Real and Imagined

Writers: Bree, Jane
Date Posted: 1st December 2006

Characters: Shalai, Delen
Description: When Threadfall results in another violent outburst, Delen has a harder time putting Shalai's problems from his mind
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 1, day 5 of Turn 4

By the time they managed to get the cup of drugged juice to her lips, Shalai's throat had gone hoarse from screaming. It wasn't that she didn't want the drugs--shards, she would have gotten on her knees and _begged_ for them if she'd been able to--but the pain was so terrible that she couldn't stay still.

The worst part was not knowing which pain was real and which was imaginary. In the morning she'd look at her arms and legs and see bruises and scratches, and would know that this one was where she hit her arm against the table, and that one was the scratch from her own nails. She could always remember every agonizing detail with a clarity she never understood, and wished she could escape.

She thought sometimes that the voices wouldn't be so bad if she could just see them. The part of her that still clung to sanity laughed at that--seeing people who weren't there was hardly an improvement over hearing them! But at least when she saw them, she knew who they were.
Knew what they wanted.

Knew they weren't real.

It had started that morning the way it always did. A murmur, a soft voice drifting across her consciousness. She'd turned to find no one there--imaginary or not.

Another voice, and a third. Their words became meaningless noise as they overlapped, and she could feel her heart beginning to race. She tried to take deep breaths, tried to tell herself that nothing was there. It didn't work. It never worked. The pressure built and built until she had to scream, just to let the energy escape before it swallowed her whole.

And then it had been just like every other time. More voices, and then hands, and bodies and arms and no way to tell whose voices were which.
Panic exploded inside of her and the world became a haze as she screamed and struggled and begged for them to leave her alone or stop or drug her or kill her...

Sometimes she wasn't sure which she wanted more.

~*~

--Month 1, Fifth Day--

"Threadfall. Could it be that which is making S. worse? But _what_ about it? Do we – who try to keep the routines in the wing as constant as possible for the patients – do something out of the ordinary when we prepare our part of the Hall for Thread? Certainly we can't prevent the patients from hearing the wail of the siren and there are others in whom that causes agitation, but S. reacts so much more violently. Not that she wasn't already heading for a crisis long before the siren wailed – that was obvious. Not so much talking this time. No immorality and punishment themes. Is there a difference between the crisis on days when Thread falls and the others?"

Usually when he finished the entry and closed the journal Delen found he relaxed. It was a simple enough trick that he'd found useful over the Turns – convincing his mind that his work was over when the journal closed. The line he drew under each entry was effectively drawn under the days work, no matter how difficult, and he was able to go to bed and to sleep.

Not this night. Delen knew as he pushed the journal across the desk that his mind wasn't going to let go. Something was roiling away in his head and if he got any sleep it would be in spite of that. Still, he had to try. He undressed and folded his clothes tidily on the chair in front of the desk. Order and routine. It was as necessary for him as for the patients, something that wasn't always a comfortable observation.

~*~

Last updated on the December 1st 2006

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Real and Imagined