Death is Not an Option - 3. Chapter 3

This time waking up is hard. It is hard for all sorts of reasons but, mostly because of the pain. My wrists are hurting, aching like toothache and my bad arm is screaming at me. Both of my shoulders throb as though they have been wrenched and my back is twisting in painful spasms. My mouth is weird too. My tongue feels twice it's size and the inside of my cheek hurts. I taste blood. What happened to me?

I hear voices. I recognise Rick and the nurse, the nice one. I can't open my eyes, can’t move, can't speak. I am not.... here yet. My mind is a whirl of confusion, my thoughts thick as soup. I focus on the voices to take my mind off the pain. It doesn’t work, not completely but it helps ground me, gives me something to work towards.

“I thought that you were going off duty an hour ago.”

“I was. I am.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“For the same reason you are still here.”

“I doubt it.” There was laughter in her voice. It was light, teasing. There was something there that should mean something to me but it doesn’t.

“Something’s wrong Katie. I don’t know what it is but something is very wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I went to the community, the place that Isaac came from. I thought that maybe if someone from there came to speak to him he would open up to them. They don’t have telephones and so I had to go there. It’s a strange place. Very beautiful but very.... closed. It was like stepping into the twilight zone. I can’t explain exactly. Everyone was very polite and hospitable but it was as if they were all watching me all the time, as if they expected me to do something unexpected at any moment.

“As soon as I mentioned Isaac a wall went up. The woman I was speaking to looked as though she was scared stiff. She told me that she could not speak of him and that I would have to talk to their leader, a man called Caleb.

“Caleb was..... how do I describe him? He was like something out of the Old Testament. Think Amish with attitude. He told me very politely but very firmly that Isaac is dead to them now and they want nothing more to do with him.”

“Did they know what happened to him?”

“Yes. Someone contacted them when it first happened. He said that it was simply another example of Isaac’s corruption. That he sinned against the community and now he has sinned against God and there is no forgiveness for him, no place for him in their homes or their thoughts.”

“Did you tell him that Isaac is ill, that he needs them?”

“I tried to but they didn’t want to know. To be perfectly honest after having spoken to him for ten minutes I didn’t want them to come here, to speak to him. They would only make things worse.”

“Do you think that’s why he did it?”

“Did what?”

“Attack that girl. Do you think he was looking for some kind of affection, someone to give him.... something he couldn’t get anywhere else? Maybe... maybe he just went too far.”

“Maybe. Maybe....”

“What?”

“Nothing, just a thought. When I was leaving two young people showed me to my car. A man and a woman. They looked as scared as everyone else but, as I was getting into the car the boy whispered to me. ‘Tell him we’re sorry, we’re really sorry’ and the woman wanted to know if he was alright?”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth. I told her no. I told her that he needs a friend and if he doesn’t find one soon I don’t think he ever will be alright.”

“What did she say to that?”

“She ran off crying and the boy followed. They both looked devastated, destroyed.”

“What do you think he was saying sorry for?”

“For turning their backs on him? For not being there for him? Maybe for something else, something more.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that there is more to this than meets the eye. More to him than meets the eye. I just wish I could get through to him, to get him to open up, to speak to me. I have a feeling that lies don’t come easily to Isaac, that he is afraid to talk to anyone because if he does he will have to tell them the truth.”

“And what do you think that truth would be?”

“I’m not second guessing that, but I have spoken to the governor of the prison, the guards who found him, anyone who would speak to me and they all say the same thing. Isaac is a gentle person, quiet, withdrawn, in pain. He wasn’t talking to them either, and what he did say was dismissed.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that he had been betrayed, let down... by everyone... by God.”

“Are you thinking that maybe he didn’t do it?”

“I’m thinking a lot of things. I have been doing a lot of talking to a lot of people. I figured that it was the only way I was going to learn anything about Isaac because I had little chance of learning anything from him very soon. From the moment I saw him I felt that.... I don’t know, that there was a lot of pain in there and that it is a pure pain. There’s no guilt in him and everything I have heard about him points to the fact that if he had done what they say he’s done he would be full of remorse.”

