Heart - 17. Rage

"Heeey, Tys!"

It was Vladimir that he'd been expecting. Not Dmitry! It was difficult to discern which Tchaikovsky boy was which by way of their face because they looked impossibly similar, so Tyson judged based on height. Dmitry was over six feet tall, but not quite as tall as Vasily, who trailed in afterwards with the whole pack! Masha, Vladimir, Ilya and Sasha all trickled through the door that separated the majority of the ward from the visiting and interview areas. Aside from the silver fox Vasily, they all sported straight black hair - Masha's was curly - that contrasted with their pale skin. Vladimir looked so happy that Tyson's smile magnified. Masha and the two younger boys were all holding a plain grey package in their arms, and the smell of fried food filled the air. Fish and chips!

"Hi!" Tyson was quick to hop up on his healing ankle and limp over to greet the intruders. "Hey. What's umm... what's going on?" He turned to Vladimir, who joyfully bounced over to wrap his arms around his not-boyfriend-but-more-than-friend. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, but since you weren't allowed to come out with us, Mum and Dad thought we'd just bring lunch to you instead," Vladimir pulled away and smiled with slightly crooked teeth.

"We didn't know what you like, so we got a bit of everything," Dmitry explained, slapping Tyson on the back with a little more force than necessary.

"Are you allowed? Am I?" Tyson assessed the family in front of him with indifference. He'd been disappointed already by the verdict to keep him from exploring the world outside the ward. He didn't need to be let down again.

"Of course, you goose," Masha seemed to grow increasingly goth the more she visited, with pointed black velvet boots and thick winged eyeliner around her blue eyes.

"Where's that nurse? Alice?" Vasily asked while Sasha and Ilya whispered to each other - they were probably gossiping about Charlie and his pillow fetish. The young brunette was hiding behind Tyson, peeking out at the events with the corner of his pillow in his mouth.

"Oh, her," Tyson shrugged, holding himself with his hands. He was in a casual robin's egg coloured tank top and his soccer shorts. He wished he dressed better for the visit he didn't know he was getting. "You know Alice. She won't leave me alone when I'm sick of her, but if someone needs her, she's hanging out in fucking Narnia."

"Hey!" Masha pointed at him with a stern look in her eyes. "What have I told you about that sailor's mouth?"

"Sorry!"

Tyson shrunk back with a guilty grin. It was one of her rules. No swearing in front of her children - that included Vladimir. Masha winked in response. People often told Tyson he swore too much. The nurses, Cynthia, his mother. He didn't care. For the longest time, he was never allowed to say what he thought, but now that he'd come to realise nobody could actually enforce that rule, he wasn't shy of speaking his mind. That was before Masha began to reprimand him. She was starting to hold him to the same standards she held her own children - no cussing, no filthy discussions and no interrupting people when they spoke. She was the only person in the world who could make him censor himself. He didn't like to upset her. He didn't want to disappoint her! He was growing fond of her, but he was also the tiniest bit scared of her. She didn't let her boys get away with much - that included Tyson, and also Vasily, who was content to let his wife take the wheel.

"Mum called ahead and made sure we're all clear," Vladimir told him. "We can set up outside! It's a nice day for it!"

"Okay, but like, why?" Tyson asked him, screwing up his face. "You could have had lunch anywhere in the city. Why the f-- heck are you coming back here?"

"If you don't want to join us for lunch then nobody's forcing you," Dmitry shut him down, knowing Tyson would never decline an offer like that. "Good guy Vlad felt like giving you a treat, and we all kinda missed you."

Fish and chips were Tyson's natural choice during lunchtime, but this was far more special than that. Not to take anything away from Jae, who consistently delivered well-cooked food for up to sixteen fussy, depressed adolescents in the open ward and up to six more in the High-Dependency Unit. The funny Korean man did a great job, but this was... greasy shit from the shops. Tyson experienced fried battered fish and oily chips once in a while after soccer if Edith was busy micromanaging Kelly and couldn't intervene. It was the highlight of his week if he managed to scoff down a spring roll and a potato cake before his bitch mother took him home and fed him skinless, tasteless chicken, quinoa and kale.

They're here to see me, Tyson realised. They could have just sent Vlady back, but they wanted to see me. They wanted me to be a part of their Saturday. They actually came in for me.

Shame and guilt and insecurity filled him rather than the joy he initially felt. They should have had fun with Vlad. Instead, they were in this depressing fucking place.

"You're invited too, Charlie!" Vladimir wouldn't leave the third member of their weird little trio out - he never did.

