Easy as One Two Three (Emma Frost) (18 page)

"He really is alive," she gasped and called for the doctor to see it. "I think he's trying to speak to us."

"It might still only be reflexes," the doctor said, "but keep talking to him and see if he reacts."

Mads kept moving his finger trying to let them know he could hear everything they said and several hours passed like this. Still, they didn't understand what he was telling them. Mads felt helpless and frustrated and soon grew very very tired. He guessed it was getting late in the day when his sister leaned over and spoke in his ear.

"Mads. I have to get Mom home and get something to eat and then some rest. She needs it. We'll be back tomorrow morning."

Mads felt like crying. All this time he had tried to communicate with them and still they hadn't understood. For some reason, it made him panic even worse than when they didn't know he was alive. The thought was claustrophobic.

What if they never get me out of this condition? What if I have to stay like this, trapped in here, for the rest of my life?

Never had he felt lonelier than in the seconds when he heard the footsteps disappear and the room suddenly go dreadfully quiet. All the voices were gone and all he could hear were the machines helping him breathe.

Where did everybody go?

Mads sobbed inside of his mind and felt sorry for himself. He had no idea what time it was or how long it would take before his loneliness would once again be broken, but he knew that it would take a long time. Too long a time. It always did. The nights always felt endless. A nurse would check on him later in the evening, before nighttime came, but that was it. That was all the company he would get. It felt like an eternity ahead of him. An eternity of loneliness.

But at least they now know you're not brain dead. At least they know you're alive,
he tried to cheer himself up. It helped, but only slightly. Hope was such a treacherous companion, wasn't it? Now that he had it, there was always the possibility of being disappointed. Of being let down. There was a new fear that had snuck up on him, the fear of being so close, but never really getting back to life again…the fear that this was all he got.

Mads thought about Signe and how angry he still was at her for what she had done that night in Monaco. He remembered the second he realized that she had finally lost it. That it was no longer a game. It was the look in her eyes when she saw those girls playing in the pool. After that, he knew there was no turning back. What she did was so horrifying, he could no longer love her. It was simply impossible. He knew he had to get away from her. Once he escaped from the house, he had called his mom and asked for her help. He still remembered the feeling of utter terror inside of him when he had told her everything. He was crying on the phone when he begged her to get her away from him, to take him back, to give him his life back as he knew it before he met Signe.

"You're not getting a divorce," she had said. "That is out of the question. We don't get divorces in our family. But we can get rid of her. Make sure she disappears. Stay where you are son. I'll take care of everything."

Mads knew it was cowardly of him, but he accepted the deal. Even if it meant he had to become what he had always feared. Even if it meant going back to being one of them, working for his dad's pharmaceutical company making money of other's misery. But he had no idea where else to turn. His mother could take care of everything. She could make all the bad things go away like she always had. Even this.

Why did you have to do this?
Mads cried inside of his darkness.
We could have had such a wonderful life. Why did you have to go crazy like this? Don't tell me it was the drugs. Don't say that it was, ‘cause it wasn't. It was something else. It was the beast inside of you that you could no longer control. I knew it when I married you. I knew it was there. It was part of the reason I married you in the first place. Because I felt drawn to the beast, but I never realized the consequences. Not before it was too late.

Mads was busy feeling sorry for himself, when suddenly, he heard the door to his room open and steps approaching. Then he stopped sobbing and smiled on the inside. He knew the sound of those shoes.

48

April 2014

I
WAS GLAD TO
realize that Mads Schou was alone in his hospital room when I entered. I was afraid he would be surrounded by nurses and doctors. That was why I had chosen to wait to stop by till the evening. I had sent Morten back to the hotel to rest and call his daughter, who had left a message on his machine, telling him she thought he was spending too much time with me and that he should come home.

I walked inside and placed my bouquet of flowers on the table next to him. I felt a pinch in my stomach as I walked closer. He didn't look any different, but I saw him differently now that I knew his brain was working. That was why I had come. I had to see him for myself. I had to see the difference, even if there was none. In my mind, everything had changed. The doctor had told me he wasn't certain this meant Mads would actually wake up, but it meant that now there was a possibility that he would. Someday.

