Follow Me

CHAPTER

ONE

I would’ve given anything to not have my life. Those too-white walls that crept closer any time you looked away; that not-a-camera-we-promise dome on the ceiling; the high school aged blonde nurse who peered into my mouth as I lifted my tongue up, left, right, checking I wasn’t harbouring any fugitive pills. As if I wouldn’t down as many of those pills as I could get. They’d been my salvation. My damnation as well, but I’d been damned long ago. Probably in a previous life, based on how this one had turned out.

All clear, the nurse chirped, then narrowed her eyes. There’s no more until three thirty.

My eyes bugged and I bit my lip to stop myself sending a snarky comment back that I wished she’d told me that before I took them.

I nodded instead, internally reciting my mantra. Keep the peace, Lena. Be a good psych patient, till they let you out.

The nurse flashed a fake smile and returned to the office without another word. With its window lined walls, the central nursing station was like a zoo exhibit. Nurses roamed around their enclosure, busy with their paperwork and phone calls and team meetings and anything except actually spending time with their patients. Better off drugging us and sending us on our way.

Fine by me.

I glanced at the little clock behind the glass and inhaled sharply. Nine thirty. Six hours until my next dose. Overlapping laughter and mumbled mocking rattled through my mind, the relentless chatter of my not-so-friendly auditory hallucinations like a hive in my head. I closed my eyes and exhaled the same breath. The voices would be quieter soon. Here comes your sleepy-time spray, little bees, time for night-night.

My wonderful, patient (excuse the pun) and best-slash-only friend Nia would have to come to my rescue and distract me for the half-hour or so until the meds kicked in. Save me from myself, and from making a scene where the nurses decided I better stay in this godforsaken place any longer than they already planned. A mocking shriek rattled through my skull, leaving sharp pain in its wake. I grabbed at my head, as if that would solve it. Those damn voices. My misery, their entertainment.

I trudged down the long, bland corridor toward the art room as the walls grew ever closer, still pressing my hand to my temple until the pain let up. The incessant mumbling remained, as always, but low enough that I could bear it. I dodged the various stains that decorated the carpet, vaguely wondering about their origin, and why they hadn’t been cleaned properly. Why nothing in this place was ever cleaned properly.

Sure enough, Nia was in the art room, colouring another one of her geometric Buddhist drawings that supposedly got her in touch with her inner peace. Her puppy dog brown eyes lit up when she saw me, and my cold heart warmed at her enthusiastic grin and matching invite to the chair beside her.

Got your drugs? Nia asked as I crossed the room to take my plastic throne.

Only the best, I said, though the uncoated pills had left their bitter taste in my mouth before I’d washed them down with the hospital’s chlorinated water. That wonderful mix of flavour that I called My Inadequacy.

I sighed as I pulled the chair out further and swiped aside some papers so I could lean on the table. But I’m out now, till three thirty.

Ouch. She grimaced. I thought you were gonna cut back?

I pouted, then flopped my arm flat on the table and dropped my head onto it. I know, I whined, my mental horde harmonising with my pitch. But… I pointed to my head. It was only yesterday that I’d told Nia I was going to cut back to prove I was ready for discharge, but meds were the only thing that gave me any peace. She’d raised her eyebrows at me then, evidently not believing I could do it, but hadn’t said anything. Didn’t need to, either. Here was her proof.

Nia pouted as well, not mocking, just empathetic to my suffering. She pointed her pencil toward the array of papers I’d pushed aside, all with different images printed on them. You wanna do one?

My head rose and fell along with my arm’s dead fish impression of a shrug against the tabletop. I wasn’t any good at art. Wasn’t good at anything, really. Didn’t have any hobbies. No interests. What a bore-zo.

I prefer just watching you do it, I said.

You can have this one, if you want, she offered, her dark hair falling off its perch behind her ear.

Thanks.

I meant it.

We both sat in silence for a while as I watched her work, her careful, natural strokes of the pencil shading from the outline to the centre of each shape. I could watch her for hours, feeding off her calm energy as she created something beautiful in this otherwise grim place.

The walls were covered in her art, so full now that the pictures had spilled onto the windows. A driveway ran up the side of the building like a moat, bordered by a wide strip of grass that led to a large staff carpark. The open space gave plenty of people-watching opportunities, all coming and going, while we were stuck in here. Not that getting out of here would cure my psychosis, but it sure would help with the boredom, and distract from the voices haunting my mind.

