Hello everyone,
Here’s the next instalment 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’re enjoying it.
Regular Deb Does Therapy programming returns soon…I just have to get this story out of my head!
Love to you,
I’m fading in and out of sleep, looking at a disembodied face, blurry, but getting clearer, until my eyes close again. There’s something wrong with the face, but I don’t care. I have the dreamy thought that it’s only a picture of a face that looks real. I just want to sleep, I don’t care about anything, but something’s telling me to wake up.
I force myself to open my eyes, knowing immediately that I’m looking at Harley’s art on a white wall, a picture of a man’s dark feelings, as she calls them; the brain exposed, eel-like monsters emerging bloodied.
I know him, the man in the picture,but I can’t think of his name.
“Who?” I hear myself slur out loud, lost, half-present, my voice alien to me.
“My dad,” a small, husky voice answers, jerking me into greater awareness.
Confused, I try to sit up, but my arms and legs aren’t working and I can hardly keep my eyes focussed. Hot panic ripples through me. There’s hard, cold linoleum under me, but I can’t get up.
“Pretend to be asleep,” Harley whispers urgently, “Until we’re outside, then start screaming, and try to run.”
Wrenching my eyes open, I see her lying facing me on the floor, her white blonde hair crumpled under her sleepy face. The picture on the wall looms behind her, and the name hits me, it’s Robert Mordene.
“That’s your dad?” I hear myself slur.
“Mmmmm,” Harley yawns, and tucks herself into a tight ball, pulling her legs in towards her chest. She’s as out of it as I am.
I must drift for a moment, urgent voices jerking me awake. I feel like I’ve been asleep for hours, but I suspect it’s only seconds.
‘Get them in the car now. We have to go.’
‘Is everything cleared out, nothing left here, you’re sure?’
‘Yes! Fucking move!’
Dragging my eyes open, the picture on the wall has come alive now, and he’s looking down at me,
“Robert,” I slur, shocked at my drugged voice, frustrated by my spaghetti limbs, “Help me…I need help…”
His face darkens as my eyes slide closed, perhaps in self-protection as I’m powerless to get away. I feel Rob’s hot breath hit my face, his voice spitting viciously,
“She’s not fully under! You fucking idiots! Where’s the syringe?”
A woman’s voice, it must be Lucy’s comes breathless, panicked,
“She wasn’t alone! We have to get them in the car…”
“Fuck!” Mordene rants.
Another wave of hot panic rolls through me and I pretend to be asleep like Harley said. I’m hoping by the time we get outside I can make a run for it.
“The last of the gear’s in the car…let’s go…” says Wayne’s rough voice, as I’m wrenched up by both arms. A shocked groan escapes me, but I keep my eyes closed to avoid being given more sedation.
The stink of body odour turns my stomach as Wayne half carries, half drag me into daylight. I squint and see sky and trees spinning.
Then Harley starts screaming, but before I can make myself scream too, there’s a yell of pain and she’s crying, quiet again.
Forcing my eyes open, I’m being shoved into the back seat of a car like a rag doll and panic surges. I know I have to find some fight now or we’ll be taken somewhere. Willing my eyes to focus, I see Mordene blocking the open car door, loading a syringe from a vial in his hand.
“Why did you have to come nosing around?” he shows his teeth, then leans in, over me, snarling into my mouth. He waves the syringe in my face, his eyes wild with malice and rage, grabbing for my arms, as I flail at him.
“No,” I try to scream, but my voice only croaks, so I kick out with both legs, desperate they’ll work.
They do.
My feet land very hard in Mordene’s crotch, and his yell of pain slices through my foggy mind. I think his head smacks the car door frame, as he propels backwards, and I narrowly avoid being injected with more god-knows-what.
“Where’s the fucking syringe?” he roars, crawling, doubled over on the dirt.
I scramble to sit up, but I fall back. All my power went into that donkey kick.
Lucy’s yelling,
“Get in the car! Get in the car! Fucking go, Rob! Go!”
“You go!” he yells and I hear the other car start.
The backdoor slams before I can sit up or try to crawl out, the car lurching forward towards the tall gate. Mordene’s groaning and mumbling from the front seat, I can see the side of his face, blurry and contorted in fury and pain, as he hisses at me,
“You stupid cow, you stupid cow. You’re finished.”
I force myself upwards from half lying and realise I leaning on Harley, who’s slumped beside me, unmoving. Through the windscreen I glimpse the top of the heavy gate rumbling open. There’s a flash of red as the car Lucy’s driving rumbles out, hitting the gas with a roar, onto the main road.
My heart sinks and my whole body slouches, unable to hold itself upright any longer. My vision blurs, and disappointment floods in, making me want to cry. I know I have to hold on to whatever consciousness I still have, but it’s a mighty effort.
As I try to convince myself to hold on, I’m thrown forward by a jolt of brakes, hitting the back of the front seats and sliding onto the floor of the car.
“Aaaargh!” Mordene rages incoherently.
Then Wayne’s ranting, banging his fist on the wheel, “What the fuck? Move your car you dumb bitch! Move! Move! Move!”
