I am lying in bed when Marion arrives. It's de ja vu, like the time when she visited me post operation when it should have been my mum.
Where is my mum? Where is my dad? Why do I never see them?
'Sylvie,' she says, sitting down. She looks older again, more dishevelled. Her tailored pants look discoloured and her white shirt is half untucked.
'How was Fiji?' I ask.
'Busy,' she says. 'I hardly had time to scratch myself.' She places her zaplet in her handbag and places her bag on the floor. She looks at me with concern.
'You should have told me,' I say.
'What?'
'That I don't work here,' I say. 'I thought I worked here. I got the job ... you know ... so I could find Jarvis.'
She sighs. 'I've told you this before. You couldn't get a job in an institution, remember? They didn't pass you. You didn't pass the behavioural test. So you pretended to be crazy to get admitted. You came to Sydney and made a scene outside the Opera House. Remember? All that shouting about colours? It worked perfectly. You got admitted to an institution. But now you've done such a good job of acting crazy, no one will believe you're sane.'
My wrists are sore, but I put my weight on them and sit up.
'But he's not even here,' I say.
'I know darling, I know.' Marion pushes hair away from my eyes, takes my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist.
'He was never in an institution. Nina tricked me.'
Marion places my hand back down on the bed.
'How do I act sane?' I ask. 'How do I get out of here?'
'I don't know, Sylvie. How do any of us act sane?'
YOU ARE READING
Silver
Teen FictionSylvie, 16, sees colours, where other people only hear words or feel emotions. She knows she has to keep this a secret - as people disappear to institutions if they get sick in the mind. *** Sylvie likes to dress in Lolita outfits and dreams of beco...
