Heart - 22. The Plan

Since a hands-on confrontation triggered Charlie into a savage attack, the no-contact rule had been strictly enforced in the ward. Tyson wasn't happy about that, but with his discharge coming up, the stabilising effect of his medication and newfound self-awareness of his emotions, he managed to accept this circumstance as something he could not control. It was nice to be allowed to have fun and snuggle with Vladimir - in different ways a brother, best friend and boyfriend all in one. Now, they had to be exceptionally discreet when they wanted to touch each other, lest Neil's hawk-like eyes caught them. Neil was one of the scary nurses - not because he was mean or unpleasant, but because he always enforced the rules. Neither Tyson nor Vladimir had any special privileges despite their incredibly long sojourn at the hospital, and he made sure he was everywhere to make sure it stayed that way.

One place that Neil could not monitor them, however, was in the visitor's room when Masha came by to visit. Though he was still subject to the dreaded fifteen-minute check, he was otherwise free of supervision - unless Masha counted. She didn't mind that her son and his angry but sweet boyfriend liked to cuddle on the couch, but after they'd been kissing too much rather than pay attention to her, she cleared her throat obnoxiously loud, enough to make both boys laugh and turn red. It was hard to resist! Kissing felt nice, and Tyson was eager for contact.

"I'm not here to supervise your make-out session," she reminded them firmly, with a twinkle in her eye. "In my day, teenagers kissed in closets at school."

"We're not in school!" Tyson laughed, then his face fell. He was missing a lot of school. If Chase had gone to the effort of telling the world that his son had gone to live with family in Sri Lanka for good, then it was likely he would not be enrolled any more. What was going to happen to him if he succeeded after today?

Don't think about it. I'm so close.

"Have you found a school for me yet?" Vladimir asked her, turning away from Tyson and folding his legs on the couch.

Masha kept a cheerful expression on her face, but Tyson saw the sadness in her eyes. "I have, солнышко. Corin Creek will let you begin in the middle of the term. I've spoken with the principal and school counsellors there about our situation, and they'll do their part to help you ease into the routine until the end of the term."

"Okay... I guess," Vladimir sounded apprehensive at best about this news. "At least I can drop out at the end of the year."

Masha's expression turned to such intense horror that Vladimir could have just admitted to a triple rape-homicide rather than floating the idea of not completing VCE level education. "Nonsense! You will do no such thing."

Vladimir shrugged and looked down to his hands. He looked ashamed. "Why not? It's not like I'm good at school in the first place. Plus, after this year, I'm probably going to be held back. Especially if I go weird again."

"Nope. I won't hear it. When have you ever given up because it wasn't easy? That's not my boy. Besides, this year has not finished yet," Masha kissed him on the side of the head. It confused Tyson how she could be scolding her kids yet still be so kind to them. If he were in trouble, Edith would always go out of her way to make him feel alone, worthless and wrong. Masha corrected Vladimir's behaviour - Tyson's too! - but never stopped supporting him. "Everyone is jumping out of their skins for you to come home! The boys, especially, miss their brother. The Popovs are organising a welcome home party--"

"Oh, Mum, no!" Vladimir wailed out loud, but the look of excitement in his eye betrayed his supposed dread. "Don't let them do that!"

"The Popovs will shower you with cake and love, and you'll love it," she grinned at him, as though she were thinking the same thing Tyson was. "Tyson, of course, you will be out before then! So, as long as you have your parents' permission, I expect you to come along as well."

"I'll ask, but don't hold your breath," he replied sadly.

"I'll speak to your Mum, then," the middle-aged woman purred, almost looking scary as her face, painted by dark, gothic makeup, glowered in poorly veiled hatred.

"You're my Mum," Tyson asserted coolly. "Edith is dead to me. She hates me and I hate her. End of."

Masha looked at him with flattery and love, but also pity and sadness. "Any mother would be lucky to have a son like you, Tyson. You're so clever and strong-willed and kind-hearted. Yes, there is a bit of an attitude problem," she added with mock severity, drawing some soft giggles from both teenagers. "But I could see from the start that you're so full of love. It's such a shame that you've never had anyone who wanted to share that with you. If there's any way I can help, darling, please don't hesitate to tell me."

