Destined to Feel (15 page)

Louis and Frederic enter the room and stand either side of me. I sigh before initialling the changes and signing my life away, knowing that the validity of such a contract under these circumstances is questionable at best. At least Xsade have given me the courtesy of a discussion and the commitment that by the end of the week, I will be out of here. But heaven knows what is ahead of me in the next three days.

‘Well done, Dr Blake, I hope you have no regrets. We shall look after you.’ I’ve heard that before, too. She shakes my hand as if we are concluding a momentous deal, which I suppose we are in a way; my hand feels weak in her firm grasp. ‘Louis will show you back to your room, and the good doctor shall be with you shortly to make arrangements for your travel.’ I stand and follow Louis to the door. ‘And one more thing, Dr Blake’ — I turn to face her — ‘I’m sure you will enjoy yourself rather more than you are expecting, if you just give yourself permission to do so.’ She smiles broadly and turns away. Jeez, just how much do they know about me? At that, Louis closes the door to the office and I’m returned to my room.

My bag is packed and the room is made up as if I have never been here. My gut twists in my stomach as I stare aimlessly out the window again, worrying at my bracelet, my one contact with Jeremy who I’m still not sure is my friend or my foe in relation to all this experimentation. I’d give anything to talk to him now and sort all of this mess out once and for all. I just don’t know what’s ahead of me or whether I’m doing the right thing. I continue to look out the window silently calling out, Jeremy, what have you done to me? Where are you?

Drug companies, who needs them? I suppose we all do in this day and age, but at what cost?

I can’t help but think that it’s all Jeremy’s fault that I’m even here, but also can’t deny that deep in my heart, I still want to love him and know that he loves me. Even when I’m dealing with this.

If only he could make the heartache go away. The back and forth of my thoughts makes me feel confused and numb. Once again, I’m placed in the irrevocable position where I have no choice but to go with the flow.

‘Ready when you are, Dr Blake.’

Jeez, will I ever be ready for this? There is no need for me to pick up any bags given the service provided by everyone around me, so I obediently follow Louis and Fred down the spiralled staircase. I absently wonder whether I will ever return to this chateau but I doubt that I will. I enter into a small room off to the side of the enormous arched entrance doorway, where the good doctor (or perhaps the bad doctor, who knows?)…is patiently awaiting my arrival. My palms instantly moisten as he greets me and I see an injection and some additional vials waiting on a white linen cloth on the desk.

‘Dr Blake, how are you today?’

‘I’ve been better.’

‘Are you nervous?’ Dr Josef’s voice is gentle.

‘What do you think?’ I glance over my shoulder as the door is closed and we are now alone in the room.

‘I will not let anything bad happen to you, I can assure you. Please have a seat.’

‘How do I know that? I have no idea who you are or what you will do.’ Oh god, I don’t think I can do this; I feel like I could faint, this is all too much. I slump into the chair he offers.

‘I think I’m going to be sick.’ I anxiously look around the room for a bin. He calmly passes me a sick bag from the desk drawer and I hold it close to my mouth. The wave of nausea passes.

‘What exactly is going to happen now?

‘I am going to give you an injection and then we shall make our way to the hospital. I’m assuming Madame Jurilique has informed you of these details?’ He raises his eyebrows and stares intensely into my eyes. He is very distracting. It still feels strange that my captors answer my questions rather than keeping me in the dark. It makes for a pleasant change, I think.

‘And what will it do, this injection?’

‘It will relax your muscles until you are quite still. The entire process should take less than half an hour. When we arrive at the hospital I will give you another injection and you will then be taken to our clinic. They should be quite painless.’ He pauses. ‘Are you ready?’

Oh shit. Fuck, fuck and shit. I feel like I could internally combust I’m so nervous. Everything sounds so professional and consensual, yet I’m drowning in fear and he is calmly waiting for me.

‘I can assure you that although the sensation is slightly unusual at first, it will be far more comfortable than your arrival at the chateau.’ I can’t help but stand up and walk over to the door.

