Traumaland

20 SYCAMORE

20

SYCAMORE

ELIAS

JAN 8 TH

TIME: 22:30

LOCATION: LEWES

*USABLE*

I ’ m dancing .

In the garden, my bare feet in the mud . It ’ s been hardened by the cold, which has made it difficult to dig and plant the bulbs that lie scattered on the ground . There ’ s music playing in the kitchen . Soft and gentle .

I turn . Spinning . Laughing .

It ’ s beautiful . A piano .

I hold the shovel like it ’ s my dance partner . Dip it low in my arms . ‘ Dance with me! ’

‘ Eli, please stop .’ I turn to see Dad standing beside me in his dressing gown . ‘ You ’ re going to wake up the neighbours . Come inside .’

‘ I don ’ t have time .’

‘ It might help you calm— ’

‘ I don ’ t want to calm down! ’ I shout . It ’ s true . I don ’ t . Not now . I have lots to do and so little time . ‘ Tesco closes at eleven, so I need to get there quick . I ’ ve had a google and no other shops are open within a twelve-mile radius unless it ’ s a garage, but they won ’ t sell what I want .’ I can hear myself talking rapidly, but I need him to understand .

Dad looks at the woman standing under the security light of the patio at the back of the cottage, her blonde hair in a tight ponytail . I can see she ’ s crying .

Mum .

She never cries . She raises her eyebrows at Dad in a way that says no way . Not now .

He turns back to me . ‘ We can walk to Tesco in the morning, Eli . It ’ ll be a nice thing to do together .’

‘ No, I need to go as soon as I ’ ve finished planting these .’ My brain is buzzing, alive, firing on all cylinders . Everything – every colour and shape and sound – is clear and bright and fills me with life .

I am alive .

I am indestructible .

‘ Please put the shovel down ,’ Mum says quietly, but her voice is strong . Precise .

‘ No, Mum ,’ I say firmly . ‘ I ’ m just trying to be helpful . The bathroom needs cleaning and I need a specific product . It ’ s very important that it ’ s the right one . You ’ ll see what I mean when it ’ s done . I know you ’ ll love it .’

‘ You ’ ve dug up half the garden, Eli, and it ’ s ten thirty at night . This has been going on for days .’ She pauses . Then quieter , ‘ You need to see a doctor . A psychiatrist .’

I drop the shovel so it falls with a thud in the dirt . ‘ No . No psychiatrists, Mum .’

‘ Eli— ’

‘ I ’ m fine, I promise . In fact, I ’ m the best I ’ ve ever been .’ There ’ s a tremor somewhere inside me, vibrating, desperate to find its way out . ‘ I feel amazing .’ I start to laugh . Because this is so clear to me now . Everything is so clear .

‘ Look at yourself, Eli ,’ Dad says calmly . I glance down at my body . Shirtless . No shoes . Mud between my toes . Only wearing an apron and my underpants . ‘ Your hair is blue .’

‘ I like it ,’ I say .

‘ Let ’ s go inside and talk ,’ Mum says . ‘ It ’ s freezing .’

‘ Can I go to Tesco? ’

‘ If you calm down, come inside, maybe your father will take you .’ She glances at him . He nods .

That ’ s good . Great! ‘ OK ,’ I say . ‘ We ’ ll need to take the car .’

‘ That ’ s fine ,’ Dad says .

I follow them through the patio doors and into the kitchen where the music is louder . I stand next to the kitchen island . Dad shuts the patio door behind us and locks it . Mum stands back, arms folded, against the wall .

‘ Well done, Eli ,’ Dad says . ‘ Now let ’ s try and have a rational conversation .’

‘ That ’ s all I want ,’ I say . ‘ I ’ m here for exactly that .’

He pauses, then says , ‘ We ’ re going to call a crisis team to come and assess you .’

I slam my fist on the countertop . ‘ No .’

‘ We think your new medication has caused this . It ’ s necessary .’

‘ No, Dad . What ’ s necessary is … is …’ I ’ ve forgotten . This music is driving me insane . The relentless plonk of the piano . I go to the record player on the side table in the corner and look down at the spinning record . ‘ Who put this shit on? ’

‘ You did, Eli .’

I pull the arm so the needle scratches across the vinyl . All I want is for the noise to stop .

‘ You ’ ll break it .’ Dad steps towards me . ‘ Just leave it, Eli! ’ But the needle keeps scratching .

‘ I want something more lively . This is sucking the life out of me .’

He ’ s right in front of me now, grabbing my arm .

‘ Gordon! ’ I hear Mum shout, her voice shrill and panicked . She never shouts . She is never shrill or panicked . But Dad keeps trying to pull me away from the record player .

