Funhouse (19 page)

“
Pot roast.” Alice replied. “You look exhausted. Tough day?”

Mannering nodded as he drained the glass of whisky then poured himself another.

“Why don’t you go and drink that in the sitting room? Dinner isn’t quite ready yet. I got some wonderful potatoes to go with it.”

He almost laughed, or screamed at the idea, but instead took a sip of his drink and did as he was told.

Although it seemed impossible now, he was sure that he would learn to live with Alice’s hobby. Although the vows of marriage didn’t mean as much these days as they once did, he was determined to honour the commitment that he had made to her. And that was to love and cherish her until death. Was a life alone worth the price of doing the right thing?

Probably.

Just not to him. Everyone had quirks, and everyone had imperfections, but like any good husband, he was just going to have to learn to live with the ones his wife had and try to make the best of them. He was sure that in time, he would learn to live with it. Mannering kicked off his shoes, switched on the television and sank down into his favourite chair whilst he waited for dinner.

J
asper Collins had been a patient at Leafields Hospital for almost five years, and today was his first real chance at getting out. He was nervous as he was led into the room and sat in front of Dr. Ronson, not because he had the power to deny Jasper his freedom, but because of the window in his office. It ran the full length of the wall, and looked onto the beautiful, lush gardens which appeared somehow even more magical under the rain, which probed and tapped at the glass.

Jasper forced himself not to look at it, otherwise, Ronson might see that there was something wrong, and the game would be up.

“Is everything okay Jasper?” Ronson asked, breaking his train of thought.

Jasper fidgeted, licked his lips, and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“I’m fine. Just… nervous. This is a big day for me.”

“
It is.” The doctor agreed, offering a thin smile - a token gesture which bore little humour.

Ronson had been Jasper's doctor since he was first admitted. Although, Jasper knew well enough that committed was a better word for what had happened to him. People were admitted to places when they were ill, and still had the opportunity to leave whenever they wanted.  For Jasper, however, there was no open front door,
no option to leave. They thought he was mad, loopy, a few buns short of a dozen. And he supposed, as he sat there trying his best not to glance out of the window, that they might be right.

He at least felt comfortable enough with Ronson though. There was a familiarity to the salt and pepper haired old man, a kindness in his eyes that put people at ease, which was a world away from his feelings towards the bullying, asshole orderlies who worked out on the wards.

“We can close the blinds, if you prefer.” Ronson said, following Jaspers' gaze to the window.

Although he was desperate to say yes, Jasper remained calm and shrugged, even managing to sound calm when he replied.

“It’s fine. Really.”

Ronson nodded and made a note on his paperwork, which was the only thing between Jasper and his freedom.

“So.” He said, looking over his notes. “You have been with us for almost five years now. I’m told you have made great progress, particularly over these last eighteen months.”

Jasper nodded. “I feel good now, I think I have come a long way.”

“How old are you now Jasper?”

“
Twenty three.”

More notes were scribbled, and Ronson folded his hands on the desk and smiled. Jasper couldn’t help but look at the doctor’s fingers, how manicured and perfect his nails were. He looked down at his own chewed to the skin appendages and hid them out of sight on his knees.

“How do you feel now, about what happened before you came here?” Ronson asked.

Jasper felt a flicker of the bad stuff, the darkness that sometimes fizzed and bubbled in his stomach. For a split second, he saw himself launching over the desk and tearing Ronson’s tongue out. Instead, he smiled.

“Of course, I feel bad, sorry and ashamed.”

It was a lie. He actually didn’t know how he really felt about it all, however, they were the words that Ronson would have wanted, and so they were the ones he gave.

“And what about the crows? How do you feel about them?”

A surge of emotions coursed through Jasper all at once. Rage, terror, paranoia. It took an incredible force of will for him to avoid glancing to the window, especially since that was exactly what Ronson was watching for.

Fuck you Ronson.

“
That’s something else I’m ashamed of. I... don’t want to talk about it.”

For all the deceit that he had planned, that was the first true thing that Jasper had said since the assessment began. Ronson was staring again. How he hated that stare. It had switched from kind and friendly during the introductory small talk, to one that was purely judgmental, and seemed to burn into
Jaspers' very soul. He was suddenly certain that Ronson knew everything. Knew about the lies, knew about the plan to bluff his way to freedom.

Knew about the crows.

He coughed into his hand. “I really would rather not bring it all up again.”

“
Look Jasper, I’m not against you here. But we need to talk about this. I need to assess that you do, in fact, have a firm grasp on reality. Until I can satisfy myself and the board of this hospital that you truly are ready to go back into society, then I won’t be able to agree to your release. Please, talk to me about the crows.”

Jasper hesitated, and couldn’t help flick his gaze to the window. He instantly regretted it, because Ronson saw it. He cleared his throat and looked the doctor in the eye.

“They don’t speak to me anymore, if that’s what you want to know.”

“
So I understand from my reports. How do you feel about that?”

Careful. He’s trying to catch you out here.

“Well… I know now that they never did. Not really. I know I can’t blame them for what I did.” He said with a shrug.

“
You admit responsibility for what you did to your mother and brothers?”

Jasper paused, as a series of quick fire images came to him, images forever burned into his memory.

Bloody kitchen tiles.

The knife clutched in his shaking hand.

His mother’s glassy, dolls eyes, horrified and staring into oblivion.

