Figures fluttered into his view- he was not unconscious, just dazed. Overwhelmed by the throbbing in his head- relentless in its thirst for torture- Joe had fallen against Vanessa’s grave- the smoothed concrete pronouncement of someone passed away became his backrest.

He could see the happenings around him but he could not register them in his mind. Drifting in between a fuzzy dream and stark reality, Joe’s azure eyes were open the whole time, seeing figures of reality merging with the terrible, distorted images in his mind. He hazily remembered seeing Brian calling someone on the mobile but could not make out what the big guy said.

Breathing came back to him again, but he still felt terrible. His heart, though still palpitating on hyper-drive mode, was beginning to calm down. Weariness became the most crippling force he ever encountered as his hands hung limply by his sides and his legs spread themselves out on the floor. He could hardly feel his limbs- he could hardly feel anything.

Exhausted by life, Joe gazed up, squinting his eyes against the beaming rays of the sun. He saw the shifting clouds rushing across the blue sky in fast forward, hurrying for time. The sunlight hurt his eyes too much so he looked away and took in the sight of long grass swaying in the breeze. Blue skies, golden trees, green grass and plenty of tombs erected amongst the bustling life of plants, insects and microorganisms.

Unrelated, noiseless sights.

Somebody dressed in white was hovering in front of him, checking his pulse. He hated someone being so close to him that he could smell the person’s mint flavored breath. Two guys laid a stretcher down and were coming over but someone else overtook them.

His mother knelt down in front of him, unintentionally pushing the paramedic out of the way.

"Joe? Honey…" Sweet, familiar perfume wafted to his nose accompanied by a velvet smooth deep voice of a woman who loved him very much. Warm hands pushed his hair away from his forehead; hot tears fell on his cheeks- not his though.

"Mom…" He croaked. Gentle hands embraced him; soft cotton fabric engulfed him. He wrapped his outstretched hands around her and buried his head into the soft shoulder. How he wished he could just float away with the drifting clouds in his mind. To somewhere better, prettier than Bayport and even the Adirondacks.

Another figure neared him and was talking softly to Brian.

"Thanks, Brian. You found him like this?"

Awkward whispers; baffling explanations. He was eavesdropping on people talking about him. But it was ok. They had all the right in the world to talk about him.

"Not exactly... he was… well… I guess I triggered some attack in him… I’m sorry, Mr. Hardy..."

"Mom? Make them stop…" He pleaded with the woman who smiled sadly at him with shimmering tears in her eyes, sparkling like diamonds with the brilliance of a mother’s love. Troubled fingers stroked his cheek and, with the other hand, she pulled him back into her protective embrace.

But just how safe was he from himself?

"Excuse me Mrs. Hardy, but we need to get your son to the hospital, he’s having what seems to be an anxiety attack…"

"Sweetheart, I’ll be here… you’ll be all right, ok? Don’t worry… Mommy’s here…" She whispered lovingly and kissed his briny cheeks, once on each side before she moved behind. He tried to struggle up but the paramedic held him back and he could not remember anything after that, just that there was a soul-ripping scream from someone, maybe himself. He could not ascertain.

And darkness. He remembered darkness. The clouding over of eyes by a thick, black veil just moments after a needle-prick to his arm.

He glided off with the clouds in a dreamless sleep.

***

*Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.

Now it looks as though they're here to stay.

Oh, I believe in yesterday.

"You want to switch channels?" Fenton threw a concerned glance at Joe with some unspoken love. Joe shook his head and stared miserably out of the window, up at the evening sky before focusing on the dusty road. The green light dimmed and out flashed an angry red, forcing the traffic to stop. A yellow leaf was dancing in the wind, indifferent to the dangerous traffic it was playing in. Like a child, it beckoned Joe, beckoned Joe to dance with it.

Suddenly, I'm not half to man I used to be.

There's a shadow hanging over me.

Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

Why she had to go, I don't know she wouldn't say.

I said something wrong, now I

*Man it's a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun
I hear you whisper and the words melt everyone
But you stay so cool...

"Ah… this is better, more upbeat." Fenton had switched the oldies station that his car radio was almost permanently configured to receive to one that played modern hits. Santana’s electrifying guitar play meshed well with the guttural vocals of the front-man of Matchbox Twenty. Usually, Joe would enjoy the sexy groove but now, it was noise. Pure Noise. He moved for the first time since he got into the car, reaching out to switch the station back to the former.

Why she had to go, I don't know she wouldn't say.

I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

His dad breathed out heavily, stretching his lips but he allowed the song to play on. Joe slouched against his seat and pressed the side of his head against the car window, watching the leaf; watching the dance.