I turn . ‘ Get off me! ’ My thoughts are like beetles, scurrying over details, moving relentlessly, but I don ’ t mind . They make me faster, which is important .

I punch him right in the face . Oops .

‘ Eli! ’ Mum screams . ‘ Stop it! ’ I see her reaching for her handbag on the kitchen island, but before she can, I grab it .

‘ No, Mum! ’ I shout . Things are juddery, the room is convulsing around me, as I tip out the contents of her bag on to the floor . Keys, keys, come on, keys …

There . I snatch them, just before Mum ’ s hand can take them . She grabs her phone and scrambles to turn it on, stepping away from me .

‘ Yes? ’ she says into it . ‘ I need an ambulance . As soon as you can . My son is having a manic episode and I think he ’ s going to do something dangerous .’ She looks at Dad, who ’ s on the ground with his face in his hands . I think I broke his glasses .

‘ No, Mum! ’ I scream . I realise I ’ m next to the sink and I have a glass in my hand .

Do it, something tells me . She doesn’t understand.

‘… he ’ s been acting manic for the past few days and is now seriously out of— ’

Do it. Now.

I throw the glass .

It hits the wall a few centimetres above Mum ’ s head . I watch the glass shatter over her like rain .

She screams, dropping the phone . She never screams . Never .

‘ Wait ,’ I say . ‘ I didn ’ t mean— ’

I can see Dad standing . He ’ s staring at me with so much anger, so much loathing . Before I know what ’ s happening, he launches himself at me . I dodge him and run for the kitchen door, skidding on the shattered glass .

I still have the car keys in my hand . Yes .

I run through the hall and pull open the front door . Outside on the driveway, I see the blue Golf .

I ’ d rather take Dad ’ s green Cadillac – to ride in style – but that ’ s in the garage, locked away . My old bike would have been perfect, but that ’ s gone .

This’ll do, something says to me .

A voice . From within me, but also not . Somewhere next to me . Above me . Behind me . One I do not know . An actual voice .

This is good. It’s time to go. Leave these people that do not understand you.

I fumble with the keys in the lock . Come on .

The door opens and I get into the driver ’ s seat . I push the keys into the ignition, hands shaking . The headlights flick on .

‘ Eli, please! ’

Dad is suddenly here – how did he get here? – standing in their glow, waving his hands at me, blood on his upper lip . He looks panicked . Afraid . He moves to the side of the car . As I try to push the lock down – ‘ No, Dad ’ – he opens the door . Then his hands are on me, pulling me, dragging me out of the car and on to the driveway .

I jump up, scrambling out of his grip . I climb on to the bonnet . Then up, on to the car roof .

‘ Get down, Elias! ’ His voice is strong . Angry .

‘ No, Dad .’

He grabs my foot and pulls . I tumble off it, landing on top of him . As we wrestle on the ground, I can feel that I ’ m crying . He puts his whole weight on top of me .

‘ You ’ re suffocating me! ’

His foot is in my back, his hand is on the side of my head . He pushes it into the ground and my mouth fills with gravel . I can ’ t move . ‘ You need some help, son . You need some help ,’ he keeps repeating . The keys are no longer in my hand . I look up and see Mum on the phone, in front of our house, our beautiful country cottage in leafy Lewes, her hand over her mouth .

Everything judders .

I hear the sound of sirens, the sounds of tyres grinding to a halt on the gravel . The driveway becomes doused in a blur of red and blue . There are people in a green uniform – are they paramedics? – lifting me into the back of the ambulance .

‘ You ’ re safe, Elias . We ’ re taking you somewhere you will be safe ,’ the paramedic says .

And then I ’ m moving .

I ’ m screaming and yelling, strapped down . ‘ I ’ m sorry, I ’ m sorry, I ’ m sorry . Please, where are you taking me? ’

SESSION ENDED USABLE FOR ELIAS’S STORY HOSPITAL

I’m in the cleaner’s room, lying on my front. The stark white of the tiles shatters into view. I bolt up, panting, tears wet on my face. My ribs. They ache.

My head. I can’t think straight.

A hand touches my arm. I jump.

Nisha stands over me, panic in her eyes. Confusion. Terror. ‘ Shh .’

‘Nisha, I…’ I start to say, but the words get caught in my throat. This is…

This is bad. This is very, very…

‘What was it?’ she whispers. ‘What happened?’

‘I… I…’

‘You were writhing around on the floor.’

‘Nothing they said is true.’

She kneels down next to me, places her hand on my shoulder. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There was no car crash,’ I say, my throat thick with phlegm. ‘It never happened.’ I drag myself up, my arms struggling to hold me.

