Nine Years Later

I looked up at Mrs Clarke with apathy. She was droning on about the importance of maths in our everyday lives, something I was yet to discover. The class was hardly listening, with the sound of chatter filling the room. Mrs Clarke halted her speech and eyed everyone with annoyance before turning around to face the whiteboard again. I looked around to see Stephanie stifling giggles, just seats away from me. Jeremy was standing at the back of the room with his bag hanging from the window sill he was leaning on. My eyes widened as I watched him stretch his leg out of the window and slowly swing his other leg over as well. The class was watching captivated, as he dropped his bag onto the ground outside before ducking his head out of the window.

It was at that moment that Mrs Clarke turned around. “Jeremy Davis!” She shrieked, “What on Earth are you doing?! Get away from that window right now or I’ll call your parents!” Jeremy looked up, and in a fluster fell backwards, hitting his head on the window and landing on a vacant table. The whole class erupted with laughter; students’ faces going red. Stephanie was nearly beside herself and was clutching the desk with one hand, the other trying to suffocate her hysterical laughter.

Mrs Clarke was glancing from the uproar of laughter to Jeremy’s sprawled out body on the desk. She shrugged involuntarily and ran to lift Jeremy up. I could just hear him whimpering about his bag as he was carried out of the room. With the teacher gone, the whole class seemed to relax, despite the commotion she had left behind. Finally the laughter subsided and everyone was talking freely.

Stephanie was talking to me about the quickly approaching formal and I was nodding, only half listening. She stopped abruptly, looking at me with speculation. I looked up at the rest of the class – everyone seemed to have stopped speaking. Glancing back at Stephanie I noticed her features becoming hazy. I narrowed my eyes and looked around again, but for some reason the rest of the desks and students seemed to be moving. I tried looking harder, but Stephanie looked further away than before. In fact, the whole room seemed to be spinning, with the floor drawing rapidly closer.

In the back of my mind I heard Stephanie’s shrill scream. That’s odd, I thought, Stephanie seemed alright. I tried to lift my head off the floor but the darkness took over.


I was in a dark room and there was a strange man in a uniform beside me. He looked like a custodian of sorts, although none I had ever seen before. He bore something in his right hand; it looked metallic as it gleamed in the torchlight. I quickly realised he wasn’t alone. There was something or someone down on the floor beside him. It was a boy with shaggy hair, the colour of which undeterminable in the dim light. He was on his knees, crouching in obvious pain. His head was held high and his hands were covered in something that looked like syrup. Blood, I realised. I let out at small scream before smothering my mouth with my hands. I was trembling violently, but neither the boy nor the man seemed to notice me at all.

The man raised his hand, and beat the boy sadistically until the boy was no longer able to support himself. His body crumpled to the ground in a broken sort of way. His head was facing towards me. I was choking on tears. He looked at me pleadingly before drifting off, his eyes glazing over; all recognition gone.

“Clara?” A soft voice murmured. I let out a squeal of fright but once again the man didn’t notice. I shook my head uneasily, tears burning my face. “Come on, Clara.” Confusion overwhelmed me but my focus didn’t waver from the uniformed man as he placed his fingers on the boy’s neck. After checking his pulse, he seized his feet and dragged him out of the room, a trail of shining blood left behind. I backed away slowly, jumping when my back hit a cold, cement wall. I felt like I was being shaken, and the room seemed to be getting brighter, if not bigger.

“Clara, are you okay?” A frantic voice asked. “You can open your eyes; it’s okay.” My eyes fluttered open in surprise. I was surrounded by a group of people; staff faculty and students. Stephanie was gripping my hand tightly whilst Mrs Clarke leant over me looking worried. I tried to hear the hushed conversation that was occurring all over the classroom, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything in particular, no matter how hard I tried.

“Welcome back, Clara.” Mr Donnelley – the school principal – said. I wondered what he was doing there, but my curiosity waned as strangers began lifting me onto a stretcher. Stephanie let go of my hand as I watched the classroom leave my sight behind the big, wooden door.

“Oh Clara, we were so worried. What on Earth happened?” My mum was there, looking abnormally lucid in the school lights.

