Corrupted, page 21
“That’s a pretty tall order there, Doc,” offered Lucy emotionally.
“Anything for my worst patient,” replied Robertson gazing at Lucy in part admiration and part sympathy. Lucy let out a small snigger and Robertson grabbed a tissue from the tissue box on his desk to hand to her. Lucy took it without objection. “Would it be too painful right now to talk about your experience of living on the streets?” he asked hesitantly, half expecting Lucy to get mad at him again. Instead, she sighed.
“It’s painful talking about everything,” Lucy admitted, “but I know I’ve got to. When my mum rejected me like that, I ended up back on the drugs and that’s when I lost everything…”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emotions that have Led me Here
I shiver as I make my way down the dark street. People pass me, many of them drunks heading for the nightclubs. They don’t even look at me or come near me; it’s almost as if I’m invisible or diseased. I don’t expect their sympathy, but I do wish they would acknowledge me; acknowledge that I’m a person! I am looking for a doorway y; somewhere I can spend the night. I don’t expect to find one. I have long given up on hope or any other emotion; pain, sadness, happiness, love…all just pointless emotions that have led me here. The only thing I have felt at all lately, is hunger. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.
I spot a doorway that looks empty, so I quickly make my way towards it and I am about to put my bag down when suddenly a figure appears from the darkness of the doorway and I shrink back.
“OI,” he says, “WHAT YOU PLAYING AT? THIS IS MY DOORWAY…BEAT IT.” Though it is dark, I can make out that he is tall, with a brown beard and a bobble hat upon his head. For a moment I think about asking him if he is willing to share, but instead I take a firmer grip on my bag and quickly move away. I’m better off on my own. As I continue to slink around the dark doorways for some form of shelter, I think back to how I ended up here.
What it boils down to is that I still carry the bitter sting of rejection. Though my meeting with my birth mother was over six months ago, I still continue to replay it over and over in my head. The look of disgust on my mother’s face when I told her I am her daughter and the painful truth of her words when she told me that I was just a mistake. It was only a matter of time before I began taking the heroin again. Only I wasn’t taking it for a high that time, I was taking it to try and forget how awful I felt; how awful I still feel. The addiction really took a hold of me, and after losing my job due to not being able to behave professionally, I then got kicked out of my apartment. I did think about ringing my adoptive mum or brother and asking them for help, but I was too scared they’d reject me like my own mother did. It was at that point that I also realised I didn’t have any friends left, not really, I mean I had people I saw every day. People who would ask me if I’m ok, but not actually caring about the answer. Once they stopped seeing me, they stopped asking and that was the end of it. Now I feel like there is no one.
Finally, I spot what I think is an empty doorway and inspect it carefully to ensure there really is no one there this time, then I throw my bag on the floor. I sit down, wishing that I had some more heroin, but I can’t afford it anymore. I don’t even remember coming off it, I was in and out of it so much that I thought I was going to die. It’s been 4 months since I last had a hit and I still crave the sweet release of comfort it would bring me.
I pull my coat tighter around me and look at my surroundings. There is a Chinese takeaway across the street, it’s bright yellows sign lit up, which reads ‘Happy Days’ and I almost feel like laughing at the irony of it, but laughing is not something I have the energy for; not anymore. I yawn as I lay down and curl up in ball. I try to block the voices out of my head, the ones that tell me I should just throw myself off a bridge, that I’m not good enough, but it’s so hard when they are the easiest solutions. Eventually I close my eyes and I cry myself to sleep, dreaming of a caring mother who longs to tuck me into a warm comfortable bed.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Pick up the Phone
When Lucy finished speaking, she looked at Robertson to find that he seemed to be extremely emotional and struggled to find the words to say in response to her tragic experience.
“It’s ok,” affirmed Lucy, “the thing is…in a way, it’s kind of comforting. As bad as it is in here, at least I have a warm bed to sleep in. You know…silver linings and all?” It was meant to be form of reassurance and comfort, but Robertson’s face fell even more.
“Oh Lucy,” he uttered, “you are crazy if you think that this is your silver lining!” Lucy blinked, she had tried to be positive for once, but he clearly wasn’t buying it.
“Hey, I thought we had established I wasn’t crazy,” joked Lucy, “have you ever had a really low point?” It was an extremely intimate question and in truth she knew she was crossing a line, but she just wanted the reassurance of knowing that tragedy and suffering were just a part of the human condition. Robertson took his time in answering the question, appearing to give it a lot of thought.
“There was a time when I did something bad, I knew it was wrong at the time, but everybody tried to tell me that it was the right decision,” admitted Robertson, “I was only young at the time but the decision I made…it still haunts me, because I always wonder what would happen if I would have chosen differently.” Lucy observed him curiously, it was hard to believe that Robertson could ever make such a bad decision in his life, but then, he was a human being after all.
“What did you do?” she asked cautiously, and Robertson blinked as if he had not been expecting Lucy’s question. He hesitated a few moments before answering.
“I stole something,” he confessed, regretfully, “…something to help my mother…something she badly needed.” Lucy wondered if he was telling the truth but decided not to push the issue further. That’s probably why he became a psychiatrist she surmised; he’s probably analysed a decision over and over again thinking of each possible outcome.
