You know when Nate said vulnerable, Evans, he really mean't weak.
That was what the voice in my head said, as clearly as if I had said it out loud myself. But I hadn't; that wasn't how this game worked.
I picked myself up from the door and onto the bottom step in the stairwell. The metal of the railing was cool against brow, comforting as I processed the madness of this. Sure I talked to myself often enough inside my own head but not like this, not as though a second consciousness had set up resident. I'd sent this voice packing once before when I'd found myself waking up in a lonely hospital bed.
That's why Kieran left you – he craves power and strength.
I dug my hand into my back pocket and searched for loose change. Praying I had enough to take me where I needed to go. The penny's weighed heavy in my hand and I knew I had, not what I wanted but what I needed.
No amount of counselling will help a psychopath like you, Evans, might as well do everyone a favour and die.
I closed my hands around my ears – not wanting to hear the words being so harshly whispered inside of my head. I closed my eyes and willed the voice to leave me be.
We'd played this game before and I had won.
You still jumped off that bridge though, didn't you?
"Leave me alone." My head throbbed and when I pulled my hand free from my eyes shapes swam into one another, colours spinning in dizzying whirls.
I did not recall how the voice had sounded back then; the voice from before I'd jumped but the one in my head now felt steadily more and more unlike me. It was literally as though I was sharing my conscious with someone.
What if..?
Surely Nate hadn't meant for this to happen to me, his manipulation leaving me open to this torment. I wanted to believe this wasn't some sort of trick, harmless even if somewhat cruel. Perhaps this was Devon, he'd had controlled me too. That must have been it, it had to be.
But the voice in my head was female and never had I been told that Red or his minions had the power to intercept the mind – only the Indigo's.
What if this was Anya?
You are weak. In fact weak isn't even lowly enough. Pathetic, is more befitting.
"Are you alright hen?" I started as the real world came crashing back. The woman from down stairs and proud owner of umpteen cats was peering at my through the banister. She was stood in a pink dressing gown cradling an unlit cigarette between her fingers. While I had heard concern, there was a entertained gleam in hey eyes, as though she wanted her crazy to become acquainted with mine.
"Yeah I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth, flinching as a bolt of pain shot across my brow.
Liar.
"Well then, going for smoke, fancy one?" I glanced at the cigarette in her hand, apparently tempted as my fingers itched in the want to take it.
Kill yourself fast, kill yourself slow, little old Christine Evans has no where else to go.
The voice was singing, a sinister and shrill sound.
"No thanks." I gulped back the fright in my voice.
"Suit yourself." She shrugged, the skin around her neck wobbling as she did so and walked away.
I needed to breathe. I was going to be fine. Any second now the world would fall back into solidity and I would take the first and hopefully last step to secure my sanity.
"Dr. Collins is going to be thrilled to see me." I flipped the coin I'd retrieved from my pocket and thumbed the head on the winning side
If you think that's all it'll take to get rid of me you obviously don't know how this works at all.
"And if you're going to be in my head you can be there quietly," I ordered. Any person would have assumed me insane, standing alone and talking to myself. Maybe I was mad but I was damn well going to be in control of my madness no matter what the cost.
We're going to play it by those rules now are we? This should be fun.
I ignored the demon and swung open the entrance door before I marched down the stairs. The cat lady was taking a long draw of her cigarette and eyed my curiously as I stormed passed.
"You think this is a game?" I clicked my tongue and shook my head. "This ain't no game of hopscotch but you can be bloody well sure you wish it was." I jumped the last stair and soaked myself in a puddle.
"What did you say to me?" I sighed, quite forgetting myself. If I looked like a mad woman then so be it but I could at least be a civil one.
"Beg your pardon, I was talking to myself." I flashed the cat lady a possibly scary but perfectly cordial smile. She stared me down with complete befuddlement. "Is there anything else?" I questioned. Placing her cigarette in her mouth, the lady tightened her robe herself and drew back a little.
"Nothing at all," she mumbled before silencing herself with a healthy drag from her cigarette and looking away.
You're mind is so capable of wickedness, I almost feel at home.
