“You need sleep. You haven’t slept properly in months,” says Dad.
“I have. I slept because Nyx was with me.” They all exchange a worried look. “I’m not mad!” I yell. “He was there!”
“I know, sweetie, we get it,” says Sue, stroking my hair but I can tell by her expression she doesn’t believe me. None of them do. “Let’s get some sleep and make sense of this tomorrow. Maybe he’ll turn up tonight like normal.”
I hear them whispering outside my door once I’m in bed. They think I’m crazy. Maybe I am, but since Beck died, Nyx has been there for me. He’s real. I know he is. “Where are you?” I whisper into the dark. “Why won’t you come and show them I’m not mad.”
By the morning, I’m even more exhausted. Dad comes into my room. “We’re gonna go to the doctor this morning,” he says, placing a cup of tea on my bedside cabinet.
“I’m not crazy,” I whisper.
“I know, but let’s see what he says.”
“In cases where there’s been a lack of sleep for some time, exhaustion can make you hallucinate,” says the doctor to Dad. I feel like screaming so he notices me sitting here. “If Andi has been under a lot of strain, it’s quite possible she’s imagined this man to get her through. The mind is a clever tool, and it will do what it needs to keep us alive.”
“He’s real,” I whisper for the hundredth time.
“Andi, I think you need to stay in the hospital for a short time. Once you’re on medication and you’re sleeping, things will be clearer.”
“I’m not crazy,” I hiss, standing.
The doctor backs away, staring at me like I’m a rabid animal. “I know. But you’re grieving and that can be hard.”
“If he’s real, Andi, where is he?” Dad asks.
I begin to cry again. I’m so confused.
CHAPTER TEN
Idon’t like it here. There are others walking around in a zombie state. I don’t want to be like them. A woman in a nurse’s outfit sits opposite me. “Hi, Andi. I’m going to be one of your key workers while you stay here.”
“I’m not crazy,” I say.
She smiles kindly. “No one said you were, sweetie.”
“Then why am I here?”
She thinks for a minute. “Why do you think you’re here?”
Tears fill my eyes and I swipe them away. I’m so sick of crying. “Because everyone thinks I’m seeing someone who isn’t there.”
“The mind is a complicated tool,” she says. “When you’re sad, like really sad, it’s hard to pull yourself up. Your dad mentioned that your brother was killed in Afghanistan?” I nod, rubbing my heart at the thought of Beck. “And you two were close?” I nod again. “It’s so hard when someone we love so deeply is taken suddenly. Put that with taking care of your dad and taking care of the house, well, it’s a recipe for a breakdown.”
“Is that what this is?” I ask, sniffling.
“It could be. The psychiatrist will assess you in a few days.”
“How do I get better?”
“By accepting help. We’re all here to get you well, Andi.”
Apparently, the pills help. But all they do is make me feel sick. I have sleeping pills and antidepressants and God knows what else the psychiatrist recommended I take. But nothing helps. The pain is there, burning in my chest, all the damn time.
I feel my eyes flutter closed and sigh. I don’t want to sleep because I dream of Beck and Mum, and that just makes me feel worse. But tonight, I feel the bed dip and an arm snaking around my waist.
“Nyx?” I gasp.
“I missed you.”