Okay. Now or never. Do it.

"Well... as a matter of fact, Masha, there is something I'd like you to do," Tyson forced himself to say, and he was happy about it. Good. Now there was no turning back.

"What did you have in mind?" She shifted, peering over her son's shoulder to look at him. Vladimir, too, was wide-eyed and inquisitive. It was astonishing to Tyson how much they looked the same. Like he and Edith did.

He inhaled deeply and exhaled afterwards. "I wish I wrote this down. Fuck."

"Watch your tongue," she reminded him sharply.

"Sorry! Um... look, I... ugh. Is there any chance we could talk alone before you go today?" Tyson asked her gingerly, realising that it wasn't something he wanted to discuss in front of Vladimir.

"Why?" The other teenager asked him.

"Yes, of course! Of course. You didn't need to ask me that!" Masha brushed him off warmly, reaching over to tousle his curls.

"Why am I being left out? What's going on?" Vladimir repeated indignantly, looking between the two.

"It's nothing, Vlady," Tyson attempted to reassure him with a kiss on the cheek, one that didn't do much reassuring.

"Hey!" Masha kissed Vladimir on the cheek as well. "Not everything is your business, солнышко."

The visit continued for a while longer, and Vladimir gradually got past being left out of whatever conversation was to take place. Soon after, Masha Tchaikovsky followed Tyson to his room. It looked naked now. Tyson hadn't been a neat patient, exactly. He'd left his clothes and books strewn around his room and never liked to make his bed. Now, everything was neatly packed - more or less - in his travel bag, and the new books gifted to him by Cynthia were neatly stacked on his side table. The bed was stripped and everything had been cleaned out of the bathroom. It was still strange to think that he would be going home today. That Edith would be collecting him after nearly a month of complete radio silence, then stumbling through a discharge meeting with Cynthia before taking him home.

"What's going on, little Tyson?" Masha asked him, right to the point.

She looked concerned, and she reached for him with her left hand, bracelets jingling and nails painted black. Tyson was happy to take her hand and let her pull him close for an embrace. He never got used to how warm and secure it made him feel. Being so close to someone. Masha was a great mother, he thought. Yeah, she was sometimes scary, like a Siberian tiger when her kids - or Tyson - misbehaved. But never once when Masha lectured or scolded him did Tyson feel like less of a person.

"I'm gonna miss you so much," his voice was muffled in her chest, and he sighed happily as she gently rubbed his back.

"So it's true, then? You're going to live in Sri Lanka?"

"No. I'm not. I won't let it happen," he shook his head against her angora sweater. "I'm making sure of it."

"Tyson," her voice deepened and became a little stern. "Are you going to hurt yourself when you go home?"

"I've thought about it. Even in the last couple of days." He decided to be honest with her, and he pulled out of the hug so he could look her in the eyes. She was teary, and that was disarming.

"Don't you dare. Nope. If you're thinking of hurting yourself, you're going to tell me right away, because I'm not letting that happen," she warned him, and he screwed up his face.

"I... I know. I don't want to. I'll be okay. I don't know if I'm actually ready to go home, but I have to." His voice was breaking under the strain of his emotion, then he remembered why he had to go home, and it turned to ashes in his mouth. He had a job to finish. "I'll be fine, Masha. Can you please keep this between us?"

She folded her arms and leaned against the wall. "If you tell me that you're planning to do anything silly, Tyson, I can't keep it to myself. I will have to tell Dr Ellicott. You know that."

"I know."

"And if your parents hurt you..." she didn't seem excited to jump into that topic.

"That's actually why I wanted to talk to you," Tyson sat down on the end of his stripped bed. "I don't think I'll be allowed to call anyone. Or anything."

"Do you mean your Mum will punish you being sick?" Masha asked him, horrified.

"Yes. Mostly because I embarrassed her. Well, not even her. It's all about my dad, see. Chase Lovett. You might know him. He's somewhat of a cunt," he stated bluntly, and Masha, though she always reprimanded him for his loose tongue, did not even blink. "He wants to get rid of me because I'm making him look bad with all these suicide attempts. Cynthia's got him stuck for the time being, though. I can't leave the country until I'm cleared by the Mental Health Act."

