‘Breakfast’ says someone touching me gently. I open my eyes realising that it’s bright early morning. I had slept for almost twenty-four hours straight.
‘Thank you.’
The nurse gives me a light smile. She comes back after a moment with more painkillers.
‘How are we feeling today?’ she asks, making sure that I start eating.
‘Better’ I respond between the mouthfuls.
After breakfast, I have another visit from Dr Roberts who looks surprised at seeing me with more energy. Then I remember the dream, which felt so real that I begin to wonder if I was actually dreaming at all. Delusions are pretty irrational and I wouldn't admit to anyone that I saw someone in my room in the middle of the night
My bizarre dream is still on my mind. My mother doesn't mention the subject of University when she eats lunch with me; she knows that I shouldn’t stress. Instead we talk about her work and Gosia, who already knows what happened. I had decided to talk to her that morning, reassuring her that I am fine despite the eight-inch wound across my stomach.
Before I fall asleep again, I ask for some sleeping tablets. I am afraid to wake up in the middle of the night with a new set of hallucinations. The nurse looks at me with concern but she agrees after consulting with Dr Roberts. Luckily, my sleep isn't distracted during the night and when I wake up in the morning, genuinely feeling better. The painkillers that I was given are successfully masking the pain around my stomach. I am still fragile, but I am hoping that I won’t stay in the hospital for much longer.
3
The loud knock stirs me out of my daydreams, Amy and Carl walk in from the hall to see me. My mood changes suddenly and I find myself smiling, looking at Carl, Amy is dressed in tight jeans and her blonde curls are nicely styled.
‘Ania, I am so sorry,’ she says and leans over, hugging me gently as if I am made of glass. I clear my throat, shifting on the bed.
‘Don't be ridiculous, Amy, what are you saying sorry for?’ I ask, staring at her as a light blush colours her face.
‘We shouldn’t have left you alone that night,’ says Carl, looking uncomfortable. His eyes quickly wander down to his feet.
‘It’s not your fault,’ I say quickly, convincing him that I am right. Amy's expression softens; as usual she pasted too much foundation onto her skin making her look older than she is. ‘Amy, what’s up with you?’ I ask.
‘Well, Carl is right, it is our fault that you were hurt,’ she continues, nodding. I inhale, trying to stay calm.
‘Don’t be silly. I can’t get stressed, so if you both came here to blame yourselves, I want you guys to leave now,’ my tone is annoyed and I narrow my eyes. They both exchange nervous looks, but I ignore it and shift the subject quickly ‘Have you met the other housemate yet?’
‘Well, it’s another bloke called Michael,’ answers Amy, folding her arms. ‘I have to tell you something, Ania, two journalists came to the house today and they wanted to interview us.’
‘Yes and we are not sure if that would be OK with you?’ Carl asks quietly.
I know that Amy is dying to go ahead with the interview as her face lightened with excitement and her eyes twinkled as she told me about the journalists visit. I don't mind if they talk to the press, by now everyone probably already knows what happened at the beach anyway.
‘I don’t mind at all, I hope I won’t be here for much longer. I am already missing our first week at University.’
‘Oh Ania, I would love them to interview me,’ blurts Amy, squirming with excitement. Carl smiles.
They talk more about what was happening in University while I was lying here. It’s good to have them; at least I got some company. They leave after an hour and promise to visit me again.
It’s Thursday morning and by the end of the week, I will officially be behind at University and failed to have attended any lectures. I was looking forward to enjoy my first Fresher’s week – instead I am stuck in a hospital bed, and I can’t even go outside.
During the night, I can't sleep, thinking about the almost-fatal evening on the beach, moreover the pulsing pain spreads around my stomach. Hours later, after tossing and turning I manage to drift to my dreams for a while, but the sharp pains wake me up again. This time the pain is unbearable, a hot and cold flush of sweat assaulting my body. I reach for the switch to call a nurse, but I freeze, sensing something shift further in the darkness. I am in too much pain to react. My heart starts pounding faster while my mind is contemplating if I am still dreaming.
