Authors: Iris Deorre
The Darkness Within
Published by Iris Deorre
Copyright August 2016 Iris Deorre
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and incidents are products of author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.
Freya opened the front door, slid off her shoes and headed straight for the kitchen. The cupboard beneath the sink was opened and out came a bottle of vodka. She headed for the upstairs bathroom and opened the mirror. The pill bottle was empty, Freya tossed it aside angrily. The booze she’d been drinking earlier on had fuelled the anger a little more than usual.
‘For fucks sake!’ She stumbled out of the bathroom and headed for the spare room. If she could remember correctly there was some cocaine hidden beneath the floor boards. She pulled the rug up revealing the floorboard that would need to be opened. Frey took a moment to gain composure. The room was spinning and the voices in her head had become unbearable. It was all too real, she needed to get away as fast as she could. Unable to deal with the terrors any longer, she pulled the middle board and found the little box. It was then that she smiled with relief. Soon the demons within her would be silenced.
She sat back, opened the box and pulled out the white powder. She showered it on the floor, got onto her hands and knees and lowered her head so she could sniff up the white powder. She waited, and waited, but the voices were still there. She unscrewed the cap to the vodka and took it neat. It was one gulp after another, but the more she did it the louder the voices became, not lower.
‘No, no, no! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!’ She rocked to and fro clutching her body as she did so. They would not leave her alone; they wouldn’t let her go. They never had and would forever haunt her.
Ferguson smiled as he spoke to the guests at his charity ball. Every year he would have a ball organised to help raise funds for children that had been placed in homes because of their parent’s substance abuse. Just as he was about to speak to someone else his assistant whispered in his ear. His facial features changed as he turned to the man he was about to talk to.
‘I’m sorry but I have to leave. An emergency. I will leave you in the capable hands of Gary. He’s just as great as I am.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ the man replied.
‘Does that mean we can count on your donation?’
‘Anything for you Ferguson. You’re doing good work.’
‘Thank you sir. Again, I apologise for leaving.’ He shook the man’s hand and proceeded to the waiting Jeep outside.
‘Where to sir?’ asked his driver.
‘To see my father.’ He hated that he had to always rush to the hospital at any time of the day, but that was the hand he’d been dealt.
Freya was pacing frantically with her hands against her head. The voices just wouldn’t shut up. They wouldn’t leave her alone. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?
‘Shut up! Shut up!’ She threw the bottle that was now half empty across the room breaking it to pieces. Again she paced ignoring the broken glass and at one point stood on the sharp glass. The blood began to ooze from her foot, but the mental pain was far more painful than the physical pain. Freya couldn’t handle it! She dashed downstairs and headed for the door. Out into the dark she ran! Onto the street, down the road and finally stopped at a railway bridge. Without giving much thought she began to climb up onto the wall of the bridge that would send her plunging to her death. All she had to do was wait for a passing train, drop in good time and that would be the end of all the voices!
‘What the hell! Stop the car!’ Ferguson had seen the woman go up onto the bridge. The driver stopped the car and Ferguson got out without waiting for his driver to open the door. ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ he asked walking up to her slowly.
‘Waiting to die.’ She held onto her head.
‘Why would you want to do that?’ He noticed blood coming from her foot. What had been so bad that this woman wanted to kill herself. He could only imagine.
‘What do you care?’ She gasped.
‘You’re right, what do I care, but I think you’ve got so much ahead of you. You just don’t know it yet.’
‘Yeah? How would you know?’ She moved so that she was on the edge, swinging her legs.
‘Because a long time ago I felt the exact same way. I wanted to die. I tried to cut my wrists, end it all. Have a look at my wrists.’ He moved closer.
She stopped a moment and looked at him, the voices were a little distant, but still there.
‘Look.’ He pulled up the suit jacket and the sleeves to the shirt.
She looked at the man who was now standing so close to her. There was a whiff of cologne that soothed her somewhat. It wasn’t that cheap smell that had once haunted her, that had caused the voices to stir up again and cause this drama.
‘Did you hear voices like me?’ she asked.
‘Do you hear voices?’
She nodded. ‘I can’t stop them. They’ve been away, but today they came back.’
‘Why don’t you come down and we talk about it?’
‘No. I don’t want to talk! I’ve been talking half my life.’ She clung onto her head and began to make a painful howling sound.
‘Okay we won’t talk, but I can’t let you jump.’
‘You can’t stop me,’ she said stopping for a while.
‘I can. I’m a lot stronger, plus I have him.’ He pointed at his driver. ‘If I have to we’ll both pull you down.’
‘No! I won’t let you.’
‘I only want to help,’ he said in a calm voice. ‘What’s your name?’
For a moment she held onto her head and began to move again. Ferguson was worried she’d fall off the ledge and get hurt.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked again in a soft voice.
‘Freya,’ she said without turning. ‘Freya, Freya, Freya!’
She kept moving, this time he turned to his driver and told him to call for help.
‘You can’t do that. I’ll jump.’
‘I will not call for help if you let me help you down and I take you home.’
She stopped. ‘No. I don’t want to go home!’ She sounded like a spoilt child. Ferguson nodded for his driver to make the call. He wasn’t going to let this woman die on his watch and he had to be moving on too.
‘Okay you don’t have to go home. At least give me one good reason why you think death is the answer.’
‘It won’t hurt anymore. The voices will be gone!’ She cried as she said this.
‘What do the voices say?’
‘They say yes, yes, yes!’
‘Yes to what?’ He didn’t understand.