“Fuck you Baby Man!” comes a yell, as loud and strong as Wayne’s, but it’s a voice that gives me so much hope.
Fifi.
Harley must have been faking unconsciousness, because suddenly she’s laughing maniacally. She reaches for me, and helps me drag myself onto the back seat beside her.
“Shut up! Shut your mouth you insane little bitch!” Mordene twists in his seat to glower at us, as Wayne throws open his door. He storms over to confront Fi, who’s parked her car completely across the exit.
Instead of locking herself in safely, Fi flings open her door, giving Wayne the finger as he approaches her. I feel panic rising that he’s going to attack her,
“Fi, no!”
I lunge for the door handle, wanting to help her, but it’s locked, and the world spins with the effort of the sudden movement. Fi’s holding her ground, defiant, sunglasses on and feet apart, unflinching.
Then everything’s subsumed by strobing lights and sirens. Nate’s car swerves in hard behind Fi’s, Ali surging out of the passenger seat, a revolver flashing on her side like in a movie.
Nate’s right behind her, as Wayne takes off on foot, and three marked police cars pull in behind Fi’s in a dramatic cacophony, like a well-choreographed scene.
I look at Harley, and before I slide back into LaLa Land, I hear her whisper,
“Thanks for finding me.”
“No! No more hospital. I’m done,” I hear myself slur, and it makes me giggle now, “I can’t open my eyes, Fi.”
“Keep ‘em closed then honey,” she says through my half-dream.
“She’ll have a headache when it wears off,” I hear someone else say, sounding kind of bemused. Must be a nurse.
“We can manage a headache,” Fi replies.
Then I’m back drifting in the clouds again, not a care in the world.
The predicted pounding headache in my left temple wakes me up, wincing. Fi’s sitting in the corner of my emergency ward cubicle, holding a paper cup in one hand and a dog-eared copy of Cleo magazine in the other.
“Fi, you were amazing,” everything comes flooding back to me immediately, “You looked like Linda Hamilton in Terminator Two, standing up to Wayne. He’s a dangerous person. I was worried…”
“I could’ve done with Sarah Connor’s machine guns,” she laughs, “But I knew I had serious backup coming, so that made me braver. How are you feeling?”
“Oh my God, I feel like I’ve been whacked with a brick,” I moan, squeezing my aching eyes closed, then blinking them open, “How long have I been asleep?”
“Only about an hour.”
“Feels like days…my eyes feel like they’re full of sand.”
“Does this help you focus?” She grins slyly and holds up the magazine, flashing me some old male centrefold with his hand over his genitalia.
“Um, no,” I laugh, “Makes me want to black out again. Does Cleo still run those?”
“Nope.”
“Good,” but I feel better for the laugh.
“I have to tell Nate you’re awake,” Fi says getting up, “Once he knew you only had to sleep off a sedative, he went to interview Anton, but he said I had to tell him as soon as you woke up.”
“Ant’s awake? That’s fantastic.”
“He’s awake, but I wasn’t allowed to see him. I don’t know why. Nate has other interviews to do, but he stayed here to talk to Anton first. It was a bit weird…”
“But they got Robert Mordene, right?”
“Yes! Who knew, eh? Was he nasty?”
“So nasty. He’s nuts, Fi. And Wayne and Lucy were working for him. She lied about Anton going away when they took him. We knew that story was bullshit.”
“The cops got all of them Pashy. Thank goodness. It was drugs, prescription drugs, they had a carload, they were selling them, Harley was too, I think. Rob Mordene was the head honcho.”
“She said he’s her father…”
“Whaat? are you kidding Pashy?” Fi’s jaw nearly hits the floor.
“I know. Is she OK?”
“I think so. I’m going to go find Nate, tell him you’re awake, and see if we can see Anton.”
I throw back the hospital blanket, “I’m coming too.”
My legs are a little wobbly at first, but I can’t put up with a second emergency stint in the one week. I shove my boots on, yawn and stretch, “Have you got my bag?”
“Yep.”
“I really hope this means it’s all over,” I say, limping a little, out the big plastic swinging doors to the discharge desk.
“Me too, Pashy.”
Nate’s frowning, standing beside Anton’s bed in ICU when we approach the glass wall, and peer through a wide gap in the curtains. Anton’s awake but looks equally serious speaking with Nate. He turns his head, his pale, fraught expression morphing into a grin when he sees us, gesturing wildly for us to come in, but the police guard on the door tells us to wait.
Nate comes straight out,
“Thank God you’re alright Pash,” he touches my arm lightly, “That’s twice in one week I thought I’d lost you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there…we went looking for Lucy at Yarra Banks, but of course she wasn’t at work. Then we got word Anton had regained consciousness and wanted to speak to us. We hadn’t been here long when the emergency call from Fi came in…”
Nate looks oddly vulnerable despite his tallness and authority. I glance at Fi and she raises one eyebrow, ever so subtly.
“I’m OK,” I say, “It was actually a better sleep that I’ve had in ages, although it still had the nightmare part.” I’m only half-joking.
