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Scrap of a Letter, tucked inside
Dear Papa,
I left it too long. I left it too, Long. I thought I could do this alone for now. I knew I'd need support, but the secrets were too important to share. I'd share them, someday, like those who shared their secrets with me. It was going so well. So silently. Nobody knew. Except Poppy. I made a promise to Poppy, that helped a lot. But now it's time, and I have no friends to keep the promise in my stead.
I could run as the Vagabond does, but I can't yet go where she does. Nowhere would be dark enough to hide from her sight, but I can't get to Nowhere.
No, I made a promise. I have no choice but to keep it.
Oh Papa, I miss you, but I think I'm leaving, too. Will I see you in the House without Walls?
Diary of Dr Kate Ravenhurst, Vol II
Page 1
What a year. Looking back, It scarcely feels like a day has passed since obtaining my position at the Institute, much less an entire year. I've learned so much, such unusual cases. I thought I'd make more friends, I suppose, but my colleagues are distant, detatched. Will that be me, someday? I hope not. They're cold around the patients, too. I know it's hard, but didn't we choose this path, to help those who can't help themselves?
Page 2
One of my patients died today. Her condition was incurable, and this was always inevitable, but still, it chills me to watch a light go out. Sometimes the light is already gone when they arrive, but not her, her light shone brightly even though her rambling was utter madness. There was a sort of intelligence, an intensity behind what she said, like she was trying to gift me her madness. She made a last request, as she was nearing the end. She asked me to dictate a letter to her Papa.
Page 16
I thought a few days would help me recover. I looked into delivering the letter she had me write, but I discovered her father had been dead for almost a year before her admission to the Institute. It's been gnawing at me, was this letter really to her Papa?
Was it a letter to me?
I finished work early today, though I doubt that will be permitted again. I'll be back to full shifts tomorrow.
I came across my notes from Lydia's case as I was packing up to leave. I left them on the desk for tomorrow, but as I stepped out of my office and turned to close the door, I stared at that sheaf of papers for a while, my office door half open, my key in the lock. I should have marked them for destruction per policy, but something, some buzzing in my brain told me they needed another look, and they needed to be away from here.
I took them home.
Page 17
The landlady came by for the rent today. At work I overheard one orderly telling another that he is close to eviction because he doesn't have the funds to survive anymore. Not surprising with the way things are, my sabattical wiped out my savings and rent is half my income. I doubt I'll afford a holiday again any time soon.
Page 19
I've completed my study of the notes. That buzzing feeling is still there, and all it's really gotten me is an address of a book shop, and a few scraps of information about other places Lydia was interested in. I've been up for two days straight now, juggling work and study. I'm exhausted, maybe that's all that feeling is. A good night's sleep might help a lot.
Page 19+i
Page 20
I think this might be the first time I've committed a dream to paper. I awoke this morning in ecstasy, a pleasure that goes far beyond any sleep, any Dream I've ever experienced. I can Reason about it, of course, so I doubt I'm going mad, surely just a quirk of the mind, a freak occurrence borne from stress. The Buzzing feeling isn't gone, but I think now it's just the feeling of a mystery that needs solving. What happened to Lydia to make her the Way she was?
It was my day off today, so I spent some time tracking down the shop she mentioned.
The proprietor was certainly...a character. She had a sweet charm, but something about her made me feel on Edge.
And here, Dear Diary, I must confess a flaw. I find shopping difficult. I feel embarrased if I walk into a shop and then walk out without buying anything. Like I've wasted the shopkeeper's time. It's silly, I know, but before I left Ms Morland's shop, I felt compelled I should buy something to show my time was worth the effort. So I picked up a book and realised only after I was home I had bought the second volume in a series without having read the first! I told myself for a few moments that I could perhaps return the book, but that's foolish, surely--Who expects a refund for a banned book?
I suppose I might as well read it, since I've bought it.
Page 20+i
The Dreams came back, there was something there, just at the Edge, just Beyond what I could Reason away.
In the Dream, I gave up something of Myself, I needed to Know. An Eye, a Door, a Lock, that bled. I gave it some of my Reason, and gained Passion instead.
Page 21
I have awoken this morning with a pounding headache and blood on my cheek. My vision is blurred in one eye, did I scratch it in my sleep, somehow? My head hurts less with the eye closed, so I've bandaged it shut. If I remember my first year studies it should pass in a few days.
My dream last night was...odd. I feel like I've learned some things, strange "facts" that I can't forget about colours and wounds. but it's impossible to learn things from dreams...
...isn't it?
The start of the new week. I collect my pay for the work done, and pay my bills.
A rather strange coincidence today, apparently a patient awoke this morning scratching at her own eyes, rambling about a dream and a door and a doctor. I'll speak to the patient tomorrow.
Page 22
I met the patient today, a cheerful woman. I had read her file in advance, of course, and by the accounts of her own physicians she is completely insane. Quite disturbing, then, that this was not the case when I spoke with her. Far from mad, Cat was entirely lucid, though she spoke in a low whisper while we were on the Institute's grounds. She confirmed what I had been afraid to admit, my dream was more than just a dream. Or rather, it was just a dream, but I had never understood what a dream was.
My conversation with Cat stirred in me an odd yearning, unlike anything I had ever felt before, like a light turned on in my soul, a realisation that I had to Know the things Lydia had once Known. Cat told me that she had Known Lydia once, in a past life. For some reason where once this would have made me scoff, now I simply understood the truth behind those words.
We talked for hours, we made plans. We spoke about Lydia, shared sorrow, but resolved not to make the same mistake. We agreed to seek out enlightenment together.
I returned home, feverish with a hunger for knowledge, and practically devoured the last few pages of my book. It finished with six pages, intentionally left blank. The silence of those pages somehow spoke to me, helping me to absorb the wisdom of what had preceded.
Page 23
I signed Cat's discharge papers today. It was the only thing I could do, to keep a sane woman in a madhouse for even a moment more was an injustice I couldn't bear.
It will attract attention for me at work, but I must pay a price for knowledge.
All that remained for me and Cat was to decide how best to pursue Enlightenment.