‘Stay quiet—’

‘I was taken away in an ambulance before I drove the car. I never drove it. I tried to, but my dad pulled me out before I could.’

I can see her biting her lip, thinking.

‘They lied.’

They lied. Why?

Nisha frowns, studying my head. ‘But if there was no crash, how did you get the scars?’

My scars. My chest. My stomach. My nipple.

The hole in Dad’s stomach. From the branch.

But there was no branch. There was no fucking branch. How did he get it?

‘Eli—’

I crawl away from her towards the desk, the headset still in my hand. I fumble through the white container until I find the other chip in my compartment.

JAN 16 TH

‘Eli, wait. They keep walking past.’

But she can’t stop me. Nothing can. I’m already pushing it into the headset.

‘You don’t need to be here,’ I say. ‘If you don’t want…’ My voice falters, emotion gripping me – so deep and painful I can’t quantify it. I catch something in her expression, something I’ve not seen or felt for a long time.

Empathy. Real empathy. Warm against the stark whiteness of everything else.

‘I’m not against you,’ she says quietly and I know she means it.

‘OK,’ I say. ‘Thank you, Nisha.’

‘Just… I need you to stay quiet. Sit under the desk,’ she says. ‘You nearly threw yourself into the shelves.’

I point at a pillowcase on the floor that she pulled out of the dryer. ‘Pass me that.’

She does and I begin to twist it.

‘I’ll stay by the door,’ she says. ‘If I hear anything, I’ll pull the headset off.’

‘OK.’ I crawl beneath the desk. ‘If I scream and it comes out, shove it back in.’ I take the pillowcase and push it into my mouth, tying it behind my head. Just before I pull the headset back on, I look at Nisha and for the briefest of moments I feel a sense of calm wash over me.

I think what I feel is comforted .

Then I pull down the goggles once more and she is gone.

ELIAS

DATE: JAN 10 TH

TIME: 10:06

LOCATION: SYCAMORE WARD

*USABLE*

‘ Do you know where you are, Elias? ’

The man standing in front of me is wearing a crisp white shirt, no tie, top button undone . Behind him are four large men in light-blue polo shirts with the letters ‘ NHS ’ embroidered where the pocket should be . The walls are a soft cream colour . The room is empty, except for these people . These people I do not know .

‘ I ’ ll take your silence as a no ,’ the man in the white shirt says . ‘ You are currently in a seclusion room at Sycamore Adolescent Psychiatric Unit in Brighton, about ten miles from your family home . My name is Dr Dexter and I will be your responsible clinician . You are currently unsafe . You are a risk to yourself and to others, so you need some help .’

I ’ m crouched on the floor, wearing clothes that are not my own .

A gown . A hospital gown, tied around my waist . I can see the top of my thigh through the slit . My blue boxer shorts .

‘ Let me out of here ,’ I say .

I watch the four men bristle .

‘ I just want to speak with you ,’ the doctor says calmly . ‘ We ’ re going to take your vitals, then bring you some food and some medication . I need you to stay at the back of the room while we do that, OK? To keep everyone safe .’

‘ No .’

‘ Elias, you are not very well . You have been sectioned here and you are very confused, so we will have to— ’

‘ I ’ m not confused . I need to get to Tesco .’

One of the men behind the doctor stifles a laugh .

The doctor doesn ’ t take his eyes off me . ‘ Are you still hearing voices? ’ he says . ‘ Are they telling you to do things? ’

I don ’ t answer .

He sighs, looks at his watch, then turns to one of the men . ‘ Blood pressure, please .’

The man who laughed steps towards me, holding something in his hand . A grey box with a rubber wire coming out of it .

‘ This is a blood pressure— ’

‘ No! ’ I yell . ‘ Don ’ t come near me! ’ I ’ m standing now, my body screaming in pain, my head thick with racing thoughts . ‘ Just let me go! ’

‘ Elias, we can ’ t look after you if you resist . Work with us ,’ the doctor says, stepping backwards behind the men . ‘ We are helping you .’

The man with the grey box is strapping something attached to it by a grey tube around my arm .

‘ Please— ’

And then I see the door on the opposite side of the room, with a small, square window in it . It begins to open . A lady steps into the room carrying a tray .

‘ Who are you? ’ I yell .

No one answers .

On top of the tray is a plate of food and, next to it, a needle .

‘ No! ’

I grab the rubber tube attached to the grey box, pulling it from the laughing man ’ s hand .

‘ Oi! ’

I swing it, feeling its weight, as I back away from him into the corner .

