She Is Brighter

SHE

IS

BRIGHTER

Patient Files, No: 12b-06285-P Name: Mary Alice Brandon D.O.B: 1st April 1909 Doctor: Charles Montgomery Medical history: Broke her leg falling from a tree at seven years of age and contracted the chicken pox at twelve. She was admitted to Boswell regional centre in July 1926 and is said to have prophetic dreams that have plagued her for 14 years. Her parents admitted her with the hope that she would be cured. Doctor’s notes: As Mary’s doctor, I have administered Electroconvulsive therapy to the patient. So far, there has been no improvement on her condition. *** My fingers clenched involuntarily as the volts entered my body running strenuous relays through my system. My back arched off the table and my eyes slammed shut, shutting off the dreary grey walls of the “treatment centre”. Torture chamber would have been a more accurate description. They were such stark contrast from the bright glittering dances I once attended with rambunctious and vibrant music, that were the foundation of my old life, I often queried whether I was still on the same earth. I cursed the visions that had sent me here, cursed my fiancée for revealing them. Without his interference maybe I would be outside living the dreams rather than being cooped up in this institution. One would have thought that by now I would have become accustomed to the treatment, most of the time I was, it was only on days like today, when they decided to increase the voltage, that I had problems controlling my reactions. I breathed a sigh of relief, welcoming the large black wave of unconsciousness slowly encompassing my mind and surrendering myself to a vision. I was suddenly free from my bindings, standing in the middle of a lush meadow, the tall wild grass reaching my waist. I ran my hands through the grass, my left catching in a near translucent spider’s web. I knelt to examine the damage and lifted the struggling creature onto the nearest flower, smiling as I did so. Straightening myself once more, I studied my surroundings carefully. Around the sides of the meadow grew gargantuan trees, the size of buildings, that were in full bloom and whose branches overlapped, masking a little of the sky but leaving a circular patch of bright light that was steadily illuminated by the midday sun. Somewhere nearby I could hear the bubbling of a brook and the sweet song of a nightingale leaked through the leaves from a large oak adjacent to where I stood. I turned on my little spot, causing the strands of grass around me to shake in the breeze I created and I promptly gasped as I locked eyes with what could only be an angel. He was standing directly behind me and my small 4”11’ frame barely reached above his waist. He had beautiful honey coloured hair that shone in the sun and perfect angular features. His eyes were a shade darker than his hair and they glowed warmly at me, stopping my heart in my chest. He moved his hands to wither side of my head and I gazed dolefully at him, his lips in particular. “Alice…” “Mary! Child, are you sleeping?” I felt a wave of icy water engulf the upper half of my limp form, shaking me to the core. My eyes, drowsy from sleep and yet still

alert, flashed to the aging face of my Doctor. As they did every time I saw him, my eyes followed the long scar that protruded from the skin between his right ear and his chin. The very scar I gave him when I was still strong enough to have done so. His steely grey eyes followed my line of vision and he sighed softly, running his hands through his limp hair and looking increasingly haggard as he did. Despite all the pain the doctor had inflicted upon me, my heart went out to the delusional man wasting his life inflicting pain on the helpless whilst all the while thinking his work was for the greater good. I raised my head with the most dignity I could muster and looked him straight in his eyes. “Sorry.” My voice rasped against my throat as I spoke and voiced a word that had double meanings to those in the know. He sighed again and returned to his seat, picking up my files and a pen. “What did you see this time?” he asked sadly, his eyes on the paper. My heart sank. Here I had two options; tell the truth and stay here indefinitely- or lie. Tell him I saw nothing, pretend that my visions were gone, to build up a facade that the treatments were working and curing me. Even as the thought flickered across my mind, I knew I couldn’t lie. In this hellhole, I did not want to sin when death was so potentially imminent. I opened my mouth and began to explain. “I was…in a meadow somewhere. There were trees all around and when I turned, I saw a beautiful an- man standing behind me. He called me Alice. I don’t know where I was or why I was there, but I know that I was happy.” He raised an eyebrow, seeming even sadder than before after a confirmation that the dreams still existed. I waited patiently, as he jotted down some notes, shivering violently all the while. Seconds later he had lowered his equipment and risen from his seat. I straightened myself as much as possible in the bindings as he reached over to tighten them. “Obviously, this method of treatment is not working,” he said quietly, causing my heart to thump in my chest. Was he taking me off treatment? “Unfortunately, there is little else suitable for your case. I’m sorry Mary-Alice, but we’ll have to increase regularity of the ECT to once a day. It’s the only possible way.” My eyes widened infinitesimally and my jaw dropped. Once a day? That was an increase of four treatments each week. I began to protest but soon enough, all thoughts were shocked from my brain. Volts ran once more through my body, shooting pain, like daggers, into my sides. As my eyes squeezed shut, I prayed to whoever was truly up there, hoping that I would one day be free. *** Mary Alice Brandon, died 2nd July, 1928. At 19 years of age, Mary (known as Alice to her friends) was a beautiful child who was blossoming into a woman at the time of death. She made her first appearance in society at just 15 years old and was a frequent attendee of balls and parties. Before her institutionalization she was betrothed to Logan Mars another prominent figure in socialite events of the time. She will be well missed by her parents and sister as long as they all shall live.