I sit in the psychiatrist’s chair waiting for her to say something. I refuse to be the first to speak. I wait for her to notice. I have been waiting for months now, for anyone to notice. No one has. They are so obsessed with figuring out what is wrong with me, they cannot see the actual problem.
I watch her sitting in her chair with her notebook. I don’t remember much about the last week. I woke with a red mark on my forehead and another across my upper thigh. My head feels like it has been cracked open and my ears hurt. I jump at loud noises.
“Do you dream when you’re asleep?” she asks me. I flinch at the question. She is the first person to ever ask. I consider lying, but I pause too long. She looks at me and I have to answer.
“Sometimes.” I shrug. I imagine walking across the grey carpet, opening the door and leaving this room. I don’t. I sit in the square chair, a girl without a voice, unable to act.
“Tell me about your most recent dream.”
I want to go home and curl up on my bed. I’ve said goodbye, I’ve lost Bill. There is nothing left for me now. I open my mouth and say the first thing that comes to me.
“I was in Hawaii.” Can no one hear how sad I am?
“What were you doing?” she asks.
“Oh, you know, checking out the hot guys, Pearl Harbor, touristy things mostly.” I no longer care. She won’t believe anything I say.
“Have you been to Hawaii before?”
“Just this once,” I reply. She gives me an assessing look from behind her glasses.
“Did you like it there?” More leading questions.
“Not really,” I admit.
“Why?”
“Too many Japs.” I regret the words as soon as they are out of my mouth. I shouldn’t have used the wartime slang.
“Do you have an issue with Japanese people?” she asks.
“Only ones that fly planes.”
She sighs and glances at the clock. That makes me nervous. I glance at it as well, but it’s the afternoon. I take a deep breath and try not to grip the arms of the chair like a crazy person. Good thing I’ve never owned a watch.
“I think we are done for the day. Get your Mum to make an appointment for next fortnight and Lucy, be honest with me. I cannot help if you don’t talk to me.”
I flee the room. I don’t think Mum will make a second appointment once she receives the bill for the first one, especially after the quote to repair the smoke damage to the kitchen. I’d be working a long time to pay for that, if I was to stay.
I hold it together until Mum and I are outside. The door shuts loudly making me jump. A light plane flies low overhead towards the local airport.
I cower in the doorway with my left hand gripping the stair railing. The plane disappears into the distance. My heart pounds. Mum turns around to see why I’m not following.
“Come on, Lucy. We don’t have all day,” she scolds.
I pry my cold fingers off the railing and follow her to the car.
I go back to school because it passes the time. If the girls continue their taunts, I don’t register. I’m an empty shell. There is only one reason I’m still here and it’s not because I’m waiting for Bill. He’s not coming for me. He died sixty-five years ago, never having the chance to live the life he believed was so beautiful. That’s if he ever existed outside of my imagination in the first place.
The truth is, I’m waiting. Mum is still seeing Frank and it’s nearly his birthday. I overheard them planning a big night out while I was still at the hospital. They don’t want me around.
This is the day I have chosen.
There are two reasons why. I will be on my own, so it will be easier to leave. No one will know until it’s too late to stop me. I also don’t want Mum to turn to Frank when I am gone. I don’t want the memory of his birthday to be a happy one. It may sound selfish, but I don’t know how else to tell her she deserves better.
I count down the days until I die.
*
Eight more days. Monday I pass a dead cat on the side of the road as I ride to school. It stares at me with the same dead eyes as the airman at Wheeler who stood behind me as he was shot.
I turn my head as I ride, unable to drag my eyes away. An annoyed ding of a bell makes me swerve to avoid another cyclist. The cat loiters in my memory as I continue to school. It’s still there when my history teacher asks me to stay back after class. The in-between time is blank. I didn’t pay any attention to the day.
“Is everything alright?” Ms Miller asks.
“Sure,” I respond automatically.
“You just don’t seem yourself at the moment. Is everything fine at home?” she presses.
“My cat died,” I reply. I don’t have a cat.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. If you ever need to talk, my office door is always open.”
I nod and escape from the room. She’s the first person to reach out to me, but it’s too late. I’m already gone. Perhaps if the offer had been made a few months earlier, I could have acted on it. I do appreciate her offer though. It’s nice to know someone might notice if I’m not around anymore.
*
Wednesday, my English teacher greets me as I take my seat.
“You’re looking more cheerful than usual, Lucy,” she smiles at me.
My face relaxes into something that may be mistaken as a smile in response. Acceptance brings calmness with it. It’s almost over. I haven’t cried for days.
