To Be Nothing At All (MA Creative Writing Dissertation)

Hello! This is the dissertation I handed in for my MA Creative Writing course back in September. I've been wanting to publish it on here since then but I was too #scared! After consulting my ideas man (my dad), I decided I should let this piece of work see the light of day and, finally, today is that day. The image at the bottom is a piece of art I created for my Experimental class last year, depicting a lithium pill with the surrounding words following a type of writing structure called 'N+7'.

I hope you enjoy this short story. Please feel free to leave feedback, ideas, analysis, etc etc below!

TW// mental illness (specifically bipolar disorder, EUPD/BPD, psychosis)

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 To Be Nothing At All

Quinn Morlotti

 

The only person Jenna had known in real life with the illness had just been Grace Warner. A thought entered her mind, and she began to question Grace’s whereabouts and if she was still even living. Nobody had mentioned her since she moved out of town with her latest boyfriend, and that was a good 4 years ago at least. When Jenna really considered it, Grace had become somewhat of a legend and a cautionary tale in her life. A local piece of mythology, memorialised only in horror stories from the people who witnessed her outlandish behaviours. With the world at her finger tips, the quickest way to find her would be through a simple Google search. Jenna felt apprehensive about looking for someone who made her own mother, Carole’s, life Hell and caused so much destruction around her, but it wasn’t as if she would reach out and try to have a conversation, she was driven by pure curiosity. 

 

As Jenna anxiously typed out ‘Grace Warner’ into her computer, she braced herself for news articles of drunken bar brawls or Facebook clashes, or even postings of an arrest. No results.

There were loads of Grace Warners out there, but none of them seemed to be the enigma she grew up around. She tried ‘Grace Warner Glasgow’. No results. Jenna paused and considered her other discernible features which resulted in an interesting-looking internet search history:

‘Grace Warner Glasgow bipolar disorder.’ No results.

‘Grace Warner bipolar Glasgow’. No results.

‘Grace Warner pub fight Glasgow’. No results.

‘Grace Warner public indecency’. No results.

‘Grace Warner Glasgow sports car’. No results.

‘Grace Warner Glasgow shouting out of windows’. No results.

‘Grace Warner Millie Warner’. No results for Grace, but plenty of social media links for her daughter Millie. Finding links to Millie could offer a lead back to Grace, and so began a rabbit hole deep dive commenced in all the online accounts held in Millie’s name. 

            

Millie had done well for herself considering the complex childhood she had endured. She had gone to university to study law and was now doing her PhD. Jenna stalked through pages upon pages of academic research, holiday photos, photos of her boyfriend, photos of her dog, and found absolutely nothing about Grace. She realised she had wasted an awful lot of time searching for someone that she did not necessarily want to find, but she just wasn’t satisfied leaving it an unsolved case. Perhaps her own mother could offer information, but broaching the subject would have to be done delicately. As she reached for her mobile and listened to her mum’s dialling tone, Jenna could feel her heart beating outside of her chest. When Carole eventually picked up and offered a croaky “Hello?”, Jenna could barely get her words out for fear of being reprimanded for her nosiness.

“Hey mum. How are you?” She began by distracting her mother with idle conversation. 

“I’m alright darling, how are you? Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. The hospital just rang to check in on me. I just had a wee question, it’s something he mentioned that made me curious, is all.”

“Well, go ahead, I am all ears.” 

“He basically said that this bipolar thing is often because of genetics and that if one person has it, then there is a probability that a relative somewhere further up will also have it. Do you know anyone in the family who might be bipolar?” Pins and needles ran through Jenna’s skin as she braced herself for the answer.   

“Oh, let me think...I know your dad and a few of your uncles have had run-ins with depression...and your grandpa had an alcohol dependency which, of course, affected his moods and how he acted. I can’t think of anyone who explicitly had anything else, so who knows what we have going on.”

“Yeah, sure, well, thank you anyway. I thought it was worth me asking, just to check.”

“That’s alright. It might be worth asking your dad; he might know more about his side of the family. Growing up, we didn’t know about different disorders and mental illnesses, it just wasn’t talked about.”

“That’s an idea. Yeah, I mean, it’s been mental illnesses have been around for years and years, but it only seems to be talked about more often now. Unless I have a relative who was generous enough to share their illness with me, I think really the only other person I know with it would be Grace.” As soon as Jenna spoke Grace’s dreaded name, she felt a pang of regret and braced herself for her mother’s reaction.

“You might be right about that. She was the first, and only, person I knew who had bipolar disorder and I don’t think I knew much about it before we met. She was quite the handful; it was such a shame.”

“Yes, yes, it was a shame. I wonder how she’s doing, you know, like if she ever settled down and got treatment. I don’t know, I guess now that I’m going through it, I feel like I understand. Like it can be super overwhelming, hard to ask for help.”

“She used to send us letters every time she moved, do you remember? But we haven’t heard from her in years. Part of me would hate for her to come back on the scene, but it would be nice to know she’s alright. Have you thought about looking online for her, just to see where she ended up?” This suggestion coming from her mother amazed Jenna. 

“Well, honestly, yes. I did try, but I can’t find her anywhere. Not that I would get back in contact, but just to see if she is okay. Just to see how bad it could get, or if there is a chance of remission. Y’know, just for hope.”

            Carole began to rhyme off a few aliases that Grace had used to help broaden the search. She was surprised that her mother hadn’t chastised her morbid curiosity and instead was offering to help, considering how difficult her life was made as a result of Grace’s neuroticism.

“You have to promise me though, Jenna, that you will not get in contact with her. I know she was ill, but you cannot bring her back into our lives. I understand you want to see where she has ended up, but you have to remember that she came off of her medications and that’s why she got so ill.”

“Yes, mum, obviously. Didn’t I say that? Why would I bring her back? I know she could be dangerous.”

“That’s alright then, as long as you know. And please, if you get given medication, please don’t come off them. Okay? Promise me.”

“I promise, mum.”

 

            Jenna turned her attention to her computer screen and began to input the pseudonyms her mother had suggested. The various combinations of aliases, her married name, her maiden name, and even her middle name had pushed Jenna down a seemingly never-ending rabbit hole of clues. It made her feel like somewhat of a sleuth to be following new pieces of information with every lead and signpost feeling like a small victory, and although she knew that if she did find Grace, reaching out and starting a dialogue would be out of the question, she was transfixed on the mystery that shrouded Grace’s current life. She clearly didn’t want to be found. 

 

*

 

“Hello. Could I please speak to Jenna Reed?”

“Hi, yes, this is she.”

“Hello there, Jenna. It’s Dr Philips from the hospital. I was just wondering how you are doing. I can see on your notes that you have been diagnosed with the bipolar and the EUPD, have you had any treatment devised?”

 

            It had been two months since Jenna had visited her local A&E department. In that time, she had had 16 nurse home visits, a dual diagnosis, a handful of psychiatric hospital consultations, and had been presented a menu of medications to choose from. It had been a whirlwind of a time which luckily she wasn’t having to fare alone, what with being on high alert from her family and friends. Jenna hated feeling like she was being watched, but she knew it was for the best, and even though she was still unmedicated and felt every emotion possible and rapidly, she felt a new lease for life with her acceptance of her new diagnoses. 

 

“That sounds wonderful, Jenna. You’re really making positive changes! Have you decided upon your medications yet?”

“Kind of. I think I’ll go for the lithium. It’s the classic bipolar drug and a few celebrities who have been on it really say it works wonders.”

“Yes, the lithium can be very powerful, however, you just have to watch out for the risks and make sure you attend your routine blood tests so they can get your lithium levels.”