"You know, son, you have a choice. You do know where I’m bringing you, right?"

A pink plastic bag decided to join in the dance. The leaf and the bag playfully made moves at each other, flirting in their never-ending dance as long as the zephyr sang. Sometimes, the leaf would steal a kiss from the bag, other times, they might actually hold hands. Just before the light turned green again, the two enamored entities rolled across the road and reached the safety of the curb. The song of the wind ended at that opportune time and the leaf rested first, with the flimsy bag settling down about an inch away.

"Please, talk to me. You haven’t talked to me in almost a year. Do you hate me that much? What did I do to you, Joe?" Fenton beseeched but regretfully, Joe was not touched by his father’s rhetoric. Hate his father? Why would he hate his father? For bringing him right to Sanctuary after the doctor over at Bayport Hospital suggested he did? After he consulted with Emily who came by to examine him as well? The sedative wore off sometime in the late afternoon and, not finding any reasons to keep him, the doctor discharged him. His dad came to fetch him with a small suitcase filled with his clothes that his mother had packed.

His parents did all they could to love him, even when he brought them nothing but antagonism. Since childhood, he was the free-spirited one, the anomalous child. He could not be tied down and was never one to be quietly obedient. They took in all his nonsense and supported his variety of interests. When he wanted a piano, he got one. When he wanted a football, they bought him two. Track shoes, tennis rackets, even that impressive Harley now rusting in the garage of the Hardy residence, they gave to him because they did not know what to do with him.

Joe had to avert his eyes from his original line of sight. Big Cliff was not far away from Sanctuary which was situated on a quiet ridge that overlooked the sea. In his mind, the night when he thought the crashing waves had called his name in their hypnotic lullaby saturated his thoughts. If only his father knew, what would his father say?

His dad sighed. Joe could hear the anguish, the pain and the self-reproach at failed parenthood. But there was no letting down; he had much love from them. It was just that, right then, he could not feel it. His parent’s love was always there with open arms to welcome back a prodigal son. He was not running back yet- feeling too tired to start the climb up, to even walk. He might not have jumped but his soul felt like he did and he was still descending to the murderous waves below.

She’s really dead.

Sanctuary, a huge, sprawling building, the sole architecture on the ridge, seemed as peaceful, superficially, as its name implied. It looked like a relaxing, countryside resort. Meadows stretched out towards all angles of the horizon, with the building in the centre. Clothed in red bricks to bring about the feeling of warmth and joy, it was where the disturbed in Bayport would go to, too restless because their mind thought too much to the extent that they could not think straight. A safe haven, a peaceful sanctuary.

A tranquil setting which belied the chaos in the individuals who haunted the halls with glazed over eyes, lost in their mind’s maze. Joe once walked through the halls as a volunteer in his junior year. Now, he was there as a patient.

His dad found a parking space with ease and exited from the car first. Joe sat where he was, sick of moving. If he just stayed very still, maybe Fenton would leave him alone. But that was not the case. His dad unlocked his door and reached over to disengage his seatbelt. Joe cringed at the closeness and was glad when his dad walked over to the car boot and hefted a small suitcase out, before putting it on the grassy plot, and slammed the boot shut.

Joe was still in his seat.

"Come, we have to go in. Emily’s waiting for us inside. Joe… I’m sorry…" Fenton apologized and Joe wanted to ask him what for? It was a fact- his mind was feeling pretty cobwebbed. Maybe a few days in Sanctuary would help him see that he was no different from those branded crazy. Maybe he might even find a new sense of belonging. It was a beginning to a new life.

He forced himself out and Fenton grabbed his arm to help him, sending creepy crawlies climbing up the affected limb. As usual, Joe tried to shake the grip away but Fenton held on tight. Joe, still weakened by the sedative, was feeling too lethargic to carry on fighting.

Once through the automatic glass doors of the cheery building, Fenton led Joe to the lobby and motioned for Joe to wait for him as he did the necessary paperwork. Joe sat himself down on an apricot colored leather couch and looked around him, since he had nothing else better to do except to observe his surrounds and kick his legs against the couch. A girl, just a couple of years younger than him probably, was playing with dolls on the floor while her mother sat on the couch, reading a magazine. Joe determined their relationship because of the likeness in their facial features and the occasional "Hush, sweetie," the mother would coax the girl with when she was too loud. She must be a familiar face here, one of those patients who spent six months in Sanctuary, six months at home or until her parents got annoyed with her.