Class begins with an assignment. Mrs Carmichael has found a writing competition she wants us to enter. We have to work in pairs to write a short story about how we see the future. She will pick the best ones to submit to the competition.
My mind considers what my future may hold. Is there an afterlife, heaven or reincarnation? I don’t know. All I can see before me is darkness. Perhaps the darkness in my mind is a reflection of what I desire. Nothing. An end to life. I don’t want there to be anything after this.
There are an uneven number of students in the class. I am the odd one out. The one who never gets chosen. It doesn’t matter to me like it used to. I won’t be here by the time it’s due. There is no future for me. I shove the assignment to the bottom of my bag while my classmates squabble over who will work with who.
Thursday, I sit at a computer in the library staring at the default library catalogue browser. Someone swings into the seat beside me. I don’t look at them as they type rapidly into the search box. A few minutes later, they leave. Most likely with the information they were after.
I wish it was that easy. To find the information I need.
I open Google. The search box stares back at me. My fingers hover over the keyboard. The librarian hushes a noisy junior student who hasn’t yet discovered not to get on their bad side. A book is dropped on a desk with a thump.
I glance at the time at the bottom right-hand side of the screen as the minutes of the lunch hour slip away. I avoid looking at the clock on the wall.
I type Bill’s name into the search box with my finger hanging over the enter button. I hold my breath. The bell rings. I sit still as students file out of the library. Bill’s name stares back at me on the screen. I close the page without hitting the button.
I don’t know what would be worse. Bill’s death in print or nothing at all. He never existed in the first place. It’s all been in my head.
*
Fridays should be good days. The last day before the weekend. A celebration of surviving the first four days of a week. I don’t know if it is different any more. Each day is the same to me.
Our art teacher gives us the assignment of creating a drawing depicting emotion. I think about a noose hanging from the tree, but that creates more of a lack of emotion for me. I also don’t want to end up back at the psychiatrist’s office.
My mind wanders to Bill as it often does these days. My journey had been the briefest yet, but I can recall every detail clearly. The overriding emotion is one of pain. I rub my dry eyes and begin drawing.
I use pencil so the drawing is in shades of grey. I focus on the glass panelled wall of the aircraft hangar. There were numerous bullet holes already in the glass when I first glanced at it. With my pencil I capture the moment I looked up and saw the glass crack under the force of the bullet. Behind the glass is the shadow of the passing Japanese Zero.
My arm reaches down to press into Bill’s shoulder, visible in the lower section of the page. His face is hidden. I pick up a red pencil, to highlight the blood on my hand and Bill’s shirt. Finally I add a touch of gold to the tip of the bullet speeding towards me.
When I am done I stare at it until the bell rings. I hand it in to the teacher. I won’t be here next class. I wonder if someone else would see the emotion I felt from this sketch.
*
Saturday: three more days. I wander aimlessly along the street. I felt the urge to escape the empty house this morning. I walk towards the park by the shops so I can sit on the grass under the trees and watch the world go by like I used to do when we first moved here. This is my last chance to feel the peacefulness of the park. I walk faster. I need to hold onto the calm that has fluctuated through my body these last few weeks.
I have the image of the bullet stuck in my mind, swamping me with the familiar feeling of despair at my failure to protect Bill. It makes me question if I saved Wu, Villius or William. My dream-like realities have given my life meaning. I had a purpose in saving my friend, but real or not, Bill died leaving me with nothing.
A cyclist hurls abuses as he rides by. I have been walking without registering where I am going. There are no planes or broken glass. Bill is not dying under my hands. I reach the park and stand on a patch of grass watching the people around me. They all look so happy to be in the park on this warm, sunny day.
A loud bang sounds behind me. I throw myself under the nearest tree and cover my head with my arms. My heart tries to break through my chest. When I don’t hear answering gunfire, I raise my head to look around me.
Everyone calmly goes about their business. A small boy stares at me. I glance at the nearby road and realise a car has backfired. I climb shakily to my feet and brush the leaves from my clothes.
That is when I see him, the man who looks like Frank. He has his arm slung over the shoulders of a scantily clad girl who is probably only a few years older than me. From this distance, it looks like he is attempting to clean her ear with his tongue.
The man looks up in my direction. The hairs on my arms stand on end. Frank pushes the girl away from him and starts towards me.
I run. I’ve never liked Frank and I don’t want to hang around to find out how far he would go to prevent me from telling Mum he’s cheating on her. I need to be near people so there are witnesses. I jump a garden bed and throw myself across the street. A car honks loudly.