“It’s okay mum, I just passed out. Nothing to worry about.” I replied feebly, biting back hysteria. I felt that I should be telling someone what I saw, but I knew what they would think.

“Nothing to worry about?” My mother echoed, “You collapsed in the middle of class for no apparent reason. There is definitely reason to worry.” Her eyes were wild with concern and I felt strangely comforted by her, something that was a rare occurrence. “Look, I’ve booked you in to see a doctor. I’m sure everything will get sorted. Yes, I’m sure of it.” Her stern voice seemed to be reassuring herself rather than me, but still I felt oddly at ease with her.

I finally put my finger on what was different about her. She seemed sober. I looked at her quizzically before speaking again. “What happened to you?” She looked stunned but didn’t answer. I narrowed my eyes before completely ignoring her. She may have been more attentive than usual but that didn’t mean she was any more responsive.

We were sitting outside the principal’s office when the door finally opened. My mother jumped and her diamond necklace jangled softly. I stood up and entered the room, noticing that it was far from empty, with a crowd of hostile-looking adults standing to one corner.

“Take a seat, Clara.” Mr Donnelley said. I nodded and sat down in the enormous red chair in front of his desk. I looked around the room as my mother seated herself, noticing all the people staring at me.

I gasped loudly. “It’s you!” I staggered to my feet. It was the man in the uniform, in this light I could see his black hair and dark features more clearly, but he was still as identifiable as ever. I was pointing up at him, and the rest of the people were watching me in astonishment. My eyes widened as I realised what I was doing. I looked down at the floor, “Sorry, I thought you were someone else. My mistake.” My mother was looking at me horrified. She looked up towards the other side of the room.

“Who were you talking to?” She asked angrily. I could see My Donnelley writing down notes on a piece of lined paper. “Never mind, I’m sure it was just a side effect from your blackout.” She turned back to Mr Donnelley, smiling coldly. I sat back down and looked up at Mr Donnelley; he was looking through a stack of paper, seemingly unfazed by my outburst.

“Now Mrs Beckford, I understand Clara saw a psychiatrist as a child, what was that for exactly?” He asked gently. I felt my face redden as he revealed my most shameful secret. I looked down at my feet and tried to block out my mother’s voice.

“She, uh, had imaginary friends.” My mum answered shortly, seeming to not want to disclose this information.

“Imaginary friends? But surely that isn’t that bad.”

“She had them until she was thirteen years old, and they weren’t normal imaginary friends.” My mother replied curtly. I wanted to usher the strangers out of the room, but no one else seemed to think it strange that all these people were hearing about my confidential psychiatric history.

“Well that is a long time, how were they abnormal?” Mr Donnelley pressed.

“They weren’t nice. Her imaginings terrified her; she would come home with bruises on her arms and say that it was her imaginary friends. That they hurt her, that they made her do things.” I cringed at the shocking reminder of my past. I could feel tears welling up but fought them angrily. I wasn’t normal. I never had been.

“Ah, I see. And why wasn’t this mentioned when she came to this school?”

“When she arrived here it wasn’t an issue. She hadn’t seen anything for over a year and she was back to normal. She doesn’t have a mental health problem, sir. So why would we have told you confidential information when she doesn’t need any help?” My mother’s voice was fierce with protection. It was odd.

“Ahem. Well if that is all, you are both free to leave.” Mr Donnelley replied briskly.

I left the office quickly with my mum close behind. We walked for almost five minutes, almost reaching the car before either of us said anything.

“Clara,” My mum began. “Are you –?”

“Mum, I’m fine. Please. I’m fifteen, not seven, you don’t need to treat me like you actually care when I know you don’t.” I interrupted angrily. She cringed at the venom in my voice but didn’t respond. I opened the car door and sat inside, feeling the cool leather seats against my back.

By the time we reached home I was far from recovered. I ran to my bedroom on the third floor and held my old teddy bear close to my chest. I hadn’t touched it in over six years, but it brought back a feeling of comfort.

“Miss Clara?” A familiar Polish voice called, “Your mother said you were in your room. I thought you might like some soup.” She laid a tray on my bedside table.

“Madga?” I asked, “Do you think I’m crazy?”