“Yes, of course. I just think it’ll be the best option for me, and the close monitoring makes me feel safe, like, I won’t be alone?” The anticipation of finally having some solid treatment and being offered a chance of stability was something Jenna had looked for throughout her life, beginning way back in her child psychology sessions. 

“You won’t be alone, definitely not. It may help you to perhaps find and connect with people who have bipolar in your life. There are some great support groups if you would like more information? Celebrities are all good and well, but it has been proven that having peers you can relate to can be extremely beneficial. Remember that this disorder is often a result of genetics, so if you have it, then the chances are that someone in your family could have it too. It might be worth looking around your family tree.”

“And what if I’m the odd one out in my family? No one has it, genuinely.” 

“Well, I’d still be inclined to connect with your relatives, let them know how you’re feeling. It’s better to be open and honest, than bottle it up. Or do you have any friends you can talk to? Friends can be a great asset too.” Philips sounded pleased with himself.

“Yes, I suppose so. I’m sure I can reach out to someone.”

“Well, you do that, and we’ll schedule in some tests before you start your lithium therapy. Does next Monday work for you? Around 09:00?”

 

Once the conversation ended, Jenna was spurred on to continue her search for Grace. She decided to devote her time trying every social media website and not stopping until she was found. As she sat cross-legged and eager, Jenna bounced from Facebook to Twitter to Instagram, and back again for an hour. Then she incorporated LinkedIn, Tumblr, and even YouTube. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Jenna returned her attention back to the search engines, hoping something might have been published in the last couple days. Her manhunt was proving more and more fruitless. Finding Grace had become an all-consuming task, driven by the desire to find someone who could grasp her neuroses. Grace held answers for this illness. She knew how to navigate the world. She would know Jenna better than herself.

As Jenna reclined on her bed, she felt overwhelmed about having the entire universe at her fingertips and still not being able to locate one person amongst it all. Where could she have gotten to? Jenna pushed her phone away and let her eyes close. She began to drift.

                                                        and drift further

                             and drift

and drift further

                        and drift

 

Welcome Jenna!

The sign above the hospital was more inviting this Friday night than normal. The local crowd of drunkards, injured children, and coughing elderly patients still flooded the waiting room, but banners proudly welcoming Jenna had been hung as if she were the guest of honour.

 

“Jenna Reed, please.” A voice called out from a triage room. This was a cue for her to move. “Hello, sweetie. Come on in.”

As Jenna neared the room, she realised the voice was familiar. It was her own mother’s. 

“Mum? What are you doing here?” The room was tiny, littered with computers, wires, and had a tiny plastic padded chair where Jenna was prompted to sit.

“I’m not your mother. I’m a nurse. Now, listen very carefully; a doctor will come for you, okay? Follow him to the end, as far as it will go. He knows the answers that we don’t. Be open-minded with an open heart. Now go!” The nurse placed her hands on Jenna’s shoulders and shoved her off of the chair and out of the room, where a doctor was waiting. 

“Are you the doctor that the nurse told me about?”

“Come with me.” The doctor bore a striking resemblance to Philips but talked very slowly. He led her down a hallway that seemed to expand every time they neared its end. The walls which typically were filled with inspirational quotes spoke instead, telling Jenna of all the great things she will achieve if she ‘follows the plan’. 

The hallway finally came to a close and she was instructed to wait in a green-coloured office for not-Philips and for a guest. After a few minutes of pacing around inside the room, feeling claustrophobic and lost, the door opened and in walked the doctor and an auburn-haired lady whose face Jenna could not discern. Jenna was instructed to take a seat.

“My name is Grace. They brought me in here today to talk to you. I believe you’ve been looking for me, is that right?” Her folded arms suggested irritation at being searched for, as if it were a violation.

“You’re not Grace. You don’t look like Grace at all. What do you know of me looking for her?” 

            “Oh, but I am Grace, you haven’t seen me in years. How do you know how I look? People age, honey, get used to it!” The woman slumped down in a chair opposite Jenna, while the doctor sat between them.

            “Okay, if you’re Grace, tell me what’s your daughter’s name then.”

            “Come on, that’s easy. Millie.” The woman laughed.

            “What diagnosis do you have?”

            “Bipolar disorder, duh. Isn’t that why we’re here? Isn’t that why you came to an A&E department on a Friday night? This is too, too easy.”

            “Jenna, this is the Grace Warner. She knows you are looking for her, and she has something to say.” The doctor elbowed Grace. “Well, go on, say it.”

            “You need to stop looking for me, I will find you if you let me. You have to stop. I know what you’re going through, so I have advice; say no to fattening medication.”

“What fattening medication, Grace?” 

“Lithium. It makes you gain weight and become sad. You don’t need them. You are strong enough without them. Okay? Also, don’t tell your mother, the nurse, that we met. She wouldn’t like that.” Jenna nodded, her open mind clinging on to every command. Grace reached out and held Jenna’s face in her hands.

“Now you must return, but I will be back.” 

 

*

 

Jenna anxiously sat in the cold reception of ‘Epiphany Hill’, the psychiatric hospital that she was now accustomed to visiting for consultations. It was located outside of the city, in a serene and unassuming suburb. This was testing day so she could begin the new medicative cocktail; the lithium she had grown increasingly interested in, a low dose of an antipsychotic to keep the hallucinations at bay, and an antidepressant that wouldn’t exacerbate her mania but rather lift the depression. The prospect of taking medication to be quote-unquote normal was daunting and opened up a can of questions within Jenna. How much of herself and her personality would she lose? And why could some people go about their day without relying on pills, while here she was, sitting in a hospital alone, waiting for a life-long cocktail of chemicals? Only time could tell.

 

            “Jenna, please?” A nurse poked her head around the corner of the corridor.

She brought Jenna into a medical examination room which had a bed, an ECG computer, a blood pressure machine, a trolley of needles and cannulas, and a scale. 

“Awright hen, if ye just sit up oan that bed fur me, and we’ll get startit.” The nurse brought the ECG device closer and began to untangle the cables. “Huv ye ever had wan a’ these a’fore?”

“No, sorry, what is it?” The computer looked like an intimidating octopus with a million wiry tentacles, each ending with a small plastic clip.

Jenna’s genuine inquiry seemed to irk the nurse who, in turn, let out a wearied sigh. 

“It’s an electrocardiogram machine, an’ it observes your heart’s health. I’ve goat some sticky pads to place aroon yer body so we can hook ye up to it and start the monitorin’. It isnae goannae hurt, so don’t worry, but you need to take off that jumper. An’ if you have any’hin’ else oan under it tae then take aht aff as well, jist so’s ah can get to your chist. Okay?”

 

The room was bitterly cold and made Jenna hesitant to remove her clothing, which was furthered when the nurse stood over the bed watched her closely, refusing to give her an iota of privacy. She then offered out her hand to collect the belongings and dumped them messily on a chair nearby. Jenna felt increasingly self-conscious as the electrode patches were placed around her limbs and torso; one on each hand, one on each foot, two across the chest, one under her left breast, and one on her left rib. Then the nurse connected a wire clip to each patch and finished setting up the machine. 

 

“Jist relax, Jenna. It’s better if ye lie still so’s we can get a good readin’.”

The machine quietly ticked as it sketched a graph detailing the rhythmic movements of Jenna’s heart. Once it was over, the nurse examined the print and explained that it would “need to be reviewed by a cardiologist, jist for safety measures”, and began removing the patches from Jenna’s skin. Her clothes were handed back with all the care of a child scrunching paper, and she was instructed to dress while the nurse would begin setting up the phlebotomy needles. The thought of having a blood test made Jenna feel uneasy as she was infamous for having collapsible veins which made it impossible for previous nurses to extract her blood. She quietly made her way over to the nurse and sat opposite, preparing for the opportunity to inadvertently annoy her again.

“Right, jist roll up your sleeve an’ we’ll get this done.” 