I turn the handle and open it until I can see Fred and Louis standing guard. I quickly close it and return to the seat. It’s hard to sit still and I continue to fidget. I suddenly find some bravado within me.

‘Alright, I don’t know who you are but it’s obvious to me that I have no choice but to trust you and hope that you mean it when you say nothing bad will happen to me. And remember, as you’re aware, I have signed a contract with Xsade outlining my terms and conditions.’

‘It would be sensible for you to remember that as well, Dr Blake.’ Well, touché! ‘You appear to be a little restless. Would you prefer to lie down, perhaps?’ His voice actually sounds kind and concerned, if you can believe that.

‘Yes, I think so.’ My jittering body stands up. Oh god, I can’t help but think it might be easier if they were nasty and brutal. This eternal politeness is just freaking me out. He indicates the firm bench behind us. I nod and quickly move over to it to lessen the frenetic energy of my nerves. He calmly picks up my left hand and gives it a thorough wipe with an alcoholic swab and carefully inspects my veins. He places a tourniquet just below my elbow and within seconds my veins disclose their whereabouts. My breathing is erratic given the proximity of the injection on standby to pierce into my skin, and the unknown of the next few days. He calmly ignores my rising panic and continues to silently go about his business, fiddling with the vials from the desk before positioning my hand firmly in his.

I can’t help one last plea. ‘You know I don’t want to do this, any of this.’

‘I’m aware of that, Dr Blake, but money always has an interesting way of procuring the appropriate outcomes.’ The cannula seamlessly slides into my vein and he holds my hand in a tight grip while injecting the contents slowly into my system.

‘Money?’ I screech. ‘You think this about money?’ At least he seems to be good at his job, but jeez I hate injections, and I’m not brave enough to try and snatch back my hand. I have to look away from the proceedings but thankfully it doesn’t hurt.

‘At the end of the day, most things are, I’m afraid.’ Oh god, how bad does this look? Here I am thinking I could give the money to charity, that I was doing the right thing taking it from a company flush with funds. Now it looks like I’ve agreed to go through this because of the money I am being paid.

‘Well, I’m not, I’d never do this for the money. It makes me feel sick to the core that you think that. I’m doing it for my safety, to be released from here unharmed. Then I can return to my children, so they don’t end up without a mother.’ He ignores my emotional outburst as he calmly picks up another vial from the tray and injects it again through the cannula. Why am I justifying myself to this man? Once he has finished, he realises the tourniquet.

‘Very noble, Dr Blake. It’s important you lie still while this moves through your system to avoid any unwanted side effects.’ As I lie as still as possible, I can’t believe that that is exactly what people will think. By signing that bloody contract it almost endorses the fact that my decision was about the money. And I thought I was being smug about the contract not being able to stand up legally. Now that they have offered me money and I have accepted it, it has all the components of a legally binding contract. Offer, acceptance and consideration. But duress, that has to account for something doesn’t it! Holy shit, what have I done!

I can feel whatever was injected taking over my body. My muscles feel relaxed and there is a comfortable warmth spreading through my limbs. The doctor steadily sits on a chair beside me checking my pulse.

‘Can you wiggle your fingers for me?’

I attempt to wiggle them but nothing happens.

‘Good, this is working well. Please remain calm.’

Shit, how can my body be anything but calm if I can’t move anything?

I can’t help but try to wiggle my toes. A weird spasm escapes them and then nothing. My legs are dead weights. I can still feel the doctor’s fingers on my inner wrist but I can’t move my arm away from him. I’m conscious but completely paralysed. Oh dear, this is not good at all.

‘I know this is a strange sensation, Dr Blake, but you will be more comfortable if you relax into it rather than fight it.’ I try to remember the last time I wasn’t fighting internally over one thing or another, it seems to be an embedded habit recently.

I try to say yes, but my mouth can’t form the words. This absolutely freaks me out and although I’m now utterly stressed and panicking internally, I’m lying perfectly still and content externally.