"I see."

"It's stupid. It's fucked. I can't do anything about it!" Tyson's emotions started anew, and he got angry. "Chase is the fucking king of legal loopholes! Nobody can prove shit, so every time I try to do anything, I look like some brat who doesn't know how good he's got it. I have the best clothes, and I go to the best school, and I have instruments and play sports. It's all so perfect. That's what it looks like. I'm not perfect, though - I'm really screwed up. That's why she hates me so much. And that's why Chase wants to get rid of me. They don't care about me at all. They won't bring me to appointments or give me medication. They won't. I'm fucked! And then maybe I will actually hurt myself! Because I'm not okay! I know I need help, but it's all for fucking nothing if nothing changes!"

Out of habit, Tyson began to scratch as the horrible, angry purple scars on his left wrist. Masha began to weep in earnest now, her face twisting in such anguish that it broke Tyson's heart, and the anger that had powered him through his rant quickly fizzled out, leaving him empty. Shit.

"I'm sorry," he offered, feeling like an idiot. He didn't mean to get carried away, but... his parents made him so mad!

"No. No, don't be silly!" Masha sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes, smearing her thick layer of black mascara. "Oh, I'm the one who's making a fool of myself. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I should be telling you that everything will be okay, not the other way around. It breaks my heart..." she trailed off and covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. "It breaks my heart to see someone who has to fight the very people responsible for his safety and wellbeing for the help and support he needs."

"I wish you were my Mum."

"Oh, love," Masha looked up at him again and forced a smile. "You're one of my boys. Ever since you found a way to make Dr Ellicott take my Vladimir as a patient without charge, you've been one of my boys. But I'm sorry, Tyson. If Cynthia can't help you out, then I don't know what I can do."

"But I think you can," Tyson continued to scratch at his wrist, and Masha stopped him by grabbing his hand and taking it away. "Sorry. So, Cynthia's tied up by legal shit, but you're not."

"What are you saying? Cut right to the point, please."

Tyson swallowed. This was where everything got messy and unpredictable. The last thing he wanted to do was to get Masha in trouble, and he didn't know how far she would be willing to go for him. After all, he was just a kid that her son had gotten close to. He was an angry, snobbish, entitled little bastard. He'd inherited the worst traits of both of his parents. He was a lost cause. Both Edith and Chase thought so.

"The state's never going to take me away from my home. Not while Edith and Chase have half the people thinking the sun shines out of their arses and they just scare the shit out of those who don't. But Chase has everyone thinking I'm in Sri Lanka already, right? So he doesn't have to answer questions about where I am and why he failed as a parent, all that stuff."

He paused to make sure Masha was following him, and she nodded curiously to indicate that she was.

"Can you use your phone to take a video of me? I want to prove that Chase is a liar," Tyson let the hatred fill his words, and Masha's jaw opened slightly. "Please? If you want to help me, then this can work. I want to record a video proving that I'm here right now, and I want to talk about why I'm here, what's going on, what Chase is planning to do and then I want you to leak that video to the press."

"I'm sorry... what?" Masha seemed stunned. "What?" She repeated a few times, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"Please, Masha! This is the only thing I can think of that might be able to at least discredit my Dad enough for people to listen to me!" Tyson pleaded with her, desperate for her help.

"You want me to record a video of you, and then leak it to the news outlets?" Masha summarised his request, and he nodded timidly, eyes round as the full moon. "Tyson, I don't... this is huge. This is... I should be relaying this right to your doctor. I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"You can't!" He blurted out, hugging himself. "She'll try to go by the book and the book is the fucking problem! And it's only going to get worse if my Dad wins the state election next Friday!"

Before Masha could react, someone knocked on the door. Tyson called them in, and it was just Neil doing his check.

"Oh, is everything okay in here?" He asked, noticing the state of both Tyson and Masha.

Don't report me, he begged her with his eyes. Please don't do it.

"Yes! We're just having our final visit. I never was good at saying goodbye," Masha told him with a grin.

"Ah. Sorry for interrupting. Carry on," he gave them a polite nod and shut the door behind him when he left.

