Enigma - 9. Chapter 9 - Memories and Nightmares

I move around furniture, unpack and put away my clothes and arrange my things, including my trusty laptop and then I wander back in to see what Silver is doing. He is still absorbed in his work and I watch him for a while. He has an entranced expression on his face and paint on his nose. I get lost in the beauty of the paint, the nose, the face. His hair has come loose from the band and is falling in a dark silky curtain over his shoulders, every now and again he pushes it back with the back of his hand. Sometimes he smudges paint on his cheek when he does it.

I have no interest at all in seeing what he paints, I am too fascinated by watching him do it. He seems completely sure of what he is doing. There are no pauses, no stepping back to ponder... he just paints.

When I have been watching him for a long while he seems to realise that I am there and pauses, looking up at me. At first his eyes are blank and then, almost as if he is gradually adjusting his inner vision to see me, as the eye adjusts to light, recognition seeps in and a smile slowly dawns.

“I’m not finished.”

“Do you mind if I see what you’ve done so far?”

“Mind?”

“Is it okay?”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

I walk around him to look at the painting over his shoulder. I don’t know what I was expecting. From the way he had been painting I suppose I had been expecting just a swirling mix of colours. I certainly hadn’t expected this.

“Silver... that’s... that’s amazing. Who is it?”

The figure is reclining naked on a stone bench in a garden. The background is misty but the impression of being in a garden is given by the drooping branches laden with may blossom which hang from above and the wild abandon of blurred but beautiful flowers that cluster around the edges of the field of vision growing clearer and more detailed the closer they came to the figure and the more blurred and less distinct as they moved further away, eventually disappearing into a swirling kaleidoscope of colour at the edges of the canvas.

The figure is perfect in every way... finely proportioned, long limbed, with flowing yellow hair. Although it is naked it is impossible to tell whether it is male or female due to strategically placed flowers, a trailing silk scarf and the head of a large golden dog. The face is ethereally beautiful and could have been either male or female and almost any age.

The whole composition is magical and, whilst clearly not by any means finished it is already breathtakingly beautiful.

“I... it was... it was a... a friend.”

“Is it someone you knew... before?” My mind is racing, wondering if it is someone we can find, someone who can help Silver touch base with his previous life. But Silver shakes his head, his eyes suddenly veiled and sad. He puts down the brush and turns away.

“Aren’t you going to finish it?”

“Maybe.”

“It would be a shame if you didn’t. It’s very beautiful. Maybe one day we can find your friend and show it to them.”

Silver turns towards me and there is something in his eyes... something... He shakes his head and drops his eyes. “No. He’s dead now.”

Before I can ask him anything more he turns and walks into the bathroom closing the door.

I stare at the picture, at the figure I had thought was a woman, at the lovingly sketched body, incomplete but already very beautiful. I touch the head of the dog, where the long pale hand is lazily scratching its ears. I wonder... I wonder if Silver is talking about himself. After all... the golden Labrador... wasn’t he from before? But no... this boy is golden haired and he looks more... vibrant. Although maybe it is a romanticised memory of what he thinks he was like before... I am going round in circles. Whatever the answer is it is a very telling painting... the fact that he has painted the dog in is... something.

When Silver comes out of the bathroom the paint is gone from his face and hands. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t smile. He drifts over to the painting and touches the boy’s face with one finger. He is still and silent and when I look into his face there are tears running down his cheeks. Silently I move close to him and put my hands on his shoulders. At first he is stiff and then he relaxes and leans back against me, closing his eyes.

“His name was David.” He says at last, very quietly. I put my arms around him and hug him tight, just holding him while we both look at the painting. He doesn’t cry any more, doesn’t say another word but something happens, something opens a little and something sparks between us that makes me feel... hopeful.

When Julia comes home there is a lot of excitement. She has been to the flat and met the people who will be her warders and her neighbours. She loves them all. She is excited and she is all fired up to go. Tomorrow is Friday and we plan to have a party because she will be moving out on Saturday.

As we wait for dinner and then afterwards, while Silver and I wash up, she and Max chat animatedly about what food she wants for the party, what she needs for the flat, and how they will manage the move.

