5th July 1922
The room was simple. Sterile.
White walls. White floor. White linens. Everything was white. From the wood trim to the bedframe, the painted rocking chair and the bedside table.
Thankfully, Ever’s family brought the color. A rainbow splash at the end of her bed came in the form of a quilt. Her childhood stuffed animals sat against the headboard, keeping an eye on the scattered girl inside the room. Reginald the teddy bear, or Reggy if he was being spicy. Patty the calico cat was queen of the group, holding court over the lesser stuffies. And Larry the panda. Why Larry? No one knew.
Ever sat in her favorite spot in the room, if she had the emotional wherewithal to have a favorite anything, but it was where the healers typically found her when they came in for therapy and bed checks. The window seat overlooked a small garden plot, filled with colorful flowers and a bench to sit in the sun. Her hands were folded in her lap, her fingers twitching rhythmically against the fabric of her hospital gown. This wasn’t your typical tie in the back gown, but a long nightgown with a matching robe.
Also white.
She wasn't allowed her quills anymore, “Safety protocols, darling,” the Healer with the sharp eyes had said. Now, she only had charcoal sticks that left her fingers blackened, like she’d been reaching into a fireplace that wasn't there. On days where she felt like drawing, a white towel was brought in, otherwise there was a lot less white in the room after she was done.
The air in the ward didn’t move. No windows opened and there were numerous charms in place to keep the magical outburst to a minimum. To Ever, it felt like being wrapped in a tight blanket, smothered, too tight, almost itchy. It was quiet in her room, too quiet. She could sometimes hear the screams of other patients, but the walls and magical wards made it seem like a dream, a whisper, not something happening in the present.
The older man, the important one, came often. He talked about progress and therapy, words that went in one ear and right out the other. He encouraged her to write, to talk, to draw. When he came in to talk, a very one sided conversation, Ever sat in the rocking chair and listened. Nothing stuck, little was comprehended.
Potions were tried. The bitter taste stuck on her tongue. On the busy days she would be taken to a treatment room where a potion would be given then sleep would come. On those days she would wake in her bed with her brain pounding in her skull.
Alice didn’t live with her. That hurt the most, even if Ever couldn't find the words to say it. Her sister, her anchor, came and things felt right. There wasn’t words for it, but everything felt lighter when Alice was there.
“She isn’t safe to be around long term,” the Healer had said. On more than one occasion Ever’s magic had exploded during a more rigorous treatment. Memories coming on fast, causing violent behavior or magical outbursts.
There were times during the day where Ever was allowed in the common area. This space was more colorful than her white room. There were toys for the younger kids, bookcases with everything from picture books to novels. Easels sat against one wall, paints and colored chalk to make drawings. Her time in the common room was much like her time in her room. No talking. No interacting. A lot of sitting.
The healers tried to get her to participate, but that would require want and emotion, which she had none. Time would tell if she would get better. If the healers would be able to open her mind and extract the painful memories locking her in a mental prison.
The scent of disinfectant clung to the back of her throat, sticky and uncomfortable as she walked the corridors of St. Mungo's, a half-step behind Nadežda. The click of their heels was brisk as it ricocheted off the bleak walls, a pace set by the psychiatric healer they had met the last time and who escorted them to Everleigh Ravenstone's room once more.
Magic coated every inch, differently here than on the other floors. Heavier, more restrictive. As though it was cast to contain, to supress and control rather than heal. Almost oppressive.
Liliya swallowed the claustrophobic feeling, focusing on what the man ahead was telling them.
No progress.
It really wasn't a surprise. There hadn't been one single thought behind those eyes, unlikely that something had stirred to life since then.
This was their second time here, the second time they'd see the girl with a mind so messed up not even the healers at St. Mungo's knew how to help. After weeks of therapy nothing had changed, no potions, no conversations, no spells — nothing had managed to unravel the mystery surrounding Everleigh's head and at last, Bertram Nordstrom had requested their help. Lucky for him they had arrived back in London the month prior.
Rounding another corner they stopped. The healer knocked and after a brief moment of no audible reaction he pushed the door open.
Everleigh sat by the window, the way she had last time, looking outside and doing nothing.
Liliya came to stand beside her aunt as the healer greeted the girl, crouching before her and calmly explaining that the nice ladies — she had to supress a snort at that —from last time were here again to check up on her. Last time hadn't been more than a brief assessment rather than a real session. Nadežda had pried into Everleigh's mind for less than five minutes before pulling back out and turning to Mr. Nordstrom, expression cool and unimpressed as ever.
There had been no amount of comfort in the way she had delivered the unvarnished, hard facts of his granddaughter's state of mind. Liliya knew, had it been any other patient in that room, she would have likely declared it a lost cause right away. But as it stood, this was a member of their new affinity's family, and so they would try, truly try. Twice a week, over the course of months — if they were lucky — no familial presence needed.
Liliya knew what that meant too.
The healer turned to smile at them, waving them closer as he stood. "I will leave you to it. Should anything go wrong, just send a spell and someone will rush to help." She almost snorted again. Nadežda wouldn't need help, that was for sure.
Her aunt almost smiled as well, tilting her head in polite appreciation. "Certainly."
And then the healer was gone.
Nadežda turned to her. "You will begin."
Liliya's gaze shot around in surprise, meeting only hardened steel. "You will be gentle when you step in. You will be careful and precise. There will be no shredding and no barging through, this is delicate work." The woman took a seat, folding her legs. "Begin." Liliya swallowed.
