BREE: ONEiROID

The yellow spot on his otherwise clean white lab coat screams lunch was eaten on the go. Or his hand-to-mouth coordination lacks as much development as his medical knowledge. 

“Drug-induced psychosis. We see it all the time. Your daughter is…”

“What are you talking about? I told you, I’m not on drugs. I was attacked. You need to take these handcuffs off me, and to let me go!” I interrupt in a raspy, painful, and unrecognisable voice. 

My head pounds under the bright lights, white walls, and smell of hospital-grade cleaning products. The scent of my breath, the feel of my dehydrated tongue, and the hair stuck to my face and back just adds to my discomfort. My hands are chained to either side of the hospital bed. I am a prisoner in the worst situation you could imagine. The man I am running from is going to find me here. 

“I need to leave. I need to speak with the police. Mum, they need to know I am not safe here,” I plead with my mother in a panic.

“Drug-induced psychosis? Doctor this is absurd. Briella is not that kind of girl.” My mother whispers desperately, ignoring me. 

Helen, my mother, sounds concerned; but this is just an act. Behind closed doors the woman is quite acrimonious. My head is pounding and my heart is wild. At any moment my attacker could walk through those doors and I would just be lying here, completely vulnerable and strapped to this bed.

“MUM!” I burst out. 

I sound more like a teenage girl than I do a 26-year-old Psychology major. 

“Briella, that’s enough. You were found in the park, half-naked and out of your mind. Do you understand what this means?” She snaps. 

There she is. The Helen I know and 'love'.

“As I was saying. Drug-induced psychosis. We see it all the time. How long has she been using that you are aware of?” His monotone voice brings me back to the yellow stain. 

This man is an absolute degenerate.

“Get out” I growl softly. 

“You see doctor,” my mother sighs.

“Get the FUCK OUT!.”  I scream to the heavens with my eyes closed. 

My mother audibly gasps and I watch as she clutches the crucifix necklace dangling around her neck. She turns her slender body to face the doctor, and gently nudges him towards the door. When Helen looks back at me, I notice her black eye has healed remarkably fast since Friday morning. My eyelids long to shut for more than just a blink. Instead, I force them open and attempt to sit up. 

“He watched you get into the ambulance Bree,” I say aloud. “It won’t be long until he finds the hospital you’re staying in. You need to get out.” I hiss to myself as I lie back down on the soft pillow. 

“Just stay awake big girl,” I breathe out. 

I hear faint panting and footsteps on a muddy trail. The sound of knees hitting the ground and the desperate grunt of the air escaping lungs from yet another fall to the ground. How many more times would she slip over in the mud? Her hair was wet from the rain, but also her sweaty scalp. She dives through the small trees for cover from the light posts illuminating the park. She is being chased. She watched as he took a life and she did nothing to stop him. 

I hear the door click shut and I jolt awake. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” offers a deep and calm voice. 

A tall man, with dark calming eyes, stands at the foot of my bed. His broad shoulders burst from his button-up shirt. His warm smile makes me question how horrendous I look right now. Just my luck. A shorter man, head cocked noticeably to the side, stares at me. He looks scared of me. I smile at the thought of yanking my handcuff chains on the bedrail to see how high I can make this mouse-like man jump. Noticing a name tattooed on ‘Mouse Man’s’ inner wrist I stare unapologetically. I wonder whose name that is.

“Briella, my name is Mike Grant”

“It’s Bree,” I interrupt rudely.

“Sorry. Bree. I am a social worker here at St. Judes. I understand you believe something happened to you on Friday night. Now that you’re awake, I’d like to talk to you about that,” the tall, handsome man explained. 

“I need you to help me get out of here. My attacker knows I was taken by an ambulance. There aren’t many hospitals around here. He will find me.” I begin to sob. 

“Let’s talk about Friday night, first. I want to help,” he offers with a smile.

“I umm. I went to Cloud Bar on Friday night. I was on a date that went pretty bad. I saw a girl I know from class with some other girls I knew so I hung with them for a while. Jessie, she ugh…” 

Images flooded my mind. Jessie is crying for help and I can’t see her. 

“I’m next, IM FUCKING NEXT!” I scream at the two men now closing in on me.

Thrashing my arms away from the bed rails trying to free myself causes a claustrophobic feeling of anger and desperation building inside of me. I see flashbacks of a man with a helmet and leather jacket kneeling over Jessie. I see his gloved hand with his wrist exposed punch the side of her stomach, hard. I watch her feet kick the air connecting with nothing but the ground as they slam back down. I just sit in a ball against the tree and watch; hand pressed tight over my mouth. I’m a coward. I hear the sound of Jessie gasping for air. He is strangling her, and I’m next if he finds me. When he’s finished, he looks in my direction. I break free of this frozen state, and run.

“Bree, Bree!” I jolt awake again by an unfamiliar voice. 

Helen stands beside a nurse holding a tray of food. As the nurse says my name again, I nod to reply that I am awake. I look down at my bare wrists, no longer handcuffed to the bed like a prisoner. I sigh in relief as I sit up holding my pounding head.

“Where is the social worker and ‘Mouse Man’?” I ask Helen with my head in my hands.

“Who is ‘Mouse Man’?” Helen laughs as she takes a seat next to my bed. 

I notice Helen’s black eye has returned. Helen’s usual story always starts with opening a cupboard door. I don’t care. I spent my teenage years frightened of her when she was sober, and picking her up from the floor when she was drunk or worse. 