The tourniquet was tightened, and a needle was placed in the crease of her elbow. They both sat waiting with bated breath. 

“Doesnae seem to be any’hin’ comin’ oot a’ there. Lemme wriggle it aboot. This might hurt.”

Jenna could feel every pull and twist as the nurse fought to find a vein. 

“Aht’s hopeless. I’ll need tae dae the other arm. Right, roll up yer sleeve.”

A needle was inserted into the other arm but after a few tries of repositioning, it turned out to be a fruitless effort.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why my veins are like that.” Jenna’s anxiety quickly made way for embarrassment. What must this nurse think of me? She thought.

“Jist means we’ll need tae go through your haunds. Gie me wan.”

The nurse began to tourniquet her wrist and Jenna watched as her hand became gradually more and more red. The numb, limp sensation created by the tight band made a wave of nausea course through Jenna.

“This’ll feel uncomfy but jist breathe. Sharp scratch...”

As soon as the entry point had been made, the tube that connected to the needle began to flow dark red. Thank God, she thought. Normally Jenna would turn away during a blood test, finding the sight of a needle in her arm to be too unnerving, but this time watching the blood drain from her hand was a strange reminder of her existence and reaffirmed her humanness. It was almost calming. 

“That’s us aw done. Yer haund might develop a bruise, but it’ll fade in a few days’ time. The results should take aboot a week to come back, it’s jist a precaution so’s we can have a baseline for your gen’ral health before ye start takin’ yer new prescription, which I’ve goat right here...” The nurse produced a purple slip of paper with three drug names brazenly listed at the top. “Take the first doses tonight and take a note of any side effects over the next few days. We’ll invite ye back at some point next week to check yer blood levels again, jist to make sure you’re daeing awright oan them.”

The nurse escorted Jenna to clinic entrance and advised her that the supermarket across the road had a pharmacy which was frequented by their patients, so they would very likely have her new medications in stock. She then bade her goodbye and good luck and left. Jenna examined her new prescription and gave it a hopeful, sympathetic smile before walking towards the store. 

The pharmacy was rather busy for a week day morning with people just standing around, half blocking the shop’s door. The electrical buzzing of the supermarket fluorescent lights seemed more unbearable than normal. Jenna wondered if everyone waiting had also been referred from the mental health service, or if it was just a coincidence. When it came time to hand in her script, the chemist informed it would be a half hour wait at least, and suggested she either take a wander around the shop or sit in the café until then. Since she had been up early for the appointment, Jenna decided to treat herself to a warm drink and wait quietly. The café, in comparison to the pharmacy, was deserted, with only a few inattentive staff dotted behind the counter. She placed an order for a coffee and took a seat, tuning into her earphones and ignoring the world. She suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder and through her peripheral vision, saw a woman standing over her.

“Excuse me, sorry. Are you Jenna Reed?” The woman looked oddly familiar, perhaps she had seen her in passing, or in a dream. She had a face that Jenna could not bring a name to.

“Yes, I am.” Jenna said hesitantly. “Wait, don’t I know you? Who are you?”

“My name is Grace. I used to live a few houses down from you, but you might be too young to remember me.” The woman smiled anxiously and waited for Jenna’s approval.

Oh my God, Jenna thought. What are the chances? 

“Of course, I remember you, oh my goodness. Please, sit down.”

Grace took the seat opposite Jenna, and they sat in silence for a few moments, examining each other’s faces. Grace looked noticeably older compared to how Jenna remembered her, even though it had been a few years since. Her face looked almost stressed, as though it had been carrying a burden.

“What are you doing in this part of town, Jenna?” Grace finally broke the peace. 

“I, um, actually, it’s a bit of a long story. What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Well, I live around here now. It has been a weird fucking few years really.”

“Oh, it’s nice around here. I’ve only been a few times, but it seems nice. Quiet too.”

Grace scoffed. “It wasn’t my choice to live here, believe me. See that fucking hospital across the road? Yeah, that’s where I live.” It all started to make sense for Jenna.

“Epiphany Hill? I’m an outpatient there. I’ve just been to get new medication actually. I’m here because I’m waiting on the pharmacy.” She laughed out of disbelief.

“Are you okay, Jenna? Why are you going to Epiphany?” Grace was genuinely concerned.

“As it turns out, I have bipolar. I was only diagnosed recently but yeah...” She could sense a tension in the air. Jenna so badly wanted Grace to offer some sage advice or a warm smile, something to show she related and cared. Instead, it seemed like she had triggered a melancholic, almost hopeless feeling within her.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I really am. What do your parents think of it?”

“Oh, um, they care, obviously, but it’s tough on them. I think they feel a bit lost?”

“It’s a long road. I’m sorry.”

There was some more silence as neither woman knew what to say to the other. For Jenna, it was as if she was staring into a mirror of her own future, and for Grace, she could only hope to warn her young counterpart of the dangers that lay ahead. It was impossible.

“Well, that’s okay,” Jenna finally said. “Hopefully the new medications work out.”

“What are they putting you on, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Lithium. Also some antidepressant and an antipsychotic. Wild mix, I know.” The mention of this cocktail ignited a horrified reaction from Grace, whose eyes widened as she loudly gasped.

“Please tell me you’re not considering taking them. Please.”

“Why not?”
“Lithium is a nightmare drug, okay? Awful. I gained a shit ton of weight and I lost myself completely. I had to come off it. And antipsychotics are bullshit, you don’t need it.”

Jenna was dumbfounded and, feeling like a scolded child, said nothing. She just stared intensely into Grace’s eyes, which were a cold grey colour and resembled pin pricks.

“You don’t want to end up like me, Jenna. It is bad enough you’re an outpatient, you don’t want to be forced to live there, do you?”

“No, I don’t, but I feel like medication might be good for me. I’d at least like to try them.”

Grace snickered mockingly. “And why is that? Because you think they’ll help you?”

“Well, yes. No offense but I’m a lot newer to this bipolar thing and I’ve already had enough. I want a chance at a stable life, and if pills help me, then great.” Jenna felt her face burning.

“Oh, no, Jenna I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, it is just that these doctors hardly know what they’re talking about half the time. They’re just drug pushers. And then when you need help, they disappear. Do you know anyone else who has bipolar that you can talk to?” Grace’s tone change ignited a feeling of genuine warmth and comfort within Jenna.

“No. I don’t know anyone. Just you. God, it’s so lonely sometimes.” Jenna began to sob into the sleeves of her purple woollen jumper.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Look, it really is up to you with how you want to treat your illness. I don’t agree with the medications, but you are your own person, and you know what’s best.”

“Don’t they have you on medications in Epiphany?”

“They like to think so, but I have my ways around it...” Grace slipped her hand into one of her jean pockets and produced a napkin, containing an assortment of colourful half-dissolved powdery tablets. Jenna felt a pang of admiration for Grace’s staunch rebellion.

“Wow. And they don’t catch you?” Grace shook her head. “But why are you even in the hospital? Did something happen?”

“Oh, a lot of things happened. It wasn’t really one thing or another. I had been stable, genuinely, for a long time but it seemed my medications stopped working and I went mental. Next thing you know, they’re dragging me off to the hospital and a year later, I’m still locked up at fucking Epiphany Hill- or as the girls on the ward call it; Phanny Hill.” She laughed at her own joke.

“That is awful. I can understand why you don’t like tablets,” Jenna checked her watch, it was now time to collect her prescription. “Listen, I need to go, but is there any way I can contact you? This has been helpful, like, just talking to you.”

“I don’t even have a phone or anything. They let me come to the shop and wander about, grab a coffee, that sort of thing, but that’s only new. They like to keep me in close proximity. I’ve tried to break away a few times, but they always fucking catch me.”

