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Isatinthetaxi feeling cross. Aleks had not gone home as instructed which meant I had to endure over an hour in a confined space with him. He suggested we go away somewhere else together and not return to the castle at all.
“I want to get into my own bed and sleep,” I told him.
I ignored his invitation to cuddle and leant my forehead against the car window as cranial pressure mounted. The sound of the amalgamation sped up the longer I was with him, causing dizziness and nausea.
I closed my eyes and concentrated my attention on the inner scene. Michelle’s necklace lay on the bedside cabinet, and I was able to make it my focus. I examined the piece of jewellery in detail as if I were standing right by it, facing away from the pair on the bed. I looked at the geometric pattern of intersecting lines upon the surface of the gold disc, and I imagined becoming smaller, so small that I could stand in the etched marks of gold. I ran along the neural pathways of my brain, searching for the tiny red ruby at the centre, the place to fix it all, to unbend what had been broken.
The sound of the car driving over the gravel outside the castle shook me out of my reverie. I got out of the taxi and crunched over the small stones. The big door opened and Holly was there, talking about food and sitting by the fire and seeing my friends.
“I need to sleep,” I told her, walking into the foyer. “Don’t let anyone come up.”
Aleks followed anyway. “Is all right, Malphia,” he said on the stairs, the elevator being out of bounds, tape over the door. “I know you are wanting to be alone. I will go to my room. Wake me if is anything you need. Use phone, and I will come at once.”
I didn’t reply and walked on up to my room.
Crawling lopsidedly into bed, I arranged my arm how it had to be, and slept. And slept. People looked in. I kept my eyes shut and dozed on until the smell of soup enticed.
Holly fed me with a spoon as if I were a small child.
The top of the tower soon attracted a steady stream of people. There was Aleks, saying he wanted to help like he was begging. Will was just Will. We lay on the bed and listened to music. Ruaridh brought me a gentle and romantic novel to read. Sun tried to have a probing female-solidarity talk. Bekah was full of who-fancied-who gossip which was almost diverting. Sadie came with chocolate. Justin became so over-the-top funny, it wasn’t funny, and time passed.
Different trays of food marked different times of day.
Aleks always triggered the same film badness, but he never stayed long. He tried to draw me out of myself, taking the less-hurt hand, saying he loved me. I touched his fingertips for a moment, the familiar square ends. In my head, one of those fingertips trailed Michelle’s front, and she laughed. In my bedroom, he waited for me to say I loved him back.
Some explanation might help. “I don’t feel anymore,” I said, not looking at his face.
“Tell me. Whatever you are going through, I want to bear it with you.”
“I don’t feel love. Or much of anything. It’s quite good in a way, because I can remember and see stuff.” I paused and looked at the bedroom floor a moment, remembering the earthen one below the castle. “It doesn’t disturb. It just is. I feel annoyed, and I feel peopled-out, and I feel physical pain, but that’s it.” He’d been in the room too long. “I need to sleep. My head hurts.”
He left with the air of a man who had made progress in a difficult matter, and I went back to sleep.
The door opening woke me and furthered my hatred of doors.
It was the school doctor. “You were sleeping?” he asked. “You’ve been doing a lot of that, I hear. I’ve received your notes from the hospital. It seems you’re doing well.”
“Oh, just brilliantly,” I said, looking down at my bandages-under-clothes lumpy body.
“Have you cried?” he asked.
“What d’you mean?”
“You’ve been through an incredibly traumatic experience, Amalphia. Do you feel sad or angry?” He’d obviously been speaking to Aleks.
“No. I’m sort of surprised to be here, you know, in one piece, able to walk around and stuff.”
“Did you think you were going to die?”
“Yes.” I’d forgotten that.
“You’re suffering from post-traumatic stress. It would do you good to talk to someone. I can put in an urgent referral today.”
“There’s no point. It won’t make any difference.”
“Vocalising things can be extremely helpful.”
“Not for me,” I said. “Your counsellor types won’t have experience of anything like this. She messed with my head. She’s done something to me with her research. Amalgamation C is an evil thing. I need to tell Aleks he must never let it be done here again.” Why hadn’t I done so already? But I could tell by the doctor’s face that I’d gone too far. “I know it sounds mad.”