“Maybe he’s just good at hiding it.”

“I don’t think he is good at hiding anything, which is precisely why he doesn’t trust himself to speak.”

“Maybe. He’s very beautiful. Maybe....”

“I don’t think so.”

“Still reading my mind Rick? I thought we had an agreement about that.”

“Only about certain aspects of my mind reading abilities.”

“Stop it. We’re on duty. You are being very unprofessional Mr Fielding.”

“That’s Doctor Fielding if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all. I have a thing for men in white coats.”

“I don’t wear a white coat.”

“It’s a matter of perspective. You wear yours on the inside.”

“Oh that was deep.”

“Can we try and keep our minds on our patient Doctor Fielding?”

“My mind hasn’t been on anything else all night.”

“Oh thanks for that.”

“With notable exceptions of course. There was about half an hour when I was a little distracted.”

“Half an hour? You....”

The voices are losing their ability to distract me. As I surface from the darkness the pain increases and I can’t ignore it. I hear a strange noise. It's me. Not exactly a moan, not exactly a grunt, not exactly a scream.

“Isaac? Isaac, can you hear me?”

The darkness is falling away, consciousness rushing towards me and I can't stop it, I can’t hide, I can't get away from the pain.

“Help me.”

“Are you in pain Isaac?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Every.... where.”

“Alright, just relax. I’ll give you something to help with that. Just hang on in there Isaac.” There’s a flurry of movement. I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t care. All I care about is the pain. I bite my lip and taste blood again, it doesn’t matter, what’s a little more pain? I am whimpering, shaking. This is hell. I don’t deserve this. I haven’t done anything to deserve this.

“Isaac. Relax now. Try to take deep breaths. Isaac listen to me, listen. You’re breathing too fast and too shallow. Concentrate. Take a deep breath, slow it down.”

I hear the words. I know what they mean. I know what he expects of me but I can’t do it, I just can't. The pain is all consuming. The pain in my arm is the worst, in my wrist but the pain in my head is almost as bad.

“Relax Isaac. Try and breathe. I know it's hard. I know you are in pain but you have to concentrate on this, try hard Isaac.”

And I do. I do try hard. I do concentrate on every breath, every...one. But the pain... Very slowly the pain is releasing its grip on me. The edge is fading. It is still there, I can still feel it but it doesn’t consume me any more. I feel like I have been running. My heart is racing, my chest burning and I just lie here, letting it all settle down, listening to me heart beat in my head, slowing down until I can’t hear it any more, until I can’t feel it any more, until it is quiet again.

“That’s the way Isaac. Good boy. Feeling better now?”

I want to open my eyes. I want to see them, to tell them about the pain, to ask them what they’ve done to me but... it's hard. It's too hard. I feel like I am floating, drifting away from the pain, the confusion.

“Isaac. Open your eyes sweetheart. Come on now, wake up. We need to know about the pain Isaac. We need to know where you hurt so we can help you.”

My eyes won’t work properly. It is really hard to lift the lids and when I do my eyes go with them. It takes a lot of blinking, a lot of struggle to get them open and focussed.

“There you go. Will you talk to us now Isaac? Will you tell us where you are hurting?”

“What happened to me?”

They exchange glances. That is not a good sign. Maybe I should be getting worried now. I’m not. I really don’t care. If it was bad then maybe I will die after all. That is what I want after all isn't it. Isn't it?

The nurse smiles at me and leans over the bed. She strokes my face, brushing the hair out of the way. Until now I hadn’t even realised it was there, all over the place, stuck to me.

“You’ve been very poorly Isaac. They almost didn’t get to you in time. A few more minutes...” Yeah. A few more minutes and I wouldn’t have had to worry about any of this. I wouldn’t have had any more pain, any more fear, any more grief. “You lost a lot of blood and it really was touch and go for a few days.

