This is part 7 of my Kodachi fic. Earlier parts are available upon
request.
More notes at the end.
Why should poor beauty indirectly seek
Roses of shadow, since his rose is true?
Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is,
Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?
O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had
In days long since, before these last so bad.
excerpt from Sonnet LXVII
by William Shakespeare
ROSES OF SHADOW
By Richard Lawson
Part Seven: Letters From Inside
"How do you operate this device?"
"Just turn the dial."
"I did. It merely made a hissing sound."
"Hmm. Try pushing that button."
"Which one?"
"The one that says 'Ignite'."
<FWOOM>
"Yaah!"
"Wow, that was neat. Say, your hair's on fire."
"By my ancestors! I cannot abide this abomination."
"It's just a stove."
"Even so."
"Okay, put this pan on it."
"And?"
"And this oil... uh, maybe these vegetables?"
"They would need to be chopped first."
"No problem. YAAAAAA-tatatatatatatatatatata."
"As impressive a display as that might have been, I do believe it may
have been better for you to wash them first."
"Oh. Well, we're going to fry 'em anyway. Here we go."
"Ouch!"
"Wow, look at it splatter. That looked like it hurt."
"And it is spoiling my raiment."
"Hmm, maybe we *should* have been wearing those aprons after all. Okay,
spices."
"I am not so sure we should attempt to use these spices."
"Don't be such a wuss. Hmm... belladonna. Sounds good."
"Is that not what Socrates drank when he ended his life?"
"Oh. Hey, watch those vegetables!"
"I have been watching them. They are turning this most interesting
shade of dark brown. Now they are turning black."
"Shut it off, shut it off! No, turn it the other way."
<silence>
"It appears we should eat our meal elsewhere. I have heard that a new
okonomiyaki restaurant is opening nearby."
"Naw, not today. I'd prefer a hamburger."
"That is not food fit for ones such as ourselves to consume."
"Ones such as ourselves can't take care of ourselves to save ourselves'
lives. C'mon, they know me pretty well at McDonald's. I think the
manager has a crush on me."
"Do not forget that you are engaged to my sister."
"Trust me, it's always on my mind."
"Good. That reminds me; this arrived for you today."
"Oh."
"Will you read it?"
"Don't rush me."
---
Dear Ranma-sama,
Three days I have been here. Three days I have been on medication.
Many, many different kinds of medication. There's the medication that
will eventually stabilize me - maybe. There is the medication that
sedates me until that happens. There are the sleeping pills I have to
take every night - insomnia is not an option.
Everything is muted. I know how I *should* be feeling - I want to
laugh, I want to cry, I want to attack everyone in a rage. But I
can't. I cannot seem to find the means to get worked up. A layer of
gauze has been wrapped around my brain, and it is driving me crazy. I
hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I want to rip open my veins so that the
drugs will flow out and I'll feel like myself again. Yet somehow, I
cannot work up the energy to do that, either.
The people who are here with me have interesting scars. This is the
only place I've been where people cheerfully compare the scars on their
wrists from previous suicide attempts. There is much animated
discussion on which method is quickest, easiest, and least painful.
Slitting the artery vertically with a razor blade seems to be the
agreed-upon method. One unfortunate soul cut his wrist with a broken
beer bottle. He didn't succeed in killing himself, but he did sever a
tendon.
The days around here are frantic. The goal appears to be to keep us as
occupied as possible. Individual therapy, group therapy, art therapy,
occupational therapy... I am always being bustled from one time
commitment to the next.
After dinner it is different. The second shift comes on duty, and their
focus is on keeping us as quiet as possible. A large TV is turned on,
and many of my fellow inmates crowd around it. I have no interest in
joining, nor am I interested in conversing with those who like to talk
whether someone is listening or not.
One woman in particular is fascinated with me. Kimiko is her name. She
is over fifty and one of the oldest among us. I am quite clearly the
youngest, and she can't seem to understand why I am here. She keeps
asking me where my mother is. Part of me wants to hit her over the head
with a club. Fortunately or not, depending on your perspective, all of
my weapons were taken from me when I was admitted.
