestation of the children. She shuddered at all these unpleasant thoughts bombarding her mind.

...

Sully was shivering when he woke again. He now needed warmth and struggled to rise from his constricted position on the chair. All his muscles where cramped and numb from not moving.

He moved outside and collected wood to recommence the fire. He was not surprised to see it was dark maybe around midnight. He'd lost track of time a long time ago. Sleeping was a relief from the reality of life. Though the nightmares came and went in no particular order, just indiscriminate reruns of the tragedies in his life.

Eating wasn't a necessity but hearing a rumble in his stomach he decided that after the fire was lit he would see if there was anything to eat left from the last grocery run. He thought about making a large mug of coffee too. Looking at the near empty cupboards he realized he needed some more supplies.

He had neglected eating and all his clothes hung on him. He'd also not paid attention to changing or washing either himself or clothes for some time. Suddenly, he needed to take care of that and went up-stairs, avoiding a door that was jammed shut on his way to the bathroom.

Standing under the fiercely running water he thought it felt good, hoping the feelings and emotions of his self-loathing would disappear down the plug hole like the spinning water and soap bubbles that vanished in seconds.

An hour later, warmed and clean with something in his stomach and clasping a hot cup of coffee in front of the fire he did have to admit he felt a bit better, even maybe civilised.

...

Michaela was in the habit of showering before bed. She liked the smell of fresh flowers her soap left, climbing between the sheets and settling down to sleep was the best feeling for the entire day.

After reading the first history page of Mr. Sully's file again she had felt such pain for him. She had absently said goodnight to the children when they had retired to their rooms. They looked at her, knowing something was wrong as Doctor Mike only lost track of time when she was concerned with at patient.

Going into her room and brushing her hair she watched her reflection in the mirror. She tried to imagine first losing her beloved father, then Rebecca and finally her mother all by the age of ten. She was in her early thirties when her father had died, and she still felt the devastation of that sad event.

She made her mind up. She would help Mr. Sully or sink in the process.