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the lurker
The wind continued to carelessly blow the barren branches of the only tree within view; its outstretched limbs scratched up against the window, as if eerily begging for help. The gust was a relentless foe in the barrage of its victim. She knew all about victimization. She knew what it felt like to be both the tormentor and the victim. What she still didn’t know was which she preferred.
The cold dampness of the room penetrated the thick jacket around her. It was supposed to snow; that thought brought a slight smile to her lips. Ever since she was a small child, she loved to watch the snow fall. There was something magical in its ability to gracefully descend from the heavens, dancing as it progressed, to finally land ever so gently upon the ground.
She stared out into the approaching darkness; the tree was still moving at the will of the wind, and she knew that soon, the snow would fall downward at the pleasure of gravity.
Everything is ruled by something.
The entire course of her life had been determined by others. Although she had been led to believe that she had some control over her own destiny, the truth was that even her own life had never really been about her. Starting from the day of her birth, she had been relegated to supporting status. Jarod had always been the principal artist, the star; and she would never be anything more than a hand puppet, whose strings were pulled by Raines and her father.
The strange thing in all of it was that she didn’t resent Jarod; on the contrary, she admired him. He had chosen to break free from the life he had been commanded to live, and risked everything to make his own choices, and become his own person. Truth be told, she had never had the guts to leave. Her life had denigrated into a mere existence, no more, no less. She was no longer capable of feeling anything; she was just there, inhabiting the hallways, her room, her body, her mind.
All the toughness and bravada she had worn all those years, were merely a façade that she had been taught to display. The man she had grown up knowing as ‘daddy’, had molded her into his own image, making her capable of the unspeakable. She had committed sins so mortal, she could no longer stand to look upon her own hollow reflection in a mirror. The ghosts of her past haunted her during her every waking hour, and they had begun to follow her into her dreams.
There was no escape, except into her own thoughts.
The movement on the ground below the window caught her eye. Snow had begun to fall, and the lone figure making his way up the stone path was unmistakable. He was bundled under a heavy coat and fedora, his hands buried deeply in his pockets. She knew he would come; he always did.
Parker felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and she pushed them down. There could be no emotion, no tinges of things past; there could only be the blankness which stretched on into infinity. Safety resided in only one place; inside herself. She couldn’t trust them; she couldn’t trust him. He had lied to her over the years, just as Raines and her father had done.
He was the enemy, she musn’t forget that....
She heard the voices outside her door, then the sound of the door opening. She chose not to move, not to blink, nor to acknowledge the intrusion in any way. She sat unmoving, staring out at the large elm tree, whose wooden trunk was so strong, it would bend with the wind, but not be broken by it. She would visualize the strength of the tree and emulate it.....
"Has there been any change?"
"It’s the same as always, she sits in that chair, and stares out the window."
Sydney sighed heavily, and fingered the straight jacket around the young woman, "Is this really necessary? She suffered a nervous breakdown, she’s not violent."
The intern shrugged, "Dr. Harding’s instructions per visitations. If you want it removed you’ll have to see him about it."
"Very well....."
The intern nodded at Sydney and exited the room, closing the door behind him. Sydney knelt in front of the chair, and smiled gently at his charge.
"Miss Parker? Aren’t you going to say hello to me? Hmmm?" He waited a few moments, but she continued to stare right through him, as if he didn’t exist. "Broots asked about you today. He wanted to drive up with me, but he had to attend Debbie’s dance recital." Sydney pulled a chair from the table, and placing it next to Parker’s, he sat down, "She’s growing into a beautiful young woman. She reminds me a lot of you at that age--" His throat closed up and he swallowed hard to clear it. His timbre grew rough as he continued, "She loves the dance lessons, you know....she says it’s the best gift she’s ever received."
He stared into her eyes for a moment, looking for any sign of recognition, but there was none; the dark grey orbs were empty and lifeless. He felt a pang in his chest, and he looked down briefly, trying to steady his wavering emotions.
He forced a small smile, and gently ran his fingers through her tangled hair, "Why don’t I brush out your hair? Would you like that, Miss Parker?"
There was not a flicker of movement from her, nor so much as a blink. Without further comment, Sydney stood, reached for the brush on the table, and began stroking it through her hair. After awhile, all the knots were out of the dark strands, and she at least resembled the woman he once knew. He returned the brush to the table and sat back down next to her.
"It’s a little chilly in here. Are you cold?" There was no response, and his voice continued, softer, "Maybe next time I can bring one of your sweaters from home. I think I remember which is your favourite.....the navy cashmere. Isn’t that right?"
The psychiatrist looked into Parker’s eyes again, hoping to find any flicker of light in them, but they remained dark and flat.
"Oh Miss Parker, I wish I knew what to say to bring you back. Debbie misses you terribly, and Broots....well, he hasn’t been the same since you’ve ...been gone." There was a long silence, then he continued, "Jarod calls and asks about you, you know. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he shows up here one day, pretending to be a long, lost relative...."
His eyes flicked up to hers, checking to see if the mention of Jarod provoked a reaction, but he was once again disappointed. Every day since she had been committed, he had visited her, and every day he prayed that he could help her out of wherever it was she had gone. And every day, he had failed.
He let out a slow breath of air, and placed a light hand on her knee, "I.....have to go. I’ll be back tomorrow, Miss Parker. Maybe you’ll feel up to talking to me then."
He stood, returned the chair he had been sitting in to its place near the table, then bent down and placed a warm kiss on her head, "I miss you, Parker."
Sydney left the room quickly, before the tears he felt forming in his eyes could fall.....
Parker felt the warmth of his lips on her forehead and the air of his body quickly moving past her, then there had been the sound of the door closing. She knew that his emotions had overwhelmed him; she could hear it in the tension of his voice, and sensed it in the touch of his hand. She could feel her own despair building deep down, in the pit of her stomach. Sydney had been the only one to show her any tenderness or affection after her mother died; but none of it had been real. She slowly closed her eyes; she didn’t want to feel it, she didn’t want to feel anything, least of all, his sorrow. He didn’t deserve her loyalty, nor even her pity.
Like the elm, she was alone.
Parker glanced out the window, to look again at the barren tree being blown by the wind; but it was no longer the same tree it had been: Its large trunk had buckled under the weight of the gust, split, and had fallen to the icy ground, its wooden strength unable to support it against the storm. The once magnificent elm was now consigned to oblivion as a worthless log; no more useful than the sum of its parts for kindling. She felt a tear spill down her cheek as she blinked away the sting in her eyes.
Tormentor or victim: At least now she knew which she preferred.
The end