“Mum, I need to get out of this hospital. The man who attacked me saw me get into an ambulance. He knows I’m here.”

“And which friend did he kill this time Bree?” Helen sighed as she pointedly scrolled on her phone. 

“What, how did you know? Mum, I spent the night running from him. He strangled her with his hands. I watched like an absolute coward from the tree I was hiding behind and… he chased me all night. I fell asleep in a bush and when the ambulance staff woke me up, I thought I was safe. But as they put me into the back of the ambulance, I saw him standing there watching.” My pitch sounding more hysterical as I told my unbearable truth.

“We have a scheduled appointment in 30 minutes with the psychologist. Eat up okay. He’s run the tests and I think we’ll get answers this time. By the Grace of God.” She sang. 

Helen gazed lovingly at me this time. A sympathetic smile creeps in. 

“I’m sorry for what I just said about your friend dying. It was insensitive of me. I’m trying and I need to try harder. I’m sorry. I do love you, my sweet beautiful girl.”

“Mum, he had a tattoo on his inner wrist. I just know I can identify this guy but I need to get out.” I plead with my hands on either side of my head. 

Helen gives me another smile. She’s so beautiful. Her clear, unmarked skin makes her look just like an angel. Helen stands up, and begins to rub my back. I lower myself onto my side and embrace the warm touch I have always known and loved. My protector. As I close my eyes, the flashbacks start again. 

I’m laughing at the tree as I drunkenly fall forward in a squatting position. 

“You’re such a grot!” Jessie giggles. “Couldn’t you just wait until we got home?”

A knock at the door distracts me from my memories. A sense of panic floods my nervous system. Mike Grant the social worker and ‘Mouse Man’ walk in quietly. 

“Helen, Bree. It’s nice to see you again. What has it been, 3 weeks? How did your 40th birthday go, Helen?” He smiles at my mother as if they're good friends.

“Just fine Doctor Hype. Thank you. ” My mum replies courteously.

“Please, just Grant is fine. I hope you remember my prac student Max? I’m sorry for the delay in this meeting ladies. We just needed the time to talk to our peers over at St Jude’s hospital…”

“I’m at St Jude’s?” I interrupt.

“No sweety, you’re at the Clinston’s Youth Psychiatric Facility. Remember?” Helen whispers as she wipes the hair from my face.

“Helen, Bree. We think we understand what is happening. After the extensive exams, scans, as well as the observations from myself and the staff; we believe Bree might be suffering from Oneroid syndrome. It’s quite rare, and closely linked to schizophrenia, which Bree was diagnosed with recently. Given your family medical history of schizophrenia, we believe this is a highly plausible conclusion. Now I just need to add. We looked further into the schizophrenic diagnosis because you both voiced concerns that Bree wasn’t displaying typical schizophrenic episodes except for hallucinations that appear to go on for days. I, too, was concerned about diagnosing a 17 year old with schizophrenia. I wanted to make sure I was making the right decisions in regards to Bree and seeking help outside my team was the best option. I can assure you that we are handling Bree’s case very delicately. Max was very helpful when we looked into Oneroid syndrome.” Grant continued happily. 

“I like this doctor more than any other I have ever met.” I thought to myself.

“That’s… well.. that’s a lot to take in. What do we ummm… well what do next, Grant?” My mother responds slowly. 

“Helen, Bree hasn’t left this room in a week. I think it would be best if she goes for a walk with one of our staff while we discuss this further.” Grant suggests. 

I squint as the door opens to the outside world. The bright sun instantly burns my dry skin. I walk unsteadily to the closest park bench. I feel a sense of calm sitting under a blossom tree. Max sits next to me, unexpectedly smelling of cigarettes and cheap spray. I feel like we’ve met before my stay in the hospital. Maybe. I squirm in discomfort. My pants are too thick for hot weather. I realise I’m not wearing a bra under my oversized shirt. I don’t even want to imagine my hair. Whilst looking at my mismatched socks, I notice writing tattooed on Max’s inner wrist. 

“Is there a trend for getting names tattooed on your wrist that I’m unaware of?” I ask in a more flirtatious way than I intended.

“Oh this,” he chuckled in a strong German accent..” I got this for my dog. Had him for 10 years, you know. Poor thing.” 

“What happened to him?” I ask curiously.

“My boy was amazing, but not the brightest. I had to tie him up on the back porch whilst we fixed the fence one weekend. Idiot jumped over the rail to get to us and hung himself before anyone noticed.” He sniffled as he paused. “ What a way to go huh. By strangling I mean.”

“Yeah, what a way.” I reply distantly. “What was his name?”

“Haha! Don’t judge okay. I love medical terminology and always wanted a pet named after a diagnosis. One rare subject just hooked me you know. I really enjoyed studying it and I think I’m going to specialise in it.”

“Okay” I perk back up. “Tell me the name!” 

“His name was Oneroid.”

Helen watched as the German prac student help two other staff members lift her sleeping daughter onto a gurney. Bree was only outside for minutes before she fell asleep on his shoulders. Max said she asked about the scar on his wrist and before he could finish his story about a dog bite, he felt her head fall onto his shoulder. 

She wondered what trauma Bree would experience from this episode. How she missed her happy, healthy daughter. Helen longed for the day her own happiness would. She just needed Bree to find it first.