Heart - 26. The Three Tysons

"You tried to overdose on benzodiazepine - valium," she read through his medical file, her eyes fixed on him more often than not. "Were you trying to kill yourself, Tyson?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I have your blood work here," she held up one of the files to show him that she was reading facts. "You did take valium, enough to make yourself pass out, but it wasn't enough to be especially dangerous. In fact, Ian O'Connell, the doctor in the emergency department, didn't even administer flumazenil." She paused to see if he would reply, but Tyson only ran his fingertips along the purple scars on his left wrist. "The paramedics and police both report that you had direct access to more pills, but you didn't take them. You have a history of going as far as possible to pursue the highest chance of lethality when attempting suicide. Yesterday was a half-hearted attempt at best. Why was this attempt different? Did you have second thoughts, or did you not want to die?"

"I passed out," he lied, unable to look her in the face.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. During your first suicide attempt, you swallowed at least thirty Xanax pills while you were intoxicated with alcohol. I believe that if you were genuinely suicidal, you would have taken all of those pills, but you didn't. By estimates, you didn't even come close to half. I'd like to know why. Will you tell me?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'd prefer it if you did. I know you don't like it here in the high-dependency unit, but I can't let you leave until we work together to make some progress. I don't want to have to do that."

Tyson grimaced. The HDU was the fucking worst. The nurses checked on him all the way through the night at five to ten-minute intervals, opening the blinds by his door-adjacent window and shining a flashlight in his eyes. He barely slept at all. Violet woke him for breakfast and medication. Tyson, sleep-deprived and moody, accepted his breakfast but wasn't in the mood for medicine when presented with it. However, Violet made it very clear that medication wasn't optional for him while he was considered an acute risk. He could take his antidepressant and benzodiazepine orally or, if he refused, the hospital staff could and would use force to administer an injection. The threat turned his stomach enough so that he took his pills, but was no longer in the mood for breakfast. When Tyson showered that morning, Violet remained in the room with him on the other side of the opaque shower curtain. She also watched while he brushed his teeth with a new toothbrush provided for him, and then she took it away when he was done. He had no rights, no privileges and no privacy.

"Alright, whatever. I didn't try to kill myself. So what?"

"Okay. What were you doing instead?"

With no fight left in him, Tyson sighed and covered his face. "I knew that the cops would come to check on me, so I overdosed on valium to make it look like I tried to kill myself."

"And you knew the cops were coming because, somehow, you orchestrated that video's appearance on social media and news outlets," Cynthia concluded, spinning her pen around her fingers. "Okay. We'll delve further into your video another time. Right now, I'm concerned mostly about why you would take such a risk on your own wellbeing when you knew that help was already coming for you."

"I needed to come back to the hospital."

She was visibly impressed by open and vulnerable he was with her, and she nodded. "Thank you for telling me that. But that still begs the question - if you knew the authorities were coming, you must have known they would remove you from the environment, especially if you told them you felt unsafe."

"Oh fuck off, Cyn. I've been telling the authorities that shit for years and they never, ever believed me! Don't you dare tell me what I should and shouldn't have done! You lost that right the second you discharged me back into their care!"

He glared intensely at her. He didn't entirely believe what he was saying, but he was frustrated. Other kids his age played soccer and ate muffins and went out with friends and enjoyed themselves. Tyson shouldn't have had to obey the whims of a psychopath and his puppet wife and then make enormous sacrifices to free himself! Why did that responsibility fall to him? The more he thought about it, the more confident he grew that he did the right thing. Nobody else was going to do anything. Now they were going to judge him? No. They could fuck themselves!

Cynthia paused and looked at him with sorrow and pity on her face. "I'm very sorry I couldn't do more for you. I left Brianna with instructions to take any excuse and opportunity she could find during your appointment with her to detach you from Chase and Edith. If I knew what you were planning to do, Tyson, I would never have let it happen."