"Sorry!" Alice was in a hurry, her ugly silver mushroom hair almost a mess as she zoomed along on her fat little legs. "I was held up out the back! Vlad's flock, I'm guessing."

"How did you guess?" Masha wiggled her eyebrows, and Alice smirked.

"Call it a hunch. So I called to make sure, and the lovely lady in charge says you're welcome to have lunch out in the courtyard with whoever you like. Unfortunately, we do need to ask that a member of staff is present at all times, and we'll have to make sure there's nothing in your lunch that shouldn't be there. I know it's a hassle, but those are the rules, I'm afraid."

"That's stupid," Dmitry frowned. "Vlad can come out with us and do whatever, but you have to check our food before we're allowed to eat?"

Tyson went red. It was because of him and his risk rating, he knew. There were higher security measures to be taken if someone who was a self-harm hazard was a part of an activity, even one as innocent as fish and chips on the courtyard lawn. Vladimir was a medium risk, meaning he still required constant supervision and intervention, but his symptoms were more or less under control and he was even allowed short bouts of leave under the care of his family. Charlie was a low-risk patient, which seemed odd considering the potential for a violent outburst if he were triggered, but as such, he only needed to be checked once every hour. If he had a family, he would almost certainly be discharged to them, or maybe because of his fragile condition, he would be put on a partial release program. Tyson, despite his cooperation, was still a high-risk patient. Fifteen-minute checks, restrictions on where he could go without supervision, and anything coming in for him from the outside had to be searched and approved first to make sure he couldn't hurt himself.

"We understand," Masha replied on behalf of the confused family.

"What? They're gonna go through our food?" Ilya, the youngest, whined in an annoying Charlie-like voice.

"That's stupid! We're not smuggling in a knife or something!" Sasha added to the protesting.

"Hey, hey, we're not going to put our hands through everything," Alice broke in.

He wasn't sure where exactly everything went wrong. It could have been the part of him that didn't feel like he deserved love and affection from Vladimir and his family. Maybe it was more about his own family, and how they didn't give a shit about him. Perhaps he was just so sick of having no control over his life - first at home, now in the hospital. It was possible that he was embarrassed about who he was and where he came from. Probably all of the above, or none of these things. Whatever it was, that was the last straw, and Tyson couldn't bear to be there anymore.

"Don't worry about it," he brushed them off and turned around. "I'm out."

"What?" Vasily's voice followed him as he limped away.

"Tys?"

"Hey! What's going on?"

"Just leave me alone!" He shouted back at them.

He wanted to escape before the feelings of inadequacy and shame turned into white-hot anger. He felt them bubbling inside. The last thing he needed was to have a meltdown in front of the only people who seemed to care about him. To show them what a doomed little freak he really was. Unworthy of the time and affection they insisted on wasting on him. No good for anything or anyone. Not even his own mother. Vladimir caught up with him before he made it to his room.

"Tyson, what's the matter?" The boy asked, easily able to outrun his friend's bad ankle. "Hey! What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna need you to piss off right now," the boy hissed at him, refusing to look into his eyes.

"Can you stop?" Vladimir stood in front of him, and Tyson clenched his fists. "What's the problem? Did we upset you?"

"Get out of my face," he replied through clenched teeth. "Leave me alone."

"Tell me what's going on," Vladimir spoke in a hushed, gentle voice, putting a soft hand on Tyson's shoulder. "Is it because Alice has to check the fish and chips and stuff?"

"Can you just go back there and be with everyone who loves you?" Tyson was starting to cry angry tears. "Leave--"

"Everyone who loves me loves you too!"

"Leave!" Tyson shoved past him. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

"I love you."

Vladimir looked at him with such big, sad eyes, the colour of a cloudless sky in the spring time. Determined to create distance between them by any means necessary, Tyson shoved Vladimir backward with two hands, causing the bigger boy to fall back onto the carpeted floor.

"Good! That means I'll probably die like that Alexey guy, because you're a fucking jinx, Vlad! People you love end up dead!"

Time seemed to go still for a second. Vladimir's heart broke. So did Tyson's. Even in his rage, he knew that he'd just screwed up big time, and that was enough to make him furiously punch the wall twice before he hobbled away, fists shaking and head pounding. He used the key to open his locked door and slammed it shut behind him, before letting out a loud roar of rage, melancholy and frustration.

I fucked it up. I fucked it up. I fucked it up!

