The Game - 16. Chapter 16

I am feeling better today, not so..... blank. I am still tired but it is easier to concentrate and to think. Not that I have really felt in the mood to think very much. I have been busy, at least busier than I have since I have been here. There is a new person here today, Andrea, she’s nice, a bit bossy but nice.

This morning we ate popcorn and watched a film. I don’t really know what we watched. It was something to do with a dog....or maybe it was a horse.... The popcorn was good. It had hot butter on it. I have never had that before.

And we have been working in the kitchen. I like working in the kitchen. I like the smells and the tastes and the work that leaves no time for thinking. It is warm, the sun shines through the window and kisses my face as I stand in front of it. I am supposed to be doing something but I have been caught by the joy of the sun’s caress and the smell of lavender coming in through the open window, and from my fingers where I spilled it when I was pouring it on Andrea’s hand. It makes me feels drowsy and content. Lavender has always done that to me.

Annie used to carry a bottle of lavender oil and if things got really stressful she used to make me lie down with my head in her lap and pour a few drops on her fingers and then run them through my hair. It always relaxed me, half the time I fell asleep. I would give anything to have Annie here with me with her bottle and her gentle fingers and her calm comfort. Annie would know what to do. Annie would know who I could trust. Annie would help me, would save me. Annie knew things, she could read me better than anyone else. It was almost as though she could read my mind. I could use that now... if she can read it maybe she can find it. I feel as though it leaked out of my ears some time in the last few days.

What am I doing here? I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know where I should be but I know it isn’t here . The pain in my head stabs at me. It has been bothering me ever since I started to think about Annie and it is getting worse. It means something I think. I think it means that I am not supposed to be doing something, that I am not supposed to be thinking of something... but what? I try to think about it for a moment but the thinking about it hurt and I smile at the irony of it.

“What are you smiling about?”

“The lavender makes me think... of someone.”

“Is it the person you were making cake with?”

“Yes. Annie.”

“Is Annie your friend?”

“Yes.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

I am confused by the question. “She is a girl. She is my friend.”

“Is she very special to you? Do you... love her?”

“She is very special. She makes me laugh. She makes me.... real.”

“Real?”

“I... I don’t... she says it. That she keeps me real.”

“Does she live with you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you know where you live?”

“Yes. No. I.... I have... I live.... I live.... in... in a house. I live in a house with a garden and ....” The memory of the house is soft focussed, it is a nice house, just as I like it. Quiet. Peaceful. Mine.... but it is too much for me, the last straw and the pain that has been building in my head floods the rest of my body. I can’t help but groan and bend over the sink. I try to stop it but I can’t. I am sick... just like before, horribly, painfully sick.

“Hey, hey now. Be easy my love. Take deep breaths and try to relax.” She is holding my hair back, behind my neck, so that I’m not sick on it. I remember someone else doing that, a long time ago... not Annie... my.... my... my...mother. The memory provokes another wave of pain and I am sick again.

Wow I feel bad. If the pain in my head wasn’t enough, now I have a pain in my guts too, and a mouth that tastes like crap. Almost as though she knows what I am thinking Andrea presses a glass into my hand. The water tastes like nectar... it is cold and clear and sweet and is so good it makes me shiver.

Andrea puts her arm around my shoulders and swings me around to sit on one of the kitchen chairs. “What brought that on?”

“It happens if I remember too much. It hurts to remember.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It .... I am not supposed to think about it. I am not supposed to remember.”

“Not supposed to remember... why?”

“I don’t know. I think... I think because... because it hurts me.”

“I see. Well, okay, you sit there for a while and relax and I’ll carry on with preparing the meal myself until you are feeling better. Not too much to do at the moment anyway.”

It feels good to sit for a while, resting my aching head on my arms. I feel so strange, not as confused and deadened as I have been but, with the waking of awareness comes the unsettling feelings that things are wrong, that they don’t make sense and not just because of the confusion caused by the drugs. Something’s going on and I don’t know what it is but I don’t like it.

At least that man... Ben... does not seem to be doing anything bad. He has not brought anyone here yet, not tried to do anything to me. Maybe I am safe after all.