Dark feelings (13)
Episode thirteen in the Dr Pascha Lyle series published exclusively on Substack
Hello everyone,
We’re right in the action focussed episodes of my first ever fiction, Dark Feelings.
If this is your first Dark Feelings post, you’ll want to start with episode one.
I hope you enjoy it, and let me know how you’re finding the book. I’ve deeply appreciated the feedback and support thus far.
I’ll return to more regular Deb Does Therapy programming soon…just had to get this story out of my head. As I write, the follow up books in the series keep coming to me.
Thirteen
The trauma of today hits me hard as we wash out of the watery darkness, barely able to stand in the torrent. Hands reach for us, hauling us up the riverbank into a dusk surreally illuminated by the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.
I reluctantly release Nate’s hand, realising I’ve been holding it in a death grip, despite the ropes and harnesses connecting us. Intermittent lightening jags over the river, adding to the sensory overload as the emergency workers unclip my harness, speaking to me through a haze in my brain and ears.
Fi darts forward from a blurry group of faces and I’ve never been so glad to hug her.
“Pashy,” she gasps, “I can’t believe it…thank God you’re alright! I was so scared…”
Arms around her neck, a sob escapes my throat. It hurts to speak, but I want to make sure everyone knows, “It was Jay. He’s out... he followed me…he choked me…”
I look at Nate who’s struggling out of the wading gear he has over his clothes, assisted by two others. He’s holding a radio clamped between his ear and his shoulder which he hands to the officer next to him.
“It’s gonna be OK,” he tells me, “We’ll find him Pash.”
Then Nate’s telling the uniform police to search down river, before heading off with the two drain workers, looking back to give me a nod of reassurance over his shoulder. He looks frozen, shaken but determined, running a hand through his dripping hair and focussing on the job.
A paramedic wraps a blanket around me and guides me to an ambulance as words pour out of me to Fi, “I thought I’d seen Jay in the street…and we found Ant in there….Did you see him? Did you see Ant come out?”
“He was carried out unconscious, blue but alive, thanks to you.”
“Not me. It was Harley. Have they found her?”
“No! Harley was down there? Seriously?”
“Yes, she helped me…”
Something big’s going on at the river, the police yelling to each other as more paramedics head into the dimming drizzle, carrying a stretcher.
“I’ll be right back honey,” Fi rushes after them, down the embankment, pulling her hood up. I try to see, but my paramedic orders me to sit back down, asking me more questions that I struggle to focus on.
“It’s Jay, Pashy, they’ve got him!” Fi returns, breathless with the news, “But he isn’t good…I don’t know if he’s even alive.”
I don’t care how Jay is right now, only that he’s kept away from me. I don’t reply, can’t find the words, and Fi seems to get me.
“They have him. You’re safe,” she holds my hand, looking worried, “Did he take you into the drain?”
“He hit me, I think…I woke up in there.”
Images flash through my mind; Harley’s morbid pictures on the dirty walls, the stench of garbage and the freezing cold, slimy water. I’m wrapped in thermal blankets now, but I shiver at the thought of the filth and rising icy soup.
“Harley’s art’s in there Fi, that’s where she paints…She knew Anton was there, she showed him to me, but then she was gone...”
“I haven’t seen her brought out Pashy…I was waiting for you…hoping you were alive.”
She gives me another hug then pulls back to look at me, “If anything happens to you,” she’s smiling but teary, “I’ll be out of a really cushy job.”
I want to laugh but my face hurts when I try to smile. Panic lurks just under my skin and I try to tell myself it’s over, I can exhale, but I only half believe it.
Being chronically stalked is a multi-faceted trauma. The hypervigilance it causes is exhausting and drains your attention. The suspicion it breeds erodes your trust in people, and your own world, stealing your sense of privacy, ease and safety in your everyday.
Your stalker can have a day off whenever he wants to, but you can never stop looking behind you, never fully relax. Stalking is a personally targeted terror campaign, with no sane reason, and no gain to anyone.
At the hospital, I’m administered antibiotics because I’ve probably swallowed or inhaled every version of detritus from the Melbourne streets. Fi goes to get me some dry clothes and a coffee while I’m in observation.
“How’s Anton?” I ask the emergency nurse who comes to check on me.
“Um, the men in the incident with you? Both in ICU.”
So Jay is alive. In ICU. In this hospital.
The nurse’s eyes are wide as he leans in conspiratorially, “There’s police guarding their rooms, in fact there are police everywhere. You’ve got a detective waiting to come in and see you. Are you up to talking to him?”
All I want is to go home, see Zelda and curl up on the couch, but I also want to understand how all the shocking fragments of today fit together, “OK.”
It’s Nate who rushes in, his face visibly relieved when he sees me sitting upright, and not on death’s door,
“I was out of my head worried when I got the call…” he looks so distressed it surprises me, “And you looked like death down there in the dark.”
“Well, you got us out. Thank you. Did you find Harley?”