A fence ran from the end of the carpark out past the edge of where I could see, even if I pressed my face against the window. Based on the direction the cars came and went, I figured that was the exit to the hospital grounds. I’d come in by car, but got turned around once I was here. It was surprising they didn’t give us a full view of the exit—it seemed the sort of thing they’d love to torture us with, that peek at freedom that would be forever out of our reach. Mine, anyway.

Until Aidan. My brother was the first glimpse of hope and stability I’d had in years. He had a flat for me to stay in, with normal people, living a normal life. He wouldn’t kick me out like all the foster homes who deemed me too much trouble. Aidan was my chance at getting out of here for good. Though at that point, I’d happily get out for evil. I just needed out, and to never return.

I put my elbow on the table and rested my chin on my hand to get a better view of Nia’s picture. She’d added a calming mixture of dark and light blue, along with light green and yellow. Despite my lack of artistry, I thought red would make for a nice accentuating colour. Nia swapped to a red pencil, and I frowned at the so-called coincidence.

Alena? Someone called my name, and it took a moment to register that it wasn’t in my mind. I glanced up at the nurse in the doorway.

You have visitors, she said.

Visitors, plural? Only my brother ever visited me, and he always let me know when he was coming.

Is it Aidan?

The nurse exhaled in irritation, half leaning out the door, wanting to be done with this interaction. No, she said her name was Rose.

I locked eyes with Nia, sending her my confusion. I didn’t know any Rose. Nia’s face mirrored mine, and she lifted her shoulders in a slow shrug.

I did the same. It’s probably for someone else. I’ll go look.

I followed the nurse to the visiting room. We passed the nurses’ enclosure, and the two who were in there didn’t bother looking up from their phones. From their office, the nurses could see directly into the dining room, lounge, and courtyard, plus right down the two identical corridors housing eight bedrooms and four shared bathrooms each. If they ever bothered to look, the line of view shot all the way down to the fire exit doors that teased us with our captivity—single doors that opened directly to freedom, but were always locked. Even the nurses’ keys wouldn’t open them—I’d asked.

The nurse unlocked the small visitors’ room, home to two couches and two armchairs squashed so tightly around a central coffee table that you could barely move in there. She held the door open and I inched inside, a frown plastered on my face.

Not one, but three unfamiliar faces met me, belonging to an older woman, a girl about my age, and a middle-aged man, all dressed in their Sunday best, even though it was casual Wednesday. They all stood as I entered—the man bounded up with little regard for the poor old woman, who struggled against arthritic knees. The girl stood reluctantly, like she didn’t want to be there. She certainly didn’t want to be in her yellow flower-girl dress—she tugged at the hem awkwardly to keep it in place. It did look good on her, though. I wished I had a pretty dress to be uncomfortable in.

I glanced back at the nurse to tell her there was a mistake, I didn’t know these people. The door slammed in my face, and I recoiled to stop from getting smacked in the nose. My eyes bulged and mouth dropped open. I shouldn’t have been surprised. The nurses couldn’t wait to be done with me. I’d have to remind them they had my permission to let me out any time.

Alena, the older woman exclaimed, as if I were her most favourite person in the world. I turned to see her beaming at me, with her hand on offer to shake. It is so wonderful to see you.

Hi, I said, my tone reflecting my discomfort. The grins of the old woman and man were probably meant to be welcoming, but were the dead opposite. The girl turned the corners of her mouth up in a forced smile, as if she’d been told to play nice. She hadn’t even met me and it was like she already hated me. The hive piped up to assure me I was correct. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, as if that would make them go away.

Dear, are you okay? the woman asked, reminding me I had company who were now certain I was crazy, if the whole locked-in-a-mental-hospital part hadn’t yet given it away. I faked a smile, like normal people would. It came out looking like someone was pulling my mouth from both sides.

Good, she said. My name is Rose, and this is Elly and Leroy. She gestured either side of her as she introduced the others, then held her hand out again for me to shake. She had to be in her late sixties at least, her skin dotted with sunspots. A tight up-bun pulled at her white hair, yanking her hairline back to give her a mini facelift. I stared at her outstretched hand, not returning my own.

Hi, Elly said coldly, giving a small wave. She really didn’t want to be there. Her mouse brown hair and brown eyes matched mine, and though she had more muscle on her and a tanned complexion, we could be related. Maybe it was just typical teenage angst and her attitude had nothing to do with me. God knew I wasn’t exactly thrilled about being there myself.

The man, on the other hand, was way too enthusiastic. There was something off about him and his energy, like he wanted to get past the old woman and climb into my skin. I was grateful for the barrier she provided, and the table wedged between us.