The maid looked at me curiously. “Crazy? Oh no, you far too smart and beautiful to be crazy.” She looked at me adoringly. I smiled despite myself and returned to my bitter loneliness. The short, frumpy woman trotted off back to the kitchen. I hugged my teddy bear affectionately before falling asleep.

I dreamt of the boy from the cement room, but he was alive and happy. He spoke to me and told me his name. I told him everything; about my best friend, Stephanie, and school and my mum, who was always either drunk or too heavily medicated to function properly. He listened with interest and always asked questions. I answered eagerly, wanting him to know more. I told him about our maid, Madga, and how she taught me to read when I was a three. A strange sense of nostalgia hit me and I felt overwhelmed with emotion. But it all went too quickly. One moment we were sitting in the dark room and the next he was waving goodbye and I was facing my brightly lit bedroom, still picturing his round, happy face in my mind.

“Good morning, Miss Clara.” Madga greeted cheerfully. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the sun as Madga pulled the curtains open. “Your breakfast is there, now excuse me, I have to see your mother.” That alerted me. My mother usually slept until mid afternoon.

“What’s wrong with my mum?” I asked.

“She want me to make sure you don’t miss ride to school, and her breakfast will get cold, so I go now.”

“Hold on. What do you mean ride? I usually walk to school.”

“Mrs Beckford has asked her driver to escort you to school today.” Madga walked out of the room and I was by myself again. I tried to call back my dream but it was hopeless. I pushed the gold covers off me and crawled my way out of my king-sized bed. I made my way to my full length mirror and studied my reflection.

My hair was still unbelievably red, my skin still looked porcelain, my eyes were still a startling green and my height was still perfectly average. Humph, I thought with annoyance. If only I could look like all the other girls, with their tanned skin, beach-blonde hair and blue eyes. My hair made me look like a rebel; like I dyed it some random colour just to defy uniform policy, and my eyes looked like I was wearing coloured contacts; something that would be thought pretentious if I actually did. No, I didn’t need money to make me look enhanced, it came naturally. And I’d hated it all my life.

Everyone always commented on how much I looked like my dad. But I’d never even met my father; he died before I was born and I still didn’t understand how everyone knew who he was and what he looked like. But that was what I was told; that I got my looks from him, my average height from my mother, and my hair from some mysterious gene.

After brushing my teeth and my hair, I picked out my most inexpensive looking clothing and made my way downstairs. It was bad enough that my friends knew I was rich, but I didn’t like to plainly show it.

The chauffer greeted me by the time I was outside and I felt indulgent as I entered the backseat of the sleek limousine. “Excuse me?” I called from the back of the vehicle. “Why do I need a limo when I’m going to my ordinary public school that’s just around the corner?” The driver looked up at me through the mirror and smiled.

“I believe Mrs Beckford wanted you to show up with class today. And I do remember hearing her speaking with a certain principal about how you are worth more than just some head case. Well, her words not mine.” He looked up at me nervously, as if he was afraid I’d get him in trouble.

“So she wants to show up the principal? Wow, now I can see where I get my classiness from.” I muttered sarcastically.

We reached the front gates within minutes and as I made my way out of the car, students’ murmurs and surprised looks greeted me. Well, it’s better than them pointing and laughing at you because you passed out and hallucinated, I thought wryly. As I found myself at my locker, I was unsurprised that the impact of the limo had worn off and people were finding great amusement in me. I didn’t look up at people as I passed and attempted to ignore them, finding this a greater challenge than I would have thought possible. It took all me strength to simply not go red.

“Hey Clara,” Stephanie greeted me. We were just entering science class and I was fumbling with my books. “So, uh, how are you?”

“I’m fine. A bit overwhelmed though. Did you see the limo my mum made me come to school in?” I asked; making sure the subject had nothing to do with yesterday’s incident. Steph nodded solemnly and faced the front, completely blocking me from any conversation I might want to start. Fine then, I thought, it doesn’t matter anyway.

“Clara?” A raspy voice whispered. I jumped in surprise and looked up, but no one seemed to have spoken. I turned around but no one was even looking at me. “Don’t you remember me? We used to be great friends.” It continued dryly. I looked around once more, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I tried to block it out, concentrating hard on Mr Taguchi as he explained something about subatomic particles. “You can’t ignore me, Clara. I’m not going away this time.”

