Iris - Anaesthesia

Rebecca’s Story

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He wasn’t always like this. I don’t think the doctors realise it, but he wasn’t always like this. He used to realise that he was a living, breathing, human being.

Sometimes I wish I had been the one to find Kylie. Not him. I don’t think I would’ve been in his shoes right now if I had. And he would be at home. But Duncan found her. On the bathroom floor, blood pouring from her nose, ears, eyes and mouth, his syringes scattered around her body. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.

Mum and Dad never liked Duncan. Ever. ‘Becky,’ they’d say, ‘we understand your feelings towards this man but he doesn’t seem normal.’ He had always been a bit messed up. At least he was good at hiding the syringes and cocaine from everyone. He encouraged him to try once and I’ve never done it again. I can’t stand physical pain.

But he was my messed up man. And I loved him. And when Kylie was born, Duncan loved both of us enough to go about his business when we believed that her prying eyes were closed. Curiosity killed Kylie.

Duncan believes that he killed Kylie. I don’t know who I believe.

I don’t think he loves me. I don’t know if he did love me and if cocaine came before me or not. He never wanted to stop it. I asked him, but I may as well have been asking the wall. They seem to be the same thing now, though.

I thought he would stop after Kylie’s death. I thought he might wake up to himself and realise that if he didn’t stop, he’d find himself face-down as well. He had always been so careful not to overdose but his mind was already slipping… I’ll never forget seeing the blood spurt from his arms, dripping onto the tiles and slipping into the syringes, and the look on his face still haunts me. Dead. Anaesthetised. Sleeping. Understanding. Not caring.

He still has that look and he hasn’t woken up yet. I can barely look at him now. Kylie took his mind with him when she left and he cannot go back to being my Duncan.

Where does this leave me?

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Last night was a bad night. Duncan had a bad night.

He’d never kill himself, though it looks like he already has.

I visit him. That pretty, Chinese nurse was at the desk. We’ve never spoken but her look has always been icy towards me since the day I arrived – and departed – with the uncompleted divorce papers. She always watches Duncan’s closed door, wondering where she stands in his abyss world. Where she’d like to stand. I’m not sure if I ever stood in the place where she wants to be; I think cocaine beat me to it. She doesn’t have a chance.

I open the door and I can hear the bones move in his neck as Duncan snaps his head towards me. I want to run as his eyes look at something towards me, something that I can’t see. His eyes glimmer silently within shrunken depths and he doesn’t move his dark blonde hair when it falls down in front of them.

The glimmer disappears when he looks at me directly. ‘I told you not to come back.’

I feel like a child when he stares at me and I want to break away. I don’t. ‘I wanted to.’

‘Hmm.’ His eyes move on again and his voice becomes monotone as he looks away, crawling back into himself again. ‘Did you bring… did you bring a sandwich?’

‘No, I’m sorry.’

‘Okay.’

I stare at him and he stares at something else as I ask the question on my mind. ‘What happened last night?’ I’ve already asked before I realise he no longer understands the concept of ‘last night’. I try again. ‘Why do you hurt yourself?’

‘It won’t kill me.’

‘It will kill you!’ I snap, tired of him, tired of his ways, tired of his supposed after-life, tired of his sleeping, tired of feeling third best in his life, behind Kylie and cocaine. I walk quickly to him and he sits up. I don’t know if he’s taking notice and I don’t care, but I have to speak. ‘You’re not dead, Duncan! I know you think you are but you’re not! Kylie’s dead!’ His face flinches slightly at her name. A sign of life. ‘I don’t want to see you here in this room! I want you home…’

My legs give out on me. I crumple in front of him, undefeated. ‘I don’t need you to love me. You never did and I doubt you ever will. I love you. Wake up from the anaesthesia and tell someone what you’re thinking. Tell me.’

I look at him, bracing myself against my fear. Minutes go by and he doesn’t respond; instead, his gaze disappears again. I gently put my hand to his face, surprised that his skin is not as translucent as I thought. ‘Tell someone and come home.’

I get up and leave him. I walk down a corridor and lean against a wall, out of sight from the Chinese nurse. I wrap my arms around myself a smile a disillusioned smile.