I want to write more, but I cannot focus my thoughts. I am tired and
drugged and I must remember these drugs for my own use later - alas that
they are prescription only. Still, there may be ways around that.
Do not try to write me back, they will not allow a letter to reach me.
No outside contact for me until I am stabilized. I am not sure if this
letter will reach you. They have promised me that it will but they also
lie.
Please don't forget to feed Midorigame. I miss him so.
Love,
The Black Rose
---
"We've got to get some servants. This is ridiculous."
"The Kuno family has survived for the past few years without such
strangers in our house. It will survive longer still."
"The Kuno family survived because one of its members used housework as a
way to deal with her mental illness. I do *not* want to have her come
back and feel like she has to spend hours once again cleaning up after
us."
"She has never complained -"
"Dammit, Kuno-sempai, do you *want* her to fall back into the same old
patterns as before? Including her little stays in that room of hers in
the basement?"
"O-ours is the tradition -"
"Let me put it this way. You hire some servants or I will beat you to a
blood pulp every day until you do."
"Threats do not become one who is to be a member of our family,
Saotome."
"That's the only way I know how to get through to you! Dammit, *listen*
to me. We've got to do this for your sister's sake. You said you were
giving her into my care. Well, believe me when I say this is
necessary."
"Your... passion does you credit. Very well, I will do this. Let us
hither to the bank. I will add you as a signatory to our accounts.
Spend our money as you see fit."
"Hey, I don't know nothing about how to handle money."
"I trust you will learn. I also trust you to be responsible and not to
spend our money foolishly. While we have a great deal of it, it is not
limitless. The interest we earn is more than most families make in a
year, but chip away too much at the base and we can become penniless
faster than you can know. If we do, I will bear you ill will."
"Okay, okay, don't get over-excited. I'll handle hiring the servants
and stuff. You don't mind if I get some help with that?"
"How do you mean?"
"I was thinking of asking Nabiki to give me a hand. She knows about
money."
"Indeed she does. I would have no objection. Just please be sure she
doesn't gouge us too deeply with her fees."
"Uh, yeah. Any mail?"
"Yes. Another letter from Kodachi."
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
---
Dear Ranma-sama,
Our rooms have been carefully sanitized. Nothing is easily detached;
everything that could conceivably be sharpened has been padded or dulled
- even the bolts that keep the beds from being moved. The bathroom door
has no knob. There are no electrical outlets.
No easy way outs.
Two of my fellow inmates played a song today using a decrepit guitar.
It was fast-paced, snappy, played with a twangy sort of beat. You'd
almost thing it was supposed to be a happy:
I keep hearing you're concerned about my happiness.
But all the thought you're giving me is... conscience, I guess.
If I were walking in your shoes I wouldn't worry none.
But you and your friends are worried 'bout me, I'm having lots of
fun:
Counting flowers on the wall,
That don't bother me at all.
Playing solitaire 'til dawn
With a deck of fifty-one.
Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo;
Now don't tell me I've nothing to do.
Last night I dressed in tails pretending I was on the town.
As long as I can dream it's hard to slow this swinger down.
So please don't give a thought to me, I'm really doing fine.
You can always find me here; I'm having quite a time:
Counting flowers on the wall,
That don't bother me at all.
Playing solitaire 'til dawn
With a deck of fifty-one.
Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo;
Now don't tell me I've nothing to do.
It's good to see you, I must go, I know I look a fright.
Anyway my eyes are not accustomed to this light.
And my shoes are not accustomed to this hard concrete,
So I must go back to my room and make my day complete:
Counting flowers on the wall,
That don't bother me at all.
Playing solitaire 'til dawn
With a deck of fifty-one.
Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo;
Now don't tell me I've nothing to do.
Don't tell me I've nothing to do.
I have no idea who Captain Kangaroo is. No one else does, either; they
treated my question as irrelevant. Indeed, they found my efforts to
record the lyrics accurately as being somewhat amusing.
What made this song really depressing is how many of the others here
seemed to really enjoy it. It appears to be an anthem of some sort to
them. They can identify with the depressing emotions the song is trying
to convey.
And, to my horror, I can too.