“You’re much better now but...” She glanced at the doctor who nodded slightly and she went on, smiling still, a kind smile, concerned. “Everything that happened to you has had an effect on your body. We don’t think they are going to be permanent but you have had a few problems with your heart and... you had a seizure. Do you know what that means?”

Of course I know what that means. I’m not an idiot. It makes sense. I know you are not supposed to hold someone down when they’re having a fit. I’ve seen it at the community, we’ve all had first aid training. Great. And I was strapped to the bed. No wonder I hurt.

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you Isaac?”

Of course I do. Why does she keep asking? Oh. Of course. “Yes.”

“Good. You’ve been asleep for a while. We gave you medicine to make you sleep until we were sure you weren’t going to seize again. We examined you as best we could and it didn’t look like you damaged yourself too much but clearly you are in a lot of pain so can you tell us what hurts most so we can take another look?”

“I...” Now that the pain is fading it is hard to remember. “My arm.”

“Yes. You tore out some of the stitches. Dr Marsden was furious. As if it was your fault.” There is irritation in her voice and it makes me smile. I assume Dr Marsden is the doctor I saw earlier... yesterday? I can imagine. “It’s fixed as best as can be but it’s going to be painful for a while I’m afraid. Fortunately none of the inside stitches were disturbed so no harm done. Anything else?”

I nod. “My hands, my back, my shoulders, my head.”

“Quite a list. Okay, let’s start with your hands. Does this hurt?” She lifts my arm.... not the bad one, and bends back my hand. After a moment it starts to hurt, a lot. I pull back and she releases me. “It’s pretty clear that it does.” She runs her fingers over my wrist pressing gently. Every time she presses it hurts. Every time she pulls and twists it hurts.

“Well, your wrists are very tender where the straps cut into them and I think you’ve wrenched the joints but I am fairly sure that there is nothing broken. Again I am going to have to say that they are going to hurt for a while and I’m afraid you will just have to put up with it, although we’ll keep an eye on the pain medication and make sure it’s manageable.”

Next she examines my shoulders and makes the same diagnosis and it is while she is doing it that I realise something, the realisation seeping into my dull mind very slowly and puzzling for a time by what it meant. It was when she raised my arm over my head to test the shoulder that it finally sinks in. I am not tied down any more. Not that it makes any difference. Now, more than ever I am bound to the bed... by my pain, my weakness, my helplessness. I’m not going anywhere and they know it.

“How much does your back hurt Isaac. On a scale of one to ten with ten being the pain in your arm what number would you give the pain in your back?”

Number? How can I give pain a number? I don’t understand what she means. “It hurts.”

“I know it does Isaac. I know. How much does it hurt?”

“Not so much now.”

“Before we gave you the medicine to help with the pain, how much did it hurt then?”

“Not as much as my arm, or my shoulders.”

“Okay. Good. Do you have any tingling in your legs, any shooting pains or numbness?”

“No.” She runs her hands over my legs and asks me if I can feel them. Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?

“Alright. It looks as if there isn’t too much damage. Do you think you can turn over so I can take a look at your back properly?”

Of course I can turn over. In fact it would be blissful to feel cool air on my back again, it has been pressed against hot rubber for too long. But when I come to it I can’t. I am too weak, too un coordinated. I try to sit up but as soon as I lift my head from the pillow pain explodes and the room spins.

“Steady. Rest now. Take deep breaths and try to relax. Where did it hurt?”

“My head.”

“Where in your head?”

“At the back.”

“Is the pain easing at all?”

“No.”

“Does the light hurt?”

“No.”

Gentle fingers slide through my hair running over the back of my head down to the base of my skull, over my neck and that’s where it hurts and makes me grunt.

“Is that where it hurts? Is it tender there?”

Tender? That’s not the word I would have used. Fucking screaming, stabbing, tearing pain... those are the words I would use.

