Project Un: Margaret

“To achieve the greatness we pursue, we must have unwavering devotion to the most vile of tasks. Else, we will not survive the horrors that await us.” - Captain’s log, R. Gunson, Paradigm Prime

[Subject: Dr. J. Manson]

[Bio: Doctor of genetic sciences, clearance level 5]

[Vital Status: Sustainable]

[Location: Living Quarters 155]

[Archive LT: Live]

[Designation: Protocol 2108_Survailence for Review]

James held his wife’s hand as he knelt beside her chair. Her dull eyes wide in horror. Her body trembled, yet her fragile muscles refused to move. Horrid choking gasps filled her lips. Those twisted screams failing to be heard from the strain of constant use. Once Margaret had been a beautiful woman, both in mind and in appearance. Even as he loved her, she was not the no longer the woman he knew. James stroked her hand as he bit his lip. Forcing down the sorrow as he knew the tears would not come, he smiled at her.

“It’s alright hon,” He said. “You’re safe.”

Margaret shook her head weakly, but violently. Her fingers clenched into a deathgrip on nothing. James sighed and slowly pried at her fingers. One by one, he spread them out and let her unclipped nails dig into his skin. He felt her palm searching to see if she drew blood this time. 

“Hold on to me,” James said in a calm voice. “It’s alright hon.”

She shook her head and in defeat she let her voice fall into silence. Slumping forward, James had to lunge forward to catch her. He sat her further into her seat and rested her head where it wouldn’t fall. The frail, silent form of his wife looked closer to death than life. James grimaced as the words Until death do us part filled his heart with longing relief. 

“No,” He whispered to himself. But the desire of freedom crawled into his heart like a parasite. With infected joy at her stillness, James drove a mental jab at himself. She was his wife. He promised to love her for better or for worse. When he opened his eyes, his heart sank at the sight of her trauma coma. There were no tears left to cry. James leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Rest now, love.”

His heart reeled at his words, but his honor declared them truth. James did want his wife to rest. Her waking torment drained her more than it did him. James pressed his cheek against hers. Faint breaths brushed his skin. He let out sighs in response. Drawing back, he looked up in time to see the door open to their room. James clasped his hands behind his back and dug his nails into his palms. The pain was penance for the way his heart leaped at seeing Lily arriving. 

Lillyandra Tarling. A dear friend of Margaret and a brilliant doctor. Yes, a brilliant mind. That’s why he admired her. Not to mention she was a loyal friend of his wife. A friend of his wife was a friend of his. Lily’s dark hair matched Margaret’s, but freshly brushed. The tumbles of curls fluttered in her movement as something fluttered in his chest. His palms pulsed in pain with each quickening heartbeat. 

Lily dropped a bag on the kitchen counter and turned her attention from James to Margaret. The whirlwind of emotions darted across her face like a motion picture. Sadness. Disgust. Anger. Pity. Pain. It was but a moment. James knew that rush of emotions well. Every morning seemed to be that onslaught of feelings. 

“At least she’s resting,” Lily said. Her voice sent chills down his spine. James shut his eyes in an attempt to stop staring and subsequently rebuke the pleasure of admiring that voice. Lily began unpacking the meds and foods. James never managed to get Margaret to do anything, but Lily was a trained professional. She had skills that James… that Margaret couldn’t live without. 

“You alright?” James opened his eyes, half forgetting he had shut them when he met Lily’s eyes. Blue eyes. Like water to refresh his soul. Words stumbled out of his mind for a moment. One long moment. His honor pried his eyes away to the floor so that he could answer the question.

“Yeah,” He said, clearing his throat. “Yeah, just…um.”

He tilted his head with a frown. How was he supposed to put all he felt into a statement?

“I gotcha,” She said. His heart skipped when he realized that she probably did. He grimaced and heard his knuckles pop. He let his grip go with a slight blush. She gave a smile of pity and quickly looked at the things she was unpacking. Lily bit her lip. James looked away from those lips, growing more and more frustrated with himself. Margaret. Margaret was his wife. He loved his wife. The disheveled, haunted shell of a woman. That was the woman he loved. 

James fell into his seat and glanced with heavy eyes at his wife. She shuddered even in her sleep. Spasms of nightmares. Groaning, James drew himself up. It felt like a hundred pounds lay on his chest, but he forced himself by her side again. Lily watched as he began to shake Margaret awake.

“Poor thing,” Lily muttered. 

Margaret snapped awake with wide bloodshot eyes and a gaping mouth. She looked this way and that. Her eyes passed over James without stopping. Seen, but not seen. James didn’t try to stop the hurt this time. He had no argument against the pain of being overlooked. Her voice had rested just enough that she could speak in a hoarse voice. 

“My boy,” She said. “Where is my boy? What have I done to my boy!? My boy. Oh where did you go my son? Where is my boy? What have I done to my boy!?”

Her rambling continued in a loop. James reached for her hand, but she shrieked and pulled back. He curled his rejected fingers into a fist that he pressed to his mouth. Stifling words and tears, James sat back and watched the rambling shambling Margaret spiral further into delusions. Lily stepped over and began softly speaking to her. Coaxing the woman into focusing her attention on herself, Lily began telling her that she had food to eat. Didn’t she want to have food? Food kept her healthy. You know what else keeps her healthy? Medication. Nice tasty drugs. 

James let the rest of the conversation flood over him as he stared at them both. Margaret looked like a confused toddler reaching for pudding cups of applesauce and pill bottles. Lily kindly wrestled with Margaret like a confident mother. A mother like Margaret always dreamed of being. That dream had distorted the nightmare Margaret could not escape. Between sloppy devouring of so called food, Margaret would scream and shake like she was possessed.

Lily continued to work with her until all the food and pills were had. She took all the trash and cleaned Margaret up. Lily walked away, leaving James to stare at the slowing madness of his wife. The medicine would take effect soon and the screams would lessen. The rambling would slow and Margaret’s world would become a morphine sanctuary from the horrors her mind saw. High or die. His old teenage friend group had chanted that eons ago. Sadly it seemed it would be true for Margaret.

James stood up. He turned to go to the kitchen for a glass of water and stopped. Lily stood right there. They stared at each other wide eyed. Apparently neither of them had expected the other to be so close. Lily blushed, but there gleamed a look in her eyes. James found it difficult to explain that look, but he somehow knew what it meant. Margaret had looked at him that way many times, but usually that followed with a kiss. A dangerous thought to have, but an accurate one. James felt Lily’s breath brush his lips. Staring into her eyes, dots connected. She felt the same about him.

Lily’s eyes widened more in the same realization. It felt like a few moments were stretching into hours. They stood unmoving. Each waiting for the other to give an answer to the unasked question. His honor, his promise, seemed a faint whisper in comparison to the rushing wind of emotion. Credit given where credit is due. Lily did not lean in for a kiss. James pulled back and shook his head. The protests of his heart echoed in his mind, but he shook his head to silence them. Lily’s face reflected the emotions he felt. Confusion. Frustration. Reluctant Acceptance. 

“I,” Lily began. “I best be going.”

James nodded slowly. Lily took a couple steps back. They stared at each other for another moment. Margaret shrieked and James turned to make sure she was ok. When he looked back, Lily had grabbed the bag on the counter. She left without looking back. James sighed, but turned his attention back to his wife. He knelt beside her and this time she allowed him to hold her hand. 

“If only I could love you better,” James whispered. “It’s alright hon.”

Margaret screamed in response.