To me, that was a huge difference.

I stood next to him and looked at his pale badly bruised face. I felt a lump in my throat thinking about Maya driving the car that hit him and made those bruises. I thought about how awful it must have been for her to experience this, to think that she might have killed someone.

"Hi Mads," I said, feeling stupid, since I knew he couldn't answer. But he could hear me, couldn't he? I believed he heard everything. I was certain he did. Somehow, I had always sensed he did.

I cleared my throat. The lump of tears was growing bigger and threatening to burst. It was like all the last days' frustration and worry decided to come to the surface all at once in this moment. I felt like crying so badly, but held it back the best I could. A few tears rolled across my cheek and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. A few more escaped and I decided to let them.

"I'm so sorry," I said. Then I laughed at myself. "I'm getting ahead of myself here. You don't even know who I am." I grabbed his hand and held it in mine. I looked at it while I spoke. "I'm the mother of the girl who drove into you with her car."

Speaking of Maya made me cry harder and soon, I couldn't hold it back any longer. I was holding his hand while my tears fell on it and wet his fingers.

"I…I…you know…I know she would have been here herself if she could, but somehow she can't…and I…we don't know…The thing is, I can't find her. She’s vanished and we have no idea where she is. Oh my God, I wish you were awake and could tell me who it was that pushed you in front of her car. I don't know what I expected, but when Doctor Faaborg called, I somehow expected you to be able to communicate with me. I felt hope, you know? I mean, I was first of all thrilled to know that you weren't dead, that you were alive, but…I don't know. I'm just being silly here. I just want to make sure you know that Maya is sorry. I know she is. I just know it."

 I was crying heavily now and let go of Mads' hand. I walked to the sink and grabbed some paper towels. I wiped my nose and face and looked at myself in the small mirror, wiping away the black make-up under my eyes. That was when I saw it. In the reflection of the mirror, I saw him move his finger again. I gasped and turned to look. His pinky was still moving and, suddenly, I realized that there was a rhythm to it. It wasn't just random movement. It seemed to be in a pace, maybe even a beat.

Why hadn't I seen this before?

I walked back towards him while looking at his pinky. I reached into my purse and found a piece of paper and started writing it down.

"Short, long, short, short, long," I mumbled while writing. Could it really be? Was he really communicating with me?

I kept writing down dots and dashes until it started repeating itself. I looked at it when suddenly it occurred to me how to read it.

I leaned over and gave Mads Schou a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you so much."

49

April 2012

S
HE WAS DREAMING.
At least she thought she was. Maybe it was more like a picture or a movie inside of her head that wouldn't go away. In the dream, she saw a mother hen with her two little chicks. She didn't want to have this dream, but it wouldn't go away. Signe tried to think about something else, but couldn't. All she saw was the mother hen running around in circles, headless, with blood spurting out of its neck. Then those two small chickens covering their faces with their wings, running around screaming and being splashed with the blood from the mother…their yellow feathers turning red from the blood.

Signe couldn't remember what happened after that, she told the officer in English. She had no idea how she had ended up in the street where they found her, smeared in blood.

"You say you were with someone in the house?" the officer asked.

"I think my husband was there as well. I don't know. It was all a dream," she answered. "I don't know why you're keeping me here over a dream."

One of the two officers leaned over. His breath smelled bad, Signe thought. He had something stuck on his chin. Was it food? She couldn't tell. She was wondering when she would get out of here. And where was Mads? She couldn't remember. The last thing she did remember was them driving on a scooter, but she had no idea where they were going. All she could remember were those bloody chickens and their awful screams.

"A woman was killed in her house yesterday and you were found smeared in blood in the street outside of their house. Her husband gave us a description matching you and your husband perfectly. He told us you two rang their doorbell and then knocked him down. Now, where is your husband?"

