Temere Mortis

Chapter Twenty-two

When Isla awoke the next morning, she was unsurprised to find the message on the wall gone and the poisonous blue pill also coincidentally out of her system. Gone were the words 'I will come on Sunday', instead replaced with a blank space that was as empty as the gaping chasm in her chest where her hope had once resided.

Isla lay still, facing the wall of names with a disinterested expression. Nothing on this wall held meaning to her, nothing in this clinic gave her reason to feel anything other than hollow. The spark that once sat crackling threateningly beneath the surface of her eyes had fizzled and died. The time had come to admit that maybe they were right to put her in this god forsaken place; perhaps she had in fact fallen into insanity as they claimed.

When the guard came to collect her she came willingly, joining up with Elle in the corridor who threw her a curious look but didn't bother to ask what was wrong. Their companionship hadn't and would never progress to the stage of compassionate concern over each-others wellbeing.

The first item on today's agenda was breakfast, as always. The girls sat together, silently shovelling porridge into their mouths. Elle had compared their diet to that of Oliver Twist with a sly grin when Isla had first arrived, and she had to agree. The porridge was bland and tasteless, a metaphor or sorts for the girl's day to day lives.

Once the last morsel of gruel had been devoured, the inhabitants of the dining room were herded into their separate morning activities, and Isla shuffled uninterestedly into her morning support group session with Elle hot on her heels. Her nightmares being enacted before her eyes, Isla and the rest of the collective took their seats in a circle made up of metal fold-out chairs. It was a moment before the nurse in charge of leading the discussion arrived, and apart from the guards stood by the door the patients were left to themselves.

"Welcome to another day in hell," a stout boy that Isla understood to be called Bill announced ominously. Isla couldn't help but agree with him.

The others spoke softly amongst themselves as they awaited the arrival of the nurse, only stopping once the door swung open and the buxom lady herself arrived.

"Hello everyone!" she greeted them cheerily but received no replies. One of the girls in the circle grunted monotonously, causing a shrill giggle to escape the nurse's lips. "I thought I'd start this session untraditionally, but in a way that many support groups around the country have found to be very useful." Again, no one responded to her announcement and she cleared her throat awkwardly.

"All due respect lady, but none of this is useful," Bill called out after a moment, causing a short laugh to escape Isla's lips. The nurse rolled her eyes; Bill was known as a troublesome inmate.

"Studies have shown that the more people understand about the sickness, the more accepting they are of its' repercussions," the nurse continued undeterred. "So, what do you all know about how it started? Mandy, how about you start."

A small redhead that Isla knew to be Mandy blanched, clearly uncomfortable about being called on. She shook her head, refusing to speak. The nurse opened her mouth, reading herself to insist, but again Bill called out rudely to the room.

"I heard it was the government," he suggested, smirking wickedly. Before the nurse could interrupt him, Bill proceeded in digging his own grave. "My mate said that they just knock off the people that they don't like. Why else do you think that Benjamin Andersson has been in power for over twenty years? I didn't even think that was legal."

There were a few hums of agreement, scattered throughout the crowd. Benjamin Andersson had been the Prime Minister for most of Isla's life, excluding the first few months; he had taken power directly from his father. Even though their government was at its' core, a democracy, the way that Benjamin had succeeded his father through the same political party, and was miraculously voted into office, had always felt suspicious to Isla.

The nurse tittered prudishly.

"Now, now," she rebutted him. "You know that the government has nothing to do with the Temere Mortis, it's an entirely natural occurrence." Bill opened his mouth to disagree, but the nurse maintained her control over the crowd. "It's random. There is no way of predicting where it will strike next. The loved ones you have lost were not taken away from you for any particular reason, they just died."

"We know the definition of random," a girl that Isla didn't know the name of heckled. Inwardly, Isla praised the outspoken blonde. She reminded her of Alex in a lot of ways; that was something that her best friend would have said defiantly.

"It is our hope, that understanding that your friends and family's deaths were at no fault of your own - or anyone else's - will help you to move on."

"That doesn't help at all." This time it was Isla who surprised herself by speaking. Heads whipped around to look at her and the attention made Isla feel small, and stupid. Looking expectantly towards her, the nurse gestured for Isla to continue. "Well it doesn't," she confirmed, looking towards the room's inhabitants for support. There were a few scattered nods of agreement amongst the crowd.

"Why don't you tell us how you're feeling?" The nurse spoke the dreaded words, and she simpered them with a syrupy compassion that made Isla sick to her stomach. Isla cleared her throat, raising her head to look the nurse in the eyes as she replied.

"My best friend died, at random, and there's nothing that she did to deserve it," she told the nurse in a bored tone. It was clear however, that Isla was anything but disinterested.

"When people get sick Isla, say they contract cancer and die, do they deserve it?" the nurse questioned her immediately, her eyes glinting at the unspoken challenge.

"Well no," Isla floundered, "but."

"So, it's exactly the same thing," the nurse told Isla softly. "The case of your best friend's death is very similar."

"Is she dead though?" Isla inquired brutally. "Is she?"

The room gasped, with even Bill nodding respectfully at Isla's fighting talk. She leaned back in her seat, relishing in the way she had brought the nurse to a pause.

"Perhaps I should speak to my superior about extending your sentence," the nurse replied simply. Her face didn't even change as she said the words that hammered the nails into Isla's already claustrophobic coffin. Isla scowled.

The rest of the support group meeting ran quickly after that, the voice of the nurse reminding her that Alex was dead, and that her death had been nothing but a statistic, spreading like a rash at the forefront of Isla's mind.