The Medea Complex by Rachel Florence Roberts

Author:Rachel Florence Roberts [Roberts, Rachel Florence]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Medical, Retail, Suspense, Thriller
ISBN: 9781493651177
Amazon: 149365117X
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2013-11-02T04:00:00+00:00

You’ve Seen A Ghost

Anne

April 23rd, 1886

Royal Bethlem Hospital

"That be a fine pattern you sew there, my Lady." A withered hand rests gently upon my shoulder, and squeezes.

"Why, thank you Dolores."I reply, looking over my shoulder and smiling. Dolores must be ninety if she's a day, and I'm surprised she can even see my sewing. Most likely she cannot, but the kindness of this woman has astounded me during my recent days here. She takes it upon herself to walk around the day room, for many hours in the mornings, aided with two walking sticks in her hands and a heavy shawl upon her back. She offers pleasantries to all and sunder that she meets and is a charming woman indeed. Yesterday, I found her talking to Grace, telling her what beautiful eyes she had, and 'a bony lass indeed you be, indeed, my dear'. I swear Grace smiled at her too. Another woman, Esther Base, killed her baby too in a fit of insanity, and Dolores is fantastic with her; offering her comfort when she cries.

Now I have been deemed as 'restored to my senses', or at least temporarily, I have much greater freedom to wander the grounds of the hospital. Of course, this freedom only gives the mad people more opportunity to be crazy without being noticed, a notion which makes me want to laugh. I've been moved into a room a whole level up, which means I can see more of the sky through a slightly larger, yet still barred window. The room is again, singular, though now my stay in isolation is deemed a privilege as opposed to a punishment. It is even graced with a dressing table, a looking glass, a chair, and a clock!

Since they now let me hold a sharp needle, I can sew, though I don't profess to be as good as Dolores declares. Moral therapy, they call it. Beatrix would always do my sewing, dress making and mending, so I never learned. Yet is a skill I am now adamant to grasp, as quickly and as perfectly as I can. It pleases the nurses too, as it is easy for them to keep a watchful eye on me if I am in one place. They don’t altogether trust me, and I don't blame them. I don't know how long I have left in Bethlem. Half of me hopes it is no longer than the morrow, but the other half wishes it was much longer. I have a great deal to do before I am ready to leave.

Dolores pats me on the back and moves on across the room. Every patient in here has their own history, and hers is just one of them. Dolores was 'put' in here by an ex husband thirty years ago so he could be with his new mistress, and never was, nor is, insane: now preferring to stay here than being utterly destitute and shamed on what she terms The Outside. Now and then she puts on

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