All night, I pace from one end of the room to the other.
I was out there, driving through the vast valleys, and I came to the city, only to end up here.
I tell myself not to be, but I am angry with Kylan for not believing me. I came to him because I needed help.
There’s no clock in the room, so it is hard to tell what time it is. The only window is the one in the door which leads to the corridor. For some reason, they have removed the watch from my wrist.
Outside in the corridor, the other lights start to go on, and I know it must be nearly morning.
When breakfast arrives, two powdery eggs and toast, I try to ask the new nurse.
‘Is my son coming?’ I ask.
She barely looks at me, putting the tray on the cabinet by the bed.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, ‘can you please tell me if I am leaving here today?’
‘Someone will be here to see you shortly,’ she says. ‘I just deliver the breakfasts.’
‘What time is it?’ I ask.
‘Nine o’clock,’ she says, as she shuts and locks the door behind her.
I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting.
*
A young doctor with a clipboard comes into the room.
‘Morning, Mrs Bjornstad,’ he says, reading the name from his chart. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘What time is it?’ I ask.
‘Just gone eleven,’ he says. ‘You haven’t eaten your breakfast.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ I say. ‘When is my son coming?’
‘Visiting hours are between four and nine p.m.’
‘I thought I was being moved today.’
The doctor smiles at me as if I am a child. ‘It’s not as simple as that, I’m afraid, Mrs Bjornstad. You won’t be moved until you are referred elsewhere,’ he says. ‘We need to determine your diagnosis.’
‘How do you do that?’
‘A mixture of group and one-on-one therapy sessions. You’ll have one group session every morning, and one evaluation every afternoon.’
‘And the rest of the time?’
‘Free time, for contemplation in your room.’
My chest tightens. ‘How long will I be here for?’
‘Until we can decide what is wrong with you, and then you will be sent to a different facility for treatment.’
‘But, Doctor,’ I say, sitting up straighter and pulling my gown around me, ‘there is nothing wrong with me.’
The doctor smiles again. ‘That is what we are here to determine.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘There’s been a mistake. I need to speak to the police.’
‘For now,’ he says, ‘we just need to focus on making you feel better.’
‘But you need to investigate,’ I say. ‘I am the victim of a crime.’
‘Everything you say will be kept on file, Mrs Bjornstad.’ He sounds bored.
I grab his hand. ‘I need to speak to someone,’ I say. ‘My name is Elise Sandvik. We need to find proof that I am a missing person.’
‘I don’t think that should be the priority at the moment,’ the doctor says, shaking himself free of me and rising to his feet. ‘We need to focus on your recovery.’ He picks a small white cup of pills from the breakfast tray and hands it to me. ‘Starting with your medication.’
I take the cup, nodding my head.
‘Please can I have my watch back?’ I ask.
‘We can’t let you have anything with glass in it, I’m afraid,’ he says.
‘Can I have a clock, then?’ I ask. ‘I need to know the time.’
He half smiles, writing something on my chart. ‘I’ll mention it to the nurse,’ he says.
When he is gone, I tip the pills into the sink.
The hot anger rises. Why won’t they listen to me? Even though it happened over twenty years ago, there must be files on my disappearance. It shouldn’t be hard to trace.
I feel like throwing things against the wall, like shouting and screaming, but I know that will only prove them right.
*
Shortly after I have eaten dinner, Kylan comes to see me. Despite me asking, they still haven’t given me a clock, so I can’t say what time it is. Though he smiles when he enters the room, his eyes are a little bloodshot and he looks exhausted.
‘Hello, Mum,’ he says, sitting next to me.
‘Hi,’ I say.
He looks around the room. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘How do you think I’m feeling?’ I say. I don’t want to be, but I am annoyed with him. I have spent the whole day in this room, and I am sick of it.
‘Look, Mum,’ he says, ‘I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday. I couldn’t sleep at all last night.’
‘Neither could I,’ I say.
He looks at the narrow bed, the sink, the locked door. ‘I don’t like thinking about you in here.’
‘Take me home with you, then,’ I say.
‘I can’t,’ he says. ‘The doctors say it’s the best place for you.’
I can’t believe he is going to leave me in here.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ he says. ‘When I couldn’t sleep last night, I looked up the name you mentioned on the Internet, to see if I could find anything out.’
‘Oh, Kylan,’ I say. ‘What did you find? If we can prove it, I can get out of here . . .’
He puts his hand over mine. ‘I couldn’t find anything, Mum,’ he says.
I feel my mouth fall open. ‘Where did you look?’
‘I searched the Internet for the name, and nothing relevant came up.’
‘Did you call the police?’ I say. ‘The police must have records of it.’
‘No,’ Kylan says. ‘If it were true, there would be something on the Internet about it.’
‘Maybe you were looking in the wrong places,’ I say. ‘We need to ask the police.’
‘Mum,’ Kylan says, his voice raw, ‘you need to stop this now. I looked, and I couldn’t find anything. I think you need to accept it.’
I stare at him: his red eyes, and messy hair, and grey skin. I have done this to him, I think. But I know he would have found something if he looked hard enough, if he spelt the name correctly.
Then I think that maybe he doesn’t want to, maybe he didn’t even look. If he did, he would have to admit that his father did those terrible things. Hector, who, despite everything, has been a good father. He would have to report him, or help me to. And then Hector would go to jail, and Kylan would be visiting him instead of me, locked in a room worse than this.
If I push this, I will ruin Kylan’s life, and I don’t want to do that. I would rather stay here for ever than make him unhappy.
I swallow, and nod my head.
Kylan squeezes my hand. ‘I know it can’t be easy,’ he says, ‘and we’re going to get you all the help you need. It would just be a lot easier if you stop fighting us on it.’ He pauses. ‘I’ll speak to the doctor and see if we can’t get you moved from here.’
He gets up then.
‘Will you come back soon?’ I ask him as he reaches the door.
‘I’ll be back at the weekend. Look after yourself, Mum.’
‘Kylan,’ I say when he is at the door, ‘can you ask them again if I can have a clock? They’ve taken my watch away.’
He looks so sad. I feel something shift in my chest.
When he is gone, the tears rise up in my eyes. And I know then what I need to do.