Just Because You're Paranoid

Sandy remembered that look, that "have you had your hand in the biscuit tin, my girl, don't lie to me because I'll know..."

Her mum was talking, but Sandy hardly heard.

"...sure about this, Sandy?” Worry was etched onto her mother's face. Sandy could swear her mother had sprouted four more pairs of crow's feet in the brief time since Sandy turned up at her door. “I have to find them, Mum." Sandy shelved her doubts, and spoke with determination and confidence that she didn't feel. Everyone else thinks I'm crazy. I have to convince Mum I'm not.

Her mother scribbled the address on to a bit of paper, and pushed it into Sandy's hand. "You can use my car," she was saying. "People might be looking for yours..."

They sat together, tea going cold, and worked out a plan. Her mum was cat-sitting for a friend. Sandy could hide there if she needed to, and her car could be tucked safely out of sight in their garage. And then what? She had a gnawing suspicion that whatever happened next was lose-lose. If she somehow managed to get her children back and spirit them away, this would be held up as evidence of her insanity. She could have burst into tears with sheer frustration.

Once again, that elf hovered on the edge of her vision. Maybe I really am mad... No! I'm just upset, that's all. And tired. He's... It's not really there.

"I'll need a phone. Nothing fancy or anything. Just an old Nokia would be fine."

Sandy remembered sitting in the common room dreaming of freedom and a crummy ancient Nokia. It had seemed easier then.

"And some hair dye."

Her mother frowned.

What's the problem?

"Please, Mum."

"Look, Sandy, please don't take this the wrong way, but... well... he said you could get like this."

"Like what?!"

"Paranoid."

How long has he thought I was crazy? How long has he been saying these things?

Sandy remembered all the times she'd blacked out, or passed out. How she'd woken up in bed, dressed, with no memory of getting there. Vision swimming, crazy voices and unsettling visions...

How long has he been drugging me?