"Yeah, and then I'd be locked in my room right now without my medication while Chase just denies what he does to me and gets away with it like he does with everything! Because I have no fucking power at all! Because it doesn't matter what I say or do, it only matters that my Dad calls me a liar! Nothing changes when we do it your day! So I did it myself! I shouldn't have to, but I did, and I will never forgive you or anyone for that! You're all just... shit. If you think doing things your way would have solved anything, I will never respect you again. I did what I had to do, and if you want to tell me I'm wrong, then fuck off out of here right now and don't come back!"

Cynthia held up a hand between them. It was a visual cue to tell him that he wasn't behaving appropriately and that if he continued, she would end the appointment. If necessary, she would issue orders for intervention, and Tyson was already miserable enough. He didn't always pick up verbal warnings when he was in a mood, but the hand gesture usually caught his attention, and he stopped shouting at her.

"Are you going to let me talk without getting angry with me?" She asked him after a few moments of silence.

"Whatever."

She took some time to draw up her response.

"The law didn't protect you. And that's not fair. Frankly, and excuse my language, it's fucking disgraceful. Nobody, especially a minor, should be denied the help they need to escape an abusive environment. People, often the most vulnerable ones, slip through our fingers. But, Tyson, I need you to understand that it's not that I wouldn't help you. I couldn't. I spent a lot of time researching and looking for cracks in the system that would help us find a way to keep you safe. I sincerely apologise for letting you down. I mean it, Tyson. But I have a lot of patients who depend on me. If I could find a way to defend you without losing my license, I would do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked. I don't question anything you did when you exposed your father for the monster he is - far from it - but I am concerned about your decision to intentionally overdose on your medication after the fact."

"Why? Is self-harm out of character for me, or something?" Tyson's tone was acidic, and Cynthia was visibly unhappy about it.

"Please don't be facetious. You're upset. I understand. You have every right to be. But I am so, so worried about you. Tyson, you admitted to me that you knew the police were coming to investigate you following the scandal your video caused. And they did. They came to your house and found you. You're a clever boy. A brilliant boy. After all, I doubt many people in the world would have been able to orchestrate what you did and take down one of the most powerful, indestructible people in the country. You must have known that the police would have rescued you immediately. You were still on suicide watch. Anyone would have brought you straight to a hospital if anyone, including you, believed you weren't safe. So, you won, Tyson, then you still made the decision to swallow those pills. It wasn't necessary. Why did you do it?"

"Because I wanted to fuck them over, okay??" Tyson yelled and clenched his jaw, repeatedly punching the mattress underneath him. "It wasn't good enough to just get away from them; I wanted to make sure they got punished for everything they ever did to me! Argh, fuck!"

The admission caused Tyson to start shaking. He was furious, ashamed, miserable and panicked all at once. Cynthia left briefly and returned, but he barely noticed as his throat tightened and his jaw clenched.

"Tyson, the nurse is just bringing you some diazepam, okay? And a hot cup of milo. I know how much you like hot milo."

The next minute involved the psychiatrist trying to instruct her patient on how to breathe as he fought to regain control. By the time he'd stopped shaking, his cheeks were wet with angry tears, and Violet brought in his pill and his beverage. Tyson took a mouthful of lukewarm milky water, pulled a face and let most of it dribble back into the cup.

"Urgh, haven't I suffered enough?" He put it down on his side table with a grimace and used the remainder to swallow the valium tablet.

"That's very rude," Violet objected in her intensely annoying deputy-principal tone of voice.

"No, what's rude is making a hot drink so tepid that it won't burn when I throw it back in your face!!" The sulking teenager snarled at her, his face settling into a petulant frown.

"Suit yourself," Violet shrugged it off stiffly and closed the door behind her more loudly than necessary.

"You hate her, don't you. Do you want to tell me why?" Cynthia looked intently into his pained brown eyes, her chin propped up on her fist.

"She's a decrepit old bitch. Next question."

"I'd like you to elaborate for me."