There was an echo of devious laughter and a blinding pain forked through my skull.
"It's safe to say you have the evil laugh down," I muttered bitterly, staggering drunkenly in the general direction of the bus stop.
Oh Miss Christine I'm supposed to be luring you to suicide but no one said I couldn't enjoy myself first.
There was little doubt that this could have been Anya, her intent traceable in every syllable but I couldn't be sure. Why was she choosing to do this now?
"Why does that not surprise me?" I rested against the bus stop, desperately trying to compose myself. From Kieran, to Nate, to Devon, to a voice in my head, I didn't suppose unhinging me enough to contemplate suicide would present much of a challenge. I manoeuvred the coin between my fingers with effortless skill and remembered a distant dreamland. Kieran had used such a trick to hypnotise me and convey the deepest desires of his soul. He had wanted me back then.
You didn't deserve him. He was too good for you.
I chuckled, finding my evil companion almost hilarious.
"Yes we've established that fact." My eyes followed the rise and fall of the coin. "I so hope you're Anya, this makes you so mind-numbingly predictable." A bus pulled around the corner and I readied myself with the appropriate change. The door creaked open and I clambered up the step.
Doesn't the mystery make this more fun!?I love a mystery? Guess who Evans, guess who?
I emptied my hand of change and waited for my ticket.
I'm doing this all for your own good you know.
"How kind of you," I grumbled, grabbing my bus ticket in the process.
"Just doing my job Miss," the driver said, his eyebrows drawn together. He puffed out his chest and looked taken aback by my brashness. I burned scarlet and noted I was going to have to better control myself, even if I cared little for the world thinking I was mad. I would actually get myself into trouble if I didn't watch myself.
"And a good job you're doing too." I scrunched up my ticket in my hand and scarpered to the furthest away seat from the front of the bus. "Thanks for that," I muttered. "You may not easily convert me to suicide but you're doing a swell job embarrassing me," I murmured.
I said I'd have fun.
I picked up a Metro from the grimy floor and proceeded to ignore my voice's smugness. The front page's bold letters did little to distract me but the colourful pictures from a local festival seemed captivating enough for a moment of relief.
I just needed to focus.
You think bright pictures are enough to silence me?
I rolled my eyes and flicked the pages to find something of interest to read.
You'll find nothing in there more exciting than this Evans. You are far too curious, far too paranoid to brush me off. I am in your mind, I know you better than yourself.
I threw down the Metro and suppressed a growl. My head fell against the window and I rested my eyes.
"Who are you?" I asked the voice.
Where would the fun in telling you be? Don't you listen – we've established this. Besides you'll only run to your Indigo friends if I told you.
"Who said I wouldn't just do that anyway?" I argued.
Your common sense. As if you would run to them for help when the last thing you want to do is show weakness. The thought of asking Indigo for anything makes you sick.
So the voice in my head was indeed privy to every thought inside my head. It was a rather unfair disadvantage.
Where's the fun in playing fair? No one ever said life was fair. But death is, it exempts no one.
"Whatever," I growled, kicking the seat in front of me. The man in the seat in front turned round and eyeballed me angrily. "Sorry," I simpered. He turned back round, obviously knowing he was wasting his time to chide me for it.
Your thinking is quite devious for someone perceived as innocent, worthy of protection. But you are very broken Christine Evans. Nate was right, you will be easy to manipulate.
"Nate was wrong about me," I snapped under my breath.
We'll see about that.
And then the voice fell silent and left me to gather my thoughts. I didn't know what I would say to Dr. Collins but she would have a field day and nothing less.
As the hospital bus stop approached I gathered myself together and became testament to the fact that there is no dignified way to walk down a moving bus. I bumped into several people, my eyes to the ground as they glowered at me.
"Sorry," I mumbled as I practically knocked all of a woman's shopping bag down the aisle. She shot me a cursing look. Fortunately I had little time to dwell on it as I hurried for the door. I saluted awkwardly to the driver and lunged for the pavement. Some of the passengers on the bus glared at me through the window as the bus pulled away. What had they seen? Nothing more than a mental patient returning for rehab.