‘Use your eyes to communicate. You are doing very well, just remember to stay calm and you will be fine. Just let the drugs do what they need to do.’ I desperately try to say no with my eyes but the doctor is now letting two men in white clothes, carrying a stretcher, into the room. I can’t move an inch, completely immobile. I can only see what comes into my line of sight or my peripheral vision. This is a really weird, dissociated feeling.

They adjust their stretcher to the height of the bed and on the count of three, easily heave my body from one to the other. A white sheet is placed over me and three straps are secured over my body. The doctor smooths hair away from my face, and I mentally flinch at the softness of his touch before I am wheeled out the door of the room and beyond the great entrance of the chateau.

I roll beneath its majestic archway looking straight up before being taken outside and carefully loaded into an ambulance. The doctor follows me in, sits on the bench beside me and once again monitors my pulse. He notices the bracelet on my hand. ‘This is an exquisite piece of jewellery, Dr Blake. I hadn’t noticed it before. It is a shame you are unable to tell me where it is from. I’m afraid it will not be allowed where we are going, however. I will ensure it is returned to you at the end of your time with us.’ I try to scream in desperation, but there is only the silent movement in my eyes. A moment later, I can feel we are moving with flashes of lights reflecting through the windows. This is really too much for me to bear.

I hear sirens swirling around me as we rush towards the hospital and then heaven knows where after that. Which reminds me, I still don’t even know what country I’m in. I’m not sure which is the stranger feeling, being strapped into a wheelchair hidden beneath a burqa but being able to struggle and tense my muscles, or feeling rather frustratingly yet serenely relaxed, gliding along in a stretcher as if my brain is incapable of sending an effective message to the rest of my body. As these thoughts float through my mind, I’m being whisked through the corridor of what seems to be a rather small village hospital. I try to scan the entire scenario, keen for any visual information as to what could happen next. Eventually I’m handed over, literally, to some nurses in a small room. The straps are removed as are my clothes and I’m efficiently dressed in a revolting, backless, hospital garment. I know that is the least of my worries but even so…

My limbs are thoroughly washed by the nurses and I’m redressed in another hospital robe.

Doctor Josef returns to the room and does his usual checks. This time I obviously can’t ask any questions. He checks my responses, which are non-existent. He looks pleased with how all of this is progressing. He looks at the clipboard he is holding and flicks through some pages. ‘I’m assuming you are still comfortable, Dr Blake?’

I move my eyes up and down. As comfortable as this situation allows I suppose, and very empty.

‘I’m going to set up a drip to ensure you have the nutrients you need for the next day or two, so you will not require food after your enema. That should ensure you feel re-energised and promote your overall wellbeing.’ God, he makes it sound like I’m in some health spa retreat, instead of lying in a coma with an overactive mind.

He goes about his business. Yet another injection; it’s not as if I can stop him. This time a cool sensation filters through my veins. They say you need to face your fears in life…hopefully, after this hospital experience I won’t have a problem ever again.

‘Once this bag has emptied, I will give you one last injection and that will be it for the rest of your time with us. You will continue to have no muscle control, as is the case now. However, you will feel extremely relaxed, eventually falling into a deep sleep and remain in this state for the next hour or so.’ His words alone are making me stressed, which he doesn’t seem to notice as he continues to impart information.

‘Soon you will be moved to another part of the hospital. During this journey you will not be able see as your face will be covered. Our aim is to complete this transition as quickly as possible. Obviously you will be unable to move, but it is still important that you remain calm during this time as we don’t want to put you in any unnecessary danger. Do you understand?’

God, if he tells me I need to remain calm one more time I think I’ll scream. If I could, that is.

I move my eyes again. Understand? Sure, stay calm to reduce danger, yeah right, got it!

‘You are doing very well, Dr Blake. We should have you back to your normal state in no time.’ Bloody hell, there is absolutely nothing normal about my state or my life any more! I feel the urgent need to visually disengage from this process for as long as possible. Maybe I have more to thank Jeremy for than I realised, I think sarcastically. I can’t believe I neglected to ask whether the probability of risk or danger in relation to any of these procedures would be high, medium or low. That may have prompted more of a detailed discussion with Madame Jurilique and I didn’t even go there…oh dear.