Flux

differently, and then when you ignored her in the dining room, she flipped.”
    “Ignored her?” he thought back to the previous day and went cold. “I wanted to be alone, that’s all.” He scratched his head; “but all of the cutlery is plastic, just in case!”
    “A broken bit can still be sharp enough I’m afraid, especially to open up fresh scars.”
    They sat quietly for a while. Iain could sense the doctor studying him for any kind of reaction while he absorbed the news.
    “So, how does it make you feel?” the doctor asked eventually, breaking the silence.
    “Oh shut it with your psychobabble crap will you.”
    “OK, I’ll leave you to it for a while. If you need to talk you know where I am. I’m arranging some counselling sessions if you’re interested.
    “I’m OK thanks.”
    “I think it would be a good idea. We’re running a group session this afternoon.”
    “Is it voluntary?”
    “No.”
    Iain picked up his bible and continued to read.

    The group therapy session took place just after lunch and Iain thought it a complete waste of time. Twelve patients were sitting in a circle on plastic chairs, all facing inwards. Doctor Jenkins occupied the thirteenth seat. They spoke in turn, and sometimes out of turn, about how sad they were feeling, what a shock it was. Adrian piped up to say he didn’t give a shit, the fucking loon deserved to die anyway. Iain sat quietly for the most part listening to the others and shaking his head. He wished he could feel something for Anne but he really hadn’t known her, and the medication had robbed him of his empathy and capacity to be overly bothered by her death.
    After the session he returned to his room, and the Bible.

Chapter Twenty-Three
    Release

    The next week was uneventful and Iain stayed in his room and away from the other patients as much as he was able; partly afraid of inadvertently causing any more trouble but mostly because of his study of the holy book. Besides eating, sleeping and taking his medication, his existence was only interrupted by the daily therapy session with Doctor Jenkins; which pretty much followed the same routine each time. They started with the doctor asking how Iain was feeling; to which he always replied, “Fine” . They then went on to ask about any dreams Iain may have had, which were now virtually nil and whether or not he’d seen any ghosts, which he hadn’t. At the end of each session, they both thanked each other for their time before Iain asked whether he was well enough to leave. The answer was always the same; ‘You’re making excellent progress and I’ll continue to review your case.’ Iain started to think he’d never be released, but remained hopeful all the same.
    Although he’d lost track of days and time while in hospital, he was pretty sure it was a Thursday when the doctor finally gave Iain the news he’d wanted and he was to be allowed back into the community. It came as a surprise and seemingly out of the blue; he’d begun to think he’d never get out. Doctor Jenkins, producing a box of pills from inside his desk drawer, went to great lengths to explain about how vital it was to take the medication at the same time each day and how Iain would have to return to the hospital on a weekly basis as an out-patient.
    So, I’m now care in the community! He thought allowing himself a small internal chuckle at the thought: ‘care in the community’ being an insult he’d levelled at friends and colleagues many times over the years. “”What happens if I do miss a pill?” he asked.
    “You can’t.”
    “Oh. OK,” and following a brief pause; “What if I have a relapse?”
    “Then you come in here straight away. Or phone. Hopefully that’s not going to happen though.”
    “Hopefully?”
    “As long as you carry on with the medication, there is absolutely no reason whatsoever why you can’t lead a normal life.”
    “When can I go?”
    “Now.” The doctor stood, pushing his chair out behind him and walked to the door, holding it open.
    Iain followed and walked through. Going to his room, he changed out of the hospital gown and into his own clothes. Leaving the crumpled gown on the bed, he took one last look around before closing the door on the white room.
    Doctor Jenkins was waiting for him in the reception area, next to the nurse’s station where he was signing bits of paperwork. Smiling at Iain, he moved to the large double doors with glass in them and tapped the code into the