The Medea Complex by Rachel Florence Roberts Read Free Book Online Page A

and me. "Well, of course I recognize my own father; hello, Father;
but you haven't kept me as a hostage quite long enough to drive me insane, just
yet. Though why you would try to pretend this gentleman,” she points to Mr
Stanbury, “is my husband, I can't imagine. You're all crazy." At this
point she moves her gaze off her hands and looks directly at Lord Damsbridge,
leaving the bed and moving a step towards him.
    "Dearest Father, how much do they want? I was captured
like a felon, placed under lock and key, even thrown into a sack! Where are the
police?” She moves another few steps and looks around her, peering between us
towards the door. “Ah, you're not so fat that I can't see through the door,
fish-eyes. Yet I don’t see the police, and I don’t hear them either. Oh, I know
what's happened.” She walks around in a circle, nodding to herself before
returning to her bed, and starts absently picking at the wall. “They've told
you not to involve the law, haven't they? Fiends.  Well, listen, I would not
enter into any negotiations with them if I were you: you know what happened
with the French Revolution and the Spanish Inquisition – bloody foreigners. In
fact, Father, it is rather comfortable here, well, apart from being treated
like a potato which was most disagreeable. Yet, my staying is actually putting
my kidnappers out, for I am being fed and watered daily." With this she
begins to laugh until tears roll down her face. "Isn't this just
exquisite? Oh, how I turned the tables on my captors!"
    Lord Damsbridge looks at me. “A sack?”
    "Part of her delusions: she believes she has been
kidnapped," I tell him, deciding that now is not the time to discuss the
use of mechanical restraints.
    "My father knows that I have been kidnapped, as opposed
to 'thinking' I have. He can see me with his eyes, his not-so-fish-eyed eyes,
like yours!” 
    "You haven't been kidnapped," says Mr Stanbury,
still on his knees, tears falling down his face.
    “Fish eyes?” Lord Damsbridge looks at his daughter, and
offers her a smile. She frowns back at him, and goes back to picking paint.
Suddenly, she whirls.
    "YOU!" she cries, aiming the flecks at Mr Stanbury
whereby they sprinkle ineffectually to the ground. "Why don't you go and
join Fat Ruth? We do not need a spare part for our negotiations."
    "You told me you didn't want to negotiate, Anne."
I say.
    "Father, this is ridiculous! There are dozens of poor
women here!" she screams, ignoring me.
    "Who is Fat Ruth?" asks Lord Damsbridge to nobody
in particular.
    "She is quite insane," Mr Stanbury observes
quietly, standing up and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Dabbing his
eyes, he continues.  "What treatment has she had to date?"
    “Treatment? Well so far, we have simply given her rest in a
cosy atmosphere, it is-”
    "'Cosy atmosphere’?" Lady Stanbury retorts,
jumping up and pointing to the window. She continuously moves and fidgets.
"Do you maniacs call bars across the window 'cosy'? Where were you born,
in a cave? A prison? Yes, you probably were, I bet your father was a lying
thief too.” She turns to Mr Stanbury and shouts at him loudly. “Did I not order
you to leave the room?"
    "Leave us a while, Stanbury," says Lord
Damsbridge. “I'm sure the good doctor will discuss treatments with us at a more
appropriate time.”
    I watch the exchange with interest. This conversation will
progress nowhere as it stands, and as I previously tried to tell Lord
Damsbridge, nothing has been achieved by bringing them to see her. The sight of
her husband seems to be distressing her immensely, though she claims not to
know who he is. She recognizes her father, yet his presence does not seem to be
calming her any. I am keen to follow up on her delusions, and though I am
equally eager not to have Lord Damsbridge observe the proceedings, I shudder to
think what impact it could have upon the hospital if he was to withdraw his
funding.
    "Mr Stanbury, could you kindly wait outside for