“Not a sign of her, but we’ve got people still looking at every outlet…”
He asks me questions gently, not formally, and although my mind’s foggy with pain meds, I want to keep going over everything, trying to understand this.
“How did you find me?”
“Flick, his real name’s John…saw a man come out of the trees and hit you with something, then drag you into the drain tunnel. He ran to Alex’s café and Alex made the call…”
“Oh I have to thank them…Jay tried to choke me to death down there. He tried to hurt Harley too. I think he wanted us to go over the drop, but he ended up falling…did you see the waterfall in there?”
“I did,” Nate nods, “I think only the ropes were saving us by the time we got to you. Your throat looks terrible…”
“It feels terrible. I really thought I was going to die. Even after Jay fell, I didn’t know how to get out with Anton…”
I feel tears welling up and take a deep breath, trying not to go back there completely.
Nate puts his hand on mine very lightly, “We couldn’t find you for a long time and the rain was getting heavier…I’m so sorry we didn’t visit Jay in person when you said you’d seen him. This should never have happened…”
“How did he get out of the secure ward?”
“Well,” Nate sighs and shakes his head, “Here’s the thing. The secure facility have Jay listed as in his ward as we speak, or at least they did until this happened. I recognised the man we pulled him from the river immediately as Jay, so it appears there’s been a swap of identity with another patient.”
“How is that possible?”
Nate frowns, “Not sure yet, but the man in Jay’s ward, Dan Smith, still claims to be Jay, and Jay was apparently being regularly signed out for day release as Dan.”
“Who was in charge?”
“Dan’s consultant psychiatrist is listed as Michael Wallis.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
“Yup. So poor old Dan hasn’t seen a psychiatrist in a month or more, since Michael disappeared. I’m not clear how Jay managed to work this yet, but I’m guessing he manipulated Dan into cooperating with him to bluff the casual nursing staff.”
“So you think Jay put Anton in the drain too, and left him to drown…why would he do that?”
“Jay was in the men’s anger management group you and Anton run, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. He knows Ant, but Jay’s misogynistic. He stalked me out of sexual obsession and anger at all the women he wanted to bring down a notch. When he broke into my apartment last year it was pretty evident he came to assault me, not kill me. I’m shocked that he’s gone after Anton…or Michael. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“That’s why I need to find Harley,” Nate sighs, “I’ve no doubt she’s the link between all of you, and we haven’t found her yet. That drain was her place, with all her paintings, so she knows things.”
“She helped me and Anton, and I doubt she could hurt Michael…”
“Yup,” Nate nods, “Unlikely, but if she fought of Jay, who knows right? We have to find her so hopefully, she can put these pieces together for us.”
Fi pushes back the blue curtain with her elbow, and comes in balancing a couple of takeaway coffees,
“Oh, hi Nate, want a coffee?” she says.
“I couldn’t take yours Fi,” he smiles, “That would be cruel.” I notice how tired he looks, his hair still rumpled and curly from being drenched with filthy water and drying that way.
“Have mine,” I say, “My throat hurts when I swallow. I just want to go home and lie on the couch, if they’ll ever discharge me…”
Nate takes the coffee Fi holds out after all, “OK. I’m gonna go check how the Harley search is progressing. I’m happy you’re OK Pash…I’ll call later, yup?”
“You should take a shower. That drain was gross,” I rasp, holding my throat.
“Will do,” he smiles again wearily, brushes through the curtain and he’s gone.
“I went to see Anton in ICU, but he’s not awake yet,” Fi sips her coffee, pulling in the bedside chair, “Lucy, the admin from Yarra Banks was there to see him too, but nobody was being let in.”
“Why was she there?”
“She said they’re friends, I guess from when he was a patient at Yarra Banks, I don’t know.”
“Hmm, she made friends with a patient?” I’m intrigued.
“She’s just in admin…I mean, Ant’s pretty friendly…”
“I don’t think he’s ever mentioned her. She’s not blonde is she, that blonde Cass reckons he was with when he was supposed to be elsewhere?”
“Ha, no,” Fi laughs, “She’s kind of a goth…dark hair, silver jewellery, black clothes…you know the look.”
“Yeah, I do. I dressed a little that way at uni.”
“A lot that way,” Fi nods.
“Anyway, I can’t help thinking the blonde was Harley…she’s standout blonde. God knows what they have in common though,” I swallow hard and it hurts, “Ow. I just want to go home.”
As if on cue, a nurse pushes back the curtain, waving paperwork, “So the doctor confirmed earlier there’s no permanent damage to your neck, Dr Lyle?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Your observation time’s up. You have your medication. So, if you feel OK, you can go home, so long as you have someone to drive you.”
“She does,” says Fi.
Later, I give my police statement and answer a thousand questions in my sore voice. I need to take at least a week off. I can’t go to work covered in bruises, but more than that, I have no emotional capacity for thinking about other people’s stuff.