With cries of anger and pain, Tyson repeatedly punched the door to his ensuite bathroom, wishing that he slit his wrist with the sharpener blade when he had the chance. Wishing that he could go home and step in front of the train or step off a high rise rooftop. He wished he didn't fight his mother when she wanted to discharge him, so he could stop being such a burden on the rest of the world and let himself die. Who would miss him if he did? Vladimir. Maybe the Tchaikovsky family. Nobody else. Well, that wasn't even true anymore. Vladimir must hate him now, and Masha and Vasily would never forgive him for laying his hands on one of their kids. As despair flooded him, Tyson's punches grew stronger and his rage intensified. It was Evan who quickly came to check on him with dickhead Ron in tow, not Alice, which meant that Alice had raised the alarm. Fucking fat useless fucking bitch!

"Wow! Woah! Hey!" Evan exclaimed as he gingerly approached, and Tyson shot him a dirty look. "What's going on?"

"If you come any closer, I will smash your fucking teeth in!" Tyson warned him, crying out in pain and fury as he hit the door once again.

"Okay, we can stay back here, but we do need you to stop," Evan replied in a calm but firm voice as big man Ron stood next to him like a bodyguard. "Tyson, can you slow down, please?"

"Can you all just disappear??" Tyson shrieked at them, flecks of spit flying from his mouth. "I don't want you here! I don't want to be here! I'm sick of you and this fucking place! Just leave me alone! All I want is to be left alone, so will you just go??"

"You're hurting yourself," Evan observed, not getting caught up in the cycle of misplaced emotions the boy was still learning to control. "Let's calm down and talk about what's going on."

"I'm not feeling calm!"

Tyson opened up his bathroom door and entered, slamming it shut behind him and hoping for a few moments of solitude, but it wasn't to be. There was no lock on the door, and it opened outwards. Evan stood in the doorway, and that made the youngster angrier all over again. Tyson picked up the tiny bottle of conditioner from the shower ledge and threw it at the men as hard as he could. Evan flinched and blocked it with his arm, but Ron decided enough was enough and stormed forwards, blocking the bottle of shampoo that came at him.

"Get away, you toad!" Tyson panicked, threatened by this enormous guy ready to take him down. "Don't you dare touch me! Fucking predator!"

"Ron, it's okay," Evan interjected as he saw the boy scrambling to the corner of the bathroom underneath the shower head.

"He's out of control, mate!" Ron argued, standing huge over Tyson. "Tyson, you're gonna stay right there and calm down and take what Alice gives you, or you'll go to seclusion."

The last thing Tyson needed was for someone to flex their power and authority on him. He'd thought he'd hit his limit, that he'd been filled to the brim with hatred and self-hatred and wrath and sadness, but it kept bubbling over the top. Overwhelmed, he fell back against the wall, hitting the back of his head, then he slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He didn't know what was happening, but he suddenly wasn't able to breathe. No matter how much he inhaled, it didn't seem to into his lungs, and he coughed and choked and tried his hardest, but he was dying, surely! His body was vibrating, and his chest was so tight that it quickly became agony.

I fucked it up. I fucked it up. I fucked it up. No. This is a bad dream. None of this is real. None of this is real, right?

"Oh, you have to be kidding me," Ron exclaimed scornfully as he watched the boy wither in front of his very eyes.

"You can go, thanks!" Evan was just as firm with his colleague as he was with his patient. "You're a cockhead sometimes."

"First rule of psych, mate. Patient is violent, avert the crisis."

"Without bringing on another crisis!" Evan pushed past him and crouched down. "Tyson, you're having a panic attack. Have you gone through this before?"

Tyson had not. He had no idea what this was until Evan told him so. A panic attack. He'd experienced fits of rage and gloom much of the past couple of years, but panic was a new one for him. He wasn't in control of his own body, and that was terrifying. He wanted to tell Evan no. It was the first. But he couldn't. Lungs squeezing. Body shaking. Throat closing.

"Nothing more than an attitude problem," Ron was mumbling as he walked out of the bathroom, but Evan stayed with him.

"It's okay, Tyson. Listen to my voice, okay? And breathe in. In. In. And out."

"I c-c-can't!!"

"Rome wasn't built in a day. Keep trying. Breathe in. ...Out."

Try as Tyson did, he could not get his lungs to slow down and follow the instructions of the young nurse. A little over a minute later, Alice arrived, and she had a member of the security team with her. That was scary. Tyson didn't want to look. One of the first days he was here, that same man from security dragged him screaming into the quiet room during a fit of rage on Alice's orders.

"Oh, dear!" She was quick to let her maternal tendencies take over and approach in the same manner as Evan. "Oh, Tyson, what have you been doing?" She gently picked up one of his hands to examine the swollen, bruised and bloody knuckles.

"Letting off some steam," Evan replied on the boy's behalf, indicating with his fingers that it was time to breathe out. "Do you mind stepping out to the hallway, Vince?"

