Be Myself! - 40. Visits

TW: Violence, child abuse, Oscar's parents, talk of injuries and hospital.

Waking up from general anaesthesia was almost like not waking up at all. My eyes were open and I could see I was in an unfamiliar dark room with a stranger standing by my side, but my brain was still so muddled up and slow that it felt like I was just in another dream. The person said something to me, I tried to answer, but my jaw was locked shut. I was told not to try to speak for the time being. I fell asleep again and kept dozing on and off throughout the night, though it was really hard to tell when I was awake and when I was supposedly asleep. The only reason I know I did not sleep for the whole night is because later, when I woke up in a completely different room, I remember thinking that my dreams that night kept taking me back to that first dark room every now and then. It was actually me waking up, sleeping, dreaming of something completely different, waking up again and so on, but it felt like one long night of sleep.

The new room was slightly better lit, but not by much. I could see a television fixed to the wall in front of me and I was vaguely aware that the wall on my left was made of glass. My neck was stiff and would not turn to either side, but it was weirdly relieving to find that my toes and fingers moved freely. Any wider movements made me feel a strange pull from inside my abdomen. My head felt puffy, and I still could not open my mouth. I did not feel any pain (or any other physical feeling, for that matter) yet, but this situation would not last for long.

“I see you are awake.” The voice came from somewhere to my right, but I could not turn my head to see who it was. Thankfully, the person soon stepped into my field of vision. She turned out to be a nurse. “Blink once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’. Do you know where you are?”

I blinked twice. At that point, my mind was still so cloudy that I could barely remember anything about my life other than the general ‘my name is Oscar, I’m sixteen, and I live with my boyfriend’.

“Do you know who you are?”

I blinked once.

“Good, at least you know that. You’re in the hospital now, dear. Do you know why you’re here?”

I blinked twice.

“Do you remember anything that happened to you before you ended up in here?”

I tried to search my mind for anything that I knew had happened recently, but all I found was an annoying mist covering all of my memories. The more I tried to see through it, the thicker the mist became, so I just gave up and blinked twice.

“Oh, dear… don’t worry, you should get some memories back soon.” The nurse smiled. “Meanwhile, there are some people here who want to see you. They’ve been really worried about you. Do you think you can see them now?”

I blinked once. My mind was too slow to figure out who those people were, but I knew I wanted to see them too, if only so that they could tell me what was happening. By this point, the only reason I was not freaking out about the whole situation was because my brain was still under the effects of the anaesthesia, and thus did not realise there was something to freak out about.

The nurse went out of the room through a glass door in the glass wall, and soon Oliver came in. He was wearing a mask over his mouth and nose, and the remaining bits of his face seemed red and puffy. His hair was a mess, and he seemed really tired. He approached my bed and moved his hand towards my face, but pulled back at the last second.

(...)

“Hi, Oscar…” Oliver seemed scared. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but all I could do was blink. He seemed relieved that I could do at least that. “I’m so glad you’re awake! We were so worried!” Oliver’s eyes quickly filled with water. “I was so scared, you have no idea! There was so much blood, your face was so broken… The doctor said it was a miracle you made it here.”

Now it was my turn to be scared. I had no idea what Oliver was talking about, no idea how I could have gotten into this situation, and my body was so full of medicine I still felt no amount of pain that could corroborate his story. It was the first time I realised something really bad had happened, and I finally began to panic at the fact that I remembered none of it.

“Do you remember what happened?” Oliver asked me, probably reading my confusion and fear.

I blinked twice, hoping my boyfriend had been filled in to my current communication system.

“That means no, right?”

I blinked once.

Oliver laughed. “I really hope this means ‘yes’, otherwise I just got the whole system backwards and I won’t have any way of knowing it!” He quickly became serious again. “You went to visit your parents to officially cut ties with them. We don’t know exactly what they did to you, but we know they hurt you really badly. Mum thinks they tried to kill you.”

I felt like throwing up, but I could not open my mouth to let it out. Panic and dread took over the painkillers, and flashes of the day’s events returned to my mind, screening like a never-ending horror movie. I saw my mother taking me to my father’s study. I saw their contempt as they spoke to me. I saw Mum slap my face. I saw them yelling. I saw my father punch me to the ground. I saw all those things playing in a loop for what seemed like an eternity, but it was really just a few seconds.

“Oscar, are you ok?” Oliver asked. It took me a while to register that he had spoken to me. “Do you want me to call the nurse?”

I blinked twice. I doubted the nurse could help me.

“I’m really sorry, Oscar. A guy called Jeshua found you in the street and brought you to us, and then we took you to hospital. The police went to search your parents’ house, but I don’t know what they found yet.”

