Authors: Carys Jones
*
“I can’t stay up here anymore,” Sebastian announced several weeks later. He was needed back in London. His responsibilities within his family’s firm could be ignored no longer.
Marie’s physical injuries were healing well. She could now walk on crutches and use her arms to perform basic tasks like feed herself or go on the computer. They were small steps but they were monumental in her journey back to normal life.
“We understand,” Carol nodded. For so long they had all put their own lives on hold to care for Marie but with each passing day she grew stronger and their presence became less essential.
Sebastian looked down at the cup of tea he was holding. He needed to say something which he knew would be difficult for Carol and Bill to hear. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip around the bright green mug in his hands.
“I think Marie should return to London with me. It would be good for her.”
Bill instantly stiffened in his chair at the kitchen table where he sat opposite Sebastian, nursing his own cup of tea. He looked over at the young man with unblinking eyes as Carol, hovering near the cooker began to nervously clean the work surfaces.
“Marie is still unwell,” Bill replied tersely. Sebastian had anticipated resistance to his suggestion; it was only natural that Marie’s parents wanted to keep her close.
“I know she’s still a long way off a full recovery,” he began carefully. “But I think a change of scenery will do wonders for her. Physically she is doing really well…” his voice trailed off as he looked sadly down at the table.
Physically Marie was healing at an impressive rate. It was her mental health which gave everyone cause for concern.
“She’s not herself,” Bill shook his head. “Going back to London, being away from home, it would be too much for her.”
“Or it might be just what she needs!” Sebastian enthused.
The Marie he knew enjoyed the excitement of the capital city. She loved to go and see shows or visit specialist boutiques. She was alive in London, finding wonder even in the most unlikely of places. Here she spent her days watching the television with dead eyes. The light within her which had drawn Sebastian in had somehow been put out. He desperately wanted to see that glow in her eyes once again.
“She stays here,” Bill concluded.
“We all just want her back,” Sebastian said quietly. “She’s not her old self, we all see that. I’m willing to try what I can to bring her back. In London she’d have access to some of the best doctors in the country. I’d move in to her apartment with her and do everything I could to make her the old Marie again.”
Carol ceased cleaning to listen, biting thoughtfully on her lip.
“I can’t,” Bill ran a hand across his face. He’d aged ten years in the last three months. Fresh lines had appeared beside his eyes and across his forehead, telling the tale of the nights lost to worry, of the hours spent fearing the worst.
“I can’t just let her leave, she’s still so fragile.”
Briefly the three of them fell silent and turned to glance in on Marie who was sat in the lounge on the sofa, her legs supported by a coffee table. She sat motionless, fixated on the television which was airing some mind numbing daytime show. It was the sort of program Marie would never normally watch but now she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. It was as if she was no longer there. Her body remained but her essence, the part of her which made her magical, had long departed, pushed out of her in the crash.
“The doctors think she has PTSD,” Carol announced fretfully as the glanced around the kitchen for something, anything to clean.
Bill grew grey and shook his head. PTSD was the ailment of men returning from war. Men who had witnessed such savagery that life back home and normality was almost impossible. How could his precious little girl be suffering with such an affliction? How could sweet Marie have seen such terrible things that she was irrevocably changed?
“She’s certainly not herself,” Sebastian agreed sadly.
Carol realised that she’d not descaled her kettle for quite some time and so keen with purpose she began to rummage through her cupboards for the relevant products she needed.
“London won’t bring her back,” Bill warned, raising eyebrow. “Nothing can.”
“At least let me try,” Sebastian pleaded.
Bill looked back at his daughter, sat so stoically on the sofa watching the television screen but not taking any of the content in. She’d become an empty vessel, a shadow. It wasn’t right. He’d preferred seeing her in the coma to this. It just seemed such a cruel fate to bestow on a young woman who had once oozed so much vitality.
“She’s my princess,” Bill’s voice threatened to break and so he took a long drink from his now lukewarm tea.
Maybe London wouldn’t bring Marie back, but whatever they were currently trying wasn’t working either. They were running out of options.
“Take her to London,” Bill cleared his throat and rubbed at his stubble covered cheeks. “I want my little girl back.”
Carol took a second to wipe away a tear before returning to fervently cleaning out the inside of her kettle.
*
Marie listened as Sebastian explained that they would be moving. On her bed her suitcase was already half packed. A decision had clearly already been reached without her consent.
“You’ve got an apartment there,” Sebastian told her. “Do you remember?”
Apartment. Marie had a whole palace, in Azriel. Why couldn’t she return there?
“I’ll come and live with you in your apartment, it might help you get back to normal.”
“Normal?” Marie focused on the word. What was normal anyway?
“Not normal,” Sebastian quickly backtracked. “But better, back to your old self.”
Marie loathed her old self. A life lived in denial, unaware of who she truly was. The last thing she wanted was to revert back to that, existing in the dark, oblivious of her true identity.
