Helen - Writing Short 6

So, I'm a little nervous about this one. It's my first, first person narrative in a very very long time. I'm talking probably about nearly 10 years. I've had this idea in my head for a while and read a few novels that helped me out with my idea. They were all written in third person though so I hope I've done it justice.

Helen

I’m awake. The sun is shining through my window, making my eyes clench shut from the onslaught of light. I think it’s morning, the birds are singing harmoniously. It’s beautiful. Time to get up, I’ve got work to do, people to see and things that need doing.

Rolling out of bed, I stumble to balance my feet. Dizzy. That’s strange. I don’t remember going out last night, nor do I have the remnants of a hangover, luckily. Those things tend to kill me for the day. Adjusting my eyes, the room doesn’t look familiar.

Where’s Paul?

This room smells strange, medical and stagnant. I can’t place myself here.
What’s going on? Where is Paul?

My eyes search the room, grasping to find the familiar; a soft plump chair, that looks comfortable. The confusion of the space is halting. I need to sit down. My butt firmly in place I run my hands over the soft, brown arms of the chair. I was right, this thing is comfy.

Okay, what was I doing?

Keys, keys… keys.

Where are my keys?

I don’t want to be late for work. Paul must’ve gone ahead, I can’t hear him walking about. I glance over at the bookshelf. I love that photo of us. It’s my favourite, our wedding day. No time to waste, must get to work. Heading for the door, I brace myself mentally for the day.

Pulling the door open I see a long and carpeted hallway. It’s bright from the sunshine gleaming in from the windows at the end. There are doors on my left and to my right; even in front of me.

Wait, this can’t be right. Where am I? What…erm?

My eyes flicker between the faces in the hallway. Who are these people? I don’t recognise any of them. Was I in a car crash, is that why I can’t remember where I am? That must be right. There’s a nurse. She’s smiling. She must know what’s going on.

“Good morning, Helen!” Oh, she’s smiling at me, pearly whites beaming from ear to ear, prompting a response.

“Erm, good morning. Hi. I’m sorry, I’m late. I need to get to work”, I feign a friendly glance her way. I need to get going.

My head is so fuzzy, but it’ll pass. I need to get to work, there are papers that need filing, new clients to talk to then meet Paul for lunch. A nurse passes.

“Morning Helen. How are we doing today?”

“I’m fine thanks.” He was friendly.

Okay, how do I get out of here?

Long corridor, green sign, white man, white arrow. Exit. Perfect.

I walk quickly to the doors, my arms reaching out in front of me to force the weight of the double doors open. But my hands collide with my shoulders as my body slams against the tough metal barrier. I push my weight against it again. Nothing, still locked. I stand back, confused. It must open inwards, what an idiot. Pull not push. I roll my eyes, embarrassed. I look around, but the only people looking my way are two nurses. I shrug at them, with a guilty smile, and pull the door. It’s doesn’t move, again.

What the heck?

I turn to the nurses, “Sorry, excuse me. The door seems to be jammed… locked? I really need to get out”.

One of the nurses walks over, another follows closely behind; the nice gentleman from earlier.

“Helen. Where are you going?” He smiles at me, sympathetically, a sad look on his face.

“I need to get to work”. I plead, weary of the deeper meaning to the look on his face.

Why isn’t he letting me out?

I need to get out. I push on the door again, then pull at the handles with no affect.

“Please. Come sit down Helen. Don’t worry about work for now. Please, come. Take a seat”. His eyes watch me intently.

“But, I need to go?” I go to thumb my keys towards the door. I don’t have them.
Where’ve they gone?

Dizzying pain appears in my head again. The other nurse comes to stand next to the nice man. She’s smiling softly at me too. But their eyes are both full of sadness.

This time, the woman asks me, “Please, Helen. Come sit down.” Her eyes give nothing away but she asks me so softly, I comply. As I walk to a chair with the lady I see both their shoulders drop in relief.

Relief at what?

I see the nice man signal to some other nurses to stand down, a few of them are wearing uniforms I don’t recognise.

The lady places me into a chair. It overlooks a sea of springtime gardens, splashes of colour ignite my senses. I smile, involuntarily, at the scene before me.

“Hmmm, flowers. They’re beautiful. I like this a lot.”

“I know Helen. This is your favourite spot.”

It is?

“Would you like a cup of tea, Helen?”

“Yes please. Thank you, Nurse...?”

“…Mavern. Nurse Mavern, and you’re welcome, Helen.”

I smile at her, pleased with our conversation, then glance to the sea of flowers outside. My mind wanders; roaming over the blades of grass; birds, splashing in the water from the fountain; the leaves moving, floating around in the wind. It’s peaceful. Beautiful.

“Here you are Helen. Your tea.” My mind snaps out of the garden and into the room.

“Oh, tea. Lovely. Thank you.” I take a sip, it’s perfect; especially when I’m such a pain for how I like my tea. Music.

Where’s that coming from?

I turn my head trying to use my ears as antenna to pick up the musical signal.

Where is it coming from?

A small stereo on the table in the corner, by a vase of flowers. It’s nice music. I know this song. My eye-lids drift close, they’re so heavy; I hum to the song, moving my fingers in a little dance to the music. I can’t remember its name though. But it makes me feel happy and warm inside. I like it.

“Helen?” I open my eyes to a tall, older man, standing in front of me. He looks friendly.

“Can I sit?” He gestures to the chair beside me and I nod. I like new people.

“Hi,” I smile at him. “My name’s Helen. What’s your name?” He smiles, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. They look sad. I wonder why.

“Hi, Helen. My name is Paul.” He says.

Paul…Paul…That’s familiar. Isn’t that? No. Who knows… it’s gone. I look out to the garden, the notice movement beside me. I turn to the chair and see a man sat there.

“Hello.” I say, trying my hardest to be friendly. I don’t like strangers. They’re unknown.

Who is he? What is he doing here?

I can’t breathe, he’s panicking me. I don’t like it. I look at him, eyes wide. He can see my distressed confusion.

“Nurse?!” He shouts someone over. “She’s panicking.”

“She’s not having such a good day Mr Bensham,” she sighs.

My eyes dart between them.

What are they saying?

I’m Helen. Helen Bensham. But, he…he’s not Paul. He’s not my Paul.

“I don’t know who he is! Get him away from me.” My voice is high pitched and screeching. I hope they can hear me. They need to listen to me. “Get him away from me!”

“Helen, please? It’s Paul. It’s me Paul. I’m your husband. Remember me?”

I stop shouting and search his eyes, they’re green like a forest. I stare at his face, his ears, taking everything in. He sounds like Paul. But he… he isn’t him. This isn’t my Paul. He’s holding his palms up towards me, in defence, and I notice Paul’s wedding ring.

“Get him away from me!” I scream.

“Mr Bensham, I think you should leave. Today is not a good day.” The nurse tells him.

Not a good day? What?

I get out of my chair quickly, off-balance, and knock it to the ground.

Why won’t they listen to me?

Suddenly, I’m pulled backwards into a metal chair, nurses surround me, holding me.

“Let me go!”

What's going on?

Through the folds of uniform I see the ‘husband imposter’ talking to a doctor. They’re nodding in agreement over something. Then one of them walks over to me.

“Sharp scratch Helen. Everything is going to be okay.”

Why wouldn’t it be?

The dizzying has stopped, now I’m just tired. Work today must’ve really worn me out. I didn’t see Paul though. He must’ve been busy at lunch-time. He’s always busy these days. My eye-lids are so tired, I need sleep. I’m drifting off. There’s that music again. I like this song. Stars shining bright above me.

‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’.