"Yeah," big guy Vince was quick to leave. "Let me know if you need me."

"I didn't... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I fucked it all up..." Tyson choked.

"It happens to the best of us," Alice reassured him, holding up a medicine cap with two orange pills in it. "Let's give you something to help you calm down."

Tyson took the pills with a shaky hand, but he did not swallow them immediately - he was worried he might choke. His breathing was returning to normal, and he was becoming aware of the pain in his still recovering ankle, his knuckles and the back of his head, which hit the wall pretty hard when his legs turned to jelly.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered again. "For throwing shit," he added.

"I won't lie, it would be nice not to go down that path again," Evan remarked as he stood up and his knees cracked, making Alice flinch. "But this is, what, the first major incident in two, maybe three weeks?"

"Something like that!" Alice's kindly smile reassured him that he wasn't in major trouble, at least as far as the staff were concerned. "When you first arrived, we had incidents every other day. I think you've been doing a marvelous job. Getting overwhelmed doesn't undo all the progress you've made."

"Yes, it does! I thought I was better than this! But I'm just a spastic!" Tyson sniffed and took a mouthful of water from the polystyrene cup Alice brought with her, then popped the pills in his mouth.

"What do you think the road to recovery looks like, Tyson?" Alice asked him, heaving herself up and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. "Some medication and therapy and everything will gradually fall into place?"

"If only," Evan remarked.

"It'd be nice if it were like walking a leisurely stroll in the park to get from A to B. That's how a lot of people think - those who haven't experienced the journey for themselves," the older woman continued. "But mental health just doesn't generally work that way. It's more like trying to climb a mountain. Sometimes obstacles get in the way, or the path is nearly impossible to see, or you think you've made it to the top only to see you've got further to go. You can get lost and end up backtracking until someone points you the right way. It's hard work, love, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed, but it's not okay to take it out on other people."

"We get that it's been a hell of a change for you, being here," Evan took over the lecture as Tyson's breathing finally returned to normal. "And that it's terrifying being here without Mum popping by. Now, that there was not acceptable behaviour, but the fact that you're aware of that and you apologised speaks a lot more about how far you've come than it does about how much further you've got to go. Don't give up."

"Why not? I ruined everything," Tyson gloomily replied.

He said he loves me. The first time Vlady said he loves me, and I shove him over. I tell him that he's a jinx and the people he loves end up dead. All because I don't feel like I deserve his love or his family's love. And I don't. It's wasted on me.

"Now, I have to do my checks, but Evan's going to have a look at your hands and stay with you one-on-one for a little while. Is that okay?" Alice stood up after a short pause, and Tyson nodded. "Good lad. Also, Mrs Tchaikovsky is still here and she wants to speak to you. Would you like to see her?"

"So she can tell me what a cunt I am? Yeah," Tyson hugged himself with his arms. "Send her in. Get it over with."

Not keen to have a dressing down while he was in the bathroom, Tyson got up and almost fell back down, his legs not quite ready to carry him, and Evan quickly moved to brace him.

"It's alright, Tys. Though you might want to sit down. It was some pretty heavy stuff Alice gave you," Evan, a one-on-one specialist for patients who were at acute risk of hurting themselves or someone else, was terrific at his job in spite of his insanely youthful appearance. He looked younger than some of the teenagers being treated in the unit. "Let's get you onto the bed, okay? I need to have a look at these hands."

Evan examined the knuckles, purple and red with a few instances of broken, bleeding skin. He gently wiped down the abrasions and the cuts then applied a stinging disinfectant. Masha came in as Tyson slithered up like a guilty puppy onto his bed and curled into a ball. She didn't look happy - but not angry. Not even disappointed. She was worried. Why should she be concerned? He wasn't her kid. He was just some guy that her son latched on to. The mother of the guy he just physically and verbally attacked right after a declaration of love. Shit. Evan kept a close eye on the events, leaning against the wall opposite the foot of the bed with his arms folded. At least Masha couldn't slap him as Edith would have.

"Darling, darling, darling," she sighed, noting how distressed he looked, seeing the telltale blood smears on the blue paint of his bathroom door and the bruising on his hands. "What happened?"

"I'm a spastic?" Tyson felt like he was pointing out the obvious.