I raised my hand. “Yes, Clara?” Mr Taguchi answered kindly.

“I’m not feeling well, I was wondering if I could visit the nurse.” I was sure the sickly pallor of my skin was evidence enough. He nodded warmly and I rose from my seat, exiting the room quickly.

As soon as I was out of sight I sat down on the cold pathway on the ground. Go away. I thought angrily. I heard the voice in my head laugh; it seemed to fill all the empty silence of the cool air. I inhaled deeply before closing my eyes, as if to meditate. I know you’re not real. Please, just leave.

“If I’m so imaginary then why do you need to ask?” It mused. I stood up, making my way to sickbay.

“Are you okay, dear?” The nurse asked when I walked in the door. I shook my head briefly before collapsing onto a bed.

The boy in the room was the most enthusiastic I’d ever seen him. He grinned exuberantly when he saw me and I felt myself grinning widely in return. “Alex, why are you always here in this room?” I asked abruptly, interrupting him midsentence as he was explaining the fine art of making homemade fishing rods. He stared at me confused and glanced around. Now that I looked closer, it was clearly not the same room that I first saw. There was still no light, but the walls weren’t cement. It had dark red carpet and walls painted a pale crimson. I looked back at him but he didn’t speak. I instantly regretted saying anything and wanted him to talk to me.

“Clara?” He articulated carefully. “Why did you come here?” I felt my eyes widen as I watched him stand up over me. “You are not supposed to be here.” He didn’t sound angry exactly. That would be an understatement. His voice was soft, yet full of rage and emotion. I leaned back in fear.

“Alex? What’s going on? I thought you were my friend.” I whispered, almost inaudibly. He nodded his head, but didn’t retreat. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me up.

“You have to go. They’re coming.” He pushed me into what I thought was the wall, but a door opened easily with practically no effort. I fell forward, right into the nurse’s hands.

I opened my eyes, instantly aware that I had blacked out. The nurse was watching me with wide eyes as she leaned over me, supporting my back as she tried to revive me. I sat up properly. I was still in the nurse’s office and Madga was sitting in the seat next to the bed. She looked at me and I looked at her. I could feel the maternal emotion and want for protection in her gaze and I wanted nothing more than to tell her that I didn’t need protection. If only that were true.

“What happened?” The nurse asked patiently. I turned to face her, realising that she had been speaking to me for over a minute. I shrugged lamely, hoping she’d let me off. “Look, I know that you’re going through a hard time at the moment –”

“You do?” I interrupted.

“Well it’s understandable that you’re feeling upset about your mother’s lack of… involvement in your life, but I assure you, it’s going to be okay.” She looked at me warmly, but I shook my head.

“I don’t care about my mother. She hasn’t taken any interest in me since I was born so it isn’t something exactly new. Besides, I mean, it used to bother me sometimes, but I’m over it. Completely.” I shrugged her hands off my shoulders and went and sat by Madga. She looked at the nurse reproachfully before returning her worried gaze to me.

“Clara. I told you that you couldn’t ignore me. You need to be more trusting in me. I wouldn’t lie to you.” I jumped again. No one seemed to notice anything.

“Please, can I just go? I think I’ll be alright now.” I asked hopefully.

“I suppose that will be fine. Your mother has already scheduled for you to see someone, so I guess you would be leaving anyway.” She answered kindly.

“I meant back to class.” I said dully. She shook her head slowly, and I heard myself sigh in disappointment. “Okay then. Madga, will we be leaving then?” I jumped up, feigning enthusiasm. She smiled and led the way out of the room. When we got outside I turned on her.

“Who am I seeing? What’s going on?” I asked. Madga looked at me sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Miss Clara.” She opened her arms for an embrace but I ducked away and ran.

I ran and I ran and I ran. I was moving my legs as fast as they would go whilst my arms were swinging wildly. I was out of the school grounds within thirty seconds. The wind was strong and chilling on my face. My red hair billowed out behind me and I was sure I stood out like a beacon to any passer-bys but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be free.