I stood lost and alone on the pavement, my eyes fixed on the hospital.
"Out of interest, am I talking to my own voice in my head or are a friend of Kieran or Red?" I didn't spare glances around me to see if anyone was watching. I just stared ahead as though the answers were all before me.
What don't you get about the whole mysterious thing I have going here? Loosen up and let me have my fun.
"I'm think my shrink will think I've loosened up quite enough," I groaned before leaving my new found voice to watch me skulk quickly across the hospital car park.
You're wasting your time.
"Yes well no one is asking you to stay," I replied sharply, gritting my teeth and smiling at a passing observer. The hospital doors slid open, the warmth that was so normally welcoming going right through me. I marched passed the reception desk and headed straight to Dr. Collins office without ceremony. I was sure I heard the objecting calls from a receptionist but I was on a mission and wasn't to be stopped. I didn't have an appointment and Dr. Collins probably had a client but it was going to take a hell of a lot more than courtesy to stop me.
Besides, if Dr. Collins tried to object I would just remind her that she owed me one. After all, she had been in no fit state the last time we'd seen each other to console anyone and that was ammunition I was more than happy to use.
With this in mind I didn't even knock on her door, I simply barged through and made myself known.
"Dr. Collins I have a problem." Dr. Collins got to her feet but didn't appear startled by my entrance, this was likely something that happened frequently. As I had expected, there was a patient sitting timidly in front of the therapists desk. He looked to be in his late forties, the victim of a mind life crisis most likely.
"Christine, what are you doing here?" Even if not shocked by my appearance she sounded stressed and somewhat embarrassed. Her client peered with beady eyes over his shoulder, nervously taking in the culprit of the riot interrupting his session.
"Dr. Collins I'm hearing a voice in my head. It's telling me to commit suicide but it's sarcastic and rude and not like anything I would have expected a voice in my head to be." I licked my lips and tried to ignore the fact she was looking at me as though this was some kind of practical joke. "So I thought it was one of those circumstances your always telling me about, when no matter what you're doing I should come and see you anyway. So here I am," I said, knowing that she couldn't refuse me. Dr. Collins was poised on her hands, still leaning threateningly forward over her desk.
"Be that as it may Christine, I'm in the middle of a session and you'll have to wait." I frowned at the patient in question. Seeing my dismissive gaze he squirmed in his chair. Dr. Collins' fingers flexed on the glass table surface as she got more flustered.
You'll be getting fingerprints on your pretty table if you're not careful, doctor.
"Miss Collins I'll just leave."
"No Mr Howard, Miss Evans was on her way out," Miranda pressed, her face twitching slightly. I didn't budge and instead shot the man a threatening look. Mr Howard, who was rather portly scarpered for the door, his trotters clicking nosily as he made a getaway. The door slammed behind him.
And that little piggy went wee, wee, wee all the way home.
"Whilst you're in my head you can keep thoughts like that to yourself!" I sneered.
Well I thought as long as I was hearing your thoughts I should share some of mine. It was a rather ridiculous spectacle and even if you tell me you don't agree, I'll know you're lying Evans. I can see everything in here.
"Who are you talking to?" Dr. Collins wore an expression of bemusement, halfway to putting her pen in her coat pocket. I paled.
"The umm...th-the voice." Dr. Collins sat herself down weakly into her chair. The look on her face told me quite clearly that she, to some extent, believed me. After all, we both knew I was a horrific actress.
"I see and tell me Christine, how long have you been hearing this umm... voice?" She fiddled with the top of a second pen that lay on her desk.
"About an hour perhaps," I replied, taking the seat Dr. Collins extended a hand to offer me. The pained folds in her brow deepened as considered this.
"And you aren't just saying this – you truly are hearing a voice in your head?"
I knew how ridiculous it sounded but here I was nonetheless and that should have been proof enough for Dr. Collins. I would have never come here of my own accord without reason.
She's a bright one, isn't she?
The voice was getting cocky and for some reason it willed me to feel equally as arrogant. A curious smirk pulled at the corners of my lips.
