Sisters Three (Completed)

43. Morna (1/3)

Two weeks after Esmond had talked to her, Morna had clawed her way back from the brink of insanity enough that Doctor Joseph allowed her release from the chair for three hours during the day. Normally she spent them laying on the cot, resting her aching back and neck, but on this morning she found herself inexplicably outside. True, she wore only a white nightgown and thin blue dressing robe, but she felt almost wild when they led her out into the back courtyard.

Neatly manicured lawn ran for about two acres before terminating in woods and the farthest point of the river. The body of water drew closer to the asylum by the west wing, but in the back lawn it was more of a sound than a sight. Still, Morna struggled to keep her eyes on the events happening around her instead of on the water. It had become even more of a temptation now that she had begun to see Afton frequently in her fevered states. He always watched her from its banks, like a ghost, condemning her for not saving him.

On the gravel paths and just before the small garden, pink tents rose up, filled with strange and exotic things. Bicycles, flowers grown in hot houses because they were too delicate for Anjeluund's colder climate, contraptions that showed a few seconds of moving pictures, sweets and foods that nearly matched any wild thing in their fierce colors and designs. Folk from the nearby towns manned the tents, beaming and dressed in matching uniforms. They didn't seem to mind the mumbling, shuffling, muted patients. Perhaps they were used to the doctor's experiments. It was not their family, so they had nothing to fear. Nothing to worry about. This whole fair was for their benefit, after all. To show that the doctor was so good and fair. To ask for money to help the unfortunate and make sure that all the rich families knew where to come when a member became a little too unruly.

Morna, flanked by two men in the white coats of the orderlies, wandered over to a tent where tiny cakes were being given out on yellow napkins. Sugared flowers decorated the top, and Morna stared at it, wondering how in the world Doctor Joseph could organize such a joyful fair while simultaneously keeping the patients who were under punishment locked in their cramped and lonely rooms. Morna herself had only just escaped confinement, though she wasn't sure how. Doctor Joseph knew how to force progress, and offering them such a large treat like the fair was an effective way to make sure there was good news to send back to wealthy families.

At any rate, Morna was not particularly interested in the booths and attractions. Her eyes strained against the bright morning light, and her legs wobbled under her weight. She'd been so used to sitting in her chair it became almost foreign to bend her knees and force herself forward. She winded easily, and she scooted toward a row of privets to sit in the grass and nibble on the delicate cake.

After scanning the crowds with her eyes for a moment, Morna spotted Esmond on the other side of the fair, near the empty stretch of the field that ran to the woods and the river. As if he felt her eyes on him, he looked up and focused on her. His smile was broad and genuine, and he raised a hand in greeting. Morna didn't have a chance to react, because right then the patient that Esmond was assigned to tried to ram someone with a bicycle and Esmond had to handle the situation.

In the thick sunshine, Morna yawned. Her eyes grew heavy, and the cake left her mouth feeling dry. She rolled onto her side, cushioning her head on her arms, wondering if she could sleep in such light and noise. It didn't take much time at all, and soon she'd drifted into an uneasy nap.

When she awoke, she had no idea how long she'd been out. She blinked up at the sky, noting that the light was now deeper, darker, heading toward evening. The noise of the fair had settled in a gentler thing, the sound of everyone too tired to yell or run anymore.

Sitting up, Morna first looked for her orderlies, wondering if they'd be angry that she'd fallen asleep and kept them anchored to the spot. However, when she spotted them standing a few yards away, they were absorbed in chatting up one of the female fair workers, their backs to Morna.

Pushing herself to her feet, Morna started toward them, wanting to be taken back indoors, but before she could take more than a few feet, something whispered in her ear. A gentle breeze, a quiet murmur. The sound of distant water against rocks. Her eyes skittered toward that empty field that led to the river, her heart yearning and aching in her chest. One more glance at the orderlies showed that they were still occupied with their flirting, and Morna took that moment to walk away from them, out into the fair and toward the field.

Every second she was sure someone would stop her. She kept her head down but put purpose into her steps, as if she belonged in the tall grass, heading toward the distant water and away from the people. With each yard she put between her and the asylum, her steps quickened and the pull in her gut grew stronger. Eventually she ran, the grass whipping her legs through her nightgown, the blue robe untying and flapping behind her. Her slippers came off somewhere on the way, so that when she splashed into the shallows of the river she was barefoot and nearly slipped on the pebbles that coated the bottom.

Relief, but also an insatiable appetite for more washed over her like a starving woman tasting bread once again. Her body shook at the feel of the water, smooth and swift against her calves, and she had to have more. Plunging in deeper, it rose to her stomach, chest, and then neck. She knew she'd go under in a moment, and though she had a brief moment of panic, a brief moment of remembering the responsibility for what was inside of her, she knew she could not stop herself when she was in this deep.

She thought she saw Afton again, on the opposite bank. He was waiting for her. Waiting for her to come back to him, to join him beyond. She watched him as her knees buckled, and the black water surged over her mouth. She gulped a huge lungful of air just before she submerged and the current snatched her in its rough hands.

There wasn't much to see besides the murky brown of the water, and so Morna closed her eyes and waited for whatever was to happen next. The water embraced her, but she knew it was not loving. This was a wild grip, a passionate grasp. Morna held her breath until she felt like bursting as the water flipped her this way and that. She had no idea which way was up or down unless her hands and knees scraped against the rocks and dead limbs that littered the river bed. Pain burst through every part of her body, screaming for air that the water refused her and protesting its battering as she hit the bottom and obstacles that clogged the river. A dizziness consumed her, and she knew she'd have to breathe soon. Her mouth opened, the gritty taste of the water on her tongue, but before her lungs drank, a pair of hands hooked under her arms and she felt someone's knees hit her as they blocked her further descent down the river.

Air rushed into her mouth, mixed with splashes of water as the rushing river crested over her head. She spluttered as the hands readjusted under her arms, dragging her painfully across the sand and pebbles toward the shore, where she gently dumped to the ground.

A second later, while she was still struggling to realize that she was back in the air, she saw the image of Afton's face swim into view, his hair plastered to his head and his mouth moving as he spoke. She couldn't hear his words yet, nor really understand what he was doing, but she knew she could see every detail of his face. Even in her nightmares, he had always been fuzzy and unfocused. Her mind, perhaps because it had forgotten or perhaps to try and spare her pain, had dulled him into a distance figure. Yet, here he was now, in front of her in perfect likeness. She remembered his eyes and the way one corner of his mouth lifted up. She remembered his freckles and curls and all the tiny things she had loved so much about him.

"Morna," she heard through her haze. Her vision blinked between light and dark. The image of Afton scooped her knees up in one arm and her back in the other, lifting her. She wished he would disappear back into her nightmares again. She couldn't stand this, not when it would all be taken away once her mind cleared.

He laid her on the ground, hands gently cushioning her head. "Morna, speak to me," he said. She blinked, but he didn't disappear. She blinked again, and he merely held her face between his hands.

"Afton?" she gasped, struggling against the weight of nearly drowning. She reached out, grabbed his arm. It was solid in her hand. "Afton!"