The World Out There - 22. Twenty-Two

The last person he met at Nurton Cross, the last professional who would have such an impact on his life there, was Dr Farah Sayeed, his psychiatrist. He had been there nearly a week when he did meet her.

It was Friday afternoon and Aiden come up to the Education Centre to escort him back to the ward. It had been Cindi, another nurse on the ward, who escorted him to the Education Centre after lunch, and it was usually the same nurse who collected him from there, or it had been the last three days. He wasn’t too surprised to see Aiden: he was still trying to get used to all the different routines on the ward.

As they left the Education Centre, Aiden unlocked the first door on their journey back to the ward and said to Liam, “We’re not going straight back to the ward.”

“Okay,” Liam replied. He quickly learnt to just do as he was asked here, especially as he wanted internet privileges. He knew there was so much information out there on the internet and he wanted to start finding all of it.

“Dr Sayeed wants to see you,” Aiden said, leading him down the stairs.

“Who’s Dr Sayeed?” he asked.

“Your psychiatrist,” Aiden casually replied.

He hadn’t thought that he would have a psychiatrist, but this was a psychiatric hospital. Up to then, he’d just thought the place was run by the nurses: almost everyone he’d met there were nurses, and nurses seemed to run everything. Of course there must be doctors here - he’d just not thought about it until then.

Aiden took him to a corridor of rooms that ran off the front of the building. As always, they had to pass through so many locked doors to get there. Once in that corridor, Aiden had taken him to the second room on the right-hand side which had a sign on the outside that read “Interview Room 3”. Aiden tapped on the door and a woman’s voice called out, “Come in.”

A moment of surprise had caught at him: there was someone else in there with Dr Sayeed because he’d expected Dr Sayeed’s male voice to call out.

Aiden pushed the door open, and Liam followed behind him.

Inside the room, there was only a woman sat in one of the chairs. Dr Sayeed was a woman - and Liam felt a stab of embarrassment for being so stupid. Of course, Dr Sayeed could be a woman.

“I’ve got Liam for you,” Aiden said to the woman, Dr Sayeed.

“Thanks, Aiden,” she replied.

“Do you need me to stay?” Aiden asked.

“No, I think we’ll be fine,” Dr Sayeed said.

“I’ll be in the waiting area when you need me,” Aiden said, stepping back from the door and returning to the corridor.

“Come in and sit down,” Dr Sayeed said. Liam realised she was speaking to him.

Liam stepped into the room and sat down on the empty chair opposite Dr Sayeed. Doing so, he was able to get a good look at her.

She was probably middle-aged, but she certainly did not look it, though her youthful appearance had probably more to do with her genetics than make-up and cosmetics. Her body was slim and slight, though she hid it under flowing and expensive-looking clothing. That day she was wearing a golden yellow silk blouse that was buttoned up to her neck, though the blouse itself had no collar to it, just a simple neck line that enhanced the woman’s own slim neck. The blouse hung over her black linen trousers which were obviously tailored but did not hug tightly to her legs, and her feet wore simple and flat black leather shoes.

Her jet black and very long hair was tied back in a neat ponytail that hung right down her back. Her hair was so straight, so flat and smooth, not a ripple or a curve to it, not a hair out of place. It created a sweeping backwards frame to her face, which was as slim as her body, but also seemed curvingly open. For a moment he could not work out why this contrast was there and then he saw it: her wide brown eyes and her wide and open mouth were pushing her face out in two smooth curves.

Her skin was pale brown, but smooth and glowing with health - no blemish to it he could see nor any made-up gracing her face.

His mother would have lumped Dr Sayeed together with all the other non-white people she disapproved of. To his mother, there was no difference between black and Asian people and anyone not white. Dr Sayeed was Asian, but that didn’t bother him. What bothered him was how beautiful she was: women this beautiful - weren’t they always models or something, not doctors?