"Well, she's bossy and mean. She smells like mothballs," his lips twitched in a half-smile when Cynthia laughed. "She's always telling me what to do. I wasn't allowed to brush my teeth until she had time to watch me, and then she let me brush for, like, thirty seconds before she took my toothbrush away. And then when I wasn't ready to have my pill, she threatened to have me injected. Fuck her."

"She tries to force routine on you. So you don't like her," Cynthia suggested, and the accuracy of the statement gave Tyson pause. "Some patients who pass through the HDU are so unwell that they can't take care of themselves, or they might not even realise they're sick. Violet's job, though I agree she could be more sensitive about it, is to enforce a daily routine that ensures the patient is stable, fed and taken care of whether the patient likes it or not. You need to remember that this unit is only ever used for people who are a danger to themselves or others. Keeping you happy, unfortunately, comes second to keeping you and everyone else here safe. Still, she had no right to threaten you with an involuntary injection. Orders like that need to come directly from me, and if you refused your medication, I would first like to ask you why that is. There must be a reason. What was it?"

"Nothing! I was going to take my pills! I just wanted to eat my fucking crumpets first, okay? Then she started throwing her decrepit old arse around."

"So you were happy to take your medication while it was your decision. When she put pressure on you, that's what triggered this grudge against her. Am I right?"

Tyson slumped. She read him like a book. "Yes."

"You were stuck in a cruel, abusive, ruthless routine at home since the day you were born, weren't you? You were repeatedly trying to kill yourself just to escape it. The high-dependency unit is definitely not going to do you any favours with the rules and restrictions. It might even do more harm than good," Cynthia nodded as she spoke, and it sounded to Tyson as though she were talking to herself as well. "I know you weren't exactly happy in the open ward, but you'd feel much better with the extra freedom, wouldn't you?"

Tyson suddenly felt hopeful. A transfer to the other ward would indeed make things much more comfortable - not least by getting him away from Hitler's grandmother. "Yeah. Can we do that?"

"Mmm, I think we can. The HDU isn't a punishment. If you don't need to be here, then you shouldn't be here. But, now don't jump down my throat, I do have concerns about your ability to make informed decisions about your wellbeing."

"I knew I shouldn't have told you about that," Tyson rubbed his eyes with the bases of his palms. "I should have just let you think I tried to top myself."

"I wouldn't have believed you, and you know what that would mean? I'd have to keep you here in the HDU to remain on the safe side. But you told me the truth, didn't you? That it wasn't about hurting yourself. It was about hammering as many nails in your parents' coffins as you could by any means necessary; because you don't believe you will feel safe unless they are kept as far away from you as possible. Am I right?"

He eyed her off, unsure if he should admit how correct she was. What if she thought he was extra crazy? What if she reported him to the police? Cynthia sensed he was uncomfortable, and she shifted in her chair and took in a deep breath. She often did this before she would speak for a long time.

"So, the way I see things as they are now is that there are three main Tysons all trying to coexist. There's True Tyson. This sweet, kind, inquisitive young man in here," she pointed towards his chest. "He's intelligent, funny and he cares a great deal for other people. He wants to learn, live, laugh and love. Mostly, he wants to be loved, and he responds very well to being loved. I've seen the way all the anger and hate seems to melt away when he's with Vladimir. It's beautiful. But True Tyson doesn't fit in with Belmont-Lovett values, and that long-term rejection is very damaging. It hurt True Tyson and caused him to recede far enough that the other Tysons could take the wheel.

"Angry Tyson is the one I would say has the most influence. This guy isn't inherently bad. He's defending himself, more or less, with behaviour he learned from his parents. He's prone to being malicious, vindictive, ruthless, reckless and unpredictable. He lashes out at other people. If things aren't fair in some way, Angry will usually have something to say about it, whether it's by abusing whoever he deems responsible or by using self-harm as a weapon to punish others, and he doesn't care about the consequences. He tends to dominate the other Tysons because that's what he learned to do from his parents. Angry's ability to make decisions is skewed, so while they might make sense to him, they're not beneficial to the other Tysons.