I had a long talk with the pharmacologist today - Tohru, he insists I
call him. I had all sorts of questions about my medication. He
answered them patiently; in fact, he told me more than I probably should
have been told.
Apparently, he and my psychologist had a disagreement over my
medication. Tohru wanted to have me use other drugs in combination - I
won't bore you with the details, Ranma-sama, but I found them
fascinating. However, my psychologist insisted that my treatment begin
with lithium.
I can't tell you how much that alarmed me. Lithium, I know, is
poisonous. I mentioned this to Tohru, but he calmed me down. He told
me that the reason they were drawing blood from me twice a day was to
carefully monitor the amount of lithium in my bloodstream. The level
used to stabilize my mood swings is very close to the toxic level; part
of what they will accomplish here at the hospital is to figure out how
much lithium to give me, and how often.
It disturbed me profoundly, to find that I am being fed poison on a
regular basis. Hoist by my own petard, if I may indulge in some of my
brother's Shakespeare usage. I now know how you and my brother felt,
and it is not pleasant.
Time for occupational therapy. How gluing pieces of macaroni to paper
can possibly help me in my future endeavors is quite beyond me, but I
don't argue. I've seen what they do to people who argue too much, and I
have no desire to see that happen to me.
I think of you often.
Love,
The Black Rose
---
"Do we need so many?"
"Trust me, the Kunos can afford it several times over."
"Without, er, cutting too deeply?"
"Whoever set up the Kuno accounts knew what they were doing. The money
is self-perpetuating. A nice mix of high-yield, moderate-risk
investments with long-term interest-bearing accounts and bonds. We...
that is, the Kunos can pay all of these new salaries and still have more
money at the end of the year than they began with."
"Does that include your fee?"
"Of course, silly. By the way, thanks for throwing this business my
way."
"Er, well, you're welcome. Thanks for helping."
"This was fun. Now, it's important for you to be firm with these
servants. I know you like to make friends with everyone, but don't keep
them from their tasks. If they seem to be not accomplishing the work
they need to, don't hesitate to call the agency. Or let me call them
for you."
"Um, okay."
"And Ranma-kun... don't feel uncomfortable having them serve you. If
you do, Kodachi might feel obligated to resume her duties as scullery
maid."
"Uh, yeah, good point. Say, when did you get all sympathetic?"
"I'm doing this for the same reason you are. The sooner we get Kodachi
stabilized, the sooner you can get away from her."
"And back to Akane? How's she doing?"
"I'm still working on her. Sometimes the best thing to do with her is
to say the same thing over and over. It's like water dripping on stone;
eventually, the stone will wear away."
"Yeah. Good analogy."
"Okay, anyway, they'll start coming tomorrow. The cook will be here at
six to prepare breakfast. The rest will arrive at eight. There will be
someone to serve you until nine at night; after that, you're on your
own."
"Gosh, well, I'll survive somehow."
"I guess you will. What's that in your hand."
"A letter. From Kodachi."
"Oh."
---
Dear Ranma-sama,
In group therapy today I learned a new term: normies. It's what people
afflicted with mental illnesses call those who are not. Normies are so
far outside their experience, they cannot relate. One person in my
group therapy put it this way: "I mean, can you imagine never, ever
considering suicide? It boggles my mind."
That bothered me, for while I have flirted with the idea of suicide, I
can also clearly remember the days when I never had such thoughts. I
want them back, I want those days back so badly I can taste it. I don't
want to be here, among the people who carry on conversations with people
only they can hear, who sit and stare at nothing for days on end, who
scream and rage and cry.
I am crying, myself. Tohru tells me I am just experiencing a period of
depression, that it's to be expected with the drugs. He's been giving
me an anti-depressant along with the lithium. A selective serotonin
reuptake inhibitor. Does that mean anything to you, Ranma-sama? I had
Tohru explain it to me in great detail. I found it fascinating. He
says that it takes time to work, that if I am patient I will be cured of
my depression. He was quite passionate about it. I think he's rather
smitten with me, even though he's twice my age. An interesting and
fascinating man, but he does not compare to my fiancee.