I ran for kilometres, pushing my aching limbs to the limit as they told me that I had to stop. But I refused to give in. I wasn’t going to succumb to the aches of my body or the voices in my head or the will of my mother. My feet hit the ground hard and my breathing was shallow. I had already slowed to a jog but it was becoming too much. I stopped on the sidewalk and exhaled heavily.

Surrounding me was neat gardens and nice-looking houses. It was clear I was nowhere near my neighbourhood, where the oversized houses and manors overran anything that might actually resemble beauty. All the people my mother associated with cared less for gardens and flowers than money and reputation. I realised with sadness how much I’d actually missed out on. Despite the luxuries my friends thought I possessed, I’d never been happy with my life. I’d never had a mother who cared or a father at all. Madga was the closest thing to a parent I had, and she was hired help. I feared the day that my mother’s drinking or her controlling antics would be too much and Madga would leave forever. I relish in the thought that that will never come.

I was brought back to reality as I realised that I’d started running again. My legs felt like they were going to combust whilst my chest was working far beyond anything I’d ever witnessed. I was surprised that Madga hadn’t followed me in my mother’s car as I ran and tried to take me home. I felt almost disappointed that she didn’t – not because I would have actually let her drive me but because it would let me know she cared. Whatever, I thought to myself, she doesn’t need confirmation that she cares; she’s looked after me my whole life.

As if on cue, a familiar black sedan pulled up. I walked forward, ready to yell, apologise, or accuse – whichever came first. The tinted window rolled down slowly. I let out a little scream as the face and the voice that emerged wasn’t Madga at all.

“Pleased to see me, Clara? Oh, don’t look at me like that, it’s been so long.” His hoarse voice murmured teasingly. I shrieked and I shrieked until my voice ran hoarse.

“You’re not real. I know you’re not. Please, leave me alone.” I pleaded loudly through screams. I stepped back, flexing my legs, ready to run. But I never had the chance.

“Are you okay? What is it, dear?” A soft voice called from behind me. I turned quickly to find a middle-aged lady running from inside her house. I didn’t answer but she could see from my wild eyes and the shakiness of my body that I wasn’t.

“What happened?” She repeated. I looked back at the sedan and the small, pointed faced man. She followed my gaze but her eyes showed no detection of anything. I shook my head slowly, and tried to take a step. My leg was shaking so badly that it completely gave way, leaving me on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. The man was grinning madly at me and I felt small and insignificant. The lady reached down to me and tried to lift me up. “Can I call someone for you?” She asked kindly. I nodded and tried to sit up, wiping the tears from my face.

She ran back inside before re-emerging with a cordless house phone. “Thank you,” I whispered. I dialled my house number slowly, pressing each button with force. I held it up to my ear; it just kept ringing and ringing. There was no answer. I dialled again, this time more quickly. No answer again. I tried ringing my mother’s mobile –Madga didn’t have one.

“Hello?” Her voice was clearly worried and shaking horribly.

“Mum, it’s me, Clara.” I said weakly.

“Where are you? I want you to come home this instant. Madga told me what happened, you need to learn some respect. Now, where are you?” She asked harshly.

“Mum, where’s Madga?” I asked, ignoring her question.

“She’s here with me. She was going to go after you but I forbade her. You need to learn a lesson.”

“Please, I’m lost. I don’t know where I am.” I pleaded.

“Well you should have thought of that before you ran off. I don’t see why Madga should always come after you when you show nothing but insolence towards me. I should leave you there.” I waited, but she didn’t say anything else.

“Please?” There was long pause. I wondered if she could hear me. “Hello?”

“Madga will pick you up. And don’t move from where you are. She’ll find you.”

Beep. She hung up. I handed the phone back to the kind stranger. “Thanks,” she murmured before helping me to my feet. I looked around again, and to my relief the man in the black sedan was no longer there.

“My name is Brenda. Would you like something to drink or something to eat?” She asked sweetly. I thought about all those times I’d been told don’t take anything from strangers or stranger danger. I shook my head.

“No, thank you. I have to wait for my mum.” She looked at me understandably.

“From what it sounded like, she doesn’t know where to look.” Brenda began, “would you like to know exactly where you are?”