"A woman was killed? I don't…I don't understand."

The officer looked at her seriously. He put a bag of pills on the table. "We found these in your pocket."

Signe looked at the clear plastic bag and recognized the pills. But she didn't tell the officer. Instead, she lied. "I have no idea where those came from."

The officer slammed his fist into the desk. Signe jumped.

"Don't lie to us, young lady. This is very serious. The woman's head was cut off, goddammit. Cut off with an axe. The children watched as you swung the axe at her and her head rolled into the swimming pool."

Signe tried to understand what the man was telling her, but all she could think of was chickens. And blood. A lot of blood. She didn't understand what he was trying to get her to do. She looked down at her own clothes and realized they were smeared in blood. As a matter of fact, there was blood everywhere. It was running down the walls in thick stripes. It was splashing on the floor; it was even in the faces of the two officers who were now yelling at her. Signe gasped and whimpered as the blood on the floor became a flood and soon covered everything. She crawled up on the chair so her feet wouldn't touch it. The officers were yelling and telling her to sit down. Her hands were cuffed to the side of the chair so she couldn't get loose from it. Why weren't they afraid? Didn't they understand the blood was rising? They would drown. She would drown if they didn't free her. Signe tried to tell them. She tried to yell at them that there was blood everywhere, but they didn't seem to understand. They kept asking the same question over and over again.

"Where is your husband? Where is your husband?"

"Please," she pleaded and pulled her cuffed hands till they started bleeding. She tried to move the chair, but it was bolted to the floor.

"Please let me free. I'm drowning. I'm going to DIE here!"

The blood was coming closer and closer now and now reaching her waist. She tried to stand up in the chair, but couldn't stand up straight because of her hands. The blood was now at her neck and soon would be in her mouth. The officer's questions were drowned out by the blood in their mouths. It was spurting and spluttering out of them as they spoke. Signe whimpered and screamed as the blood filled her lungs and she was slowly forced to stop breathing.

50

April 2014

T
HE NUMEROLOGIST LOOKED AT
Mads Schou in his hospital bed. He was breathing steadily with the help of the machines. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was sleeping soundly.

But she knew he wasn't. She knew he was awake and could hear everything. She had seen it the first time when she was in his room. She had seen him move the tip of his pinky as if to signal to her and she knew he was somehow trying to communicate. But she had also known that she was the only one who knew and, as long as the doctors believed Mads was brain dead, then it was no use telling them he wasn't, right? After all, what better punishment than to have him buried alive? To have him forever regret his actions ten feet under. After all, she had offered him a new start to life, a new beginning, but he had refused. He had tried to escape. There was nothing else she could do for him. She hadn't been able to inject the medicine properly in his leg on the day of the party. The plan had backfired and he had run away. So, she had to push him out in front of that car, hadn't she? She just had to do it. She had no regrets.

But now, she had heard that they knew. Somehow, they had come to know that he was alive, so she had to do something. She couldn't have him waking up and then tell everyone what he knew. Of course she couldn't allow that to happen.

It would simply ruin everything.

"I still remember when you came to my office," she said, as she stroked his cheek. "Your mother sent you. She had contacted me and told me to take care of you. She told me you had been through something traumatic and you needed my help. She told me to go ahead and medicate you if necessary. You were so handsome, Mads, when you walked into my office. A little shy and very, very afraid. But we talked for hours, remember? We met three times a week for almost two years and, finally one day, you opened up to me and told me everything. You told me everything you had done, you and that awful wife of yours. You told me you couldn't live with yourself and what you had done. And I held your hand and told you I could help you. I could give you a treatment that would make you forget everything. But it meant you had to give up all your memories. And you wouldn't do that. You told me you couldn't. But I wasn't going to let go of you that easily. I knew I could get you and your wife into my program, even if I had to force you into it. You were perfect for it, only you didn't realize it. You told me you didn't know where Signe was, but you did, didn't you?" The numerologist laughed and let one of her long nails scratch Mads' cheek and leave a long mark.