In the distance there was the sound of a siren approaching.
‘I don’t want to go back, I won’t.’ She was about to plunge when he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back to the ground. ‘Let me go! Let me go!’ She fought him hard, kicking and scratching where she could.
‘It’s okay, you’ll be in good hands soon,’ he reassured her, but only made her worse.
The ambulance pulled up and the paramedics took over. Freya fought them off as much as she could until she was given a sedative to calm down. The paramedic strapped her to the stretcher and they placed her in the ambulance.
‘Do you have her details?’ asked the woman.
‘No I was just driving by when I saw her. Her name is Freya. I assume she lives close by seeing she walked without shoes.’
‘Thank you. That’s all we need, we’ll forward it to the police and they will find her next of kin.’
He nodded and watched as they jumped into the ambulance. He wanted to make sure she was okay, but didn’t know how he’d do that.
‘Sir,’ said the driver taking him out of thought. ‘We should go.’
‘Yes, yes of course.’
The ambulance hurried off leaving him gazing at it a while. A moment later he slid into the car and they headed for the hospital.
‘How is he?’ Ferguson asked once he arrived at the hospital where his ill father was.
‘In and out of consciousness.’ She directed him to his room. ‘He woke up and looked around. I think this is it. I’m sorry.’
They stepped into the room. Ferguson looked at the frail man asleep in the bed. It was hard to believe he was once a strong healthy man.
‘I’ll leave you,’ she said.
‘Just press the button if you need us.’
‘Yes of course.’ He sat and watched his father. So much was running through his mind. It was hard watching and listening to the old man’s laboured breath. He sat dead still for a good thirty minutes before the old man stirred. He opened his eyes and met his son’s eyes.
‘What…what are you doing here you dirty bastard!’ the old man snarled.
Ferguson watched his father a moment and a memory of the early years flooded back. For years he’d tried to forgive his father. Once his father’s liver started to deteriorate, and he’d been taken into hospital, Ferguson had hoped that his father would be sorry for all that he’d done.
‘I said why are you here you son of a bitch!’
‘No you said what am I doing here,’ he said in a calm voice. ‘Till this day father. Till this day you show no remorse. You’re on your death bed for god sake.’
‘I don’t want to see you, ugly mother fucker. You were a mistake the day you were born.’
Something within him snapped. Anger that he’d directed elsewhere for years because he believed his father was blood, had sprung up. That no harm should come to him, but this was the last straw. He stood up slowly, advanced towards the door and shut it gently. His father continued to curse him.
‘No you were the mistake. I hate you so much.’ He pulled the pillow that was underneath the old man. ‘It ends today. I should’ve ended you a long time ago.’ He put the pillow over the man’s face. He pressed harder and harder as the frail man struggled to breathe. ‘It will be over soon.’ And it was! The old man’s hands relaxed, letting go of the world he’d left behind. Ferguson released the pillow and put it back under his father. His eyes were opened wide with shock. Ferguson lowered his father’s eyelids and it looked as though he were sleeping.
‘Goodbye father.’ He straightened his suit jacket and then walked out of the hospital room.
‘Everything alright?’ asked the nurse at the reception.
‘Fine.’ He smiled. ‘He’s still asleep. Let me know if anything changes. I can’t stay.’
‘I understand.’ She smiled. She understood very well.
As soon as he got into the car he gave his assistant a ring. ‘Get a hold of the doctor. I need my father’s death to look like natural causes.’
‘Let’s not talk about it.’ He cut the call.
‘Where to sir?’
‘Home. I could do with a drink.’
Once he walked into his home, he headed straight for the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a whiskey. It did the trick the minute it slid down his throat. Ferguson began to relax. As he sat down he took time to think about the woman he’d rescued and the man he’d killed. Once upon a time he too wanted to die, but he’d turned his life around and had become extremely successful. He’d stayed away from women, even though they were falling at his feet for attention. What woman wouldn’t. He was sexy, tall, dark hair and charming when he wanted to be. Who wouldn’t want the sexy god, but no one knew the dark secrets that lay behind his gorgeous grey eyes. The things he’d seen and experienced, had kept him away from those who could love him.
He took a big gulp of the whisky. It made him feel in control again. He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a call to Gary.
‘It’s all taken care of boss,’ Gary said before Ferguson could say anything.
‘That’s great. I need you to find someone for me?’
‘Her name is Freya, she’s from the Leeds area.’ He gave the details. ‘I assume she was taken to the hospital close by. I’m sure she’ll be admitted into a mental hospital. Get her number and address.’
‘Will do. Any reason why?’
‘I’m curious.’ He hung up. ‘Just curious,’ he said to himself.
Nicholas and Amanda walked into the room Freya was in. His heart sunk when he saw his daughter lying helplessly on the bed. It was a shame that this had happened again. It was never understood why she had sunken into these dark episodes, but he could remember when they’d started. The drinking had become a problem after her first year at university. That had been two years after her mother had passed away. Amanda, her younger sister by three years seemed okay and had handled their mother’s death well. It didn’t matter how much the mental health staff had tried to get to the bottom of it, Freya wasn’t very forthcoming. The only thing she did do was promise to stay off the booze and stick with her medication. Until the next time of course.
She opened and closed her eyes a moment. Amanda looked at her father, he was silent. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to deal with his daughter’s illness, but it wasn’t about choice. He had to take it as it came. One step at a time. They waited a while longer until she finally opened her eyes again.
‘Yes honey, I’m right here,’ he took her hand into his as he sat down. ‘How are you feeling baby?’