"Isn't that what I just said, you'd think I wasn't talking English." My hands flew to my mouth, shattering my grin. "Sorry I didn't mean that." Dr. Collins was about to say something and then thought better of it. Her prim nails tapped the surface of her desk in a shaky rhythm.
My, my someone is getting touchy. How does it feel to set free the thoughts you would never dare say?
I didn't reply.
"Yes, yes you did." Dr. Collins busied herself with retrieving my file. "When was it we took you off of your medication Christine?" she asked calmly. I couldn't fault it was a reasonable enough question even if I knew drugs would do little.
"January." I considered my words, frightened that something more venomous might make its way out of my mouth. Dr. Collins removed a piece of paper from the file and prepared to write. Her pen was poised on the paper from a couple of seconds before, defeated, she placed it back down on the table.
"I don't think writing things down is going to do much good, under the circumstances." She sat back in her chair and looked out of the window for some answer.
"I know why I'm hearing voice Dr. Collins, it's motivations for talking to me my greatest concern." Dr. Collins slowly turned her head, her eyes avoiding mine at all costs. Her lips remained firmly shut, awaiting further explanation. She was actually flustered by this development, her confidence perhaps knocked by our last meeting.
"The voice is trying to persuade me to kill myself Dr. Collins. How can I save myself?" Dr. Collins eyes flicked up briefly to scrutinise me.
I hate to tell you this, but bravo. You sound like a lunatic and I've only been here five minutes. You are quite the wonderful subject to haunt Christine Evans.
"Why not come out and say that to my face. There is no glory in skulking in the shadows of my mind, it's cowardly," I scoffed quickly. Dr. Collins had been chewing her pen lid, now hanging haphazardly from her rouged lips. "Sorry, voices, you know what they're like – constantly in your ear." I felt like banging my head from the desk after let that slip.
Ding, ding, ding we have ourselves a lunatic ladies and gentleman.
"I uh- this is sort of a new thing for me actually," Dr. Collins confessed. She might have been good at consoling the weak minded but I was verging on the need of psychiatric assistance. This may have actually have been beyond Dr. Collins.
"Join the club," I muttered. Dr. Collins was shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
"You haven't consumed alcohol or injected, taken, inhaled drugs in the last sort of twenty four hours perchance?" I couldn't blame her for wondering – they were easy enough to acquire and voices a likely side affect.
Such a human.
"Nothing of the sort." This didn't seem to help Dr. Collins in the search of a logical hypothesis. What could I tell her though?
You see Dr. Collins this is all down to my perhaps ex-boyfriend (see we aren't on great terms at the moment) who is Indigo and he's therefore the enemy of Red...t's what you might call a long story.
Anyway because of their rivalry I'm rather a pawn in some elaborate game. Red wants me dead so he can do what he wants with me for the whole of eternity. So, my hypothesis is, to make me kill myself he sent the most irritating voice he possibly find to do the job for him (although I'm not completely sure this is him).
Fortunately for the voice, just by being in my head I'm already considering suicide without much prompting. However, I have a feeling the voice in my head is actually one of Indigo's and that means that now Kieran wants me dead too but we'll cross that bridge if it comes to it. Now where do I pick up the prescription?
If you ask me that sounds like the perfect thing to say.
"Of course it does," I muttered beneath my breath. Dr. Collins continued to eye me as if for some strange reason she didn't believe me. The idea of me talking to myself no longer seemed to bother her though.
"Is there anything else going on with you – family problems maybe?"
Other than the father who wants to kill himself too?
Being pathetic runs in the family it seems.
"Not family troubles as such," I replied.
"So much as..," Dr. Collins prompted.
"So much as boyfriend troubles." Dr Collins' furrowed brow relaxed, her eyebrows shooting up instead.
"Well that's rather useful information Christine."
I doubted that.
Dr Collins had quickly regained her professional composure and even allowed herself a grin. It surprised me that at the mention of boyfriend trouble she was suddenly reassured.
"So tell me then, what's the matter on cloud nine." I hated how she made it seem like it was just another teenage drama, a passing phase. If I really unleashed the truth she would have me put in a straight jacket and consider finding herself a therapist. I was doing her a bloody favour.