"Scared Tyson is similar but different. He's an amalgamation of the trauma that he's suffered throughout his upbringing, and it gets him down. He's very insecure, depressed, ashamed, anxious and lonely. Scared feels guilty about everything negative that's happened and believes that it's his fault. He lashes out at himself. He doesn't think he deserves to be loved the way True Tyson wants to be loved. When he self-harms, he does it to punish himself. He might scratch his arm until it bleeds or twist his sprained ankle because the pain takes his mind off how awful he's feeling inside. You know? It doesn't make Scared Tyson wrong, exactly.

And these three Tysons are all living up here at once, each one with its own truths," she pointed now to his head, and his jaw quivered. "You've suffered a lot of serious trauma, Tyson. Years of horrible emotional, physical and psychological abuse, and your brain is trying to protect itself from all of the stress. Choosing to put your body at risk like that - especially after your liquid nicotine poisoning put so much strain on your heart - is an example of Angry Tyson making a decision that puts you in a lot of danger. It doesn't make Angry wrong, exactly. He's only doing what he believes is best for him - even if it's not. I understand that you may have felt as though it was the only option you had. But four times previously, you have also believed that killing yourself was the only option you had. That's why I'm concerned about your ability to keep yourself safe."

Tyson wasn't sure what to say. It made a lot of sense. Why he would snap to intense fury and punch the wall, or when he was feeling so miserable he would hurt his injured ankle just to feel something different. The visual representation of his cognitive dissonance was a powerful one.

"Fuck," he said simply, staring at the blank wall opposite him.

They talked for a long time. Cynthia explained that the recovery process had been nudged off course by the fact that Tyson was doomed to return to the environment that twisted him in the first place. Now that Edith and Chase were definitely going to lose custody of their son, they would no longer be able to obstruct the healing process. By removing them as a factor, Tyson no longer needed to put his treatment second to his desperation for freedom, and with his level of self-awareness, Cynthia was sure he would make for a speedy recovery. She also told Tyson what to expect in the near future as the valium pill kept him from getting too anxious. Police, agents from the Department of Human Services - child protection - and lawyers would be coming in to speak to him. Petra would accompany him at all times, as she was working as his social worker, as would Tyson's new lawyer. It sounded daunting, but Cynthia reassured him that she and Brianna would support him every step of the way. If he got overwhelmed, his wellbeing was a higher priority than the investigation.

"Can you, like, tell Masha Tchaikovsky all this?" Tyson asked Cynthia as she began to pack up, their long appointment coming to an end. "I don't know if she'll understand why I took the pills and I don't want her to be mad at me and stop me from seeing Vlady and stuff."

The older woman neatly stacked the files back into the folder and grabbed her clipboard. "She doesn't know. Public record is only that you were readmitted to hospital. Because you're a minor, there were no reports of your 'attempted suicide' on the news. As Mrs Tchaikovsky is not your guardian, your right to privacy forbids us from disclosing information to her. So, what you choose to tell her is entirely up to you."

"Oh. Okay. Can you please tell her I want to see her? And Vlady?" Tyson asked with big, round, pleading eyes.

"Alright," Cynthia smiled and left the room. It wasn't more than twenty seconds before she was back at the door. "Tyson says he would like to see you two!" She turned to the stunned boy and winked at him. "Come on out. Be gentle with him!" Cynthia spoke her last words to whoever was outside.

Vladimir's beaming face lit Tyson's entire world up. Gone were the demons of hate and depression and anxiety. It was as though he shone so brightly that the darkness disappeared. Like a lighthouse, Tyson thought.

"Tyson!! Hug me in the next five seconds, or I'm breaking up with you!" Vladimir insisted, standing in the doorway as his gothic mother appeared behind him, a warm smile on her maroon lips.

Tyson felt silly, leaping out of bed in his hospital gown, but that didn't matter. He almost tackled his boyfriend right to the ground with the force of his hug. The last few days had been torturous in many ways, but losing Vladimir, knowing that Friday might have been the last time he would see him, had been the hardest part. To have finally found a connection with another person and to be torn away from it... Tyson never wanted to feel that again. Vladimir was warm and smelled sweet and he was...warm, and he... smelled very sweet. His touch was worth everything. And then he felt Masha's manicured nails scritching him lovingly behind his ear, and he began to sniffle.