“Okay, I think we should get some xrays done, just to make sure there is no damage. I don’t want you to worry Isaac because I don’t think there is anything seriously wrong with you but it would be better if we make sure. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.” What else could I say? No, I don’t want you to touch me, I don’t want you to look at me, I don’t want you to save me?

The nurse smiles and pats my arm gently. “It will be alright Isaac. Try not to worry.” And then she is gone, leaving me with Rick. He looks a little stunned, but he pulls himself together fast.

“Will you talk to me now Isaac, now that I know you can?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I smile. It is not going to be as easy as that Mr Psychiatrist. You are not going to trick me into opening up to you. I can’t do that. I can’t, not even a little. So I just look at him.

“What about if we just chat? About simple things? I’ll make a deal with you...I’ll ask questions and you only answer the ones you are comfortable with. No pressure. Does that sound fair?”

“If you keep your word.”

“I always keep my word. What about you Isaac? Is it important to you that you keep your word?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Who’s your best friend Isaac, the person you trust most? Who do you know will never lie to you, never let you down?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“Oh come on. Someone like you.... sweet, gentle, good looking... there must be someone.”

“How do you know I’m sweet and gentle?”

“I’ve been speaking to people who know you.”

“There’s no one.”

“No girlfriend?”

“No.”

“No one at all?”

“No.”

“What about the people at the community? You have friends there surely.”

“I used to.”

“Used to?”

“I was expelled. No one there is allowed to see me, speak to me, speak of me.”

“What will happen to them if they do?”

“They will be expelled too.”

“That’s a bit harsh isn’t it?”

“It’s the way it is.”

“When I went to talk to Caleb there were at least two people who were concerned about you, who asked me about you. One of them told me to tell you he was sorry. Do you know what he might have been sorry for?”

“It might have been Jacob.”

“He was young, about your age, maybe younger. He was shorter than you, blonde, blue eyes.”

That makes me smile. “That could be just about anyone. They are all blonde with blue eyes.”

“Not all of them. Not you.”

“No. Not me.”

“I didn’t see anyone there who looks like you. Are your parents there?”

“No.”

“Were they there?”

“They’re dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was a long time ago. I don’t remember them.”

“You were very young then?”

“Three or four.”

“Were they part of the community?”

“Yes.”

“Who looked after you?”

“All children belong to the community and not to their parents. They are all live together in the children’s house and are taken care of by the whole community.”

“I see. Do the children know who their parents are?”

“Sometimes.”

“But not always?”

“No, not always.”

“So there were others like you, who didn’t actually have parents as such. You weren’t the only one?”

“No. I wasn’t the only one.”

“Did you ever feel that you were different to the others; that you didn’t fit in?”

Oh yes, yes I felt that I was different. I felt that I didn’t fit in... they made sure of that, they all made sure of that, all the time, every day, but I am not going to tell him that.

“No.”

“Are you sure about that? You wouldn’t lie to me would you Isaac?”

Okay, so let’s test if he is telling the truth. Let’s see if he accepts it when I don’t want to answer. I just look at him and he smiles.

“Difficult area?” I nod, keeping my eyes neutral. “Okay, fair enough. A deal’s a deal. Let’s go back to Jacob, if that’s who it was. Do you know what he was saying sorry for?”

“Yes.”

“Did it have anything to do with what happened to you?”

“Maybe.”

“Does he know something about what happened, something that he hasn’t told anyone?” I shake my head and I know he knows I am not saying ‘no’.

“Alright. I know that’s a hard place for you to go. Let’s talk about something else. What do you like to do? What are your hobbies?”

“Hobbies? I don’t understand the word.”

“A hobby is a thing you do for fun.”

“For fun? I...um....I like to walk, to watch the sunset over the fields.”

“Good. What about reading? Listening to music?”

If only. He knows nothing about life at the community, nothing at all. “We are not allowed to listen to music, only that which we make ourselves on community occasions. There are books but they are chosen by the elders and we have to have permission to read them. I.... I am good at reading and understanding so they allow me to read books about law and history so that I can help the council if there are problems. We are not allowed to read for fun.”