A new wave of dread took over my body. The police were involved. My parents could have been arrested. I never thought it would get that far. I did not want it to get that far. It felt like I had just entered a parallel surreal universe. This is not how things should happen. The respected professor Joseph Schubert, the personification of everything right and proper, did not belong in jail. Jail was for criminals, and Joseph Schubert was not…

But he put me in hospital. I was still under too many painkillers to feel exactly what he did, but their effect would wear off soon enough. Oliver said he tried to kill me. The kind of pain those words caused was not physical, so no painkillers could block it. But it hurt. It hurt like someone was ripping my chest open and yanking away everything inside. My own father had tried to kill me. He was someone I used to trust, someone I looked up to, someone I used to love.

“You’re crying.” Just as Oliver said that, he wiped his own eyes with his sleeve. “I’m so sorry, Oscar. I wish I could hug you and make you feel better, but I was told I shouldn’t touch you.”

I tried to make some sort of questioning face, hoping Oliver would understand that I wanted to know why it was that he could not touch me. Fortunately he got the message quickly.

“The doctor said we have to be careful around you, because if you get an infection it could be really dangerous. I couldn’t really understand much of what she was saying because I wasn’t really paying attention; I kept thinking about you and when you would wake up and if you would be ok. Sorry.”

I wanted to smile and tell Oliver it was ok. He seemed so fragile with his puffy face, teary eyes, and overwhelming sadness that I wanted to hug him too despite everything. Instead, all I could really do was blink slowly and try to look as calm as possible.

“Mum wants to see you too. She and the doctor can explain everything better. When you first got here they were talking about brain damage because your face looked so bad.” I must have made some sort of worried face, because Oliver hushed to reassure me. “You didn’t have anything too serious! And your face looks kind of better now! Your cheeks remind me of a hamster that stocked too much sunflower seeds, and your nose is kind of inflated, but it looked a lot worse when everything was covered in blood and out of place.”

Oliver grabbed a mirror from somewhere I could not see and put it in front of my face. It took me a couple of seconds to realise I was actually staring at my reflection. I looked nothing like I used to. My face was swollen, covered in purple bruises and small cuts, and my mouth seemed wired shut under my lips. There was a small tube coming out of my nose to help me breathe. I wanted to ask Oliver what they had done to me, why were there wires and metal plates around my mouth, and when would I be able to speak again.

If I looked so horrible now, I did not dare think how bad I must have been earlier.

“The doctor said you should be able to make a full recovery, though. When the swelling goes away you’ll look as good as new.” Oliver tried to be optimistic, but I did not share his feelings. Not being able to do more than blink at him did not make me feel better either. If anything, I felt useless and isolated.

I blinked once to show him I was listening, but Oliver took it as a sign I agreed with his optimism. Just then, a nurse knocked on the door and signalled that it was time for Oliver to leave. He moved as if he was going to touch my face and ended up caressing the air just above my cheek. It was weird and kind of awkward, but I appreciated the gesture.

Once Oliver left, the nurse came in, checked that the IV tube connected to the back of my hand was working properly, checked my temperature, asked if I was feeling any pain, and told me to rest for a bit because there were more people wanting to see me. She told me I had half an hour, and then left the room.

It was only when I was completely alone, immersed in the silence of my room that I realised how tiring my ‘conversation’ with Oliver had been. I spent that half hour in a sort of dreamless slumber. The next time I closed my eyes, I would not be so lucky.

(...)

I woke up to the nurse once again checking on me. She was holding a thermometer in my ear with one hand and writing notes with the other. “Oh, you are awake. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

I blinked once. The painkillers were finally wearing off. My jaw felt stiff and sore, my nose seemed to emanate slow, slightly painful pulses, and something in my abdomen was making me really uncomfortable, but I could not make out what it was.

“We will get you more pain medication shortly. Is it ok if Dr Rankin comes to talk to you now?”

I blinked once. I figured that now that my brain was beginning to work as usual (if anything, the pain and discomfort helped keep me alert), it would be a good time to know what exactly had happened to me, and how long it would be until I could have a normal life again.

The doctor came in with Oliver’s mother. Like Oliver and the nurse, they were both wearing surgical masks. “Hello, Oscar, I’m Dr Rankin and I took care of you last night.” Dr Rankin was a woman in her mid-forties with a no-nonsense face that was eerily similar to Ms Savage’s. The resemblance was made all the more obvious when the two were standing next to each other. “I want to have a quick chat about what happened to you and what you should expect for your recovery. Now, I understand you have been living with Ms Savage’s family on a somewhat permanent basis. Is that true?”

I blinked once. This felt like a strange question to ask in a moment like this, but I could not exactly ask her what she was trying to get at.