“I don’t know,” Marie said sadly.
“London will be good for you, I promise,” Sebastian held her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
“And there are doctors there, specialists, who can help you with things.”
“Aren’t there specialists here?”
“Yes, but…” Sebastian looked around the room, trying to find a way to explain what he meant.
“We need to work on bringing you back, Marie,” he lifted a hand to gently touch her cheek. Her skin was so smooth, returned to its normal pristine condition now that the swelling and bruises had subsided.
“Your arms and legs are healing well but in here,” he ran a hand across her forehead. The sensation made sparks tingle along Marie’s spine.
“In here you still need to do a lot of mending, and there are doctors in London who can help you do that.”
Marie frowned. What was he getting at? Did he mean that these doctors in London would understand about Azriel? Would they be able to get her back?
“Do they know I’m a princess?” she asked, hope causing her voice to rise in pitch.
“Of course,” Sebastian broke out in to a smile at this sudden appearance of the old eternally optimist Marie.
“Oh,” a smile played on her lips as she contemplated this. “Then we should go. We should go right away.”
“We can go as soon as you’re ready!” Sebastian felt buoyed by her response. She seemed engaged and present when for so long she’d been impossibly distant.
“Yes,” Marie clapped her hands together in glee. “And then they can help me get back. I’ll have to let Orion know,” she struggled up on to her crutches and began to manoeuvre herself out of her bedroom, muttering to herself all the while.
Sebastian caught snippets of what she said.
“Orion.”
“Celebration.”
“Home.”
None of it made any sense. The smile on his face fell away as he watched her leave. She was clearly more delusional than he’d been willing to accept. Pulling out his iPhone he called the leading PTSD specialist in London.
*
Carol and Bill waved at the car as Sebastian pulled out of the driveway. Beside him Marie waved back at them, her eyes bright with excitement.
“She looks better,” Carol announced, pleased.
“He said she’s still talking gibberish,” Bill sighed as he waved at the car until it was out of sight.
“Perhaps these doctors in London can help her.” Carol was clinging on to the hope that Marie would soon make a full recovery from all her injuries; both mental and physical. She anticipated that any day now Marie would throw her arms around her mother and insist on an immediate shopping trip to the Trafford Centre where they would admire the dresses in the designer stores and indulge in tea and cake in the food court.
“I hope so,” Bill continued to stare at the space where Sebastian’s car had previously been. He’d known men with PTSD. They’d come home destroyed by war. Whilst they healed on the outside they never truly recovered inside. He knew men who would hide out in the woods for months on end, certain that they were being hunted. They struggled to adapt to their new reality of life in suburbia, a part of them forever caught out there on the battle field, unable to escape.
He wondered if Marie felt like that, if a part of her still remained out on that stretch of motorway, frozen forever in a state of mortal peril.
Carol reached out and took her husband’s hand.
“We did the right thing, didn’t we?” she asked him, her eyes wide and her voice brittle. Already her chest felt like it was caving in on herself as she feared that she’d done the wrong thing to let Marie leave. Her daughter was still so weak, still so distant.
“Yes,” Bill squeezed her hand. “Sebastian will take good care of her.”
“I just don’t like that she’s gone,” Carol admitted as they turned and walked back towards their house. Her footsteps were heavy with regret. Even though Marie had been unwell, having her back in the house made the home feel complete. A selfish part of her wished that Marie never had to leave.
Standing in the hallway Bill and Carol both looked in to the lounge at the sofa which was now unoccupied, a mound of cushions were the only sign that Marie had even been there.
“I shouldn’t have let her go,” Carol turned and fell in to Bill’s chest as she began to weep heavy, remorseful tears.
“Don’t beat yourself up darling,” Bill told her soothingly. “You didn’t let her go because I’m not sure she ever truly came back.”
*
“We should be in London in a few hours,” Sebastian stated as he pulled on to the motorway stealing countless glimpses of Marie as he did so. He was worried that being back on the dual carriageway might reawaken some dormant anxiety in her but she remained calm and collected as he joined the throng of traffic.
He turned on the radio and leaned back in the driver’s seat, settling in for the journey. The song Radioactive was belting out. Marie leaned forward, bemused to suddenly be hearing it. A memory rippled to the surface of her mind. The song. The crash. Azriel.
“Marie?” Sebastian noticed her gazing intently at the radio. “Are you alright? Do you want me to turn it off?”
“No,” Marie turned the circular dial, flooding the space around her with sound. “I want to turn it up.”
Marie carefully repositioned herself in her seat and focused on the song, letting it carry her away. This was the last song she’d heard before she went to Azriel. Surely hearing it now was a sign? There was a bridge between the two worlds, she was certain of it, and each day she desperately searched for it. But the song was a sign that she was heading in the right direction, it had to be.