“Is there no fiction there at all?”

“Fiction?”

“Stories. Books that tell stories; that are made up, not real.”

“There are books about folklore and legend, books about different cultures and countries. All of the major religious works, whether we acknowledge their tenets or not. These are the books we are encouraged to read. We are taught that we must have respect for all faiths but that we must guard ourselves from subtle untruths and perversions, and in order to know what is our truth we have to learn about what all people consider to be truth and how to find our own path.”

“Is that your individual path or the one the community teaches you?”

“We are encouraged to question... and also to accept the answers we are given.”

“I can tell you were good at the legal side of things.” That makes me smile. I learned the art of question avoidance from a master.

“What did you do in your spare time, when you weren’t working?”

“There was always work to do. In the fields, with the animals, at council, research, paperwork, chores, duties. We retired and rose with the sun. We worked together. We were a community. No time was ‘spare’.”

“But you found time to walk in the fields alone at sunset?”

Yes, and that was one of the things that marked me, that was frowned on and disapproved of and scorned. Just another piece of evidence that I lacked community spirit.

“Yes.”

“Did you like being alone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get into trouble for it?”

Damn. Does he read my mind? “Yes, sometimes.”

“Were there others like you, others who liked their own company, who wanted to be individuals and not just one of the crowd?”

How did he know that? “Some. Sometimes.”

“Jacob?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get into trouble a lot?”

“Yes.”

“I can imagine. Individualism is rarely encouraged in a collective. Do you think you can talk about what happened, what you did?”

I feel like screaming at him. I didn’t; I didn’t; I didn’t, but I can’t. I can’t tell him, can't tell anyone. It’s too late...way too late. I shake my head and something of the sick horror I feel inside must show in my eyes because he doesn’t press it.

“That’s okay. What about after? Can you talk about what happened after?”

“No.”

“Why did you try to kill yourself Isaac? Was it really so bad in prison? Was it so unbearable?”

“No.”

“Did you get hurt there?”

“Sometimes.”

“Were you afraid?”

“A little.”

“Enough to make you want to die?”

“No.”

“So why? Why did you do it?”

I shake my head. I can’t tell him. I can’t speak of it, not here, not now, not to him.

“Let me tell you what I think. I think you were let down Isaac, betrayed by those you trusted most. I think you were abandoned and left to your fate by those who were supposed to be protecting you. I think you were lied to and cheated and I think you were sacrificed. You weren’t sad because you were in prison but because of why you were there. Am I close?”

Close? He is too close, far too close. I am panicking, I know it. I can feel my heart thumping so violently it is making it hard to breathe. I am shaking and to my absolute horror there are tears running down my face. I didn’t mean to cry. I didn’t even notice that I was crying until now, but now I am aware of it I can't stop. My mind is screaming... over and over and over and over.

“No... please...” Again I know that he is fully aware of exactly what I mean.

“Did you do it Isaac? Did you attack that girl? Did you rape her?”

I am shaking so hard I couldn’t speak if I wanted to. My eyes are hurting because they are so wide, so full of fear. My mind is in turmoil, full of chaos and confusion. I can’t find a single coherent thought, I can’t find a way out. Before I can stop myself I shake my head. It is not a conscious thing, there is no thought in it, I couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it and now the fact that I have done it terrifies me.

“I.... I.... I didn’t mean.... I shouldn’t have.... I....”

“Sssh. It’s alright. Calm down Isaac. I think that’s enough for now. You are in pain and you’ve had enough for now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do? Nothing. Whatever you say to me stays with me. Perhaps in a little while, a few days you might feel that we can do something more together and if that is the case then I will help you in any way I can. Until then you just rest and don’t worry. Everything is going to be alright.”

“No.”

“Why do think that? What do you think will happen to you?”

I shake my head. It is not what I fear. It is what I know. “I am alone.”

“No, Isaac, you are not alone. You are surrounded by people who want to help you.”