“If something still haunts you, doesn’t that mean you’re not over it?” asked Lucy thoughtfully. Robertson who had been lost in thought, until that moment looked at Lucy appearing mildly impressed, by her line of questioning.
“Do we truly get over things? Or are some of us just better at hiding and managing them?” Robertson looked at her pointedly, but Lucy found that her brain was incapable of trying to process anymore new information.
“Who knows?” she answered, “too much to think about in one day perhaps?” Robertson nodded wearily as if he too had a lot to think about.
“I agree,” he stated then looked at his watch, “now seems like a good time to end our session.” Lucy nodded then stood up and walked to the door to leave. Robertson picked up a pen on his desk and started to write a few things down. When Lucy got to the door she turned back.
“Doc?” Robertson stopped writing notes on the file in front of him and looked up.
“Yeah?” he replied, looking slightly unnerved.
“Did it help your mum?” she asked “The thing you stole? The thing she needed?” Robertson tilted his head studying her curiously, then he nodded.
“Without a doubt.”
“Then how can it have been wrong?” offered Lucy and Robertson sighed though he smiled slightly.
“I wish it were that simple,” said Robertson. Then Lucy closed the door and looked at her watch, it was lunch time, so she headed for the cafeteria.
After she had got her food; a cheese toasty, she caught sight of Remy staring at her with an unnervingly observant expression. She made her way over to the table where Remy was sitting and plonked her plate down on the table.
“The doc and I talked, and we agreed that your theory is crazy,” said Lucy sitting down. Remy raised her eyebrows but did not seem particularly impressed by the comment.
“Did you indeed?” she asked curiously. “Any breakthroughs in your sessions?” Lucy put down her toasty which she had already taken two bites of and looked pointedly at Remy. Remy looked mildly amused under Lucy’s gaze. “I don’t mean in that way,” she replied, “I mean does he think you’re innocent?” Lucy who was in the process of picking her toasty back up, paused to consider Remy’s question.
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “I think so……I hope so.” Remy scoffed at her and Lucy blinked in surprise. It occurred to her that Remy was acting rather unusual compared to how she normally was, but then, maybe she still felt awkward after the whole blame conversation.
“Then why are you still here?” insisted Remy impatiently, “if he thinks you didn’t do it surely, he’d have called your lawyer by now.” Lucy nearly choked on the bite of the toasty she had taken as the truth of Remy’s words began to sink in.
“I…I…you’re right!” replied Lucy stunned, “I mean it doesn’t matter what he says…if he hasn’t done that, he must think I’m guilty.” Remy nodded at her sadly.
“I’ve tried to tell you,” sighed Remy, “you’ve let your feelings, or friendship if you like, cloud your judgement!” Lucy sat frozen, she couldn’t decide which was worse; the Doc not being honest with her or him believing she was guilty. Leaving half of her toasty on her plate, she pushed back her chair and jumped up abruptly. Without another word to Remy, she left the cafeteria to confront him.
Lucy was about to knock on Robertson’s office when the door opened and out came Max. It was the first time Lucy had seen him properly since their failed escaped plan and he shrank back when he saw her. “How’s it going Max?” asked Lucy kindly and Max shoved his hands into his pocket.
“Oh yeah good,” he said timidly, then without another word he quickly pushed past Lucy and headed out the room. Lucy, feeling bewildered, walked into Robertson’s office. He was stood by the bookshelf, searching for a book, when he turned to see Lucy walking into his office and smiled at her.
“The escape plan brought up a lot for him,” said Robertson and for a moment Lucy forgot that she was angry and why she had come.
“Is he going to be, ok?” she asked, and Robertson nodded.
“He will be,” he replied, “that’s why I’m working with him.” Suddenly Lucy remembered why she was there and scowled at him placing her hands on her hips. Robertson looked surprised at her change in attitude.
“You think I’m guilty,” accused Lucy seriously. Robertson’s mouth dropped open before he grinned slightly assuming that she was having some kind of joke with him.
“Of harassing me?” he teased, “yeah!” Lucy rolled her eyes at him.
“I’m being serious,” stated Lucy wearily, “you think I murdered somebody!” Robertson’s expression changed from one of amusement to concern.
“Where has this come from?” he asked gesturing for Lucy to take a seat. However, Lucy ignored his gesture and continued to glare at him.
“I mean, you’ve told me you don’t think I’m a murderer,” she stated angrily, “but you haven’t picked up the phone and called my lawyer to say that I’m not crazy. You lied!” Robertson shook his head in response and then ran a hand through his hair nervously.
“Lucy…just wait,” he said, moving towards her, “I didn’t lie. There are…you…” Lucy held up her hands and cut him off shaking her head angrily.
“It’s all just words,” spat Lucy, “empty fucking words!” Robertson grimaced, but Lucy had no room for any sympathy as she angrily stared at the man in front of her who was effectively ensuring she remained a prisoner here.
“They’re not!” said Robertson, suddenly looking deranged, “Lucy, I genuinely care about you and…” Lucy scoffed as she realised that he was doing it again, he was simply talking at her without implementing any action.