“Oh, right. That sounds intense.”

“Well it is a psych ward, it’s hardly a resort in Benidorm! But look, if you find yourself back out this way, we might bump into each other again. It’s been nice for me to see you, to see how you turned out, and what you look like. God, you look so much like your mum. How is she?” 

“Yeah, she’s alright. I think a bit lost with all this, but she’s fine.” Jenna gave a reassuring smile which prompted Grace reached out and hold her face. Grace had begun to feel the overwhelming weight of their mutual situations, which made her feel as lonely as it did embraced. She began to tear up.

“I don’t have a phone, like I said, but if you want to, I can give you the ward number. You just have to say you’re my relative. They let people out for family visits.” Grace recited the number to Jenna who took note of it on her phone. 

“I hope we can see each other again; this has been really nice. I have to go now though.” Jenna mournfully stood up and slipped her jacket on, while Grace remained seated and gazed up at her. They didn’t hug and they didn’t exchange any parting words, Jenna just quietly separated herself from the table, glancing sporadically back at Grace, who never broke her fixed look.

            “Hi. Is there a prescription for Jenna Reed?” Jenna reached the now deserted pharmacy.

“Hello, Jenna. I have your prescription right here, all ready to go. There’s an information booklet in each of the boxes, and if you have any problems, please call your GP, okay?” With that, she handed Jenna a bulky brown paper bag and wished her a good day.

After a long bus journey home, having blocked out the world with music through noise-cancelling headphones, Jenna found herself lying in foetal position on her bed, staining her sage green duvet with black mascara tears, overcome with emptiness. She had begun to tear through each of the paper medicine booklets, with all three measuring almost the same height as Jenna herself. Spread across multiple pages and subheadings, they spat concerning information about their side effects, risks, contraindicators, as well as offering tips for taking them. It was a paralysing responsibility to abide by these bibles and never stray from their verses, lest the evil cocktail of drowsiness, poisoning, and possible death consume her. Jenna exhaled loudly and spread out on her bedding, as she felt the gravity of the world and of her situation crush her. She closed her eyes and imagined what life would be like had she not been cursed with bipolar disorder; perhaps she would have more friends because she would be a better, more consistent friend in return, she might be in a relationship and not shy away from feeling loved, she most likely would have a degree by now because all her energy could be spent in academia, but she knew for definite she would be a happier and more successful person. Then, she began to imagine life without medication; a sort of Grace Warner 2.0, no friends, no family, nothing. How sad, Jenna thought, to be nothing at all. Her chest tightened.

Jenna’s hand reached for her phone, and she Googled her medication names, hoping to find a forum or virtual support group of information from the drugs’ users. Page after page, she observed sedated and zombified versions of herself describe how they slipped- or had been pushed- into a life devoid of feeling. The most-used word she came across was ‘numb’. Being numb meant being complacent, and obedient, and well-behaved; easier for the doctors to deal with. Anti-depressant junkies noted they couldn’t enjoy their own wedding because they simply weren’t able to care, others talked of being numb as a fate worse than being depressed. Something about the idea of Jenna joining this army of thousands of people just like her, being cut off from their emotions, felt unethical. After all, it wasn’t Jenna’s fault she was mentally ill, no more than it was Grace’s fault, or anyone else’s for that matter, so why should she have to change? Her mind was made up and there was no going back. She would tell her GP that she wasn’t interested in being drug dependant and would work it out on her own now that she knew what was going on in her brain. 

Jenna pulled herself from her bed and stood opposite her floor-length mirror, taking a mental note of everything she observed; brown heavy eyes coated in a thick layer of cakey mascara which ran down her chin, a sallow complexion decorated with pink acne, and dyed cherry-red hair, which was fading in shade, and hung sadly by her shoulders. This was Jenna pre-medication and post-diagnosis. She considered how much would change if she took the so-called ‘poisonous pills’ and how much she would lose of herself. 

After a moment of thought, she sighed, “No, they can forget it.” And wiped her blackened eyes clear.

*

 

“You are a smart girl. You know deep down that you are ill and that you need medication. Why can’t you allow yourself to try it?” 

Doctor Philips’ dissatisfaction with Jenna’s attitude towards medication began to border on pure infuriation. How can I help someone who doesn’t want to be helped? He thought. For the last 20 minutes, he had given her a rundown of possible alternatives to her prescribed medications, but still, she abstained. It had been a week since she was prescribed her new medicinal cocktail, and in that week she had gone without.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to change myself while everyone else gets to live their lives and be who they are. It’s not fair!”

“Jenna, you are sick. You’ll make yourself even sicker if you don’t take these meds. Do you understand?” He stared at her through intense eyes and raised eyebrows. He waited for answer.

Jenna said nothing but moved her gaze away from her doctor. She felt her face flush red hot from the pressure that loomed above her. In her mind, and she wouldn’t admit this to Philips, her biggest fear was to be turned into a pacified, brainless dope. She didn’t fully trust psychiatric medications and the effects they might have on her, both in the long and short term. And what if it didn’t work? What if she would have to trial and re-trial copious amounts of drugs before finding the right one? The idea of not experiencing either side of the manic-depression dichotomy and being plunged into absolute indifference was suffocative, but she knew what the alternative could lead to. She also knew she would have to be agreeable to her doctors and not seem like a difficult patient. 

“Tell you what, doc; what if I go home and think it over? I’d feel better having done my own research, not that I don’t trust you, of course. I’ll just think it over and I’ll call back tomorrow with my answer. Would that be okay?” Jenna’s sweet nature and ability to weaponise innocence was a great skill to call upon in times of need.

“Alright, Jenna. Think about it tonight, do what you need to do, and get back to me tomorrow.” Doctor Philips sat back in his chair and waved Jenna out of his office.

As soon as she got outside and felt the cool air against her face, she let out a supressed sigh and searched her bag for her earphones. Retreating into her own world and forgetting everything else seemed to be Jenna’s main saving grace. She embarked on her journey home and decided to weigh up her medicative options later, but to just exist in the moment first. Jenna closed her eyes and felt the static within her mind quieten, until she felt a startling tap on her shoulder.

“Oh my God, Jenna?” It was Grace. 

“Grace? Hi. What are you doing here?” The sun was shining brightly in Jenna’s eyes that she couldn’t be certain that this was in fact Grace standing in front of her, and the idea she could be was highly improbable. The hospital Grace was inhabiting was a good half-hour journey away, and that was when traffic was light. 

“Oh, I was released. Yes, they thought I would be better suited in society. Isn’t that great?” Grace’s eyes were wide with huge, enlarged pupils. Jenna didn’t fully believe her story, knowing that she most likely had escaped, but thought it best not to press but rather humour the situation.

“Well, that is wonderful, Grace. What are you doing all the way out here, though?”

“Jenna, I have no family. I have no friends. I met you last week for the first time in a long time, isn’t that a sign? I mean, I just knew I had to come and find you when I left- was released, sorry. I won’t impose on your space, I’ll stay in a hotel or something, but I needed to be near someone. Plus, the doctors in this part of town are really good I’ve heard, you know if anything goes wrong. Which it won’t!” Her eyes softened which appealed to Jenna’s better nature, who stood in stunned silence. Grace raised her eyebrow for an answer.

“I can’t have you staying at a hotel, you can come back to mine. How did you know where to find me?”

“That’s easy, I found you on Facebook. You sure do post a lot on there. You might want to go private or who knows who can find your details!” Grace laughed at her comment, completely devoid of self-awareness.

“Oh, Facebook, of course. Listen, I’m actually on my way home now so just walk with me. It’s only a 10-minute walk, so not too far at all.” Jenna was feeling generous in letting Grace come back to stay and felt good about herself for doing so. “Hey, wait a second, don’t you have any bags? Or belongings?” 