‘ Restrain him! ’ the doctor shouts . ‘ He has a weapon! ’

I wrap the rubber tube around my hand, the grey box hanging from it like a mace . I look at the four men . ‘ Don ’ t you touch me or— ’

Suddenly, it feels as if a brick wall has pounded into my body . I fly backwards, landing on the floor with a crack .

The four men are on top of me, grabbing for my limbs .

I twist my body, sliding along the floor, dodging hands, between their feet . Then I ’ m up, running, past the man in the shirt and the lady with the tray and through the open door, out into a corridor .

I run, run, run, slamming into walls, turning corners, past other people in hospital clothes staring at me blankly . A ward . I ’ m in a ward . Rooms with people ’ s names on them – KELLY ’ S ROOM, MOHAMMAD ’ S ROOM, ELISHA ’ S ROOM – fly past . I can hear the four men behind me, feet slapping on the lino floor .

My body crashes into someone .

‘ Sorry, sorry, sorry .’ A girl with a bloody mark on her forehead . ‘ Can you tell me which way is the— ’

‘ Move, Rosie! ’ I hear . She steps aside just as a body slams into mine from behind . I fly forwards .

All I see is the ceiling . And hands . Hands on me, gripping hard like they ’ re trying to snap me in half . I feel each finger as they dig into the muscles in my arms, my legs, as I ’ m picked up and dragged back through the corridor . I scream and thrash, the skin on my knees burning as they skid across the lino .

Then I ’ m back inside the cream room . I ’ m dropped down on to the cold, hard floor .

My head bounces off it and I smell the sharp tang of metal .

I try to stand .

White dots swarm as two of the men appear on either side of me . They pull me down with them until they ’ re lying straight on either side of me, pushing into me with their bodies .

‘ No! No – no! ’ I feel a crushing weight across the back of my legs . ‘ Get off me! ’

‘ OK, Elias ,’ a voice says . A female voice . ‘ It ’ s OK .’

I ’ m able to turn my head just enough to see her standing over me – the lady in the blue nurse ’ s uniform who was holding the tray .

‘ Help me, please! ’ I see the needle in her hand . ‘ No! ’

‘ Work with us, Elia— ’

‘ Don ’ t! ’ I scream . ‘ Don ’ t you touch me! ’

The white spots begin to merge . I can no longer see her face . Just a white blotch .

And then I feel my gown being pulled down, below my back . I try to kick and kick, but I can ’ t move . There ’ s something heavy on my back . A knee . My chest hurts . I can ’ t breathe . I can ’ t …

My lungs feel like they ’ ll explode .

I can see the man on my left is smiling . Smiling like this is funny .

I gasp for air . ‘ Help me— ’

A sharp pain radiates into my upper thigh .

‘ Stop …’ My voice is small . The white is closing in on me .

The man laughs again .

‘ Just one more …’ the nurse says brightly .

Another sharp pain . The other thigh .

The two men stay lying on either side of me, until I hear the door open .

The weight on my legs lifts . The man on my left lets go .

The man on my right stays, holding my arm, now crouching next to me .

‘ That fucking hurt ,’ I say .

He smiles . ‘ Don ’ t fight next time . It ’ ll be easier .’

And then he is gone .

The lights flick out . I hear the door slam .

I turn to it . The small, square window is the only thing I can see .

I drag myself up off the floor and stagger towards it . ‘ Help me ,’ I say, leaning my forehead against the glass . ‘ Please, help me .’

No one .

Wait . Yes . There is . A little down the corridor with his back to the wall .

A boy . My age . It startles me slightly when his eyes meet mine . I look at him – tall with broad shoulders, his face slender with sunken eyes, yet soft somehow . He ’ s wearing a beanie and a hospital gown like mine . ‘ Help me ,’ I say . ‘ Please .’

He frowns, opens his mouth as if to speak – and then I see a hand on his arm . Someone pulls at him . The nurse who stabbed me with the needle . ‘ Come on, Mr Quinn .’ She pulls at his arm again . ‘ Jack, this way, please .’

And he ’ s led away . Out of sight .

I feel sluggish . Exhausted .

As my body pulls me down on to the floor, I see something slide underneath the door .

I hear the nurse ’ s voice . ‘ Your parents wanted you to have this .’

A photograph .

One I took . Dad, Mum and Lucas in the sun outside our house, in front of Dad ’ s green Cadillac with the yellow stripe down the bonnet . They all look so happy .

I pick it up and turn it over, wondering if they ’ ve left me a note on the back . Some kind words . An apology .

But it ’ s blank .

I fold it and hold it pressed into my palm as I stare at the walls .

Cream . All around .

And endless silence .

TIME ENDED STORY NAME: HOSPITAL