“Ok, good. Now, I would normally discuss a patient’s care needs with their next of kin as well as the patient himself, but obviously I cannot do this in your case.” Dr Rankin’s subtle mention of what my parents had done was enough to send a wave of pain through my entire body. The mild discomfort I had in my abdomen intensified, like my injuries were screaming at me to be noticed. My jaw and nose burned. Dr Rankin carried on as if nothing was happening, though. “Since you have been living with Ms Savage’s family, we have temporarily assigned them as your next of kin for the purposes of your treatment. Would you like to make this into a permanent arrangement?”

I looked at Ms Savage. Part of me did not want to burden her with having to take care of me after I spent so much time freeloading at her place, but she did not seem to object to it. And it was not like I had anywhere else to go. I blinked once.

“Good.” Dr Rankin wrote something on a form. “You came to us with a ruptured spleen that caused severe internal bleeding. You also have a mild concussion, and a broken jaw and nose. Unfortunately, we had to remove your spleen to stop the bleeding and save your life. At the moment there is a drainage tube in your abdomen to take away excess fluid. It might feel uncomfortable, but it won’t stay there for long. We also fixed your nose and jaw. The swelling might take a couple of weeks to completely wear off, but a week from now it should look a lot better if there are no complications. We put metal plates in your jaw to keep it together while it heals. Your mouth will be wired shut for the next three weeks, but over the next week or so you should became able to talk and eat and drink through a straw. For now, we’ll keep you fed and hydrated with IV fluids.”

I blinked once. I did not like the prospect of a whole week unable to communicate, but it was not like I had a choice.

“Your jaw and nose should heal without any problems. You will be given instructions about contacting your dentist to remove the wires and replace your missing teeth when the time is right.” Dr Rankin continued her explanation. I noticed that Ms Savage was making hurried notes. “The reason we are being so careful around you is because now that you don’t have a spleen, you are more susceptible to dangerous infections. The spleen is an important part of your immune system, though not essential for survival. Other organs in your body can take over most of the functions of your lost spleen, but it will reduce your immune system’s efficiency.”

“Does that mean any sickness could become dangerous?” Ms Savage asked.

“No.” Dr Rankin turned to me again. “Your body should be able to fight off common colds and milder infections. However, most serious diseases have the same initial symptoms as common colds. If you can’t tell the difference and end up not taking them seriously enough, then they will escalate to something you will have trouble fighting off. So what we tell patients is that they have to treat any new cold as something potentially dangerous and seek treatment immediately. You should take a low dose of penicillin every day and maintain a healthy diet to help your immune system stay strong. Keep broad-spectrum antibiotics in hand for when something does come up, and get pneumococcal, meningococcal, and influenza vaccines. You should take those shots two weeks from now. Lastly, we recommend you get a medical bracelet so that if you ever find yourself in a medical emergency again, your doctors will be aware of your status even if you cannot verbally inform them.”

“That is really a lot to take in,” Ms Savage said, looking at her notes. I felt my mind swirling in confusion with so much information as well, but Dr Rankin quickly reassured us.

“You don’t need to worry. We will go through everything again before Oscar is discharged. We will make sure you two understand everything and know what to do once you are out of here. I know it sounds like a lot now, but you will get used to it.”

“Thank you, Dr Rankin.”

“You’re welcome.” Dr Rankin turned to me. “The nurses’ office is located right in front of your glass wall. There’s a button near your right hand that you can press to call them if you need anything. The nurses will try to make you as comfortable as possible, but there are limits to the number of painkillers you can take. We just gave you a shot, so hopefully it should last you for the next three or four hours. I will now leave you and Ms Savage to talk, and I will check on you again tomorrow.”

Dr Rankin said goodbye to Ms Savage and me and left the room. Oliver’s mother immediately rushed to the right side of my bed. Like her son, she was not allowed to touch me.

“I wanted to give you a notebook so you could write to us, but the nurses said not for at least another day. They’re being really careful about infections. I’m glad they’re being so cautious and not willing to take risks, but it probably sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

I blinked once. I really wished my channels of communication involved more than just my eyes.

“We’re all very glad to see you’re awake now. Yesterday was a horrible day for everyone.” Ms Savage really looked like she wanted to touch me. “We spent the night in the waiting room. Oliver wouldn’t let us go back home.” She sighed. “By now I think I know you pretty well, so I want to say something before you start to worry: you’re part of our family, Oscar. You’re welcome to live with us for as long as you like, and there’s no question that we will take care of you until you get better. It’s not a burden. Don’t you ever dare think otherwise.”

I blinked once. My eyes were filling with water, and I couldn’t keep it in.

“The vile human beings you had the misfortune to call parents have been arrested and charged with attempted murder. Your story made it to the news, but we told journalists we won’t make any comments until you’re feeling better. I’m sorry to tell you this now, while you’ve just woken up and the doctor overwhelmed you with medical jargon, but I wanted you to know before you turn on the TV and see the reporters talking about it.”