Then he appears next to me, clearly showing his full self in the dim light; it reflects in his blue eyes. I stare at him, unable to speak and breathe. His eyes are so beautiful, electrifying, sapphire, the most beautiful eyes that I have ever seen. He puts his hand on my forehead, and soon I lose touch between reality and illusion.
The next morning Mum wakes me up; it’s after midday and once again I feel well rested. I analyse the dream, worrying that I actually might be crazy. I try to distract myself by eating everything Mum brought. The incredible azure eyes are haunting me and Mum is talking the whole time. She is glad that I am feeling better, I try to pay attention but I can't concentrate. I think about talking to the doctor about my illusions, but I change my mind, in case he might make me stay in the hospital for longer than I already have to. My mother leaves an hour later after making sure I am well fed.
The rest of my day passes quickly, while I do everything in my power not to think about the eyes from my dream. Two policemen enter my room, looking at each other uncomfortably. Their questions are standard and I tell them exactly what I saw that night, it appears, however, that I don't remember much at all about what happened. They are polite and formal; the older, grey-haired policeman looks unimpressed with my statement. They assure me that they will be in contact if they find the person that attacked me. The visit leaves me feeling very anxious and hopeless, as they clearly haven't a clue what exactly happened that night.
The days pass, and after a week Dr Roberts informs me that I will be released shortly. My every move is restricted because of the stitches. My absurd delusions have not come back which calms me down slightly, at least I don't have to worry about being mentally stable.
A box of chocolate from the University lifts my bad mood and after a long argument with Mum, I persuade her that I am staying in Swansea. She looks like she won't give up and reveals that she has arranged an appointment with someone from Brighton but I switch off when she starts talking about it. She can't force me to move and at the end of the day, I am an adult. Mum leaves for London disappointed, failing to achieve what she came here for.
After the morning visit after several days in the hospital, Dr Roberts announces that I can be discharged on Friday. With my date set I feel better, the doctor's orders are clear that I have to stay in my room and let the wound heal naturally. I try to enjoy reading and the company of Carl and Amy, but the time is dragging on. I have already missed Fresher’s week and a bunch of lectures and I am eager to get stuck into University life.
Finally on Friday evening after a series of tests and check-ups, my time in Singleton Hospital comes to an end. The instructions from Dr Roberts are clear; any kind of sports is out of the question. My mother is with me, grasping everything he says. Mum arrived this morning to help me get home, her bus back isn't leaving until 11 o'clock and it's only 9. I am counting the hours until I will be alone again. I do love her but I just need to finally taste how it is to live by myself. She will be leaving soon so I keep quiet and allow her to talk, nodding.
‘Everything done?’ she asks, looking around the room to check I haven't forgotten anything.
‘Yes, I am ready to go.’
‘Great, we need to sort the paperwork in the reception,’ she replies, pressing her lips together.
I exhale, but I don't want to spoil her mood today so I don't comment and do as I am told. Standing in the door and looking back at my room, I am glad that I am alive.
When we s
tep into a busy corridor, I start to think that the world around me gone crazy. I see people that are more beautiful than anyone else, although they do mask themselves well into the drab surroundings. I try not to stare admiring tall handsome men that pass me on the way.
My excitement dissolves all unnecessary thoughts about being out of this prison in a short while. We go straight to the taxi while Mum starts to lecture me about my daily routine; she is so overprotective, but I nod, acknowledging whatever she has to say. I keep quiet, as she will leave shortly and my life will soon go back to normal.
The house hasn't changed at all; it's just a bit untidier.
‘Right you need to go to bed’ she barks, shooting furtive glances around stepping into my room.
‘Yes mum I know, but I feel-’ I murmur.
‘I don’t care, it’s bad enough that I won’t be here to look after you,’ she snarls looking irritated. ‘C’mon quickly.’