Fenton, having done what he needed to do, approached the waiting lounge and sat down next to Joe, smiling at the girl who waved at him enthusiastically. Joe scrutinized Fenton’s expression then, wanting to determine if it was a smile in pity or a smile out of politeness.

It was not either. It was a genuine smile of kindness- with the old twinkle in the dark brown eyes.

"You need anything, Joe?" Fenton asked, noticing Joe’s intense stare. Joe shook his head vaguely and looked away, now interested in a tall, cactus plant at one corner of the room with red and yellow flowers sprouting on the needled stem. Cactus, one of the toughest plants in the world. If something could exist in the waterless desert, it could triumph over any other conditions. Joe had this hunch that it was not placed as a decoration for pure aesthetic reason.

"Fenton! Joe!" Emily appeared from nowhere and Fenton rose to greet her. After their friendly hug, the handsome lady extended her hand to Joe who ignored it. He was not in a mood for friendliness. He had just learnt a horrible truth and there was only so much he could do to keep himself from screaming and tearing out his own fingernails. Learnt the truth because everyone taught it to him.

Vanessa’s dead. Deal with it.

"Shall we go? Ready?" Emily arched a brow and smiled cheerfully at Joe. It was almost like she was asking him to go to Disneyland with her, rather than to the room he would probably spend forever in.

But the small suitcase was an indication that he was only being morbid and unfair to his parents. Speaking of parents, where was his mom? Joe always felt closer to Laura. He remembered running away from Frank when he made his big brother angry and sought shelter by clutching one of Laura’s leg and hiding behind it when he was only a toddler. He was a little on the short side before a growth sprout in puberty shot him all the way to 6 ft. When he was three, his mom was a gentle "giantess" and his dad, a mountain of strength.

And where’s Frank? Why isn’t he here to stop them?

He must be in cahoots too!

Fenton almost dragged Joe up to his feet and Joe shuffled along next to his father with Emily giving them a tour of the facilities as she guided them to the lodging section. He was hardly listening as his guts twisted. Even Frank had run out of patience with him. Frank had allowed his parents to put him there and did not even accompany Fenton to send him to another prison of sorts.

Prison. Prisonprisonprisonprisonprisonprisonprison………

Breathe, damn it!

"… And this is our gym. Do you work out regularly, Joe? Exercise is good, releases endorphins and helps to reduce stress." Emily pointed out a surprising well-equipped gym to both father and son. Joe noticed the lack of dumbbells and weights though. Probably the staff was afraid the residents would decide to play a game of Monkey with those heavy weights.

She led them further down into another wing. This was the wing where the rooms were. A common lounge was situated on every floor and they utilized an elevator to reach the third floor. The moment Joe stepped out, he saw that the windows were all barred. The sounds of a piano being tortured made him angry and, suddenly, a pale, pimply faced geek threw a calculator at him from which he ducked, drawing closer to his dad.

The calculator missed him and plummeted to the floor with a loud crash.

"Hey!" Joe shouted out of instinct but the guy just gave him a suspicious look and went back to whatever he was doing, solving pages of mathematical equations with crayoned geometrical shapes while lying down on the floor.

As they walked on, Joe discovered the source of the piano wails. It was from a room, imaginatively named, Music Room. Emily noticed Joe’s interest and opened the door gently. There was a black young man, sitting on the piano stool, singing London Bridge while banging on the ivory keys. Another girl, with messy orange hair, was accompanying him on the bongos. Joe’s head started to ache from the racket.

"We have bongos, tambourines and of course, the piano. You do play the piano, don’t you?"

"No." Joe lied, not knowing why he would. Maybe it was because he suddenly decided to start wearing gloves and wearing gloves did hinder someone from playing any sort of musical instruments.

"Ah…" Emily remarked and Joe knew she knew he lied. Fenton coughed and put his arm around Joe who suddenly felt contagious again. He squirmed uneasily but Fenton retained the show of physical affection.

"Sure you do, son. Joe plays in a band. He’s the front man."

"Have you ever heard me sing in it before?" Joe asked Fenton in all innocence and watched his father’s face turn pale.

"One day, I will."

"Right." Joe responded dryly. Emily closed the door and they followed her again down the hall. The sounds of the tormented piano thankfully dissipated gradually and when they reached Joe’s room, they were out of hearing range. The moment Emily opened the door, Joe wanted to ask for a change of room.

The windows were barred too but the panes were wide open and Joe could smell the ocean’s salty breeze. Ahead of him, the top of Big Cliff loomed in the horizon, watching him, silently reminding him, "I know."

"It’s a wonderful view. Some people find that the majesty of nature relaxes them. Do you like it, Joe?" Emily asked and Joe glowered at her.