Hi Mary, I’m Leroy, he said in two excited breaths, bouncing on his heels, clenching and unclenching his fists.

My eyes narrowed. Right… as if Rose hadn’t just introduced him, and already said my name. Hi Leroy, I said slowly, before emphasising my name. I’m Lena.

Leroy scowled. No⁠—

I knew your mother, the older woman said, cutting Leroy off.

I froze, every muscle in my body tensing in unison. The voices moaned, spurred on by my shock. You what?

Which one?

Yes, when you were just a baby, she continued, repurposing her outstretched hand to indicate to the couch across from where she had been sitting.

My mother. My birth mother. I had barely known her myself, and this woman thought it was okay to casually drop that into conversation?

How’d you know my mum? I asked in the same bewildered tone I’d used in my first response to this revelation. I angled my body toward the door, as if that would give me some form of emotional protection against whatever other bombshell this woman might be about to drop.

Rose gestured again at the couch across from her. Please, sit.

Overlapping groans and wails sounded in my mind, imploring me to get out, get out now. To spite them, and in somewhat of a trance with the hopes Rose might be able to tell me more about my mum, I slowly lowered onto the corner closest to the door. The visitors returned to their seats. Elly slumped into her corner of the couch, while Leroy shuffled on his seat like he was resisting the urge to launch off it and hug me. He fiddled with his hands. Stimming—that’s what it was.

Rose smiled sweetly, pleased I had followed her direction. We used to catch up for a coffee when you were just a newborn. I was very sorry to hear what happened to her.

Yeah, I said dryly, somewhat relieved they’d had such an innocent meeting. I’d heard a bit from Aidan, enough to know that my being in hospital was a family trait, and was unlikely to turn out well for me. What did you hear?

Rose softened her voice. Not too much, just that she had some… struggles.

That was one word for it. I glanced at Elly, hanging her head like she didn’t want anything to do with the conversation, and at Leroy, who was grinning like a loon, completely out of sync with the tone of the room.

She was a wonderful woman, Rose said, filling the silence before it grew awkward. It’s such a shame we weren’t able to spend more time together.

You and me both.

Can you… I hesitated. The words had jumped out before I really knew I was going to say them, and my vulnerable self had shut them down almost as quickly. I swallowed, and fiddled with my hands, willing myself to ask more. Aidan didn’t really talk about her—Cara—and I might not ever get such an opportunity again. I certainly couldn’t ask Cara what happened. Can you tell me more?

Rose tipped her head in confusion.

About my mum, I clarified.

Rose took a sharp breath in, then looked at me with those same pitying eyes the doctors gave me. Poor stupid, sick Lena.

I don’t really know what else to tell you. We caught up a few times for a coffee, she brought you along, and that’s when… She cut herself off, like she’d said too much.

When what?

Rose paused to consider her next words. Well, she got sick not long after. I tried to visit, but your father was quite protective. So, we lost touch. And then… she drifted off.

I waited for her to finish her train of thought, to give me something, anything extra about my mum. She didn’t offer anything extra, so I pressed as much as I dared. Then?

I’m sorry, Lena. Truly. For your loss.

Oh. That.

Nothing extra. Just the same old story that me and my brother hadn’t been enough for my mum. Hadn’t been enough to keep her happy. To keep her alive.

I’m sorry I don’t have more to tell you, Rose said gently. Have you asked your father?

Heat flashed through me and I scowled. He didn’t deserve that title. We don’t talk.

Elly flashed me a look, but I couldn’t really read it. Jealousy?

Hate, the voices seethed, followed by mocking laughter mixed with breathy moans.

I pressed my fingers to my temple and squeezed my eyes shut again to try to drown them out.

Really, dear, are you alright? Concern was etched into Rose’s tone and face.

I nodded unconvincingly. So, why are you here?

I only recently heard that you yourself had ended up in… Rose glanced around the room. … here. I wanted to reach out to see if there was something—anything—I could do to help.

I smirked. Like get me out of here? Gasps from my horde.

Rose’s eyes lit up. Well, yes. We would love to have you come and live with us. You’re certainly not meant to be living in a place like this.

That was a jump from get me out to come live with us. Besides, how would they?

No offence, I said, but why would you want to help me? We don’t know each other. It had come out ruder than I intended. As always, making a mess of social interaction. Rude and entitled, just like the nurses said.

Leroy started tapping Rose on the shoulder.