I obey and let her lecture me a bit more; I need to gain her trust again. Finally she leaves after an hour to catch her bus. Relief spreads though my veins as I hear the door close downstairs. I am alone at last, after looking out the window and confirming that Mum got to the taxi, I exhale with liberation.
I begin to check my emails; my mail box is full. Gosia is still nagging me about the fact that I was stabbed while out on my first day in Swansea but I ignore her email, focusing on more important ones. I haven’t chosen any modules yet and that’s priority at the moment.
I subconsciously know that Mum is on her way to London so the temptation to leave the house is growing. Despite feeling restless, my wound starts to hurt, so I take a few painkillers and get to sleep, as I know that tomorrow I will be busy with paperwork in the University so I abandon the idea of going there today.
The prescribed painkillers are strong so I don’t wake up until next morning, feeling strangely numb – but I can no longer stay in bed as my dream of becoming a journalist will be a non-starter if I don’t get to University today. Before I leave the house, I unpack my new clothes that I purchased in London, style my hair and put on a bit of makeup. The soaring sensation flows through my stomach when I think about being so close to death. Breakfast is out of the question today, I am not hungry at all. I pick up my bag and leave the room, wondering if the academic registry office will understand that I wasn't able to enrol at the right time.
The rain is pouring from the sky when I step out from the porch; the weather is definitely not on my side. While I am outside, I spot Amy and I curse. I try to think of an excuse as to why I am leaving the house. She knows as well as I do that I should be resting.
‘Hey! I thought you were supposed to be out tomorrow?’ she says approaching me smiling. She is wearing orange trousers and black nail varnish and holding a bright umbrella. I should be more cheerful; mum has left and I still alive.
‘Yes, I couldn’t stand to stay in bed any longer. Mum left yesterday, thank God,’ I say, rolling my eyes.
‘So where are you going? Your mum was pretty clear that you should stay in bed until you are feeling better,’ she says, folding her arms together. I sense seriousness in her tone.
‘Let's just say that Mum is a bit overprotective,’ I clarify, giving her a reassuring nod.
Amy offers to go with me and mentions a recent party that she went to. When we start walking through the rain across the road, I notice two individuals on the other side of the street. I gasp with fear as I recognise the tall handsome stranger. My breathing speeds up while my palms begin to sweat. I panic because I don’t know if it’s just delusion or I am really seeing him. I am going to risk and decide to ask Amy about them.
‘Amy,’ I interrupt her monologue about the party. ‘Do you know those two guys?’ I don't want to point at them to attract their attention.
‘What guys?’ she asks, surprised.
‘Two freaks at twelve o 'clock,’ I whisper.
‘I can’t see anyone. Who are you talking about?’ she looks confused, staring at the exact spot that I am looking at and clearly not understanding what I mean.
‘The two guys across the road, tall and handsome, who are blatantly staring at us,’ I say, irritated. They are definitely there.
‘Are you OK, Ania? There is no one there!’
I stare at my housemate. Perhaps she is trying to make fun of me. My mind is slowly trying to process what is happening. Across the road, I am undoubtedly seeing two good-looking men plainly staring at Amy and me and I am certain that I know one of them. It's the stranger who I had been dreaming about for the past few nights and his astonishing eyes are still fresh in my memory, so I know that I am not wrong. The blood drains from my face and the street begin to spin as I realise that this is my worst nightmare; I am hallucinating again. In my eyes, the man from my dreams is standing on the other side of the street next to someone else but Amy can't see them. Flushes of cold sweat cover my body.
‘Sorry Amy, I don't know what I am talking about – let's go!’
The adrenaline starts pumping through me. I manage to grab Amy's hand and start walking. I keep repeating to myself that there is no one there across the road.
‘Are you sure that you're OK?’ Amy questions, while trying to keep up with my fast pace.