"Oh, that?" Masha wearily sat down in that infernal chair, causing a long, loud and uncomfortable squeak. She brushed her bangs from her eyes - the exact same way Vladimir often did. "Nothing I have not seen in the past, Tyson. You know, I take my boys to the Playtime arcade every Friday after school. I tell them it's only if they've behaved well, but the truth is, I can't say no anymore. Ilya, as you know, is autistic. If we're short of money or the boys are grounded, Ilya can melt down like you wouldn't believe! Oh, you've never seen someone go from angel to demon so quickly if something changes in his routine that he's not ready for! Once at Playtime, he was lying on that filthy floor screaming and crying because they moved his favourite shooting game to a different corner! No matter what we tried, we could not calm him down. When a girl in primary school took his favourite toy truck, he reacted so badly that we found a new school for him."

Tyson was content just to listen, so she continued.

"Sasha has a flair for being overdramatic. He's just started puberty with all the hormones and mood swings. You probably understand what that's like! Anyone who says that raising boys is easier than raising girls probably did not do a good job of raising them, because mine gave me grey hair. This?" She played with a curly lock that fell by her ear. "Black dye! I am even more grey than Vasily is! Sasha has run away from home three times. Once it was because Vladimir used his toothbrush! He always comes home, but I worry so much about him. Oh, and Dmitry was never shy of throwing tantrums, either. He punched a hole through his bedroom wall! And he tried to blame Vlad!" The woman giggled, and Tyson managed a smile. "He paid us for every cent it cost to fix, and he made Vladimir's bed every day for a month for being unfair to him."

Tyson shifted uncomfortably. Vladimir would definitely have told his mother what happened. He told her everything - what he spoke about with Cynthia, details about his mental illness, his medications, the interventions employed by the staff when he was at risk and even his budding relationship with the angry boy in the room across from him.

"Darling, you hurt Vladimir's feelings," she eventually brought up the subject. Perhaps she was waiting for him to talk about it first. "What you said was cruel. I know you were having a bad day, and I am very sorry if our surprise to you went down poorly, but I need you to apologise to him."

"Does he hate me?"

"Do you think my Солнышко (little sun) could ever hate somebody?"

"No. I saw him say sorry once when some dumb bitch spilt her juice on him."

Masha grinned at him and got up, causing another painful squeak, and she approached. "Vladimir is a sensitive boy, but he will forgive you. Maybe it will take some time because Alexey is an upsetting subject for him, but I know he will. Trust me. Do you mind if I join you up there?"

When he nodded and slid over, dangerously close to the edge on the single bed, Masha laid herself down next to him and immediately put her arm around him. Tyson, too emotionally drained, simply rested his head on her breast and shifted closer while she rubbed his back. He caught a smile on Evan's face.

"Do the others hate me?"

"No! Don't be silly!" Masha tutted at him. "Darling, you're here because you're not yourself. Yes, I am disappointed that you fought with my Vlad, but I know you're a good lad and you'll make it up to him. Dmitry is very protective of his brothers so you might get a talk from him, but really, darling, we were worried. Not angry. But I do want to know why you got upset. I don't want to cross any boundaries."

"It's just... when you come in, and you want to see me and stuff, all I can think is that I'll never have that. With my family."

"You don't get much love from them, do you?"

"No. Mum's just left me here. And Chase and my sister. They don't even care that I'm here. They don't even care if I kill myself."

"You deserve to be loved, моыа звезда (my star)," she reached over with her other and caressed his short, curly black hair. "Even if you don't think so."

"It's never going to get better, though."

It took Tyson a long time to accept his circumstances. Being in a locked ward was something he'd been raised to believe was the worst possible outcome for somebody. He didn't want to be here - he fought and resisted and even sourced a pencil sharpener with blades to kill himself with. Neil convinced him to tearfully surrender both the potential weapon and his stubbornness. He was now taking all of his medication, attending his appointments and complying with directions from the staff - though his guttermouth and penchant for impertinence remained. The drugs were doing their job, psychotherapy was making an impact, and Vladimir's friendship gave him something to look forward to, but in the end, Tyson struggled to consistently see a reason to continue. His parents, from an outsider's perspective, gave him everything he could ever want, and he always looked like a rebellious, ungrateful little bastard. He would be released to their care. And then what? Cynthia might try to appeal and have Tyson taken away from them, but Edith and Chase would move heaven and earth to protect their image with an army of lawyers and a high social standing. There was no reason to try.

"I understand," Masha reassured him, kissing him on the top of his head and making him feel warm inside. "It's easy to feel hopeless and powerless as a teenager, and especially when you have so few cards to play. Still, that does not mean you cannot take control of the situation."

Tyson's eyes widened and his body tensed as his brain processed what Masha said and a light bulb lit up in his head.

Take control of the situation.

Thank you very much for reading. The next chapter will, again, take place shortly after this one. Think of it as a little three-chapter arc while we begin setting up for endgame! 
Have a lovely day. ❤️