"There's this woman-"
"Jealousy Christine, I would have thought you were above all of that." Her previously hunched shoulders unwound and the therapist was the picture of belittlement. Was this was penance for disturbing her whilst she was with her piggy, little client?
This is just too hilarious.
"I am," I said. "But when you're boyfriend stumbles through the door with the woman in question and your waiting with a quaint, surprise picnic you do become slightly jealous." The confidence in her smirk wavered.
"Oh I see." She retrieved another pen from her pocket and fiddled with it. It seemed she'd developed a new habit since the last time we'd seen one another, a nervous twitch perhaps?
"On top of that, I was out with my friends earlier today and when I was left alone, for no more than a couple minutes I ran into my kidnapper, you know the one that stole me away in May?" Dr. Collins paused, her whole body freezing.
"You ran into who?" she choked.
"Devon Taylor, my obsessive stalker, kidnapper and attempted rapist." I flicked an imaginary speck of dust from my chair. I was in no mood to be belittled.
Things have just gotten interesting.
At least that was one thing my voice in residence and the good therapist might agree on. It appeared I had thrown a rather large spanner in her mix.
"That explains a lot too. Did he assault you in any way?" I shook my head. "Perhaps we should alert the police," Dr. Collins suggested, her hand raised over the phone on her desk. I couldn't personally see the point, Devon would be miles away perhaps even wearing the face of the police officer she might call. The police were no match for a Red, the idea was ludicrous.
"If Devon has evaded the police for this long then he's not going to be caught now." Dr. Collins considered this, still not one hundred percent convinced. "And if he had meant me any harm he would have taken the opportunity."
He's biding his time Evans, he said so himself.
And I would be waiting for him.
"I suppose," Dr. Collins conceded. "But you must not be so reckless Christine, knowing this man is out there gives you every reason to be cautious." There was genuine concern in her usually unkind face. "As to this voice in your head, it must be addressed."
I'm listening good doctor, impress me. What is wrong with poor, little Christine Evans?
"Go on then, what's wrong with me?" I challenged, ready to scoff at reasoning.
No, I didn't want to scoff at her. I wanted help.
Do you though Evans? Why lie to yourself?
Dr. Collins folded her hands neatly and appraised me with honest and unassuming eyes. I didn't want her honesty, I wanted to hurt her for all the the times she had laughed at me, thought of me as nothing more than a little girl.
No, I didn't want to hurt her. What was this bitterness poisoning me?
Don't you like it? I knew you'd see things my way. Your mind is so fickle it was easy enough to take the mood of my thoughts and seep it into yours. I've planted a seed and now I've done the deed, you no longer need me. Time will only tell what you do. Until next time Christine Evans.
My head throbbed as the voice took flight. I cradled my head in my hand and groaned. As it had fled it felt as though it tore apart my skull in two. Whimpering and scrunched up my face and allowed my back to buckle.
"Christine?" Dr. Collins was on her feet and came to kneel beside me. She looked as though she might extend a hand but thought better of it. I didn't look at her, too busy trying to process what the hell had just happened.
"Let me get you some water." Her polished black heels were like nails on a chalk board as she hurried to her fridge. Seeming to not find what she was looking for, Dr. Collins bowed out of the room. I couldn't help wonder if she was looking for an excuse just to get away from me.
Clumsily I stumbled to the window, determination written plainly across my face. I gripped the window frame, looking across the vast city. I could see the spires and the slopes of roofs though they faded in and out of my vision.
I needed to focus.
I wondered about the seed my voice had mentioned. Was it metaphorical or simply an idea, a state of mind that had been planted in my mind and would grow into something more terrifying than I could contemplate.
I rested my head against the cool glass and closed my eyes. Did I deserve this torment? Had I committed crimes so terrible I was to suffer suicide and am eternity with someone who seemed beyond psychopathic definitions.
What colour would their eyes be?
Red or Indigo, there was no other choice.
I wondered what Kieran was doing, what thoughts were running through his head. Did he know of the voices inside my head and that Devon had paid me an unexpected visit? I doubted it. I had no reason to suppose he cared.
