Юхан Теорин - The Asylum

He is standing in a narrow room with a bank of wooden benches. A few grey sacks have been thrown on the floor. It’s a small chapel, and right at the front he sees an altarpiece — an old, cracked image of a woman with a gentle smile. He moves closer and is able to read the name PATRICIA painted in angular letters on the frame of the picture.

Patricia, the hospital’s patron saint.

He turns away — but the grey sacks have begun to move.

They are patients. Three men in grey tracksuits, with grey faces. One older man with heavy jowls, and two younger men with shaved heads. They are staring at Jan, their expressions blank and empty. Perhaps it’s because of the medication.

The older man points to the altar. His voice is mechanical. ‘Patricia needs peace and quiet.’

‘So do we,’ says one of the others.

‘Me too,’ Jan says quietly.

‘Do you live here?’ one of the patients asks.

‘Yes,’ Jan replies. ‘I live down here.’

The older man nods, and Jan takes a step past the three men. Slowly and carefully. Rettig has warned him. But the patients remain motionless, and Jan goes back out into the corridor.

Eventually he finds one of his scraps of paper on the floor. And then another. They show him the way, and he hurries along, following the white trail. He hears voices in the chapel behind him — the men have started singing hymns again. Jan speeds up, heading towards the end of the corridor.

Into another corridor, around several corners in this labyrinth — and at last he is back in the safe room.

He shuts the steel door behind him, then scurries along the familiar corridor, past the animal pictures and up the stairs. His adventure is over.

The last thing he does at the top of the stairs is to listen for footsteps from down below. But no one is pursuing him.

He closes the door and breathes out, but he can’t relax. He checks on the children, and has a terrible shock.

Only one head is visible in the beds. It is Leo’s. Mira’s bed is empty.

Jan is utterly panic-stricken; he can’t move. You let them down. Another child is missing. Missing, missing—

Then he hears the toilet flush in the bathroom.

Mira is almost six; she has learned how to go to the toilet on her own, without calling for an adult. She emerges from the bathroom and walks straight past him, still half asleep. She hasn’t even noticed that he wasn’t there.

‘Goodnight, Mira,’ he says behind her.

‘Mm,’ she replies, and gets back into bed.

A few minutes later she seems to have dropped off, and Jan is gradually able to wind down. He removes the other Angel from the children’s room and puts it in his locker. If things work out this will be his link to the hospital. A way of transmitting secret messages.

‘Is everyone feeling ok?’ Marie-Louise asks.

There are a few indistinct mumbles.

The response is muted. Winter is on its way. It is late autumn, a weary grey Monday morning at the Dell, with an excess of darkness and very little light.

Jan says nothing, but no one seems to notice his silence. His night shift actually finished an hour ago, but in spite of his tiredness he has stayed on to attend the morning meeting. He wants to know if his visit to the hospital has been discovered — if Dr Högsmed has sent over a report about an intruder . The security guard was quite a long way from him, she can’t possibly have seen his face all that clearly, but...

Marie-Louise doesn’t mention it. She is behaving exactly the way she always does, except that she is slightly more subdued. Perhaps it’s because of the autumn darkness outside the window.

Lilian is positively drooping. Her head is bent over her coffee cup so that the red hair covers her face; she seems to be half asleep. When Marie-Louise turns to her, Lilian doesn’t look her in the eye.

‘Lilian,’ Marie-Louise says tentatively. ‘What’s that?’

‘Sorry? What’s what?’

Lilian raises her head and Jan sees that she still has the snake on her cheek. Her weekend tattoo.

‘On your cheek... Have you painted something on your cheek?’

‘This?’ Lilian runs her fingers over her face, and seems surprised when she notices that her fingertips are slightly black. ‘Oh, sorry, that was for a party... I forgot to get rid of it. Sorry. I’m really sorry.’ She coughs loudly and suppresses a belch, and the smell of alcohol spreads across the table.

Marie-Louise frowns. ‘Lilian, could I have a word with you in private?’

Lilian closes her mouth. ‘What for?’

‘Because you are far from sober.’ Marie-Louise’s voice is no longer gentle.

Lilian looks at her for a few seconds, then she gets up and leaves the table, her lips tightly pressed together. She walks out of the room after pausing to address the others: ‘I am not drunk,’ she mutters. ‘I am hung-over .’

Marie-Louise follows her. ‘Back in a moment.’

Both women seem to have repaired to the cloakroom; that’s where their voices are now coming from. The conversation begins as a quiet discussion, but the volume rapidly increases. Marie-Louise’s voice remains controlled, but Lilian responds with loud questions.

‘Can’t a person go out and relax after work? Wind down a little bit? Or are we all supposed to dedicate our lives to the kids, just like you’ve done?’

‘Calm down please, Lilian — the children can hear you...’

‘I am fucking calm!’

Around the table you could hear a pin drop. Hanna and Andreas keep their eyes lowered, and Jan can’t think of anything to say.

The tirade continues: ‘You’re sick, that’s your problem! You need to get some help!’

Is that Lilian or Marie-Louise? Jan can’t tell; the voice that is yelling is too shrill.

‘And you’re so fucking perfect ! I just can’t do it any more, I can’t be like you... The nut jobs can look after their own fucking kids!’

That must be Lilian, Jan realizes.

Marie-Louise’s response is cold and curt: ‘Lilian, you’re hysterical.’

Hysteria is no longer an acceptable term , Jan hears Dr Högsmed saying inside his head.

The quarrel is making Andreas look ill; he shudders and gets to his feet. ‘I’ll go and see to the children.’

He goes into the playroom and soon Jan hears jolly nursery rhymes from the CD player, drowning out the loud voices from the cloakroom.

But like most arguments, this one soon comes to an end. After a few moments the front door slams shut; there is a brief silence, then Marie-Louise is back, smiling once more.

‘Lilian has gone home for the day,’ she says. ‘She’s going to have a little rest.’

Jan nods without speaking, but Hanna asks softly, ‘Is she getting any help?’

Marie-Louise stops smiling. ‘Help?’

‘To cut down on her drinking,’ Hanna says calmly.

Jan can feel the tension in the air.

Marie-Louise folds her arms. ‘Lilian is not a child. She is responsible for her own actions.’

‘But the employer also has a certain level of responsibility,’ Hanna insists. She sounds as if she is quoting from some legal document when she goes on: ‘If an employee is drinking too much there should be a treatment plan for their rehabilitation.’

‘For their rehabilitation ,’ Marie-Louise repeats. ‘Well, doesn’t that sound marvellous?’

Hanna doesn’t look amused. ‘Is there a rehabilitation plan for Lilian?’

Marie-Louise stares at her. ‘There are many eyes on us here, Hanna,’ she says eventually. ‘Just bear that in mind.’

Then she turns and walks out of the staffroom.

There are only the two of them left at the table now. Hanna rolls her eyes at Jan, but he shakes his head.