“No,” Grace’s voice was hesitant. “I’ve decided to start afresh so I got rid of everything.”

“Oh, fair enough then.”

A few minutes later, they arrived at the front of Jenna’s flat. It was a quaint and unassuming tenement in the town centre, surrounded by independent shops and a café. Jenna warmly ushered Grace into the close and guided her up the stairs as they continued their discussion around Grace’s leaving Epiphany. One of Jenna’s neighbours was on the landing grabbing a parcel by the door.

            “Hello, Mrs. MacDonald!”

            “Oh, hiya Jenna. Ah thought you wis on the phone there. Ah heard you chattin’”

            “No, I’m talking to Grace. Oh sorry, Mrs. MacDonald, this is Grace.”

Jenna gestured to her new friend and looked between her and her neighbour, smiling friendlily.

            “Ah right, hen. Well, you ‘n Grace have fun now.” Mrs MacDonald shook her head and headed back into her flat.

            “Sorry about her, she’s getting a bit, uh, senile.”

            “No, that’s fine, Jenna. It’s nice to meet new people anyway.”

They followed the corridor down to Jenna’s front door, which she unlocked with her jangling keyring. The flat was small with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom, but it was homely and cosy enough.

            “Tom, that’s my flatmate, he’s away for the week so you can have my room, and I’ll steal his. I’d put you in there, but God knows what mess he’s left. He’s quite the hoarder of dinner plates and food.”

            “Jenna, I really appreciate this. Thank you.”

            “That’s alright. I’m just glad you’ve got somewhere safe to stay. We can go shopping for clothes tomorrow if you like. In the meantime, you can have a pair of my pyjamas.” Jenna opened a wooden drawer in her room and grabbed a pair of soft, black joggers and an oversized old sweatshirt for Grace. 

            “There, try these on and I’ll go make a cuppa! Do you take sugar?”

            “Thanks. Yes, not much milk but plenty of sugar. Like three, if that’s okay?”

Grace let herself into Jenna’s bathroom to get dressed, while Jenna began making tea. She took in the sight of the bathroom which was an ugly cream-coloured square room with a cubicle shower and a massive window, with the view being obscured for privacy. Jenna sometimes hid in here when things got too much and chain-smoked on the window sill with the ventilator fan on. After all, it was quicker and easier than going all the way downstairs just to come back up again. The kitchen was slightly longer, however, which came fully furnished and included a handy cupboard for storing away the odds-and-ends no one could be bothered to sort through. The dusty green colour was slightly off-putting, but Jenna had grown fond of the unappealing aesthetics. 

            Once the tea had been made, and a few slices of toast had been prepared, Jenna hollered for Grace to join her in the kitchen. Grace appeared at the door wearing Jenna’s Looney Tunes jersey and laughed.

            “Quite fitting, don’t you think?”

            “Oh God, Grace, I’m so sorry. I just grabbed whatever clothes I had at the top of the drawer.”

            “No, no, it’s fine! I find it funny, that’s all.”

They both sat around the kitchen table exchanging stories of their mental illness journeys. Grace went first.

            “I don’t know how much you remember of me back when you were wee. I probably seemed like a nutcase, but it was hard, you know? I think it all started when I was young, maybe your age, and my mum had been sent back to the hospital- she had it too. I didn’t know how to cope. There was static in my head all the time. Then the doctors said it’s genetic and me or my sister, Miriam- do you remember her?” Jenna nodded her head. “Well, chances were we could inherit it.”

            “How is Miriam, if you don’t mind me asking?”
            “Miriam is fine. She visited me a few times when I was inside. She’s fine, yeah. She got lucky; she doesn’t have anything the matter at all. I got it all. Genetics, am I right?” Grace smiled sadly. “But anyway, what about you? When did you get ill? You seemed so normal as a kid, like hyperactive, but all kids are at that age.”

            “Well, long-story-short, I was bullied in high school which brought on the anxiety and depression. I went to CAMHS for years and I began hallucinating, but they didn’t care of course. Then, like, two years ago, they finally gave me anti-depressants, but they made me manic, and apparently brought out the underlying bipolar. Now, it’s just constantly up and down with me.”

            “That’s awful, I’m sorry. Are you taking those medications you were given?”

            “No, actually. I saw the GP and I told him I couldn’t do it. What you said frightened me and I just knew I could cope without them.”

            “Oh, Jenna. You can’t blame me.”

            “Wait, what?” Jenna was taken aback by her flippant comment.

            “You can’t blame me for not following doctors’ orders. It’s your choice at the end of the day, that’s all.” Grace picked her mug up and sipped the remnants of the cold tea and played with the crumbs on her plate.

            “I’m not blaming you for anything, Grace. I’m just telling you that I couldn’t take the meds after talking to you because you told me about all the side effects and warnings, and I knew it would be a bad idea for me. So, that’s all!” Jenna’s defensive tone was enough to push Grace over the edge. She leapt up and began to pace around the kitchen floor.

            “How dare you speak to me like that! Where do you get off speaking to me like that? I was only trying to help. I mean, honestly! You, missy, need to watch your mouth!” Grace became irate, with her pacing quickening to almost a jog. Jenna was in disbelief at how sharp her mood change was and sat frozen in fear of setting her off.

            “Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She offered a hand to Grace, in hopes that she would take it and sit down. Instead, she smacked it away.

            “I don’t need your pity. And you don’t need mine! Blame, blame, blame. God, you’re just like your mother.” With that, Grace stormed out of the kitchen into Jenna’s bedroom.  Jenna was stunned. She remained seated in the awkward silence for a few minutes and then shot up and ran to her room. She knew how to provoke Grace.

            “Here, watch this,” Jenna lifted the brown medicine bag from the pharmacy off of her unit and waved it in front of Grace’s face. “I don’t know what just went on in there, but I’m done listening to you. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why I invited you up here. I mean, did you even get discharged or did you run away again?” Jenna lifted an eyebrow and waited for a response which never came. “Well, that doesn’t matter. You can sit there quietly and watch this...” Jenna began to rip the bag apart and revealed three white cardboard boxes, from which she produced three tinfoil trays and swallowed one pill from each. She was medicated, at long last.

            “You’re an idiot. Have fun with the side effects.” Grace turned away and refused to make eye contact.

            “Grace, for fuck’s sake! You were mad at me for not taking them and now you’re mad that I am? What is going on here?” Jenna’s voice was beginning to rise.

            “Because if you don’t take them, you’ll blame me for your mental illness and what will happen. But if you do take them, you’ll become like them; normal, placid, zombie. You cannot win either way. It’s Hell and I’m sorry to say it, but this is your life now.”

            “Look, we can talk about this in the morning. I’m off to bed now, okay? Okay. Goodnight, Grace.” Jenna turned around and headed down the hallway to Tom’s ridiculously messy room. It would have to do for one night because she fully planned on asking Grace to leave.

 

*

 

It was 12:24. Jenna had slept through all of her alarms. Everything around her looked blurry and she realised it took great effort to remove her head from the pillow. That’ll be the damn sedative side effect kicked in, she thought. She had to forcibly peel herself away from the bed and push her legs out to stand up, which made her feel unsteady and slightly wobbly at the knees. Her head was now filled with a different kind of static compared to the one she was used to, now it was more of a hollow void of buzzing. After trying to move her legs for a few minutes and eventually flopping back into bed, she decided to crawl to the kitchen where she could cling onto the countertop for stability while she made breakfast- or rather, lunch.

            The kitchen was still adorned with the mugs of tea from the night before, as well as the plates with toast crumbs. In her tranquilised stupor, Jenna forgot she had had a guest over the night before. Well, she thought, how nice of her to clean up!