“I’m Dr Farah Sayeed. I am one of the Consultant Psychiatrists here and you have been assigned to my care,” Dr Sayeed said. Her accent was certainly a London one, but a posh and very educated accent. It sounded of culture and wealth, not the sharp edge of a North London accent or rolling tones of an East London one. “I’m going to be meeting with you regularly, but today is just for us to get to know each other.”

“Yes,” he replied. It was all he could think of to say. He couldn’t really have disagreed with her.

“How are you settling in here?”

“All right,” he replied, and then he added, “I like Mrs Williams.” He was quickly realising simple, one or two-word answers would not do here. He’d have to give more of an explanation, even if it was only one thing. Retreating into silence had caused him so many problems, even though it was all he wanted to do.

“Cecelia is a marvel. We’re so lucky to have her. Anyone else you are getting on with?”

“I like Aiden too,” he added.

“Aiden is a good nurse. Are you making friends with any of the other patients on your ward?”

“Not really,” he said.

“The nurses are professionals. You can’t expect them to be your friends.”

“Yes,” he replied. He shifted awkwardly in his chair.

“You need to make friends. You will find life here is far better with friends.”

“Yes,” he told her. It was too complicated to explain about friendships. He’d never really had one and had no idea how to make them. He couldn’t tell her that, though.

“How was your home life before you came here? You lived with your mother?” Dr Sayeed asked.

He took a breath before he started to explain about his old home life. As he talked, he noticed that Dr Sayeed making notes on the leather-bound notepad that was balanced on her lap. As she did, he noticed the sleeve over her right arm being pushed back slightly, exposing more than several thin and solid gold bangles on her wrist.

As he talked with her, he found it becoming easier and easier to talk, mainly because she did not seem to ask him questions about his emotions or his feelings, and that first time she didn’t ask him one question about Rhys Clarke. Surely, she must have known about Rhys Clarke, but she didn’t mention him once.

Her last question, though, had caused him to lie.

She asked him, “How are you sleeping at night? This is such a new and different place.”

“Okay,” he said. “I get to sleep okay, and I don’t feel tired.” It was a lie, but he couldn’t tell her what really was happening. That was too personal, it made him look too weak.

Aiden took him back to the ward afterwards and Liam told him that he liked Dr Sayeed, which he did in a way.

That night had been the same as his previous handful of nights at Nurton Cross: he’d quickly realised that if he stayed awake until the small hours of the morning, then he would only wake up once overnight; he would only have that dream once or twice a night. The dream was always the same: he was stabbing Rhys Clarke. He was pushing the knife into Rhys Clarke’s stomach. The knife was ripping Rhys Clarke’s white shirt, bright red blood flowing out and staining it, staining his knife, staining his skin. People were shouting. Someone was screaming. Rhys Clarke was shouting. He could smell the blood. He could feel how easily the knife slid into Rhys Clarke’s stomach. Rhys Clarke was falling to the ground at his feet.

Then he would wake up. He would be breathing fast, fear rushing through his whole body and the dream was still alive in his mind. It didn’t fade like dreams used to do. It would stay in his mind for hours and hours, for the rest of the day until he had to sleep again.

If he stayed awake until two- or three-o’clock in the morning, fighting the tiredness that pulled down at his mind and body, then he would only wake up once in fear overnight, only wake up twice with that terrible dream alive in his mind. If he went to sleep when he was put to bed, then he would wake up two or even three times a night, always in a panic, and always afraid to go back to sleep.

He would stay awake reading, though he had to sit upright on his bed to do so. If he lay down, he’d easily fall asleep, even if he were reading. But all this left him so tired. During the day time he’d find his whole body being pulled down by that aching tiredness. He would find himself fighting to keep awake. So many times he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep during the daytime, but again he’d fight to keep himself awake. If he fell asleep during the day, then the nurses would see there was something wrong with him.

He had been keeping himself awake for over two weeks when it all got away from him.