“Can we see Ant, now?” Fi asks eagerly, “It’s so great he’s come back to life again.”
“Ah, you can briefly, as long as you don’t mind me being in there with you,” Nate says, all serious face.
“Why? Is he under arrest?” Fi laughs, waving at Ant through the glass.
“I’m afraid he is,” Nate says matter of factly, shutting down the mood hard.
“Are you joking?” I ask, but I can tell he absolutely isn’t.
We’re all suddenly very serious. Fi goes silent, looking at Nate dubiously, then back at Anton, questioningly.
I see Anton’s face fall, realising Nate’s told us, and I know it must be true.
“I’m not joking,” Nate says unsmiling, “Come on in for a minute. If he wants to tell you about it he can have his chance. I’ve completed my interview.”
He leads us in to embrace Ant gently, the wind taken out of our sails. As I cuddle him, Ant starts to cry,
“I’m sorry Sweet Pea, sorry Feef,” he tries to make a joke but we can’t really laugh, “Us social workers don’t make much moolah, you know, I needed a sideline…”
“What have you done?” Fi holds his hand, looking close to tears too.
He looks at Nate, then me,
“Sold drugs.” he shrugs.
“For how long?” Fi asks.
“Years. I’m sorry,” he sniffs.
I glance at Nate for a reaction, but he’s just looking down, clearly having heard all this already. Anton keeps spilling his story, like it’s a huge relief,
“I wanted to tell you, I did. I wanted out of it years ago, but Rob wouldn’t let me. He threatened my family, and I learned too late, I can’t play with the big boys.”
“Oh Ant seriously,” I groan, but he continues,
“I never wanted to put you in danger, P. When I found out he was going to let Jay out of the ward, I told him I’d report it, so they shut me down, before I could warn you.”
“Why would you risk losing Lilly and Cass like that, over money, you goose?” Fi asks.
“I was young…at the start,” Ant rubs his nose, “Can I have a tissue?”
I pass him the box from the bedside, as he continues,
“Rob was my psychiatrist at Yarra Banks. I trusted him when I was at my lowest ebb, before I met Cassie. He said I could make some money, get back on my feet and no one would get hurt. For the first few years I convinced myself that was true. There are so many willing buyers, and why should the government decide what people could or couldn’t put into their own bodies? Rob ran a group of doctors and pharmacies, and I eventually ran the distributors like me. We were doing a service…”
He blows his nose and goes on,
”But it all got crazy, bigger and bigger shipments, not just the fake prescriptions...it became whole containers of stuff from Asia. I kept trying to get out, and help Robbie get out too. I couldn’t leave her with him, she’s not well and she’s just a kid. I couldn’t tell Cass, and she thought I was having an affair with Robbie, but I was just trying to help her…”
“Who’s Robbie?” Fi asks, before I can.
“Roberta Harley Xaviera” Nate says quietly from behind us, Mordene’s daughter, with a former patient.
“Oh, wow,” I realise, “Harley X.”
“Yes, Harley,” Ant continues, “Her mum passed away…an overdose…then Rob had her out of school all the time, working as a courier, his messenger, but she didn’t want to. She’s OK right?”
He looks at Nate.
Nate nods, “She’s fine. Receiving care.”
“She wants to go to art school,” he smiles, and I can tell he really cares about her. “Anyway, Robbie said she told Michael Wallis, because he’d shown an interest in her art. He said she could stay with him, hide from her dad, but…”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, “He was trying to help her and they killed him?”
Anton nods, “I warned her not to involve anyone else, that we’d find a way out for both of us. I started hoarding a little bit of the shipments, a freedom fund, but Robbie’s impulsive.. you know, she wanted to out him, tell people. I never thought she tell my best friends, put you on Rob’s radar. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t do anything…”
Anton starts crying harder, shaking his head, “Now I’m so ashamed….”
Fi and I hug Ant, all having a little cry.
”I think that’s all we can manage for now,” Nate says quietly, after a moment, “You can visit another time. Anton will be in custody, pending a bail hearing, which might even be done here.”
We kiss Ant goodbye for now and head out, shell-shocked. Fi hooks her arm through my elbow, blowing her nose and shaking her head,
“We need a drink,” she says quietly.
“A strong cup of tea would be amazing, and a cuddle of my dog. Let’s get home.”
“I’m sorry your friend let you down,” Nate says, “But he decided to cooperate voluntarily, and it’s been very helpful. He’s been able to give us all the names. It will make any judge go much easier on him.”
“OK,” is all I can manage, “Thanks Nate.”
“Can I ring you at home tonight?” Nate asks as we reach the front doors of the hospital, about to go our separate ways.
“Yeah, sure. Ciao,” I say.
“Bye Nate,” Fi calls over her shoulder, then she whispers to me, “Sure you don’t want a boyfriend Pashy? I think he’d be up for it.”
“With all this going on? Yeah. I’m sure. What are we gonna do about Ant?”
“Just keep being his friends, I guess.”
“Yep,” I sigh, “I guess so.”
Oh my goodness. Amazing !!!!