"I missed you so much! Oh my gosh! I love yooou!" Vladimir spoke in his ear, squeaking with affection. He had never sounded so gay, Tyson thought with a chuckle.

"I love you too! How could you leave me, Vlady? How could you abandon me here? I'm joking."

As Tyson and Vladimir got reacquainted with each other under the twinkling eye of the Russian matriarch, he took some time to soak in how different everything seemed the moment he was in their company. They didn't have to come in and see him. He wasn't their responsibility. But apparently, they'd been here even before his appointment had finished, waiting their turn to see him while Cynthia got her facts straight. Only the day before, Tyson's mother had left him for dead, ready to skip the country and get the hell away from the consequences of her actions. On the other hand, Masha took risks to leak Tyson's message to the press and request an immediate welfare check, all because she wanted to do what was best for him. Some spoiled, angry little bastard her son had grown attached to. She did that all for him. Tyson felt wanted. Accepted. Loved. As Cynthia had correctly surmised, that was all he desired deep down.

"What happened, моя звезда? (My star) Tell me everything, darling. If you're okay to talk to me," Masha spent some time neatening Tyson's stubborn, messy curls with her fingers as the three of them sat together on the more secluded visitor's couches.

"I heard your Mum's in the Bennett ward! And your Dad's hiding from the cops!" Vladimir was unusually animated as he squeezed Tysons' hand. Perhaps he always was an animated person, but his medications made him drowsy. Tyson had no actual idea who his boyfriend was outside of the hospital.

Masha admonished her son in their language with a half-hearted scowl. "Let our boy speak, will you?"

"No, it's fine. I wanna hear everything! Like how you left the hospital right before I came in, you giant Vladouche," Tyson teased him, fingers quivering around Vladimir's with his excitement. His changing of the subject did not go unnoticed by Masha, whose eyes studied him. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about in front of Vladimir, especially after losing Alexey was so damaging for him. "How's your rabbit? When does Vasily come home? When do you go to school?"

"Svetlana is FAT!" Vladimir exclaimed, scooting up and putting his arms around the younger boy. "Dmitry feeds her all the vegetables he doesn't eat for dinner. But she slept with me last night - until Mum realised she wasn't in her hutch and took her back."

"You boys leave your clothes everywhere for me to pick up. I would never be silly enough to believe you would clean up the rabbit's poop," Masha explained curtly, squeezing her son's cheek. "Vasily comes home in a few days, and our Vlad will start school tomorrow morning. We'll try three half-days before we go back full time, isn't that right, солнышко?"

"And our neighbours brought me cake and cookies, and they all welcomed me home, and it was really, really special! But yeah, tell us what happened since Friday! Was your Mum okay? What about your Dad? Did they freak out about everything? What did you do to get stuck out here? You're okay, right?"

"I'm fine, Vlady," Tyson lied, avoiding Masha's gaze. From one middle-aged woman to another, they always seemed to know when he wasn't completely honest with them.

"солнышко, (little sun) I'd like to have just a small talk with Tyson. Just the two of us, okay? Go and find that Charlie boy. Quick!" Masha directed him with a jerk of her head.

"Oh, Charlie's still back here. Okay. Is he in his room?" Vladimir obediently got up from his spot behind Tyson, leaving the boy feeling cold and alone.

"If he's not out here, I can guarantee he's probably in his room," Tyson replied more sardonically than he intended, and Vladimir made a face in good humour as he shuffled away. "He looks so good. Thanks for bringing him."

"Vad!" Charlie audibly squealed with joy as he saw his old friend lurking in the ward, and Masha chuckled as her son greeted the pillow-hugging boy with such sweet tenderness.