In the face of her excitement Silver has become withdrawn again and I am anxious to get him away from the activity. My suggestion that he works on his painting after dinner is met with a blank refusal and so I take him into the living room to watch television.

We settle down on the sofa, side by side to watch a movie. It is some RomCom that is pleasant but frankly dull and I find myself nodding. Julia’s voice chattering in the kitchen is a background distraction I feel warm and comfortable and sleepy. Silver, his eyes on the television set, sighs and leans against me. I move my arm so he can settle in to my side with my arm resting on his shoulder. He makes sleepy noises and draws up his feet, curling like a cat. Can he hear the sudden thumping of my heart?

To say that I am uncomfortable is a huge understatement... and it has nothing to do with my physical position. Silver gets heavier and heavier and it isn’t too long before I realise he is asleep. I close my eyes and lean back, unconsciously toying with his hair, letting the long silky strands run through my fingers, fingers which are getting sluggish and heavy.

The last thing I remember is my hand coming to rest on his head and thinking how soft his hair is... and then I am opening my eyes and it is dark and the television is still on but there is no one else around and the voices in the kitchen are silent.

For a moment I lie still, listening to the silence and feeling relaxed and comfortable. Then I realise that Silver has turned in to me and has his arm around my waist. I have slid down so that I am half lying on the sofa and he is also half lying, on top of me. Talk about uncomfortable and embarrassing and yet...

For half a minute I lie there enjoying the closeness, enjoying the weight of his body on mine, the smell of his hair, the touch of his hand... and then I realise with a start that it has to end because it just isn’t appropriate.

“Silver.” Gently I shake his shoulder and he sits up, sleepily rubbing his eyes. “We fell asleep.” I gaze blearily at the clock and see that it is ten thirty. “I think it is time for bed. Do you want a hot chocolate before we go?”

“No thank you.” Silver gets to his feet and stretches, yawning. The tshirt rides up and gives me a good view of the smooth skin over his flat stomach and abdomen. For a brief moment I stare then pointedly turn my face away.

“I’ll get your meds and then we can go up.” A quick inspection reveals that Julia and Max have thoughtfully turned everything off in the kitchen and there is only the tv in the sitting room. I quickly grab the pills from the office, deciding to leave out the sleeping tablet. I am getting to like Silver alert and bright eyed.

When I have settled Silver I gratefully pull on my pyjamas and climb into bed. Max is snoring and I curse him as I pull the covers over my head and slide into sleep.

I have no idea how long I have been sleeping when I am snapped suddenly and completely awake. I lie still, my heart thumping, wondering what has woken me. Everything is silent, even Max. Then what?

Remembering what Louise told me about her last night I slip out of bed and pad across the landing to Silver’s door. I open it as silently as I can and peep inside. The moon is bright and the room is flooded with silver moonlight. Silver is sprawled across the bed, his hair everywhere, one arm thrown up over his head and the covers kicked to the floor. He looks like and artist’s model artfully arranged for a sitting. The sight of him makes me shiver. As I watch he moans and turns on his side, away from me, curling into a tight ball, hugging himself as if he is in pain.

“Silver,” I call softly. “Is everything alright? Are you okay?”

“No... No... I... I didn’t mean... I didn’t mean to... it wasn’t his fault... please... please...”

I kneel at the side of the bed so that my face is next to his. His eyes are open, staring, metallic silver in the moonlight. They are blind but he reaches for me, his hand clawed, his voice frantic, almost hysterical... pleading.

“Please... please don’t... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect. I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t know. I swear... don’t hurt him... don’t hurt him please... please hurt me... it was me... it was me... hurt me... please hurt me...”

There is such pain in his voice, such pleading that it shocks me. He is edging on the hysterical, begging to be hurt, pleading, desperate. I touch him and he jerks away, I speak to him but it only makes the hysteria go up a notch. In the end I am desperate too. All I can think of to do is to hold him. I climb up onto the bed behind him and pull him into my arms, holding him tightly as he squirms and struggles and fights.

“Silver, Silver it’s me... it’s River. I’m here. I have you. It’s alright. It’s alright Silver, it’s alright.”