She looks deeply confused, which doesn't surprise me. I feel as if I am on the verge of passing out but I don't slow down. The reality hits me; I am hallucinating or I am going mad. Maybe it’s post traumatic stress.
‘I am fine, I thought I saw someone there,’ I explain in an uneasy tone and I try to change the subject by asking her a safe question, ‘Tell me again about this party that you attended?’
Luckily for me, Amy grasps the new topic and begins rambling about the latest social events that she had attended. When my stomach starts aching, I slow down but I don't dare to turn around to check if the handsome strangers are following us. Fear creeps over me when I imagine myself locked up in a mental institution due to uncontrollable delusions. The sun appears from the thick clouds, fighting with the rain. Amy is at that stage of conversation where I am not following her anymore. The pain in my stomach warns me that I am not supposed to walk this fast but the situation is out of my control. Dr Roberts was right; I should have stayed in hospital for a bit longer.
We walk across the park, the rain stops drizzling, my tension eases when we get closer to the University. I am just about to smile when something else strikes me. I see them again, tall and beautiful looking people. They don’t fit in these ordinary surroundings. Once again, I begin to sweat and promise myself when I get back home I will have to call Dr Roberts and reveal that I am suffering from constant delusions. Walking uphill is harder than I thought. I am trying to control what I am seeing, trying to keep up with Amy's conversation and attempting not to notice these mystical individuals all at the same time.
We cross the back gate to the campus and pass a few University buildings. Amy explains where we should go first so I can sort out all the paperwork for the modules. Physically and mentally I am not well at all, the growing pulsing pain in my stomach is more than uncomfortable. The American Studies department is situated in the James Callaghan building, as Amy explains. We arrive on the third floor and pass through to reception; I am by now feeling very dizzy and sick. The reception area is small and we have to wait until a few more people leave before we can speak with the secretary. Her name is Mrs Lawrence, which I read from the sign on the door.
‘How may I help you?’ she asks, not lifting her gaze off the laptop, looking slightly irritated. She is wearing large thick glasses. I am just about to explain why I am here when I notice someone else in the office that I haven't seen before. Tall dark haired man with bright olive eyes glances at me, then to Amy. I know instantly that he doesn’t fit here, he is too perfect to be a normal human being. The cold shiver travels through my body. I am 100 percent sure when we walked in there was no one in the room apart from the secretary and the other students. I suddenly feel dizzy and the uncomfortable
pulsing pain in my stomach shifts; I decide to ignore him and keep repeating to myself that he isn't really there.
‘How can I help you?’ repeats Mrs Lawrence more abruptly, finally lifting her eyes to look at me. I breathe deeply and the uneasy sensation passes.
‘I need to choose my modules,’ I say finally, my voice shaky and unnatural. The woman is staring at me in silence for a moment, narrowing her amber eyes.
‘You’re too late, there are hardly any spaces left in any American Studies modules for a first year,’ she answers, taking her eyes off me and making herself busy with papers. The perfect individual is looking directly at me but I am doing everything I can to ignore him. Mrs Lawrence looks at the computer screen as if she has nothing else to say to me.
‘I am sure there has to be something that you can do,’ I add quietly, feeling that I have lost this battle already.
‘The deadline already passed, my dear. You have to speak with your personal tutor to see what you can do now.’
I am wasting my time here; this woman obviously is not going to help me. I am not sure if I am ready for University life as the strange man in the room is proof that I am clearly suffering from some kind of mental health problems. Amy steps in, as I am just about to give up and leave.
‘Excuse me, but my friend here was stabbed down at the beach a few weeks ago. I think you might bend the rules due to the circumstances. It isn’t her fault that she was attacked.’
I thank Amy in my mind, because the secretary instantly changes her expression and looks at me with compassion.
‘You are that poor girl who was attacked?’ she asks with interest. I nod, feeling the blush on my cheeks. ‘Of course, you were in the hospital so you couldn't enrol like the other students.’