            “Grace? Grace, are you here?” There was no answer.

Jenna considered where she might have ended up; perhaps back to the hospital, or for a walk, or simply down to the markets. She decided she would give her an hour to return and then she would contact the hospital. In the meantime, she had to rouse herself back to reality and attempt to tidy up the kitchen.

            In the hour that passed, Jenna had made herself three cups of coffee but hadn’t appreciated any boost of energy, just some minor heart palpitations and heightened anxiety. She also cleaned out the dishes from the night before, as well as fixing Tom’s room so there were no obvious signs of her being there, not that he would have minded but a warning in advance would have been polite. Still, her head was pounding and standing up felt like a chore in itself, so she sat down and rang the hospital number Grace had given her.

            “Hello, you’re through to Epiphany Hill. My name is Monica, how can I help you today?”

            “Hi, Monica. I was just wondering if you give me information about a previous patient. It might sound odd but she’s an old family friend and she was staying with me overnight, and now this morning she’s gone. I’m worried and I don’t suppose she came back to you guys?”

            “Alright, what’s her name and I can look her up?”

            “It’s Grace Warner.”

After a few minutes of keyboard clicks and the odd hemming and hawing, Monica finally returned to the phone.

            “So you say Grace stayed with you last night, yes?”

“Yeah, I brought her in and made her tea and toast. We had an argument, and I went to bed, and now she’s missing.”
“Right, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it isn’t nice. Not nice at all. Was Grace a family member of yours?”

            “What? No, like I said she’s a family friend. We’re not related but we’re close. Why does that matter?”

            “If you’re not related, I can’t offer any help. Sorry.” Monica hung up, leaving Jenna in confused and deafening silence, exacerbated by her mental fatigue.

Jenna decided that if the hospital weren’t going to help her find Grace, and Grace was a known flight risk, then why should she have to worry? She would simply go about her day and hope she would return later, like a rebellious cat. Then she could begin the line of inquiry. In the meantime, she decided to visit the local café for a late lunch and go for a walk through the market, and maybe she could find Grace on her journey.

            The café was a small, independent affair with plant baskets and macrame creations hanging from the ceiling. Everything followed a lavender colour code; from to walls to the kitschy pieces of décor. It was always quiet, as well, which made it the perfect place to decompress.

            “Hiya, Jenna! Just the usual today?” The barista knew her too well, or maybe it because she visited almost every day and ordered the exact same order each time. Either way, this little interaction they have had created an intoxicating crush within Jenna.

            “Yes please, Alice. God, you know me so well,” She awkwardly laughed. “How are you doing anyway?” 

            “I’m alright, thank you. God, we had quite the customer earlier. So she comes in, already, like, half-cut. She was demanding we serve her more drink, and I says to her that we didn’t serve alcohol, but she wouldn’t listen. She tries to swing for me across the counter, like, proper goes for it. I ended up having to toss her out myself!” Alice spoke very nonchalantly about the ordeal while she made Jenna’s coffee and served her wrap, which Jenna deeply admired. If it had been her, she would’ve been shaken up and asking to go home.

            “Jeez, that’s terrible. Are you okay?” Jenna was genuinely concerned for her safety.

            “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, but thanks Jenna.” She flashed a quick but warm smile.

“Well, I hope she doesn’t come back, or else she’ll have me to answer for!” Both girls shared a laugh. Jenna would hardly be best candidate for stopping a brawl, but Alice appreciated her bravado.

“There you are, lovely. Just tap your card when you’re ready.”

Jenna took her lunch over to the window seat and people-watched as she ate. If Grace walked by then she could have easily spotted her from there. By now, it was 14:30 and her medication was beginning to wear off. She felt less like a zombie and had actually been able to carry her conversation with Alice. The last thing Jenna would have wanted was for her to embarrass herself in front of the barista and ruin any possible allure she had possessed.

            After lunch, she bade Alice goodbye and headed down to the markets. For the first time all day, Jenna felt properly fully present, appreciating the warm sunlight on her face and fresh air in her lungs. She felt okay. The markets were rather quiet for once. Over the last few years, the markets had become exceedingly more expensive and had expanded by double its size. It seems like half of Glasgow had taken up renting a stall. From the vintage thrift stores to the bike repair shops, it wasn’t hard to find something to spend your money on. Jenna, however, wasn’t going with the intention to shop, just to have a browse and occupy her time, surrounded by the seductive sounds of shopkeepers’ invitations and the occasional haggling punter. 

            Today’s venture was lacklustre compared to her normal visits; nothing called out to be bought and paired with her increased self-restraint and lack of impulsivity, she found it easy to tear away from the stalls and head home. As she departed and walked towards her flat, she wondered if Grace would return- if she would be waiting outside the door for her, or if she would simply never be seen again. She imagined all the things she would say and ask. Should I go with a tough approach or treat her softly? She considered. Jenna suddenly found herself back outside the independent shops and Alice’s café. She was almost home but there was no sign of Grace. She fished her key from her pocket and made her way up the close to the apartment. She approached each step and stairwell with caution, images flashing in her mind with the possibility of finding Grace in the result of a self-destructive act. 

            When she finally got to her flat, the door was slightly ajar. Grace must have broken her way in. 

            “Grace?!” Jenna called out.

            “Yes?” Grace was lucid enough to answer, at least.

Jenna followed the voice and found her in the kitchen, where she sat drinking tea at the counter. 

            “Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you all day.”

            “I went away. Not for long, just for a few hours. That’s all.”

            “Can you please stop saying ‘that is all’? That is not all. Where were you?”

            “I just went for a walk, grabbed a coffee, nothing major.” 

            “You didn’t go down to the café did you? Alice said some woman was in picking fights.” Her face flushed red hot at the prospect of Grace being responsible for what had happened earlier.

            “Ha! That’s ridiculous, I only asked if they served proper drinks. That bitch, Alice did you say? She’s lying.”

            “Why would she lie, Grace? I can’t believe you ran off and caused fights, as always. You really haven’t changed, have you?” As soon as the words left Jenna’s mouth, she was overcome with a pang of regret.

            “Well, I’m back now, isn’t that enough for you?”

Grace was right; it was enough for Jenna that she was back. It didn’t really matter what had happened, as long as she was safe now.

            “Well, I suppose so.” After a long pause, Jenna added, “Anyway, are you hungry?”

            “Starving!”

The women set their differences aside and ordered in food for the night. It had seemingly been a long day for both of them. As they sat around the kitchen table once more and shared their takeaways, they decided to clear the air and release their innermost frustrations and confessions.

            “...and so I eventually lost contact Millie. In fact, the last time I saw her, was in a flat just like this that belonged to one of her friends. God, it was an awful night. I had just come out of a depression, and she was getting ready to start university. She called me a terrible mother and said she’d be happier if I left her alone. Goodness, I’ll never forget it.” Grace refilled her wine glass while Jenna took care in wording her own question.

            “That’s awful, I’m so sorry...Grace, this might sound really invasive, and you don’t have to answer, but what happened with you and my mum?”

            “Oh, um, we just had our differences. And I was really ill when I lived near you, and your mum often got the brunt of it. No hard feelings at all. I don’t blame her.”

            “I think she would like to hear that from you, directly.”

            “No, Jenna, that is an awful idea, I couldn’t possibly. You don’t understand.”

            “Understand what? That you fell on hard times and now feel resentful for what happened? I get it, it’s fine to apologise. I can call her and all three of us can have a catch up.” Jenna’s enthusiasm was too much for Grace.

            “It’s not that easy, won’t you listen? She doesn’t want us to be in contact, never mind knowing that you’re stowing me away in here. What would she say if she found out. Hmm?”

            “Wait, how do you know she doesn’t want us talking? What is it to her what the Hell I do?”
            “I just know she wouldn’t want me here, is all. Please don’t call her.”