I closed my eyes, but the tears fell freely. My parents had really been arrested. They were put in jail for wanting to kill me. I remembered when Oliver said the doctors thought it was a miracle I had survived, and it finally dawned on me that Joseph and Claire Schubert would have really finished the job if they had the chance. They would have gone that far and not regretted it. I did not remember how I managed to escape them, but it could not have been easy.

The realisation hurt more than anything else. My parents would rather kill their son with their own hands than live with the knowledge that he had sex with guys and had a boyfriend. They were upper-class, extremely well-educated people who had a life-long history of fights against racism, and yet they did not hesitate to end the life of their own flesh and blood because of their extreme prejudices.

“Oh, Oscar…”

Everything hurt. I could not stop crying. My body wanted to tear itself apart, stop existing in this messed up world where parents gladly killed their own children. My own parents. People who brought me up for sixteen years and until half a year ago were so proud of me. How could so much have changed since then? How could they have gone from loving parents to cold-blood murderers so easily?

I barely noticed a man come into the room. He stood on the left side of the bed, opposite Ms Savage, and started to whisper my name. I ignored him at first, too taken by the pain and shock, but his soothing voice slowly penetrated my mind and eased the raw feelings.

“Oscar…” he called. I could barely see him, but I could tell he was dark-skinned, tall, and lean. His eyes shone when he realised I was trying to look at him from the corner of my eyes. “Oscar, what those people did is cruel beyond words. You will carry the scars from this day forever, be it in your body or your mind. But please don’t give in to despair. You may have lost your parents, but you are surrounded by friends who want to help you manage those scars. The pain you feel now is horrible, but you do not have to suffer alone. You are not alone.”

The tears kept falling, but the pain diminished. I could still feel my chest ache, but it was more of a dull, distant throb. The man’s words calmed my mind. I felt peaceful. I was aware that I had things to worry about, but the feeling of peace was too overwhelming for me to care.

“My name is Jeshua. I found you when you ran from your parents and took you to the Viñas’. I am really glad I was able to help you yesterday, and now that I know you are recovering well, I would like to help you more.” Jeshua took a card from his pocket and showed it to me before handing it to Ms Savage. The card read Jeshua’s Charity Shop: Everything Deserves a Second Chance, 1 Harmony Street, G1 0PC’. “If you ever need anything, come for a visit. I know you’ve met my neighbour Sid at the Games & Gambles bookshop and my friend from the Eight Legs of Wonder clothes shop, so you should know where to find me.”

As it turned out, the man who had saved me worked on the strange side-street in the busy Glasgow city centre. It sounded like an interesting coincidence at the time, and I felt touched that this person seemed so keen to help me even though he did not need to. I decided I liked Jeshua, and that I would try to visit his shop as soon as I could.

“I will go now, Oscar. I do not want to take up the time your friends should be using to see you. But please keep in touch, I would like to know how your recovery goes.” He nodded to me and I blinked in acknowledgement. “Just remember one thing, Oscar: not everyone is given a second chance at life, so please use yours well.”

With those rather sombre words, Jeshua bowed to me and Ms Savage and left the room.

(...)

The peaceful feeling lasted for most of the rest of the day. I avoided turning on the TV in my room in case there were news reports about my parents’ arrest, but Oliver and Sam took turns entertaining me until it was too late even for visitors of private rooms to stick around. Once they left, my new solitude made me sleepy.

My dreams were anything but peaceful, though. I was soon immersed in scenes that could have been repressed memories or very realistic speculations about my last visit to my parents. They did not seem to follow any chronological order, but played on repeat non-stop, getting more vivid the more I saw them, and somehow preventing me from waking up and escaping them.

‘You were a waste of our time,’ I heard Claire say from somewhere above me. I was on the floor, with my arms protecting my face as my father’s foot found my abdomen. I tasted blood in my mouth. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The kicks did not stop. My back hit a wall, glass shards scratched my skin.

I was walking down the steps, leaving a trail of blood behind me, staining the once pristine white carpet. All I could think was that the door was just ahead of me and I could not give up until I reached it. I needed to get out of that place no matter what. That thought kept me putting one foot in front of the other even as I felt everything else in my body want to collapse.

‘I’ll give you one last parting gift, in honour of the last sixteen years.’ Joseph’s voice was coming from above. I was lying on his office floor, paralysed by pain and fear. His voice was chilling, cruel, sadistic. I had never heard him speak with so much contempt. ‘We’ll go buy our dinner, some carpet stain removers, and a shovel. You have about an hour to die in peace. If we find you dare to still be breathing when we come back, your death will be much more painful. Choose wisely. It’s the last thing you’ll ever do.’