Masha strode over and sat down next to Tyson on his bed, putting her arm around him and gently kissing him on top of his head. She did that a lot, and it never failed to make him feel warm inside, even now. Tyson immediately clutched her with both arms, wanting to explore as much love and affection as he could before he returned to his family.

"He has a stick up his arse, that one. Neil. Always doing things by the book," Masha reflected, her tone ponderous and solemn. "When my Vladimir lost his Alexey, a boy who was as a son to me, he was traumatised. Those horrible voices convinced my Vlad that he must have killed Alexey, and I could never tell him otherwise. When I came to see him in the hospital, he was always locked in one of those horrible dungeons or lashed to one of the beds like a rabid animal. I hope you never have to see your baby so frightened and alone, Tyson. It's worse than dying."

Tyson had no idea what to say. He hadn't seen it for himself, but he'd seen the padded walls and quilted leather restraints fixed to the mattress in the seclusion room. He'd been in there a few times in his early days when he lost his temper and became aggressive. He was never restrained - only left alone in the room until he calmed down or took a sedative. But it would have been an entirely different experience for poor Vladimir. To see and hear people who didn't exist, to feel people touching him, locked in that place alone with only a nurse to check in on him every fifteen minutes... the thought raised the hair on Tyson's neck. He couldn't imagine being in that position. He certainly couldn't believe anyone thought it was good enough. It was horrible. It was evil. But it was legal. So many immoral, unjust things were lawful.

"He was so sick, моя звезда, that he could not speak to anyone. His brain was so muddled that he spoke words and gibberish that made no sense. He talked to people who weren't in the room all day. Sometimes, he did not even know who I was," she sniffled again, resting her head against his. "His own mother, and he did not recognise me. And those people, those bastards, they treated him by the book, Tyson. They followed the rules, like Neil. He is a lovely man, that Neil, and I don't think he would hurt a fly, but he follows the rules, and those rules were hurting my son. Perhaps you're correct. Sometimes to do the right thing, you can't rely on the rules to do it for you."

"I could kill myself, you know. It's not hard - though apparently I really fucking suck at it," Tyson laughed out loud, but Masha didn't seem to appreciate the joke. "But I don't want to. I think I love Vlady. I mean, I know I do. I didn't know back then when I did all this," he traced his scarred wrist, sore and red from his scratching, "that things could actually turn around. I don't wanna die, Masha. I don't want to do that to you and Vlady, or Vasily, Dmitry, Sasha and Ilya. It's... Mum has this way of making me feel like there's no other way out."

"So I take this video of you, Tyson, and what happens then?" Masha asked him, reaching for her phone. "Is this going to get me into trouble? Because, sweetheart, Chase Lovett is the last person whose toes I want to tread on. I want to help, of course, but I have four boys who need me."

"No. If you send the video to the news outlets anonymously, it won't be traced to you."

"You don't have many visitors, love. It's just my boys and me. It won't be hard for your parents to find out who helped you take this video," she tapped her nails on her blank phone screen.

"You've been visiting Vladimir, not me. There's nothing about you on my files whatsoever. Please trust me. I've had a very, very long time to think about all this."

Masha reluctantly pulled up her camera app and passed her phone over to Tyson. "You better do this yourself. I'll wander over to see Vlad."

"Thank you so much. You have no idea how much easier you've made things," he squeezed her tighter, relief flooding his body.

"I'm trusting you, Tyson. Please be sensible," she reluctantly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Tyson took a breath and turned on the front camera, then he hit the record button. He introduced himself. Tyson Belmont-Lovett, the son of Chase Lovett, soon to be the state premier if the election went well. He rotated as he spoke, making sure to get the hospital ward in the frame as best he could, then he stepped into the immaculate bathroom to do the same. He spoke of his previous six weeks and what had been going on. Trying to kill himself. Getting committed to the psychiatric ward. Battling with the nurses and the social workers, but most of all, his mother. His mother, who had tried to force him out even though both Tyson and Cynthia insisted he was still a significant suicide risk. And, of course, Chase Lovett's role in the things to come. That he disowned his son all but legally, and he intended to hide him away in Sri Lanka the moment he was discharged. That he was a liar and a racist, that he abused his wife, son and daughter and lived with them in disgust because they were beneficial to his career.