"I think I’d rather face a concrete wall."

"Joe…" Fenton squeezed his shoulder and Joe shrugged the touch away as he plunked himself down on the bed.

Fenton gazed at him helplessly and Joe knew Emily was taking down mental notes so he smiled at her sweetly, a total change from his earlier taciturn.

"It’s a beautiful room. I think I may want to keep it forever."

Emily raised her brows slightly but she said nothing. Behind her eyes, Joe saw clockworks ticking.

"We’ll leave you alone to enjoy your room, if there’s anything you need, just ring the bell. Make yourself comfortable, Joe. I’ll see you later." Emily smiled at him and led Fenton out of the room. They were going to discuss him again. Joe did not know he was such a hot topic of debate of late.

I’m not crazy. Why did he put me here? Why? What a lousy room. I hate this damn place! I don’t throw calculators at people, I don’t play with dolls, thinking they’re human and I don’t torment a poor piano! I’m just me. I’m all right. I’m ok…

His eyes swept the room, giving it a once over and hating it intensely. The beige wardrobe, the birch wood desk and cheery, yellow armchair presented a scene too happy for his liking. The room was painted in a pastel blue shade and the bed he was sitting on was covered in a plain, apricot bedspread.

It’s for a girl! How can a guy live with such pansy hues?

Joe stood up and started to pace around the room. The more he walked in circles, the smaller the room became and claustrophobia tightened its grip around him. He kept circulating closer and closer to the imagined dot in the center until he did not know if he was the one walking in circles or the room was spinning around him as he remained stationary. His heart pounded fast and he felt himself about to fall apart as his ragged breathing became sporadic gasps for air as blinding white specks peppered his sight. He could not spend a night in here, could not last a night thinking he had overstayed his welcome at home.

He turned the knob on the door, flung it open and dashed out of the room. Fenton and Emily were somewhere down the hallway and he hoped to run past them so fast they could not catch him. Fenton, with seasoned quick reflexes, immediately shot one hand out to grab his arm.

"Dad, don’t, please. Let me go home… I’ll stop thinking all that nonsense about Ness being alive and everything else. I’ll laugh, I’ll crack jokes… I’ll be like before again… please… Dad…" he pleaded, trying to shake his dad’s grip away. "I’ll talk all the time. I promise… I won’t… I won’t be crazy…"

"Son, listen to me… you need help and we don’t want you to pretend. We want you to get well, Joe… it’s the best way I can think of and believe me, I’m thinking of how to help you every night…" Fenton tried to reason with Joe and Joe just could not understand. He could not comprehend why he would follow Fenton so compliantly to Sanctuary. He did not know why his parents would think it was the best way. He promised to be normal again, why couldn’t they just believe him? He suddenly felt abandoned, a duckweed floating in a dirty pond and nobody wanted him.

"Daddy, don’t you love me anymore? Why dump me here? I’m sorry… I’m sorry for being a jerk-ass son. I didn’t know what to do… I hate this place. I hate the room. I hate this… I want to go home…" Joe moaned through his tears, not seeing his dad anymore or Emily observing the scene, trying to analyze the best way to reach him. He could see the Tudor before him but though he tried hard, he could not enter. The door was locked and his parents were waving down at him from the second-storey balcony, smiling and glad to see him out in the streets.

"Bye bye, darling! We’re sorry but you can’t come in."

"Joe… Joe…"

"You don’t want me. You hate me and you don’t want me…" Joe gazed into his father’s face- the mask of pain at administering tough love. Fenton pulled him abruptly into a fierce embrace but Joe did not return the hug. His hands remained rigidly straight down his side, his own lips pulling tighter and tighter.

"Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. I love you so much. You’re my sunshine boy always and I’ll never abandon you. Give this a chance, Joe. Please… I beg you to just give this a chance!"

"NO! I DON’T WANT TO GIVE THIS A CHANCE!" Joe pushed Fenton away and staggered back. "YOU’RE LYING TO ME! YOU PUT ME HERE AND YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME BACK! YOU HATE ME! HOW CAN YOU NOT HATE ME? I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH! I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE ME! BUT I’M NOT CRAZY! I’M NOT! I’M NOT CRAZY!!!! STAY BACK! DON’T TOUCH ME OR I’ll…"

Room spinning. Going crazy…

Floor moving under feet… falling hard… falling fast…

"I’ll…"

Swaying. Blood and brains flowing down the cracks on the ground…

Swaying...

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play.

Now I need a place to hide away.

Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh.

Fell.

 

*Yesterday by the Beatles, 1965

*Smooth, Santana, In the album, Supernatural, 1999