It was a Wednesday morning and he’d been sat in the Education Centre. Mrs Devine, one of the other teachers there, had been teaching him math, though he was so tired that he barely remembered a word of her explanation of the equation. She then set him to working on the next two pages of his math workbook.

She had hardly stepped away from the table he was sat at when a wave of tiredness swept over him. It was like a physical force draining all the energy out of his body. He closed his eyes against it, just for a moment, just until the energy had come back into his body.

“Liam! Liam! Wake up!” Mrs Williams’s voice rang in his ears and made his eyes snap open.

He found himself slumped over in his chair with Mrs Williams sitting next to him, her face creased up with concern.

“You were asleep,” Mrs Williams said. “Are you alright?”

“I’m just tired,” he told her, his mind still foggy with tiredness.

“Are you sleeping at night?” she asked him.

“Some nights I’m not,” him mumbled.

“You look exhausted.”

“I’m just tired,” he repeated himself.

“Liam you just fell asleep sitting upright. That’s not normal. I’m going to call a nurse and have you taken back to the ward,” Mrs Williams said, a very maternal tone rippling through her voice.

“I need to do my math equations,” he mumbled, another wave of tiredness washing through him body. He blinked hard against it, forcing himself to stay awake.

“Math can wait until another day. You need to rest, and that’s obvious,” Mrs Williams calmly said.

Elizabeth, one of the ward’s nurses, soon appeared in the Education Centre and took him back to the ward. He just silently followed behind her as she unlocked and locked the doors on the way there.

When they had returned to the ward, Elizabeth took him straight to his room. Once she had opened the door to it, she said, “Have a lie down and get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam mumbled to her.

“Don’t worry - we all get ill Liam,” she replied.

Once she had locked him in there, Liam sat down on his bed and took off his trainers. He then pulled his jumper off, over his head, and then stopped there. In his jeans and t-shirt, he just lay down on his bed. He lay on his side, curling his body around into a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

He’d expected another repeat of his nightmare as tiredness and sleep overtook him, but that morning he slept a dreamless sleep. He just fell into a dark sleep, not interrupted by anything until he was woken up by Elizabeth for his lunch.

He was still tired when he ate lunch - not the heavy tiredness that pulled down his eyelids and his whole body - but his mind and body still felt groggy with tiredness. He’d slowly ate his lunch, pushing the now tasteless food into his mouth.

After lunch, he’d expected he’d be taken back to the Education Centre - he’d been hoping to be taken back there. He felt a stab of guilt at not doing the work Mrs Devine had set him. Maths wasn’t his strongest - or even favourite - subject but she had set him work to do.

As he finished his lunch, forcing himself to eat after his appetite had left him, Aiden walked up to where he was sat. He looked at Aiden with a moment of surprise, he’d been expecting Elizabeth to come to take him back to the Education Centre.

“Have you finished your lunch?” Aiden asked him.

“Yes,” Liam replied, pushing aside his half-eaten dessert of custard and stewed fruit.

“Let’s go,” Aiden replied.

Instead of taking him to the ward’s entrance, and from there to the Education Centre, Aiden took him to one of the ward’s Quiet Rooms. When they entered the room, he found Dr Sayeed waiting for them. She was wearing an emerald green blouse over another pair of black tailored trousers, sat on one of the chairs there, one knee crossed over the other, and that black leather folder of hers resting on her lap.

“Liam, Aiden, do take a seat,” Dr Sayeed said.

Liam sat down on the chair opposite to her. Aiden had already taken the other chair there. He was in trouble. He had done something seriously wrong. They were angry at him for falling asleep in the Education Centre. He hadn’t meant to. He was in trouble again.

“Liam, you fell asleep in the Education Centre this morning,” Dr Sayeed said.

“Yes,” he replied. There was no point in denying anything.

“What happened?” Dr Sayeed asked.

“I was really tired. That’s all,” he told her.

“How are you sleeping at night?” Aiden asked him.