Neil knocked on the door for his check, and Tyson felt his heart jump in joy. This was important. He carefully placed the phone on the counter in the bathroom as he answered the check, but rather than a simple nod and greeting, Tyson engaged him.

"Hey, it's Friday, right? What's the date today?" Tyson partially shut the bathroom door so that if Neil came inside, he would not see the phone.

"It's Friday the 29th," Neil answered, standing in the doorway.

"Of February, right?"

"No, Tyson. It's March. It's not even a leap year," Neil seemed surprised and a little amused that the know-it-all in front of him was having so much trouble remembering what day it was. "Are you alright?"

"Ahh, just having a slow day, I guess. I've been in here so long I sometimes forget what day it is. How long have I been in the acute inpatient unit, exactly?" He laughed a little to put Neil at ease.

"You came here early February, so a little over six weeks."

"How long has it been since Mum came in? Or Dad?"

"Oof. It's been a few weeks, Tys. Are you sure you're okay? Are you nervous about seeing Mum today?" Neil sounded legitimately concerned, and Tyson felt misgivings about deceiving him in this way.

"No, I'm good. Thanks! Just... trying to get my head around a few things. I'm fine."

Neil stared for a moment and then nodded and took his leave. Tyson couldn't believe his luck. It wouldn't sway Chase's supporters, he thought, but it would hopefully cast some serious doubt on the old man's unimpeachable record. Enough for Tyson to kickstart a real investigation, perhaps. Enough to get him the fuck away from his family. With the threat out of the way, Tyson returned to the phone and picked it up, putting his face in the camera.

"So there you have it. I've been here for ages while my parents pretend I don't exist. The only one that has a shred of humanity is Kelly. She came to see me, but Chase didn't. Not once. While Chase is talking about family values and how successful he is at raising kids, I've been left here to rot while he's been telling everyone that I live with my Mum's family in Sri Lanka. You don't see the way he treats us at home when nobody's looking. He calls me fag, retard, mud person, boat person, you name it. And he hits me a lot for bullshit reasons, like I didn't look happy enough when I was next to him on the fucking television. He hates me. He and Mum don't let me have friends or do anything I want to do. They literally tried to stop me from getting help here because it would embarrass them. And I thought I had to kill myself because nobody ever believed me. Well, now you know I'm not the fucking liar. He is. You're welcome."

Satisfied, he hit stop on the phone, his heart thundering in his ears. He would likely suffer for doing this if it didn't work. Bad things happened to people who made moves against Chase Lovett. Tyson had heard him gloating in the past about lives ruined, people bankrupted or arrested on false charges, families torn apart or even deported, and sometimes worse. Masha returned after a short while as Tyson digested the gravity of his decision.

"You can watch it if you like. I didn't mention or Vlady or anyone. I promise," Tyson handed her phone back to her, sweating in the early Autumn heat and with the stress of his situation.

"So I send this to the media when I leave? Not to the police?" Masha asked him cautiously. She looked strange with her makeup smudged, but in a way, it suited her gothic style.

"Monday. I think Monday is best," Tyson decided, furrowing his brow as he thought, trying to fend off the panic. He definitely needed another valium for this. "And... one more thing?" When she sighed and nodded, kneading her forehead with her fingers, he spoke again. "Can you call in a welfare check later on that day? At three o'clock, maybe?"

"Tyson... what are you talking about? Is this going to put you in danger?" Masha pocketed her phone and put both hands on the short boy's shoulders. "I can't let you go home if you're in danger, darling. I won't go through with anything that's going to put you at risk."

"No. I'll be okay," Tyson told her confidently, hoping he was right. "But I need to make it look like I'm in danger. You know? At this stage, it's Cynthia's word versus my dad's. But between her reports, my video making it to the media and a welfare check at a convenient time, the authorities will be forced to take me away."

Neither of them spoke for a little while. Masha eventually grabbed him by the chin with her white fingers. Her dark red lips parted in a sad smile, and he smiled back.

"I love you, little Tyson. Please, please, please be careful."

"You'll do it?"