"Doesn't he look good?" She glowed with pride. "But you look like shit. What happened, Tyson? I had Dmitry put your video on the Youtube and he sent it to everyone he could think of, and I called triple zero. Did it work? Is that why you're here?"

"More or less," Tyson didn't want to admit that he'd broken her trust. But he didn't want to lie to her, either. "The cops came and arrested my Mum. She had a breakdown, apparently."

"Then they brought you to the intensive care unit? Why? Are you alright? Did those... creatures hurt you?"

She was such a mother, he thought. She kept straightening his hair and his hospital gown. Maybe she'd understand if he told her the whole story. He could only hope.

"They literally boarded up my window and locked me in my room until the cops came by," he explained flatly. "My Dad wouldn't let me have my medication, and he broke my flute. So... I did something stupid, and that's why I'm here right now."

"Oh," she replied quietly, withdrawing her hands.

"I know I promised I wouldn't, but I thought it was the best chance I had to get away from home, so I faked an overdose, which I know now was really stupid and reckless, and it went back on the deals I made with you and Vlady and Vasily, and I'm so, so sorry!"

Masha looked horrified, but she didn't look angry, which was a massive relief. "You tried to hurt yourself? Why, darling? You knew I would send people to check up on you. Darling..."

"I didn't really try to hurt myself. I didn't. I wanted the cops to think I did. But I took the pills. I did it. It was dumb, but I did. I should have just not said anything, but I'm really, really tired of living like a politician. So... yeah. If you don't want to see me again, that's okay. Thanks for everything."

"Nonsense. You and I will keep this between us, do you understand?" Masha grabbed his hand and squeezed between white fingers. "My boy adores you. All he talks about now is Tyson from the hospital. You made him happy, and you helped us find Cynthia Ellicott. I want you to keep making him happy, but I don't know what he will think if he knows you took those pills. He is doing well, but he is still so fragile. I don't want to put stress on him."

The two of them looked over to Charlie and Vladimir, and the younger boy was proudly showing Vladimir all of the maths he'd done all by himself. It brought a smile to Tyson's face, and Masha squeezed harder.

"Your overdose was silly. Very silly. What if you had died? What would become of my Vladimir then? I will forgive you, of course. How can I not? I will never understand what it was like for you as a small boy. I can't imagine how hard it was for you to go back there. Do you want to talk about it with me?"

"I... really don't. Not right now. I just thought you should know."

She exhaled deeply and smooched him on the forehead. "If you want to talk, I will always listen. No matter what. If you need to talk about the hospital, or things at home, or dating - speaking of which, we will need to set some boundaries between you and my Vlad!" She smirked wickedly. "Perhaps we can talk about all this with Vladimir one day. But not now. I don't want him to know about this until he is ready. Can you do that for me? Can you keep this a secret? Because... I want to be there for you, darling. I do. My parents were... challenging, to say the least. I will always have a soft spot for you, but I won't let my Vlad get hurt again. You need to get your act together, okay?"

Tyson nodded. He was relieved he didn't bring it up earlier when Vladimir was part of the conversation. He didn't feel right about hiding it from Vladimir, but he didn't want to trigger him in any way.

"I'll keep my mouth shut, and I won't do anything like that again. I promise. For real. And I'm sorry again for lying to you."

"Good. Because my boys don't lie."

"It was so I could get away from... ack. I don't even want to bring them up. I wanna move on, so I suppose I better stop using them as an excuse. It's not healthy, or that's what Cynthia would say."

"I think that is an excellent idea. Out of sight, out of mind, and you can focus on yourself and not those creatures. But know that if I ever see either of those parents of yours in the street, I will cut off all the protruding parts of their bodies! Now, what about clothes, mister? Will your sister bring you something to wear or do you need me to bring some of Sasha's things? Because you will not be roaming this hospital in a gown on my watch!"

Tyson chuckled, and his eyes met Vladimir's from across the room, and the pale boy beamed back at him. But this time when Tyson felt happy, he didn't feel despair and dread punching him in the back of the head. He was safe. He could finally move on.