If an Indigo, be it Kieran or one of his disciples, had any idea Devon had been so close or what had happened since, I imagined I wouldn't have been left alone for long.
"Are you OK Christine?" My eyes shot open and I found myself face to face with Dr. Collins. She held a glass of water in her hand, the sides foggy from the chill. Reluctantly she slipped it into my hands, questioning whether or not I was able to hold it at all. I proved her wrong by taking it and holding it with great confidence.
If I was good as alone now, I would have to learn how to fool people into thinking nothing was amiss.
"Yes, just a headache." I swallowed a mouthful of water. "You were telling me why I was hearing voice. Hit me with it," I dared her. Dr. Collins was analysing my every move, made anxious by my unpredicable behaviour.
"Yes so I was." The therapist was becoming weary; my very presence draining energy from her. She seated herself delicately back on her chair, gesturing for me to do that same. I sat myself down, placing my glass onto her desk. Dr. Collins curled her fingers around her armrests and cleared her throat.
"I believe Christine that you may be experiencing something of a nervous breakdown."
It was apparently all as simple as that.
"The causes of which, I believe, are from stress and acute paranoia. Considering your circumstances hearing pessimistic voices isn't that unusual. I recommend we put you back on your medication." Right then and there Dr. Collins proceeded to write me a prescription without so much as blinking. "I advise lots of rest and perhaps some time out from Kieran and your courtship – just until things settle down."
Now there was a prescription I would happily take.
Dr. Collins ripped off the pink slip and handed it to me as though she was offering me some kind of distinguished prize.
"Well if that's all." Dr. Collins seemed surprised I'd taken her conclusion without argument, so surprised she was almost about to debate it herself.
I knew this was no nervous breakdown but by talking to Dr. Collins I had established I wanted no one, under any circumstances, to know what was going on inside my head. No, my mind was desired by Indigo and Red and would not bow to such mortal weakness.
But they would not have it.
"Is that it? You don't have any concerns?" Dr. Collins was without explanation for my behaviour, probably because there wasn't one of logic. She might have now diagnosed me with bi-polar tendencies or schizophrenia - my symptoms were far too varied for her to settle upon one.
What sort of monster had Nate or Devon unleashed that no longer meant I was in control of myself?
"There's no need for your concern Dr. Collins, I'll go now." I rose from my chair and extended my leave. I looked my therapist in the eye and hoped she didn't see fear in my own.
"Are you sure I can't do anything more for you Christine?" Dr. Collins began to stand but I halted her with a single hand.
"No, I shall call you if I do though." I downed the final dregs of water and retired from the room – leaving Dr. Collins far more anxious than I had found her.
The air outside was sharp and bitter when it hit me. Summer now seemed like winter as it nipped at my face. I felt a twinge of something dark looming, darker than anything I'd felt in a long time. I wrapped my arms around myself, a shiver running up my spine. I swallowed back a pain mounting in my throat. Alarm bells started ringing in my mind but what did they mean? I looked over my shoulder, obeying paranoia's call to search for the eyes that might have watched me .
But there was nobody there.
I waited for the bus, paranoia ruling my every instinct. I took deep breaths, assuring myself everything would be alright once I got on the bus.
I couldn't let them win this game.
For the most fleeting of moments I felt my mind calling for Kieran, to give him the apology he might never return nor forgive.
But I couldn't do it, not now.
All that I had left was Dad and he was on the brink of insanity himself. I felt a stab of guilt. Perhaps I would visit him in the morning, check on him.
While thinking about this I felt an unexpected, firm hand on my shoulder. Every fibre in my body froze. Anonymous and silent hands on the shoulders of a psychopath never brought good things. But even knowing I might face unthinkable consequences by doing so; I turned.
~* ~ * ~ * ~
Well my friends, what did you think of that? Christine seems to be rather having an odd time of it!
I'm not going to waffle long, I'm going to go and grab a Pimms (I know, how fancy!) from the fridge and get editing the next chapter. Who knows, it might be a double update day!
Much love,
Bekah x