Slowly Silver stops fighting and starts shaking. I hold him even tighter and now he clings to me too. His heart next to mine is beating so hard and so fast it scares me and the shaking intensifies to the point I think he is going into a violent seizure... but then he starts to cry, huge wracking sobs torn from him as if by force. Barely able to breathe from the tightness of his hug I focus on calming him, stroking his hair and his back and talking, softly and calmly, saying any old nonsense. I know he can’t hear me, he’s beyond that, but the sound of my voice, that calming rhythm, coupled with the physical closeness, will get through to him eventually.

And it does. Slowly, so slowly the sobbing dies and the trembling decreases, until eventually he goes limp, completely spent. I carefully lower him onto the pillows and he looks up at me with a slack face and dull, dead eyes.

“Are you okay?”

He stares blankly at me but I know this is not withdrawal, he is there, he is present, he is just...

“Silver... talk to me.” I make sure that I keep my voice soft and level, that the words come out as a request and not an order. I hook the wet strands of hair that lie across his face and drag them out of the way. For a while he stares past me and I have no idea where he is or what he is seeing.

“Come on... I know you want to talk Silver... I know you want to. What do I have to do to make you believe that you are safe? How can I prove to you that I can take care of you, that I can protect you? Please trust me. You have so much hurt inside... it’s too much... too much for anyone. Share it with me, give me some of your burden. You have no idea how much better you will feel.”

As I speak I stroke his cheek, maintaining the physical connection, keeping him grounded. Eventually he gives a deep ragged sigh and looks me in the eyes.

“River.”

“Yes... I’m here Silver. I’m here for you. You’re safe now.”

He shakes his head. “No. Never.”

“Ah Silver... don’t believe that, please don’t believe that. You are safe. I will make you safe. I will not let anything bad happen to you. This place, these people, they are safe Silver, they want to help you, that’s all. We all just want to help you.”

“No one.”

“No one can help you?” He nods. “Yes they can. You just have to give them a chance... just open up a little, trust them.”

“Open?”

I smile and nod. “Yes... just relax, let yourself go a little... open up and let us in. Share with us so that we can help you.”

“Open... relax... let you in...” His eyes go blank and his voice sounds like an automaton. I completely fail to pick up what his words are really saying to me, what’s happening to him. Of course I realise that he’s slipping away, I just don’t realise to where. I think he is retreating to his safe place but I couldn’t be more wrong.

“Don’t hide away Silver. Don’t fade out on me please. Please stay here. Talk to me... open to me and I’ll help you I swear.”

“Open... open to you.” The strange, dead flatness in his voice sends a shiver up my spine and I stare into his eyes and watch in fascination as the pupils dilate, swallowing the silver. “Silver is... Silver is... open for you.” His eyes flicker and change and before I know it he flips me onto my back and he is on me.

I try to call out, to stop him, to snap him out of whatever compulsion has come over him but I can’t because the sound is swallowed by his kiss. Oh god he’s strong. He is holding my wrists behind my head with one hand and the other is... Oh God... I have to stop him. Somehow I have to stop this before... before... Oh GOD. He’s good he’s fucking good... too good... too...

There is a moment, a brief, sharp, painful but ecstatic moment when I don’t want him to stop. His lips are warm and soft and his tongue explores the cavity of my mouth with indecent expertise whilst his hand slid down between us and...

“Silver... STOP.”

Somehow I manage to tear my mouth away and practically scream the command. Silver freezes for a moment, completely rigid and then he leaps off me to cower against the footrest of the bed. His eyes are enormous, filled with a terror so deep it is palpable.

“I... I’m sorry. I’m sorry. What... what...?”

Initially stunned I force myself to my knees and reach out my hand to him. He moans and, almost like a marionette with its strings pulled he kneels with his forehead pressed against the bed and his arms stiff and straight in front of him.

“I... I’m sorry. I... disrespected. I... I displeased. Punish me.” His voice is breathless, anxious but without that terrible fear. Conditioning is taking over again and it makes me feel physically sick. I get off the bed, feeling that it was safer that way.

