The Lost Ones

16.5 - The Hospital

~ Emotional chapter, with some strong language ~

The hospital, 2087. One year before Lela and Adrian arrive at the hospital. Marie Gabriels, a hospital official, is sitting in the canteen with her sixteen-year-old niece Susie Ellis, who is also a patient.

"Hello, Susie." I say gently. What other way could I begin the conversation?

"That's not my name, you witch." Susie hisses, and I wince at her sharp words. Do I really deserve all of this? It's been for her own good, all these years, surely...

"I'm sorry, I'm just so used to calling you that." I attempt to smile, but it's difficult when she glares at me with such loathing that I feel like shrinking back until I'm just a mark of where I used to be on this Earth.

I can barely recognise my niece. She's so different from the happy little five-year-old I once knew and loved; she is now eleven years older and has changed so much. Her hair, once long and light blonde, is short and cut unevenly and looks like it hasn't been washed in days, weeks, months even. My niece's face, which used to wear a permanent cheery grin and bright blue eyes that lit up when you talked to her, is now full of hatred and pain. Her eyes are dull, as if all the lights in her mind have been forcefully turned off. Her eyelids are now so dark they look bruised.

"Susie Ellis is dead and gone. My name's Susanne. Or are you going to take that way from me, as well as everything else?" She shoots at me accusingly. Every word she says is like a knife, cutting straight through me

"Susi- Susanne. I have taken absolutely nothing away-" My words are cut short by her screech of protest.

"Nothing?! How fucking dare you, you bitch! You have taken everything away from me, you evil...lying...devil!" Susanne shouts, wringing her hands. Half of the canteen are now staring at us worriedly.

There are tears running down my cheeks now. Her words aren't hurting me - at least, not as much - but it's the anger that she feels towards me that is.

"Susanne, Susanne please understand," I weep bitterly. "It's what your mother would have wanted me to do for you..."

I am silenced by the look she gives me. It's not even angry, more pitying than anything, and this just makes it all the worse.

"Oh, you would know that, of course, wouldn't you? You've been moderating," She spits out the word with disgust. "My letters for years, haven't you?"

My facial expression must have given me away, because she suddenly looked triumphant, which makes her look more demented than anything, her face possessed by some sort of mad glee.

"Aha! I'm right, aren't I Marie?" For no reason, the way she says my name makes me wince again. Unfortunately, Susanne sees this. "Oh, you don't like me saying you name, do you? You know how it feels now, to be spoken to like you're a fucking outcast!"

Oh, this is such torture. I'm trying not to cry but I can't help salty tears flowing down my face. I can tell Susanne is taking some sort of vicious happiness from my pain, and I half want to slap her, and half want to kick myself. She's getting at all my insecurities and making me question my own motives.

I try to be calm and composed. "The hospital is doing their best to help heal those who have caught the disease, Susanne. Your mother knew that too."

"Go on then. Do it."

"Do what?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that Rhiannon Joan Ellis wanted me to go through all of this pain and suffering, that she wanted me to look like a member of the undead. Do it, and prove to me that you mean every word of what they drum into your head."

I take off my reading glasses and lift my head away from her papers (Classified angry and unstable) to face her. Everything seems to intensify, and just looking at her makes me feel uneasy and a wave of guilt washes over my soul like someone's dancing on my grave.

Probably Susanne.

But I just can't do it. I can't meet her eyes. Once again, there's the look of pity and I suddenly feel like a worthless piece of nothing again.

"There you go. You parrot on what they've taught you but inside you know what you're doing to people. Breaking souls. Shattering hopes. Tearing people apart, piece by piece..." Susanne whispers gently but menacingly.

"Stop it, please...please...please..." I put my hand over my ears, trying to block out her words.

"Poor little brainwashed slave. All you know are their poisonous words, ones you are forced into repeating over and over and over again, in an infinite loop of guilt and pain, but yet you enjoy having no power, you enjoy every minute of being controlled and manipulated and used, don't you? That feeling of having no responsibility of your own, you just love it." Every word of hers is venom in my bloodstream.

"Susanne.... I don't deserve this.... everything I did to you, everything I did to the others.... it was all for the best." I try to plead with her.

She stands up and straightens her hospital gown; she looks at me. It's different: there's no pity or anger. It's just sadness, and as she turns away I could have sworn a sparkling tear rolled down her cheek.

"Tell that to the last eleven years of my life."

And with that, she walks down the corridor; into the distance; far away from me.