            “No, it’ll be good for us. She’ll appreciate the fact you’ve been helping me and guiding me through this whole bipolar mess. You’ve been like a second mother, she’ll appreciate that! You’ll see.”

As Jenna’s hand reached for her phone, Grace smacked it down which left a red, stinging mark. 

            “Why did you just do that?” Jenna’s hand stung from the sudden shock.

            “Jenna, I’m sorry. I just thought you were going to call your mum, and I needed to stop you.”

            “Look, it wasn’t an issue for you to constantly call and write letters when it wasn’t needed, and when my mum asked you to stop. Why are you shy now?”

            “I’m not shy, I’m just protecting you. If your mum found out I was here, things could get ugly. Please believe me. I know you think you’re doing alright being off the medication and hanging out with me, but believe me, if your mum knew, if anyone knew, it wouldn’t be good. Do not involve her!”

            “Why do you talk in riddles? Why? What do you mean?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Jenna.” Grace attempted to leave the dinner table, but Jenna grabbed her arm back and rose to meet her eye-to-eye.

“Come on, what is it really? Tell me!?”

“I’m dead.”

            “You’re what?”

            “I am dead. Grace is dead. I’m not real.” 

            “I don’t know what the Hell you’re talking about. You’re dead?” Jenna’s ears began to ring.

            “I know it doesn’t might not make much sense but believe me. I am dead. Don’t you get it?”

Jenna grabbed her phone and ran to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

            “Is this Epiphany Hills?” Jenna spat the words out through panted breaths.

            “Yes, hello. How can I help?” It was a different call handler to the last time.

            “I need information about a former patient, Grace Warner.”

            “Are you family?”

            “Yes. I’m her daughter, Millie.” She knew lying was wrong, but what else could be done?

            “Oh, hi, Millie, goodness, I’ve not seen you came to clear out her room.”

            What could Jenna say to that apart from, “Yeah, that was the last time I came up.”

            “Listen, I’m so sorry about your mum, what a loss.”

            “...Loss?” The word echoed in Jenna’s head.

            “She died, didn’t she? That’s why you came to clear her room, wasn’t it?” 

            “She didn’t die, she’s right here with me.”

            “That’s a lovely way to look at it. Death can be so hard to process. She will always be with you in spirit.” The sympathy was sickening.

            “BUT SHE IS NOT DEAD!” Jenna felt her blood run cold as threw the phone across her room and allowed a flood of tears to escape. Her bed began to encase her tired body, and she found it impossible to move. 

            After a few minutes, Jenna willed her way out of the sinking bed and retrieved her phone. It was time to text Carole; mums always knew best. As she crawled back over her duvet, a wave of nausea began to creep up inside. Was she now losing the plot? 

            “What’s up, Jenna? Does the truth hurt?” Grace was now standing over her, having bypassed the locked door.

            “How did you get in?” Jenna mumbled as a tingling sensation spread across her mouth and face. She was becoming weak.

            “I can do anything. I’m not real.” Grace reached down for Jenna’s hand and removed the phone. “You texted your mum?” She tsked and shook her head, repeating, “I told you not to involve her. I told you not to involve her. I told you not to involve her!” With her voice growing louder and angrier each time. Suddenly, she grabbed Jenna’s other hand and pulled her from her state of motionlessness with Jenna being too catatonic to fight back. They both ended up back in the kitchen where they had started. Jenna was pushed into one of the chairs, while Grace ran frantically and searched through the drawers and cabinets.

            “Hey, now, what are you doing?” Jenna’s asked wearily.

            “Looking for a knife.”

“A knife? What for?” Jenna’s throat began to twist and tighten at the sight of Grace’s frenzy.

            “To teach you a lesson.” Grace finally located a bread knife and handed it to Jenna. “Now, use it. Go on.”

            “I don’t know what you mean, Grace. Use it how?”

“If you’re that mentally ill, you’ll know what I mean. Go on, if you truly believe I’m real and actually here, cut yourself.”

“...No.” Jenna’s answer was meek.

            “No? Jenna, stop messing around. If you believe that I am here, in this room, you will take this knife and use it.” Grace pushed the knife’s handle into Jenna’s unwilling hand, who gazed at the blade intently. What would happen if I don’t do it? Jenna considered,

            “And what if I say no, Grace? What if I don’t believe you’re real?”

            “You obviously do to be talking to me.” Grace’s voice was poisonous and struck intense fear within Jenna.

“Why are you doing this? What has this got to do with anything? I thought we were friends.” 

“Friends? Jenna, you barely know me. You spent so much time stalking me online that your lack of medication resulted in a daylight hallucination of me. You’re fucking crazy. And I told you not to tell anyone and you’ve betrayed me, so we are not friends.” Grace and Jenna sustained unbroken eye contact for what seemed like hours. Nothing more could be said. 

After more prolonged silence, Grace’s arm finally stretched out as she began to lunge at Jenna and yelled, “Give me the knife.” In the moment of madness, a vision of static filled Jenna’s sight and an overwhelming wave of anxiety hit her from the inside. She had to make a decision. As the distance between the two women closed, Jenna raised the blade and buried it deep into the outstretched wrist of Grace. 

“You bitch, what have you done?” Grace let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did. I thought you were going to hurt me.” The static that clouded her vision was now buzzing around in her brain. 

“Oh, but I wasn’t going to hurt you. But I might have killed you.” Grace removed the knife from her arm and pointed it at Jenna which prompted a flood of blood to coat the hardwood flooring. “Now it’s your turn.” She lunged once again which prompted Jenna to take inventory of items that could be weaponised. “Go on, are you scared? Is this not what you imagined would happen? Am I not what you imagined, Jenna? You imagined everything. Don’t blame me because you’re crazy.”

Jenna spotted the draining board of crockery and cutlery to her left and decided it was time to give it all she had. A tirade of plates, mugs, and forks was launched towards Grace. Then, everything went into slow motion. Grace was knocked over and slumped into foetal position onto the floor, but Jenna didn’t stop. She threw more dishes, butterknives, everything she had. The static eventually cleared from Jenna’s mind, and she realised the reality of her actions. Grace hadn’t moved or said a word.

“Oh my God, Grace? Are you okay?” She let out a wailing cry and rushed over to the motionless body. It was damp, and a pool of blood surrounded her. No pulse could be found.

“Jenna? Baby?” The front door of the flat opened slowly. “Jenna, are you okay?”

“Mum, oh my God, don’t come in. Please. She’s dead.” Jenna barricaded herself at the door, abandoning Grace.

“Honey, who’s dead?” Carole pushed her way through and stared into her daughter’s eyes of stone. Jenna’s feverish expression and wide, enlarged pupils were a sight she had witnessed before. “Jenna, are you okay? You seem manic. Come on and we’ll sit down and talk about it.” Carole began to move towards the kitchen where Grace was.

“No, mum, you can’t go in there. I’ve killed her. She’s dead. Grace is dead and it’s my fault. Blood. So much blood. I did it.”

“What are you talking about, Jenna? Show me.”

            Jenna took Carole’s hand and led her into the kitchen. The buzzing which had subsided from Jenna’s mind returned as she braced herself and her mother for what was to be a traumatising sight.

            “Jen, honey, what happened in here?” Mountains of smashed dishes and cutlery cluttered the floor.

            “I told you; I killed her. She’s dead. She’s dead.” Jenna crossed over to where she had left Grace and gestured to the floor. Her eyes became hot as stinging tears broke their way out.

            “Jenna, come now. There is no one here. I want to know what happened to all the nice plates and mugs I bought you. Why did you do it?” Carole followed Jenna’s footsteps across the kitchen and grasped her daughter’s shoulders still, but Jenna wriggled from her grip and shuffled away.