“Then pick up the phone,” she requested forcefully through gritted teeth and Robertson grimaced.
“I can’t,” he replied, lowering his head.
“Why not?” she snapped, Robertson looked like he was struggling to talk about something quite unpleasant.
“BECAUSE YOU DON’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT!!” yelled Robertson bitterly and Lucy’s mouth fell open. For a few moments nothing but an icy silence passed between them.
“You know,” she whispered quietly, Robertson nodded and sighed.
“It’s why you’re in here Lucy.” Lucy took a moment to think, before she finally steeled herself, appearing determined in her resolution.
“It doesn’t matter what I remember, I know who I am and I’m not a murderer.” She looked at Robertson accusingly as if it were his place to reside over her trial.
“That’s not my judgement to make Lucy,” he explained quietly, “I have to declare whether you’re fit for trial and if you don’t remember anything, how can you defend yourself or even be prosecuted?” His discomfort was evident by the way he was standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved in his pockets, facing Lucy, shuffling around on his feet awkwardly.
“Then I need to remember,” insisted Lucy. She spoke as if the answer were incredibly simple, and Robertson could do nothing but nod.
“Yes,” he admitted. Lucy held up her hands to him.
“Then fix me; prescribe me something. Something to help memory loss.” Lucy looked at Robertson beseechingly, but he just shrugged his shoulders and would not make eye contact with her.
“It doesn’t work like that!” he said exasperated, he took a step towards Lucy, but she took one step backwards. She was determined that their relationship; whatever it was, would not dictate her reason for being here.
“Why not?” replied Lucy, agitated. Robertson put his hand to his head as if he were getting a headache.
“You blocked something ou,t” explained Robertson, “it’s your brain’s way of trying to protect itself! Until your brain is ready to process what happened then you can’t force it. If we try to do that, you could end up having a severe mental breakdown.” Lucy blinked; a severe mental breakdown sounded like a better solution then being trapped in here without any hope of release.
“Why would my brain block something out?” she questioned. “What’s it trying to protect me from?” Robertson opened and closed his mouth several times as if he were having some kind of internal struggle, eventually he sighed.
“I don’t know,” he answered. Then took another step towards Lucy; this time she did not move away.
“I know I didn’t kill someone,” she said with certainty. Robertson shuffled nervously on his feet.
“How do you know that?” he asked quietly. Lucy glared at him, gravely offended.
“How can you even ask me that question?” she said emotionally. Robertson reached out and placed his hand on her arm.
“Lucy…all that pain,” he said cautiously, “that suffering you went through, it does something to someone.” Lucy brushed Robertson’s hand away from her arm.
“Oh, I see, I wanted them to hurt like I was hurting….is that what you’re saying?” She glared at him while awaiting a response and Robertson shook his head.
“No, but I think that in a particular set of circumstances anyone is capable of being a killer.” Suddenly a cloud of doubt started to fill Lucy’s mind, what if he was right? What if she had taken out her anger on another human being? Then she quickly brushed the thought from her mind. She knew herself; it wasn’t something she was capable of. She knew she got angry at times, but it’s one thing to be angry and defensive, it was completely different deciding to take someone’s life. She was so overwhelmed with feelings of hurt, anger, sadness, and desperation. Lucy felt like the feelings would swallow her up and there would be nothing left. Instead of allowing herself time to process them, she found it would be easier to take it all out on Robertson.
“Including me? Fuck you!!” she snapped. “All this time, this shitty act of yours…I believe you Lucy…you’re not a murderer Lucy…you’re not a liar…God I’m so stupid.” Robertson took another step towards her, but Lucy held up her hands to stop him.
“That’s not what…” began Robertson imploringly but Lucy cut him off.
“Save it. I need to get out of here.” She turned away from him to walk towards the door, but Robertson grabbed her by the shoulder, determined not to allow their impromptu meeting to end like this.
“Don’t touch me!!” snapped Lucy angrily and Robertson quickly removed his hand from her shoulder as he watched Lucy storm out of the room.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I Chose Her for Myself
The next morning, Lucy and Remy were sat having breakfast in the canteen when Elaine approached them, “Lucy, you need to go to the visitor’s centre in the next 20 minutes.” Lucy stared at her blankly, not quite understanding what she was saying.
“Who has come to visit her?” asked Remy curiously, Elaine shook her head.
“It’s confidential,” she replied, “but if Lucy wants to tell you afterwards that up to her.” Elaine gave Lucy a quick smile before she turned around and walked away leaving Lucy wondering who it could be.
“I never get visitors,” said Lucy turning to Remy. Remy smiled at her.
“Well, I guess there is only one way to find out, isn’t there?” she offered, “go and see who it is?” Lucy nodded, picked up her plate and waved her hand as she walked away.
Approximately ten minutes later, Lucy arrived in the visitor’s room, it was busy, and at first Lucy couldn’t see anyone even remotely familiar to her, but then a lump formed in her throat as she spotted her adoptive mum.
“Hello,” said Lucy as she walked towards the table her mum was sitting at.
“Hi,” replied her mother as Lucy sat down, “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me? Not after we left things last time.”