“Stand up Silver.” My voice is gentler now but I still make sure to instil the note of command. Obediently Silver gets to his feet and stands stiffly, head bowed. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly he looks up through his hair under lowered lashes, a look designed to seduce. “No, not like that. That’s not the Silver I want. I want the one who painted the painting, the one who had a pet Labrador, the one who slept on my shoulder this evening.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “I want the Silver who is brave and strong. I know he’s in there somewhere. I want the Silver who is free.”

He blinks and a look of profound confusion comes over his face. I cup his cheek and he half closes his eyes, his head growing heavy on my hand. “Silver.” This time I speak softly and he raises his head to look at me with eyes that are no longer blank. The overwhelming expression now is sorrow.

“Are you alright?” He shakes his head, dazed. I badly want to take him in my arms and hold him but after what happened that would be a very bad idea. “What happened to you? Was it something I said? Did something I said take you back to... to what was done to you?” He blinks shaking his head, but he’s not saying ‘no’, he just doesn’t understand.

“Come and sit down.”

I guide him up onto the bed and he sits with his back against the headboard. He is shivering with cold and I tuck the duvet around him and sit down, facing him.

“Do you feel okay?” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong? What is it that doesn’t feel okay?”

“I... don’t know.”

“Do you know what happened to you?” He shakes his head then bites his lip, stops shaking it and lowers it. He looks deeply embarrassed and ashamed.

“Don’t feel bad about what’s happening to you Silver. It’s an understandable reaction. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be embarrassed about. I know that what happened to you was bad... very bad but... it's over now and you can learn to put it behind you. I promise that you can.”

He looks up with a flicker of hope in his eyes. “You have been horribly hurt Silver. You’ve had everything you had, everything you were ripped away from you and a whole load of crap programmed into you to replace it. That isn’t something that you can get over easily, that you can get past. Until now you have been coping by putting yourself beyond it, by going somewhere deep inside your head that no one can reach, where no one can hurt you any more.

“It's scary to think about coming out of there, exposing yourself to the world again, taking a chance... and there are going to be setbacks, and there are going to be mistakes and it is going to be hard... but you can do it. I believe in you. I have faith in you.”

“You... do?”

“Yes.” I say firmly. “I do.”

He thinks about it for a while and then, still biting his lip to try and stop the trembling he whispers. “It’s hard River.”

“I know it is. I know it’s hard but you can do it. We can do it together.”

“They hurt me.”

“I know they did and I can only imagine how frightened you must have been, how sad and how hurt. But no one is going to hurt you now. You’re safe now. You can come out now and we can work on making you better, making you whole again. I’m not pretending that it will be easy, that it won’t be scary and hard... and even painful... but you can do it. You have to do it or you will never be yourself again. You want that don’t you? You want to be strong and whole and well?”

He nods. “River...”

“Yes?”

“I... I don’t know me any more. I... don’t think there is a ‘me’ any more.”

“Then we’ll find all the parts that are strong and brave and clever and sweet and... all the bits that you like and put them together to make a new you. You can be whoever you want to be.”

“I... can?”

“Yes... you can.”

He nods uncertainly. “River?”

“Yes?”

“How did you know?” He whispers timidly as if the question will somehow anger me, or somehow cause reprisals. “How did you know what happened to me?”

“I didn’t... I don’t, not really. I don’t know what happened to you, maybe the only one who knows the whole of that is you. But I do know what happened to a friend of mine. He went through something like what happened to you.”

“Oh.” He looks interested and suddenly I am afraid. Am I ready to talk to him about what happened to Nikki, can I? Is he ready to hear it? Especially the end? But he doesn’t ask. He just accepts.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep now?”

He shakes his head. “I’m afraid.”

“Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

His eyes widen and they flick over my shoulder for a second before he nods.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His eyes go wide and he shakes his head vigorously then he seems to think about it and slumps, visibly fading into a wretched little boy with a trembling bottom lip who nods fearfully. My heart soars.

“Okay. Let’s go somewhere safer. Sometimes if you go into another room it gets less scary. Let’s go downstairs and I will make you a hot drink. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yes.” His voice is tiny and now he sounds like a little boy too. I suddenly realise that he was a little boy when all this started, he must have been and he’s going back there, back to who he was. I am not entirely certain that this is a good thing but it’s something.