The Ghost of Our Past (ON HOLD)

Realization

In his mind’s eye, he could see the hand stretched towards me. The gentle smile. Then the whole world goes blur, can’t breathe, can’t say anything as he is pressed to the floor, chest down. The nearly inaudible screaming above him.

Mama. Help me. Someone. Please.

 Attendants, nurses, doctors, all standing back helplessly as the woman holding him down waves her vase. Her knee is pressed onto the back of his chest, driving out oxygen from his lungs. Mama comes into the room, sees what is happening to him, how near to death he is. Maternal instinct kicks in as she runs to help him. She never wanted to do anything with the patients. Every day she keeps him away. Every day she slaves in the kitchen, scraping what they could to get away from Dad and the institution. As his vision goes black, he pleads for forgiveness. I shouldn’t have gone in the room. 

He only found out later that Mama had reached a moment too late. The patient had slammed the vase into the back of his skull. Mama dragged her off, screaming and shaking her. A doctor rushed to his aid and was the one who kept him alive. The wound healed and disappear but the fear stayed.

***

He watched the girl’s mouth open then closed. Her grey eyes were wide and glassy.

“You are Corky?” She asked softly. “Please don’t play games with me, Mr Rye.” Her voice was flat but in her eyes, he saw a faint glimmer of hope. Hell, he didn’t trust any of the patients here and the girl was no different. Yet, somehow she found out the bit of his past which he tried so hard to bury. Not even Miss Violet knew and she makes knows everything. One chance, he told himself.

“Describe him to me,” he said aloud. She bit her bottom lip and begun slowly, never picking up pace as if afraid that she will mix up details.

“Well, he’s this tall.” The girl held her hand a few feet above the ground. “He looks like he’s maybe five. He has dark hair. A thin face. Very fair. His eyes- ” she pointed to hers. “They’re like mine.”

He twisted his mouth into a frown. Was she lying or just being stupid? His eyes were too dark to be compared with her grey ones. He wanted to speak up, call her off her bluff.

“Fear. They were so full of fear,” she continued quietly. “And I couldn’t do anything.” For a while, they were silent. He wondered whether the same fear still lingered somewhere in his eyes. She looked at him expectedly.

“What scared him?” He asked carefully, keeping a straight voice. The girl’s face fell. She pointed to herself again.

“Me. And anyone else insane, I guess.”

 “That was me alright,” he admitted in a hoarse voice. “That was me when I was a kid.”

The girl stared at him in disbelief and brushed up-coming tears with her hand.

“You don’t believe? Kid, look into my eyes. Can you see anything?” He ordered. Funny wasn’t it, now that she was the one who didn’t believe him. She went a step closer hesitantly then peered into his face intently. It was a while before she straightened up, her expression a mixture of wonder and relief.

“What I saw,” she whispered, hardly able to believe what she was about to say next. “Was the you in the past. I’m… I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy!” She punched the air, laughing and crying. “Thank you, thank you!” She grasped his hand and shook it hard. He allowed himself a slight smile then a wide grin. After years of isolating himself from people, he never realised happiness was contagious.

Then kitchen staff started to trickle in. He forced the smile off his face and the girl did the same. She dried her eyes and wandered to her sink. He followed suit and glance at her once. The shut-off expression that had occupied her face for the past week had gone, replaced with a glowing expression with a small smile playing on her lips when she thinks no one is looking.