The crow at the window. Watching. Always watching.

He shuffled again, and looked at his feet.

“
I know what I did, and I know I have to live with it for the rest of my life.”

“
Jasper, when the crows used to speak to you, what was it like? How did they sound?”

He paused to consider the question, desperate to look out of the window but afraid of what he might see if he did.

“It was always just one. A big one. At first, I didn’t think much of it. It started showing up in the garden. I didn’t realise at first, but every time I saw it, something bad happened. That first time, my dog Toby was run over in the street. I loved that dog. I remember going out there where he lay, broken and panting in the street, and as I was cradling his head, I looked up and saw the crow. It was just standing on the lawn watching me.”

“
I see,” Ronson said, making more notes.

He pushed his glasses back up his face, and then looked at Jasper. He was now in full on professional mode. Gone were the friendly smiles and encouragement. He had a look in his eyes which said he was looking for information, and wouldn’t rest until he had everything he wanted.

“When did you see it as more than coincidence?” He asked, pen poised over paper.

“
When they started to read my mind.” Jasper replied immediately, then hesitated, and offered a nervous smile. “I mean, when I thought that’s what they were doing.”

He searched Ronson's face for any inkling of a reaction, but the doctor only looked back, waiting patiently as he always did. After all, what was time in a place like this? Jasper flicked his eyes to the window and the green gardens beyond, and when he saw that it was empty, he continued.

“I saw it again, that same bird a few weeks later on the day my dad had his heart attack. I know what you must be thinking. How can I know it was the same one?” He grinned, but it was a pained gesture which felt alien, and he quickly reverted to his neutral frown. 

“
It’s kind of hard to explain. Somehow, I just
knew
it was the same bird. I knew it as a certainty. That’s when I first heard it in my head. I heard it telling me I was right, that it was the one that had been there when my dog was killed, and that if I ever told anyone, they would come for me.”

He paused again, and began to rub his thumb and forefinger together.

“My father died in the hospital that night, although in a way that didn’t matter as much as the crow. Even though I couldn’t see it, I knew it was there, hovering in my head, listening to my thoughts, invading my privacy.”

“
This certainly still seems to be stressful to you. Would you like to take a break? If you don’t feel ready for this we can postpone.”

“
No, that’s alright. I don’t mind. It’s just not something I like to talk about, that’s all,”

“
I just wanted to be certain. Please, continue. You are doing really, really well.” Ronson said, giving Jasper one of his best encouraging smiles.

“
I’m unsure if I should. How do I know this isn’t a trick? What if you’re trying to get me to say something that means I’ll have to stay here?”

“
Jasper, you should know by now that I only want what’s best for you. Since you came here, I’ve done everything I can to help you.”

Jasper nodded. It was true, Ronson
had
always tried to help, and seemed to have a genuine interest in his progress. “And besides,” Ronson added, looking around the empty office, “it’s just us here. Talking like the friends.  I hope, by now, we are. Please, continue.”

Jasper scratched at his hair, snatched a quick glance out of the window, and continued.

“Well, it went on like that for a few months. At first, I would only see it every few weeks or so, and when I did, something bad would always happen.”

“
What kind of things?”

“
You know this.”

Ronson didn’t reply. He simply waited. Good old ever patient Ronson. With a sigh, Jasper continued to talk.

“Nothing too serious at first. Just minor stuff. I broke my leg. The kitchen somehow got set on fire, stuff like that. No matter what happened, it was always there, watching me from the garden. And even when I couldn’t see it, I could hear it in my head. Talking to me, taunting me, threatening me.”

“
How did it feel?  The voices inside your head?”

“
It’s kind of hard to explain.” Jasper mumbled as he looked at the window, not a glance this time but a full on stare. He looked out into the gardens beyond, satisfied himself that all was normal, and then turned back to Ronson. “It’s like… you know when there’s a wasp in the house, and you can hear it buzzing, but it’s kinda quiet?”

“
I know exactly what you mean.” Ronson said.  “I grew up on a farm in Texas. It was a problem we had a lot.”

Jasper nodded. “That’s how it was. It was in there, just buzzing around in my head. It’s odd, because I didn’t even have to speak. I could just think of something and it would know about it and answer me. It was around that time when I started to see it more often. Almost every other day, and pretty much straight away, things escalated.”

“What happened?”

“
You know the answer to this… I don’t want to go over it again.”

“
Talking about it is good. In fact, it’s a vital part of the healing process.”

“
You promise me this isn’t a scam?” Jasper said, narrowing his eyes at Ronson.

“
It’s nothing of the sort. Please, go on.”

Don’t do it, you know what they said if you told anyone. You know what happened last time.

He was afraid, but he was also tired of the secrets. He wanted to start living his life, a chance to just be normal and do normal things. He wasn’t sure the words would come out at first, but they did, and he was surprised by how smoothly they rolled off his tongue.

“
I was sitting at the kitchen table, just looking out the window, and as always the crow was there. Standing on the grass, staring in at me, and as always, I could hear it in my head, buzzing and darting around and saying things. I… I threatened to tell people about it, and… it took flight and landed on the window ledge. It was standing on the other side of the glass, inches away and just… looking at me. And I don’t know if it was because it was so close, but I heard it as clear as you and I are talking now, telling me that if I told anyone about it, they would make me pay.”