My personal therapy went poorly today. I'm being forced to recall
things I'd rather not. The sensei is quite confrontational. He says he
has my best interests at heart, but I think he enjoys being cruel, it's
why he became a psychologist in the first place, so he can put people in
this hospital and torture them.
The hell of it is, I committed myself. I could walk out just as easily,
no one could stop me. I could cease taking my medication, I could go
back to feeling the way I felt before, which was so alive and free and
wonderful.
And yet, I see your face, looking at me with such hope and concern. And
even anger, anger that I resisted seeking this treatment. That anger
stabbed me in the heart, and when you began moving away I felt like I
was losing you forever and I could not bear that. I would do *anything*
for you, Ranma-sama. Even undergo torture.
Oh God, I want out out out out. I want the poisons gone from my blood
from my body, they are entering my soul and eating it away.
Kimiko is sitting across from me and trying to pat my head, she sees
that I am upset and crying. She would make a wonderful mother except
she keeps hearing voices that tell her to do bizarre things, like take
off her clothes and try to burn them. She wants me to be her daughter,
and I like her and am repulsed by her and I want out.
I want to be a normie.
It that how normies think of me? Do they see me as someone to be
avoided, my illness too bizarre, making them too uncomfortable? I am
looking at Kimiko and she would be a wonderful mother.
I will try to be nice to her. I will overcome my revulsion. We should
not be grouped into "normies" and "wackos", but people. Just people.
Noble sentiments, eh, Ranma-sama? Yet, you believe them too, don't
you? You said something about my illness being no different from
someone having a cold. Oh, if only that were true. You and I both know
that the reality is different, that my behavior repels you, that you
shudder sometimes at the sight of me, that you ran away, that you wanted
to leave me behind. Just like Mother. Just like Father. Just like
everyone I've ever loved in my life. They *all* left me.
And yet, you came back. I must remember that. You try, you honestly
try to see past the illness and see me. I want to be worthy of you,
Ranma-sama. It is why I am here. I will come out of here all better
and you will like me and maybe even love me as much as I loved you
before the lithium.
It is just a fantasy, I know. A dream that will never be. But it
sustains me. You sustain me. Please, let me live my dream a little
longer.
I looked up just now into Kimiko's eyes. She smiled at me, a smile of
love and compassion. I smiled back and held her hand for a while.
Maybe the prozac is finally beginning to kick in after all these days.
Wonderful stuff, these drugs. If only I didn't feel so tired and
nauseous and cramped all the time.
If only. Sad words, aren't they?
I will finish now, and talk to Kimiko, and try to give her the love she
deserves. That we all deserve, normies and wackos alike.
Love,
The Black Rose
---
"How fares my sister?"
"I... I dunno. She's... she's doing okay, I guess."
"Your expression belies your words."
"Dang, it's hard. She's having a tough time at the hospital. I think
she's getting better. I think."
"She... she will be okay. My sister was always stronger than I was."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"I dunno. You can be all right, too."
"This food is excellent."
"Uh, yeah, it is. Y'know, though, dinner ain't as interesting without
the poison."
"You complained vociferously about the poisons, as I recall."
"Strange how you miss stuff after it's gone."
"Yes. I hope my sister returns soon."
"So do I."
---
Dear Ranma-sama,
I apologize for my last letter. I can't clearly remember what I wrote
in it, but I am certain it was filled with self-pity and laments. Those
were merely a by-product of the depression I was feeling at the time.
Tohru explained it to me again, adding more details. The brain is a
fascinating organ. Infinitely complex, capable, and fragile.
Kimiko doesn't leave my side any more. She loves me as a daughter, and
has become quite dependant on me. I fear what will happen to her when I
am discharged.
My sensei believes that will be soon. The lithium has worked well, he
says. I am fortunate; that is not always the case.
I will continue my personal therapy, but I will be glad to be out of the
group therapy. It has accomplished nothing for me, and I haven't been
very helpful with the others. As sick as I am compared to you, Ranma,
so they are to me. There are levels and levels to mental illness, and I
am barely on the first plateau. In that sense I am fortunate; the
disease could be much worse.