"First thing Monday morning. Then I'll request a welfare check at three o'clock, was it?"

"Three. Yeah."

"Good luck, darling."

One more kiss on the forehead later, and she was gone. Tyson fell back onto his bed, his insides churning. This was it. There was absolutely no coming back from this. He reflected for a while on what might happen. Maybe he'd fail. Perhaps his father would beat him black and blue for trying to ruin everything for him - especially before the election - and send him away. That was even if Sri Lanka was the real plan and not a coverup. He hadn't known his father to ever arrange someone's death before, but the thought stayed in his head. But if he succeeded... he would detach himself of his parents. He would have a chance to get more of the psychiatric help he knew that he needed. To make more progress with severing the toxic learned behaviour from the rest of himself. That's what Cynthia was helping him to do. Still... as much as Tyson's primary goal was liberation, it didn't feel like enough for him. He wanted vengeance. Chase would regret teaching his son how to be petty, cunning and Machiavellian.

"Tysooon!" Vladimir whined on the other side of his closed door, knocking on it repeatedly. "You have to go soon, and I want to spend time with you."

"Oh! Yeah. Coming."

Tyson shot up and opened up his door, and Vladimir had changed his clothes! And brushed his hair! He looked like the most beautiful person in the world. Nobody could compare. Nobody! Not even Tyson's fantasies of Neil in the shower! He was wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt, white with tiny black spots. It fit his slim frame very well, and his butt - his BUTT!! - looked so good in his best black jeans. Tyson had heard his teammates during soccer practice talk about girls and their butts, but he never understood the attraction until Vladimir became a part of his life.

"You're cute!"

"I know, right?" Vladimir laughed, looking side to side to make sure nobody was looking, and he leaned over to kiss Tyson on the lips. "I wanted you to remember me being cute and not a greasy, smelly mess."

"I'll remember you with the tomato sauce all over your face," Tyson teased him as the pair walked towards the common area together. "From when you missed your mouth with that burger."

"Oh my gosh, shut up!" Vladimir giggled.

Tyson continued to poke fun at him. "You always miss your mouth and then wipe your face and miss your mouth and wipe your face. I don't get it, Vladimessy. You're better off just making a Tibetan mandala on your face when you eat."

"A mandala? Why?"

"Because you wipe your mouth, then you make a mess, then you wipe your mouth!"

"What does that have to do with mandalas?"

Tyson sat down on the first couch available to him, and Vladimir slumped down next to him. Another girl, a pretty girl with a tired face, sat on the end, but she barely noticed they'd arrived. The boys sat facing each other, of course. Remarkable, Tyson thought, that he could still have butterflies in his stomach when he looked at Vladimir. Even after all the kisses they shared, the confessions of love and the sharing of trauma, he still felt nervous.

"Well, it's a spiritual symbol in some religions--"

"I know what a mandala is! But what's your point?"

"Oh. Well, sometimes they make them out of coloured sand, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, but making the mandala's only half the ritual - they always dismantle it afterwards. Something about the belief that life is naturally transitional, so when they create a mandala, they always destroy it afterwards. I don't know, my point was that you could just put off wiping until the end, but it doesn't sound funny after you made me explain it! Thanks for that, Vladimissedthepoint."

"Haha! ...I'm gonna miss this," Vladimir's sad eyes fell, and he sighed heavily. "I'm gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you too. So much. You have no idea!" Tyson gently touched the boy's knee, and the boys smiled at the same time. "I don't know what's gonna happen. I'm a little bit scared, to be honest."

"Mum says we'll find a way to see each other when you go. Is that what you and she were talking about before?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

Like a bullet from a rifle, a single word shot through the warmth and harmony of the common room.

"Tyson!"

A horribly familiar voice brought malice and darkness into a place that Tyson had come to associate with safety and healing. He immediately felt himself reflexively tense up as he looked over to the woman he'd been dreading to see for so long.

She was here.

This story's hard. I must have written this chapter over two or three times before I was happy with it. I hope it's okay. I'm doing my best but I'm definitely in over my head. 😖
солнышко translates to "little sun" and моя звезда translates to "my star" - Masha's nicknames for Vladimir & Tyson, respectively.