Zelda and I rest in the apartment, letting my bruises heal, breathing through a few panic attacks. The nights are the hardest, when I hear noises everywhere and see shapes moving in the dark that turn out to be shadows.
Twice, I hit the lamp so hard that I knock it over and scare myself even more in my groggy state. I end up leaving it on, so that when Michael’s dead face is looming in front of me in a half-dream, I can open my eyes and focus on something else. I’m haunted by the sensation of not breathing and images of the world through cloudy water.
Fi postpones our patients and keeps an eye on messages at my rooms in the mornings, then she comes over to talk or watch something on TV and make dinner together. I ask her to bring some patient files too, so at least I can write reports and not fall hopelessly behind.
Nate calls daily. There’s still absolutely no sign of Harley anywhere after three days, and very few leads about where to look for her. I guess the police are watching the main drain outlets in case she goes back there, but so far there’s been nothing.
Breaking my hibernation, I’m ready to take a slow walk down Chapel Street to have a coffee with Alex and thank him for calling Nate, and saving Anton and I from drowning. We hug and I get emotional, telling him how much he means to me and how grateful I am.
I want to thank Flick too, but Alex says he was completely freaked out by witnessing what happened to me and he took off after raising the alarm.
“He came in a mad panic, just as I was locking up. It was lucky I was still here and I knew exactly who to call because I had Nathan’s card, but Flick disappeared straight away,” Alex dabs his eyes.
“Thank you,” I sniff, hugging him tight, “And I don’t blame Flick for freaking out. It was all terrifying.”
“I bet Pashy. Did they get the guy?”
“He’s in ICU under guard. They don’t know if he’ll ever wake up, he came so close to drowning.”
“I almost hope he doesn’t,” Al blows his nose loudly, “Like I say, I’m just so glad I was here when Flick came.”
“Me too Al, me too.”
When Zelda and I get home, Fi’s there. She’s got her special veggie lasagne cooking, creating all kinds of delicious, homely aromas.
“I’ve got some lunch on Pashy. I’ll take some back to Jeff for dinner later.”
“You’re an angel Feef. Thank you.”
“No worries. Wanna watch Oprah while we eat?”
“Sure.”
We sit to eat and my mind turns to Ant and how he loves Fi’s cooking too, “Any update on Anton today?”
“No. I rang the hospital this morning and he’s still stable but there’s no improvement. I’d go see him but it’s impossible to get near him when he’s in ICU with a guard outside and all. Cass’s back with Lilly. At least she was allowed in there to hold his hand.”
“I’m so glad. Hey, I was thinking about how you said you saw Lucy from Yarra Banks at the hospital, right?”
“Yep,” Fi’s wildly tossing a great looking salad, “Have some of this…”
“Yeah, thanks,” but there’s a little alarm bell ringing in my head, “Didn’t you say Lucy is the intake person at Anton’s work too? The one who said Anton had to cancel the group for a least two weeks when he fell off the radar?”
“Yep, but I’m thinking it’s not the same Lucy,” Fi pushes a big side bowl of salad across the tablet to me.
“Are we sure?”
“No, but I don’t imagine she works at Yarra Banks and Anton’s clinic that’s all, but I can check. It’s possible….”
“I’m just wondering if Anton really gave that message to her, or if she made it up?”
“Fair question,” Fi crunches a piece of lettuce thoughtfully,”Do you want to ring Nate about it? Maybe they talked to her already…”
“Yeah. I think we should, just in case it’s something.”
Fi’s lasagne is as amazing as always, but I can only eat a little. Since the drain drama, I feel so average. The antibiotics and pain meds aren’t easy on my stomach.
I ring Nate and I tell him about the recurring Lucy name, and how Fi saw her at the hospital when Anton was admitted,
“It just strikes me as a little odd. He’s never mentioned her.”
“That is interesting,” he muses, “I might go by Yarra Banks and have a chat with her, ask her about her workplaces and her relationship with him. Um, actually, we’re going to the secure psych hospital again today, to talk with Dan Smith. In our first talk he seemed to really think he was Jay, but he’s what they call, um, borderline non-verbal. So, I’m hoping to get more out of him second time round…”
“Ah, he hardly speaks?”
“Right. And when he does, he insists he isn’t Dan Smith, even though we now know he is.” Nate sighs, “Do you think you’d be feeling up to meeting us there later Pash? I’m just thinking, maybe you could help him feel a bit more safe, and I’d value your opinion about whether he’s actually deluded, or whether he’s faking, covering for Jay…”
I think for a long moment, unsure whether I’m ready to get back out into the world.
All I come up with is, “OK.”
I’m keen to help get Jay secured properly this time, that is, if he ever wakes up. A big part of that process will be understanding how the hell he’s been getting out, and who’s helped him.
“Great. About 3?” Nate asks.
“Sure. Fi and I will see you there at 3.”
Deb. Incredible writing. Are you going to continue writing these types of books.