She ignored it. Like I mentioned, Lena—may I call you Lena? I felt terrible I couldn’t help your mother, but maybe I can help you, Rose said, without giving me a chance to give permission to use my nickname. Which I would. I already had. Only the staff called me Alena.

And then she hit me with that age-old cliché, the one people tell you when they want you to feel less sad about being you. You’re very special, Lena. More special than you know.

I scoffed, rolled my eyes, and folded my arms. What was she going to be spouting next? Some religious propaganda, try to convert me or sell me something? Maybe they were making rounds of the psych units since no one in the real world would buy into their bull⁠—

Mum, Leroy tapped at Rose’s shoulder. So that’s how they were related. Elly must be her granddaughter. I certainly couldn’t blame her for being unenthused about getting dragged along to visit a mental patient.

Rose ignored Leroy’s tapping. I glanced at him. Maybe that’s what she meant by me being special.

I had to ask. ‘Special,’ how? My question came out a mixture of sass and concern. Please don’t mean special like Leroy.

Oh, Rose said, her face brightening at the mere thought of telling me. It’s hard to put into words.

I scowled. Sure it was. The whole rehearsed act was hard to put into words.

Try me, I sneered.

Mum! Leroy cried out, tapping furiously against her fragile old lady shoulder.

Rose took a deep breath, inched away from his tapping, and turned to him. Yes, Leroy?

And then he uttered two words that anyone plagued by delusions of grandeur, grasping for their sanity, both longed and dreaded to hear.

She’s God.

CHAPTER

TWO

"I’m what?" My mouth dropped open, and my face muscles yanked my cheeks into a disbelieving grin. Excited chatter sounded in my mind.

Rose became flustered and patted Leroy’s knee, glancing back and forth between us. Oh dear. Leroy, perhaps you should go wait outside. Elly⁠—

Nooo! Leroy wailed. I want to stay with Mary!

That name again.

Who the hell is Mary? My eyebrows were just as confused as I was. They squeezed together, distorting my whole comical face. These people were more bonkers than me.

You’re Mary, Mary is God, Leroy sang, bouncing on his heels back and forth into his seat.

Leroy— Rose turned to him, trying in vain to stop his movement by holding him still. Quiet, please, you’re frightening her.

My face probably looked like I was in desperate need of a bathroom, or a doctor. Scaring me? Oh, no, I’m not scared.

This would make a great story to tell Aidan and Nia. More evidence that the world was crazy and this whole notion of psychiatry was just a Band-Aid for society. I’d been one of the unlucky ones to get caught in the middle.

Rose held Leroy’s arm and shoulder in an old-lady death grip and directed him toward Elly. Elly, please will you take Leroy⁠—

No! Leroy cried. He pulled against Rose’s grasp, but there was nowhere for him to escape to with the table in the way.

Yes, Leroy. Elly, I’ll meet you outside, Rose said with a sharper tone.

Elly bounded up, energetic now that she got to leave this place. She held out her hand for Leroy and I was in half a mind to grab it myself so she could take me instead. Heck, I’d even go with Leroy, if it got me out of here.

Come on, Leroy, Elly said.

He stood up slowly and took her hand. He inched past Rose, head drooped and shoulders slumped. He whispered a bye, Mary, as he was led past me and out the door. I couldn’t help but lean away a little as they passed. Leroy didn’t seem to notice, but I was sure Rose would. The door clicked closed behind them and I stared at it a while longer, now acutely aware I was alone with this woman.

Sorry about all that, Rose apologised, her tone returned to her sweet, innocent-old-lady act. He gets a little excited.

I can tell, I said, still intrigued by the weird man’s ramblings. Who’s Mary?

Rose huffed and glanced at the door before continuing, annoyed that Leroy had brought the name up at all. That might be a bit much for today. I really just wanted to get to know you, and for you to get to know us.

I had little to no interest in getting to know this random bunch of people who showed up to the hospital—the literal psych ward—uninvited, but I needed the goss for the story for Nia and Aidan. Plus, she’d known my mum. Cool, we can start with you telling me who Mary is, then more about my mum.

Rose leaned forward, pleadingly. I don’t know anything more, unfortunately. And I’d really rather we start a little slower.

Rose did know more about my mum. I’d bet my life on it. But this Mary thing was clearly a weakness for her, so she’d be easier to break. I leaned forward, mirroring her behaviour, despite myself. You know avoiding the question is just going to make me want to know even more. Pressure rose against my chest for talking back to an older lady. Respect your elders, they say. But she’d hunted me down here, not the other way around.

"Well, let’s start off with