Tohru came by to explain how to medicate myself when I leave. He was
awkward and stumbled over his words a lot. I think he wanted to ask to
see me after I check out. It probably didn't help that I mentioned you,
Ranma-sama. He asked who I was writing to and I told him, "My
fiancee." The expression that crossed his face was sad to see.
Seeing others in pain used to be exciting. Time was, I was in pain so
much that I wanted to see others in pain as well. This made my pain
more... common. I think that is why I kept poisoning your food,
Ranma-sama. Please believe me, I regret that terribly. You above all
people did not deserve that.
My feelings are so confused these days. I don't know how to respond a
lot of the time. I have to stop and think it through, decide what the
right thing to feel is. I'm not sure that's right. Both Tohru and my
sensei say that, in time, my body will adjust to the lithium and I'll be
able to have more natural reactions.
Time, it's all about time. I feel... not miserable. Just... muted.
Vaguely sad or vaguely happy, but that's about it.
I'm stable.
God help me.
Love
The Rose of No Color
---
Ranma stood in the hallway, looking at the set of double doors at one
end. Beyond them was another set of double doors, and beyond *them*,
the psychiatric ward. He could see through the reinforced glass, but
only in a narrow field of vision.
As he watched, he jumped from foot to foot. With an effort, he stilled
himself. He could see the occasional person passing by the windows, or
sometimes entering or leaving the ward. They had to be buzzed into each
set of doors. It struck Ranma as being very like a prison.
As he watched, there seemed to be a flurry of activity. Several people
gathered just beyond the second set of double doors. He couldn't make
out any faces. He briefly caught sight of one person with long hair in
a ponytail tied to one side. That person was just straightening from a
bow, then moved over to hug someone else, thus moving out of Ranma's
sight.
Ranma noticed idly that his heart was beating rapidly. He ignored it
and focused on the windows again.
Finally, the person with the ponytail straightened and turned to face
someone else, a young doctor. Ranma could see his face, see the wistful
expression it contained. The doctor smiled, bowed, and straightened.
For a moment, his eyes met Ranma's through the glass; then he moved
away.
Ranma heard a buzz, and the first set of double doors opened. Out of
the group gathered there, only one person moved through the doors. That
person paused and waited for the second buzzing. It came, the doors
opened.
Ranma looked closely at the person with the ponytail. She was wearing
the clothes he'd last seen her in - elegant white shirt, sophisticated
black slacks. Only her face was different. It was devoid of both
makeup and expression. The eyes were focused - indeed, they seemed
relaxed, as Ranma had never seen them before. They were examining him
as well, moving around his body and face as if trying to take in every
last detail.
Finally their gazes met. Ranma held it for a minute, then bowed
slightly. "Hello, Kodachi."
A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "Hello, Ranma-sama. I am
ready to go home."
END PART SEVEN (More to come)
~*~
Author's Notes:
The song is "Flowers on the Wall" by The Statler Brothers. It's on the
"Pulp Fiction" soundtrack. This is a song that sneaks up on you. It
is, as described, an upbeat song, just vocals and a banjo. It is hip,
bright, and my first impression wasn't terribly good - I'm not much into
country western. And yet, as I heard it again and again, I *listened*
to the lyrics, and realized how out of sync they were with the
fast-paced melody. The more I listened to it, the more I realized - the
narrator (singer) is seriously ill, and is hiding behind a facade of
bright gaiety. Enough of his severe depression leaks through to let you
know how much help he needs. It's a terribly effective song at
portraying what mental illness is like - the contradictions that make no
sense to "normies", but which are perfectly logical to the person with
the illness.
I have an .mp3 of the song, available upon request. :)
Was it too much? I can trim it or eliminate it. I thought it was *so*
appropriate, however, especially given what I've read about other
people's experience with BD.
I am indebted to David Lerman, who did a lot of research in helping me
diagnose Kodachi's specific illness and its indications. Also, the
folks at alt.support.depression.mania were very helpful, as was the
Pendulum web page (www.pendulum.org).
Let me know what you thought of the format - script-like dialogue
interspersed with letters. Was it effective or distracting?
I may yet alter the content significantly. I'm not entirely happy with
the letters; they didn't convey all that I wanted them to.
Anyhoo, let me know what you think.