            “Mum, stop it. Can’t you see? Can’t you see her? She’s right there. She’s dead. I killed her.” The seemingly ignorant responses from her mother, paired with her attempt of holding her, felt confining. The walls began to close in on Jenna and there was no escape to her actions. 

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby. What happened with the dishes?” Once again, Carole carefully retraced her distraught daughter’s pathway, avoiding the smashed ceramics. She watched as Jenna crouched down and crawled around the dish-laden floor, crying hysterically. Her hands and shins were becoming bloody with the shards of ceramic. 

            “Baby, stop that right now. What are you doing?” Carole felt completely helpless.

            “She’s here, she is right here.” Jenna crawled into a foetal position next to where she saw Grace’s corpse. She began to hold her body in a tight grasp and wept through her hair. “Can’t you see, mum?” She wailed.

            Carole reached over to her daughter and pulled her to an up-right position, bringing her to her feet. She was horrified at the cuts and nicks Jenna had acquired and attempted to sit her down while she cleaned them up. Jenna’s face was wet from crying and had turned a scarlet shade in her ensuing struggle while she failed to catch her breath.  

            “Jenna, what are these?” Carole held up her brown medicine bag.

            “My stupid fucking pills that don’t work.” Her voice was coarse and dry, and sounded almost possessed.

            “How do you know they don’t work, honey?” Carole’s calm motherly tone was a last-ditch attempt at cooling Jenna’s neurotic fit.

            “I took them last night and they made me fucking exhausted, I slept for hours. It was horrible- like a zombie- I was a zombie. And then Grace disappeared and then came back, and now I’ve killed her. Oh God, I’ve killed her.” Jenna fell to the floor once more, writhing around amongst the discarded shards, and began to collect them carefully piece by piece. “Someone should move these before someone gets hurt.” She spoke slowly, her words interrupted by hiccups and shallow breaths. Her full attention was paid towards the ceramics, and she didn’t acknowledge her mum when she finally spoke.

            “Yes, baby, we’ll get them moved. Here, I’ll get you some water and we can have a chat.” Carole carefully exposed a pill from each blister pack and began to crush them under a glass of water, with the plan to dissolve them and thereby sedating her daughter. The plan was so out-of-character for her that she feared if she was doing the right thing for Jenna but, taking in the image of destruction she had left behind, now was no time for second-guessing.

            “Here, baby, drink up. Come sit with me up here and we can talk.” Jenna accepted the water glass and took a gulp in between shuddered gasps. She balanced herself with Carole’s hand and followed her to the kitchen table. 

             Jenna’s eyes became heavier the more she drank. She tried to explain to her mother about the whole ordeal, but the story was told through theatrical sighs and strained mumbles. Carole listened intently but decided it would all come out in the end once she had gotten her daughter actual help. It didn’t take long for Jenna to completely black out on the kitchen stool. 

Now, it was time to leave.

*

 

“Hello, can you please help me? It’s my daughter.”

Jenna’s mum had managed to bundle her sedated daughter into the back of their car and had driven the 20 minutes to Epiphany Hill. Wrapped up in a blanket, Jenna’s appearance was akin to how she looked the day she was brought home from the hospital over twenty years ago, which made Carole helplessly well up. Thoughts of ‘am I doing the right thing?’, rang constantly in her head. 

            “Is she a patient here?” The receptionist was really young, and she couldn’t have been much older than Jenna. Her blonde hair was scraped back into a sleek bun, which, pair with her immaculate blue uniform, gave her a very severe look. Jenna, meanwhile, was fighting a losing battle against sleep and using any energy she had to stay upright. 

            “She’s an outpatient. She comes here for lithium blood testing, and all her assessments have been here. I think she saw Dr. Philips the last time.”

            “Right, that’s fine then. Here, lovely, why don’t you take a seat over there?” The receptionist pointed to a waiting room for Jenna to rest in. Jenna floppily made her way over, using her mum’s arm as a crutch. “So, what’s her name?”

            “It’s Jenna Reed. She’s 21 years old.’ Carole was beginning to pick the skin around her nails in fraught anxiety.

            “Found her. Okay, so she has bipolar disorder, is that right?”

            “Yes. I’m here because she was in a psychotic episode, having delusions. She was manic as well, I think. I don’t know. I just don’t know what I’m doing with this!” Carole broke down into floods of tears and began to shake.

“It’s okay, darlin’, we’ll get her help.”

“I couldn’t bring her here myself, so I gave her the pills she was refusing to take- it makes you drowsy- and now I’ve drugged her. I’m so scared, I just wanted to do the right thing.”

“I’ll get the psychiatrist on call to come and find you, if you want to take a seat with Jenna.”

Twenty minutes later, a doctor approached the waiting room and witnessed the heartbreaking scene of Jenna taking a nap, and her mum crying while stroking her hair. He had seen this before. 

             “Hello, I’m Dr. Clark. Jenna? Are you and your mum okay to come with me?” His voice was calm but commanding enough to rouse Jenna from her slumber.

            He guided them down a corridor into a second waiting room, where he disappeared to finish setting up his office. A few minutes later, Dr. Clark came back and invited them into his room. Clark’s office had calming pastel, blue-coloured walls and was adorned with soft toys and a wooden bead maze, presumably for younger patients. Jenna slumped down on one chair while her mother sat in the adjacent. Clark joined them with a clipboard and pen.

            “So, I have your notes here, but can you tell me what’s been happening?”

            Over the next hour, Jenna, through slurred speech and rolling eyes, described the dead woman she had been living with and how she didn’t know it was a hallucination. Then, Carole spoke of Grace and how she used to be, citing that she knew from this how quickly the illness can take over. Jenna admitted to not taking her medications whilst Carole sat in silence, looking on anxiously. Deep down, the women knew what the eventual outcome would be, but for now, they would have to be honest with Clark. The Doctor scribbled notes and asked consequential questions and listened very intently.

At the end of their meeting, Doctor Clark simply sighed and said;

            “Jenna, for your own safety and the safety of others, I am detaining you under the Mental Health Act. We can review your case after 72-hours, but for now, you need some rest. Okay?”

Jenna began to sob, as did Carole. It was a hard decision to make, but ultimately, they all knew it was for the best. 

“Mum, can I talk to you for a second, please?” Clark was waiting outside his office.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back, Jenna. So, what does all this mean then, doc?”

“We’ll keep Jenna for 72 hours and we can see how she’s doing after that time. In the meantime, could you bring in some basics for her? We’ll give her some pyjamas for tonight, but tomorrow if you could bring some clothes for Jenna; T-shirts, loose fitting trousers- with no ties or belts please, a jumper as it gets cold, just the essentials? You don’t have to worry if you forget anything, we have spares. I know it’s tough, but you know it’s what is best.” He sympathetically reached for her hand and offered a reassuring smile. “You can say goodnight to her and see her tomorrow.” 

Doctor Clark walked down the hallway to have the ward prepared for their new arrival, while Carole and Jenna said their goodbyes. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry, mum.” Jenna kept repeating.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault at all. It’s okay.”

            Clark returned to take Jenna to her room, which was her mum’s cue to leave.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Please, just accept the help and do as they say, okay? Be a good girl for me.” She giggled through her tears.

            “I love you, mum.”

            “I love you more, Jenna.” And with that, she turned to leave as Jenna was led away by Clark. Carole heard Jenna’s cries but refused to look back, knowing it would devastate her.

            As Carole reached her car, the reality of the situation finally hit her. She had seen this before in Grace and now her own daughter was exhibiting the same bizarre outbursts. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, this was probably going to be just the beginning. All they could do was stay hopeful in the idea of Jenna being receptive to her treatment. 

All they had now was hope.