He turned his head to look at Aiden, who was leaning forward in his chair with a concerned expression on his face.

“Okay,” he lied.

“I’ve been noticing that you’ve been tired in the morning and the evenings you still seem very tired,” Aiden said. Liam glanced over at Dr Sayeed, and she nodded her agreement. “Are you having nightmares?” Aiden added.

Again Liam glanced back to Dr Sayeed, but she was now watching him intensely, it was almost as if she already knew the answer.

He turned back to Aiden and quietly said, “Yes.”

“What are they about?”

Liam’s mouth ran dry. He had to answer Aiden’s question - he couldn’t just shake or nod his head, he had to do more. He liked Aiden, but he had liked Duncan Loughton and had opened up to him, and that hadn’t done him any good. But he was here for the rest of his life, or as far ahead as he could see, and Aiden was his nurse and… and he had to trust Aiden, didn’t he? And he was so physically tired.

“Me killing Rhys Clarke,” he quietly told Aiden.

“Are the dreams vivid?” Aiden asked.

“I can see the knife going in and there’s a lot of blood,” Liam felt a sting of nausea at the back of his throat as he spoke.

“Does that wake you up?” Aiden continued.

“Yes, but…” He ran his tongue across the top of his dry mouth. He had to tell them. “I stay awake until two or three o’clock. I don’t go straight to sleep.”

“Why?” Aiden asked him.

“If I go straight to sleep, then I have that nightmare three or four times a night. If I stay awake, then I only have that dream twice a night.”

“Right,” Aiden said.

“That must make you really tired,” Dr Sayeed said.

“Yes,” Liam nodded his agreement with her.

“Do you have flashbacks when you’re awake?” Aiden asked.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, “but they are very quick and don’t happen much.”

Aiden looked over towards Dr Sayeed. Liam followed him too, looking towards the doctor. She was wearing a concerned, concentrating expression - her mouth set in a straight line, her eyes glancing down at the pad on her lap before she looked back at him.

“I hate the diagnosis of PTSD,” she said.

“PT-what?” Liam asked. What did those letters mean?

“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Dr Sayeed said. “Now, we throw around that diagnosis far too quickly. I don’t think you have it, but it sounds like these nightmares are very distressing and are stopping you from sleeping fully. Now, I don’t like medicating people your age, but I think you would benefit from a low dose anti-depressant.”

“Do you think I’m ill?” Liam quietly asked. It sounded as if she thought there was something with him.

“No,” Dr Sayeed replied. “I think you’re behaving like a human being. We used to call it guilt, but it is stopping you from sleeping, and you need some help with that.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“We’ll met each week and have a talk,” Aiden said, pulling Liam’s attention back to him. “We’ll talk about how you’re doing. Things like how you’re sleeping and doing with your school work and such.”

“Okay,” Liam replied.

Aiden had taken him back to the Education Centre after their meeting. He’d felt strange, though, for the rest of the afternoon. He was being put on anti-depressants which meant that he was ill in some way, regardless of what Dr Sayeed said. But if he were ill, would that explain things, explain his behaviour? Was that why he killed Rhys Clarke? He didn’t know. Could he ever ask Dr Sayeed or especially Aiden? Why was it never simple?

That evening he had gone to bed at his proper bedtime, not staying awake until the small hours of the morning. He’d curled up in his bed, pushing his pillow under his head, and soon fell asleep, even though he’d slept for several hours that morning. He had that nightmare three times that night. Aiden had told him that anti-depressants wouldn’t work straight away, but he had taken them that night, given to him by a smiling Cindi, hoping they would.

Over the following weeks the nightmares did slowly decrease. At first, he didn’t notice, but one morning he woke up after only having the nightmare twice the previous night. Then one Saturday morning he had woken up and a few moments later realised he hadn’t had that nightmare once overnight. It was a wonderful moment to be free from those nightmares, even if it was only for one night’s sleep