Rebecca Lim - Mercy

I almost cannot contain it.

I don’t hear Jennifer’s question. She repeats it sharply.

‘Where are we? Where has he taken us?’

‘You’re not that far from home, Jennifer,’ I reply distantly, blood still in my eyes, roaring in my ears.

A great tempest inside. ‘You’re at his place, Laurence Barry’s place. We’re going to get you out.’

‘But I don’t understand.’ There is confusion in Jennifer’s voice. ‘Laurence Barry? Are they in this together?’

‘Who?’ I say, confusion in mine now. ‘Who’s in this together?’ Then Lauren begins to laugh, and the sound is so strange that I feel that cold flash race across the surface of Carmen’s skin again. ‘We’re going to die here,’ she crows, rocking backwards and forwards on her makeshift bed. ‘We’ll die here, and no one will find us until we’re bones.’ Her crazy laughter grows into a wordless keening, until the banging from above starts again. The shrieking ceases instantly, Lauren making herself as small as possible on her metal cot. Somehow, the sudden silence is almost worse.

When Lauren’s voice finally issues out of the darkness again, it’s muffled and flat and weirdly controlled.

‘Ryan’s not coming, no one’s coming,’ she says.

‘Because this isn’t Laurence Barry’s place.’ I freeze, unable to believe we were wrong.

‘It’s Paul Stenborg’s. Sten- borg. Get it? Stone fortress.

We’re never going to get out.’

Right dream, wrong place.

I react so strongly to her words that I forget and turn away from the wall. Paul’s place? How is that possible?

Both girls rear back from me so powerfully that I curse aloud. It’s too late to hide.

Now they can see me as clearly as I have seen them all along. For a moment, I recall the shining man, my dream brother. How his light pierced the darkness as if he were a little sun. Do I seem like that to them, trapped all these days in darkness?

‘It’s okay,’ I say wildly. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Who are you?’ Jennifer chokes out.

‘ What are you?’ breathes Lauren.

It’s a good question, the very question I’d like an answer to myself, only, it’s as if the word, the name, for what I truly am has been cut from my mind. Always, when I reach for it, when it should be obvious, it’s not there.

I’m desperate to set their minds at ease as much as the situation allows, but there’s that little problem of trust that I seem to have and I’m silent for a long time; weighing up the pros and cons, I think you call it. Only in a situation like this one, there are no cons. There’s nothing left to lose. I could die in this stupidly frail, borrowed body and never know the answer, never make any meaningful human contact and that’s not what I want. What I want is to talk to someone so badly, tell someone about me — the real me and not the face I’m presenting to the world — that my misgivings suddenly disappear and I wonder why I held onto them for so long.

So I tell them almost everything of myself that I have managed to piece together in this lifetime, and of the multitude of disjointed lifetimes that I only dimly recall living. I speak so fast, my words falling over each other in the rush to get out, that I’m sure I’m making no sense at all —

‘And I can see things,’ I hear myself say, ‘about people. Some people I don’t even need to touch to know what’s eating away at their … souls. I just know —’ I’m just grateful for the chance to tell my story because then it might now stay, and I might now remember.

For a while, they cleave to the sound of my voice and forget the unspeakable place we have found ourselves in, and they shower me with questions.

‘So is she in there, then? Carmen?’ Lauren asks in awe.

‘And can she hear you, Mercy?’ says Jennifer, her voice uncertain, a person who has always dealt in concrete realities.

‘Yes, she is,’ I say carefully. ‘And she probably can hear me. But I’m not really sure whether she knows what’s going on. I hope she doesn’t. It’s almost like she’s sleepwalking, I suppose. She’s a soprano, you know, like you are. But tiny, Lauren’s size. With dark hair.’ There is no need for me to say this — they can see her now — but what is inside me feels so removed from what is outside that I must make the divergence clear.

‘We’re his type,’ says Lauren in a small voice. ‘I think he’s … collecting us. Treasuring us.’ And I know she’s right. Paul said so himself, was talking about himself by the piano after last night’s rehearsal, only I didn’t know it. Didn’t grasp the underlying darkness in his words.

‘Does Ryan know? About the real you, I mean,’ Lauren asks, resting her chin on her drawn-up knees.

I hesitate for a moment, before saying, ‘No. But he suspects I’m not altogether, uh … normal.’ Both girls laugh quietly.

‘Does … Paul?’ asks Jennifer. She swallows jerkily before she can say his name.

‘I’m not sure,’ I reply. ‘I think I was under a streetlight when he grabbed me. Things probably happened so fast he never even noticed. I’m not sure the fact that I glow in the dark would change anything.’

‘Make you more or less … collectible, you mean,’ Lauren whispers.

‘So what else can you … do?’ Jennifer says, her voice husky from crying.

‘I’m not sure,’ I say slowly. ‘Sing.’

‘We can all sing,’ says Lauren disgustedly. ‘That’s what got us into trouble in the first place. I’m never going to do it again, if I get out of here. Never.’

‘No one will be able to stop me,’ Jennifer disagrees fiercely.

‘Who knows if I’ll still be able to … after all this,’ I say.

I don’t tell them about being able to see in the dark like a cat, or make random impersonations of complete strangers. I don’t want them to feel self-conscious, and I don’t quite believe the last part myself. It might have been some kind of fluke, a shared auditory hallucination, a temporary madness. Without any explanation or context for it, I’m not going to class it as some kind of… gift.

The three of us are silent for a long time.

‘If we ever get out of here,’ Lauren suddenly says, urgently, ‘you have to promise you’ll tell Ryan? He’ll want to know. But he won’t believe me. It’s got to come from you.’ The links of my chain lie cold and heavy against my heart as I draw my knees up under my chin as Lauren had.

‘Oh, he’ll believe you,’ I say softly. ‘He’s believed you when everyone else gave up a long time ago. He’s put everything on hold in his life just to find you. He doesn’t think about doing anything else. He heard you, kept hearing you when even your parents …’ I don’t bother finishing my sentence. She’s been hurt enough, no need to spell it out. ‘Anyway, it’s remarkable. He’s remarkable.’

‘You like him,’ Lauren says softly after a pause. It’s a statement, not a question.

‘ I like him,’ I agree quietly. ‘But Carmen won’t know him from Adam when I’m gone. Which could be anytime now. I have a habit of just … flitting away. It will only confuse things. So if he doesn’t know, don’t tell him.’ Then the door above the staircase is thrown wide and I am rendered momentarily blind by the brilliant light from the overhead fluorescents being turned on, like the heavens are opening.

‘Ladies,’ Paul Stenborg says conversationally, shutting and locking the door behind him, pocketing the key.

I have always hated that appellation, feel an unreasonable rage when it is directed at me personally.

Especially now. My left hand begins to ache dully.

Jennifer and Lauren moan into their fingers, their sensitive eyes screwed tight against the unnatural illumination. Carmen’s pupils have contracted to mere pinpoints, but my adjustment to the light is almost instantaneous.