I bolt through the doors into the main shopping mall, nearly colliding with the slowly opening glass panels. I push past a couple of mums with prams to get to the escalator. They call me names behind my retreating back. I pause halfway down to look back. Frank is a short distance behind me with a look of pure hatred on his face.
In my mind, I am running from the Japs again. If I stop, I will be shot and Bill will die. The noises around me blend to the sound of jets flying overhead. I have to escape so that Bill might survive, even if it is only in my own memory.
It was a mistake to enter the shopping centre. It’s loud with lots of sudden noises and happy teenagers squealing at the tops of their lungs. Would any of them help me if Frank catches me? I don’t believe so. I am invisible. No one cares what happens to someone like me. I’m shaking and struggling to breathe. I need to get out of here. I have to lose him.
I leap off the escalator, nearly bowling over a young child. I dash through the shopping centre like I’ve stolen something, making it to the other end of the mall and nearly colliding with the sliding doors again. I skid to a stop, taking deep gasping breaths.
After an eternity, the doors slide open wide enough for me to slip through and I run out onto the main shopping strip. I glance over my shoulder to see how much distance I’ve gained and crash into someone. We both fall to the footpath in a pile of tangled limbs.
“Get the hell off me,” Jennypha yells as she attempts to extricate herself from me. I struggle to get up, but as soon as I’m nearly upright, Bianca pushes me back down again. I’ve run into the girls from school.
I crawl backwards on my hands and knees until I have space to stand. All four of them glare down at me – Jennypha, Bianca, La-a and Tayla. I take my time to rise to my feet. I might be able to charge through the group if I take them by surprise.
I look back the way I came. Frank hesitates by the door I exited. Without knowing it, the girls are protecting me from him. Pity there is nothing to protect me from them. I have nowhere to run. The fight leaves my body as my arms hang loose by my sides.
La-a grabs my elbow hard and shoves me towards Bianca. I’m still watching Frank, so I lose my footing and twist my ankle. Bianca unintentionally prevents me from falling to the ground. I imagine myself as a ragdoll being tossed around.
“You don’t assault my friend and think you can get away with it, bitch,” La-a screeches at me.
“Loser Lucy,” Bianca yells as she shoves me. Tayla steps out of the way and I hit my head on a signpost.
“I don’t think she meant it,” Tayla says. The other three glare at her.
“Whose side are you on?” La-a demands. She doesn’t wait for an answer. There is only one correct response unless you want to be like me. Tayla says nothing.
I haul myself up using the pole I hit and back up until my heels hang over the curb. I have nowhere to go. A vehicle honks as it passes. Adults give our group a wide berth and avoid eye contact. My heart thumps in my chest. I feel like I am watching a scene from outside my body.
I can hear a larger vehicle approaching. It could be a four-wheel drive or small truck. In my mind it is a Jap fighter plane. Its droning noise is bringing me closer and closer to Bill. Three more days. That’s all I had left.
La-a urges Jennypha to push me. I look at Jennypha and realise I haven’t cared about her liking me for a long time. I hated this girl for so long. Now there is nothing. I am empty of emotions. She and her friends will suffer like I have. It’s only fair they understand.
I look Jennypha directly in the eyes, almost daring her to push me. A slight smile crosses my face. I’m surprised I remember how to; it’s been so long. My expression infuriates my tormentors. La-a calls me every nasty name in her vocabulary.
She pushes me sideways into Jennypha. I’m still on the edge of the curb. Jennypha shoves me with enough force to make me stumble. I step backwards, allowing the force to throw me into the path of the approaching delivery truck.
The screeching is followed by unimaginable pain. Someone screams, but I can’t tell if it is me or Tayla. For a moment I am flying free, then I’m lying on hard concrete with my limbs at strange angles.
I’ve read stories that say at moments like these, your life flashes before your eyes. I remember lying beneath the huge paws of a lioness as it breathed its rancid breath into my face. I hope my sacrifice gave Wu the chance to survive. It would give my life some meaning I’ve never found in reality.
“Lucy? Talk to me.” Tayla sounds hysterical. A paper bag will fix that, my mind says. There are no words. I can’t answer even if I wanted to.
Everything is fading away. I can’t feel my arms or legs. Even the pain is dull now. Tayla’s voice continues, but it sounds like it’s in a tunnel drifting further away.
I’ve finally done it. It’s all over.
I’m scared.
Sirens sound in the distance. They’re coming for me, but I will be gone before they reach me. I hope Bill is waiting for me somewhere.