Not what she had expected, typically she only watched as her aunt wove through someone's memories and thoughts, smooth as water, simply hovering in the background as an observer. To learn.
She had shredded through one mind or another but those had been different...situations. This right here, this was new.
It seemed only fitting that her aunt would choose the most fucked up mind to start with.
Liliya took a breath. Whatever. She could do this. Wordlessly she sat across from Everleigh, eyes directly to hers. She felt the stillness settle inside her body, the way it always did before she entered the mind of another, and with the lightest touch she placed the tip of her wand to Everleigh's temple.
Like a vacuum pulling her conscience through a tunnel, her mind rushed forward.
People came and went through the common room. Ever didn’t pay them any attention. She didn’t pay anyone any attention. Sitting on the window bench, looking outside, her mind stayed in a state of inbetween. Not really seeing or hearing anything.
Someone was there now. By her. Talking words she didn’t hear. Two women, there was no familiarity. No recognition. Not a surprise, she barely recognized her family anymore. Except Alice. She knew Alice.
If they bothered to visit, she would probably recognize her parents, but it wouldn’t be in a good way. They weren’t allowed though, probably for the best. Again, not that she understood any of what was happening outside of the walls of the hospital. She didn’t even know what was happening inside the walls of her head.
No one did.
The girl with golden, almost white hair sat in front of her. Nothing triggered Ever seeing her. No anger, fear or animosity. The tip of her wand touched her temple. Everleigh’s eyes shut on instinct, her mind tumbling to and fro.
The intrusion didn’t hurt, but it was there. A presence that wasn’t normal. Ever didn’t pay it any mind as her brain did what her brain normally did these days. Cycling through snapshots of memories and pictures. Nothing stuck for long. Just blinks of images. Ever as a child. Alice crying when she hurt her knee. Her father’s office. The three cousins laying on the floor of the parlor talking about boys. A dog. Clouds. A dark tower filled with screams. The garden at Nordstrom Hall. Flashes of green lights.
When certain memories flashed a feeling of pain or peace depending on what her mind conjured. Nothing lasted. Sometimes, all that was there was a blankness, just a feeling of nothing.
For a while, she merely hovered on the outskirts. Right beyond the entrance to the girl's mind, observing and watching.
What she looked at was like nothing she had ever witnessed before. A swirling mass of inconsistent, splintered flashes of memories and feelings, moving in rapid succession with no discernible pattern or rhythm. Jumbled pictures that had no tangible correlation, bringing bursts of emotion that faded as soon as the next thing plopped up, overwhelming and incomprehensible.
And sometimes no emotion at all, a numb, apathetic void.
As though in search of something hidden.
Everleigh's movie played out like an endless loop of senseless sequences, shattered into the wrong order and constantly trying to rearrange itself. Most things were harmless, less interesting chunks of memory. Random.
But there was one that reoccurred. Different each time and highlighting a new aspect of the same scene. Undeniably belonging to one specific event though.
The moment Everleigh had lost her mind.
According to Mr. Nordstrom anyway.
That's where it all had to connect somehow, that's where they'd have to start looking.
And that's where Liliya pushed forward. Carefully, gently. Like fog slowly seeping through tangled blades of grass, appearing silently and fluently. So different than what she had done before, ripping and smashing like a pickaxe through ice. It felt like floating in empty space, like swimming through warm waters. Comfortable somehow, freeing almost.
Calling to mind how it had felt following Nadežda's lead through other people's heads, Liliya let herself drift. As softly as she could, aiming for the Dark Tower and the moments that had somehow twisted Everleigh's head so far left, she had never come back.
Something there had to give her an idea, a clue of where to look to untangle this mess.
All she needed was one loose thread to follow.
Thankfully for Ever, sitting and thinking was all that was required for this current therapy session. No talking, no explaining. In her current state, sitting and thinking was all she was really good at.
Unfortunately, thinking was spotty. None of her memories were clear or precise. Many flashed in and out of consciousness. Others were so tightly protected in the center of her mind, it was a wonder if she would ever retrieve them.
With Liliya’s help, there was a small nugget of hope.
While Liliya poked around in Ever’s head, the subject of the session just sat there. Her eyes moved under her closed eyelids, giving her a strange appearance. With her mind broken into fragments, Ever didn’t think about much. Memories were typically the only thing that went through her mind. Stuck in a loop of good and bad memories.
There was no recalling specific memories.
While Liliya walked through Ever’s mind, certain memories were coming to the forefront. They all seemed to have a theme… pain.
The first was of a small Ever, roughly 4 or 5 years old, sitting in a hospital bed. Her eyes showed a bustling room full of healers, while Ever waited her turn to be treated. There was a visceral bone deep pain that came through with the memory, centered in her left leg.
Broken.
Before the memory of how her leg was broken popped up, she was on to a new one. Ever crying while mourning her elephant stuffed animal, head decapitated from it’s body, stuffing all over the floor. It had been ripped apart by their old dog.
*FLASH
Ever’s hand under a faucet of cold water while her mom ran around looking for her wand. A blister already forming after her hand was burned by a boiling pot of soup.
*FLASH
Ever was screaming. Her eyes moved all around the dark room searching. Little Maevie and Rae were also hurt. Thayer had an evil glint in his eyes while pointing his wand at Ever. She didn’t want to go to the window. She didn’t want to hang out of the broken window, almost falling. Her stomach flared with pain, another memory of the glass slicing into her skin.
*FLASH
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