I shake my head again. “I am alone.” He has no idea, none at all. For all my life I have been part of something. I have not always liked it and there have been times when I hated it but at least we were in it together, all of us. If nothing else I knew there was always someone there, always someone to talk to, to ask for help from. I stole those hours in the fields because I thought I needed to be alone but I didn’t... I had no idea what it would be like... what it is like to be truly alone. Even at those times, when there was no one else around, I was not alone. They were still there, close by. I was still part of them, and I still had my faith, still had half a belief in a God, somewhere... I was not alone, never alone and now... now there is nothing, there is no one, there is nowhere to go, nowhere to turn. I am..... alone.

“Isaac. I know that this must be so hard for you. You may not realise it but you have been so protected shut away in that community, shielded from the world, cut off from reality in a way. And because of that what happened to you must have put you in a place close to hell. I understand that you feel alone, very much alone but you will not be abandoned. We are here to help you and we will.

“When you are better we will help you find somewhere to live, a job. We will make sure you survive, that you go somewhere you can build a new life for yourself. And you will make friends. As I said before... someone like you will have no trouble with that. You will be alright Isaac. I promise you. You will be alright.”

I want to scream at him. I want to make him understand. I want to....

“No. No. No.” I wanted to but I didn’t think I would. I didn’t think I would let it all out by screaming, over and over and over. “No. No. No.”

I am aware of Rick trying to calm me, to talk to me, to reason with me but I can't focus, can't listen, can't care. The fear is all consuming, burning me, tearing me, turning my blood to ice and fire. I can feel my body shaking and I wonder if I am going to have a fit again. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I have nothing. I have no one. I am alone, alone, alone, alone! The pain rips through me and bursts out of my mouth in a cry of anguish but suddenly there is someone there, someone throwing strong arms around me. At first I struggle, thinking they are trying to hold me down but they are not, they are just holding me. Holding me close. Holding me tight.

The shock of having someone hold me breaks through the pain and I hear the voice that is speaking to me, close to my ear.

“Hush now Isaac. I know you are in pain. I know you are. But it will end. I promise it will end. Just hold on. Hold on tightly. Hold on with everything you have. Keep fighting and we’ll be here to catch you when you fall.” The words mean nothing to me but the physical closeness it something new, something I have never felt before. I have never been this close to another human being, never been in an embrace, never felt another heart beat against mine. The sheer shock of it jolts my awareness, jerking me out of the spiral of fear that had been sucking me down. The screaming stops and I am taking huge gulping breaths, trying to slow my heart, to calm my fear.

“That’s the way Isaac. Be calm now. Everything’s alright. Just relax. I have given you medicine to help but it won’t work fast enough. You need to do this by yourself. I know you can do it.” And I am doing it. My frantic heart is slowing, the pain is fading, releasing me. The fear is receding too, the awful, terrible knowledge that I am alone and will always be alone. For this moment, this time, I am not alone.

As the terror releases me the sorrow overwhelms me and I begin to weep. Rick draws my head down onto his shoulder and tightens his arms around me. I bury my face in the softness of his shirt and weep until the tears dry up and my awareness begins to fade.

Feeling my head grow heavy and my tears lessen Rick eases me back onto the pillows. There is no pain now, inside or out, just a cold emptiness. I stare up at him and he smiles at me. I would like to smile back but I don’t have the energy. I am fading fast. I can feel it. There are others in the room with us. I don’t know who they are and I don’t care. I am puzzled. Why would he do that? Why would he care? How would he know that human closeness was the only thing that could break through the barrier of pain?

“You’ll be alright now Isaac. Sleep for a while and when you wake up we’ll talk again. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be alright.”

I don’t believe him any more than I ever did but something has changed, something is.... broken.

My eyes blur and I know it is the effects of the drugs he gave me. I don’t fight it, why would I? I want to sleep. I want to lose myself in darkness. I welcome it, I seek it, I cling to it. The last thing I remember is someone touching my hand and stroking my hair and then there is nothing.