Rumored Nervous Breakdown

Voices around me bring back to reality and pain. My eyes are glued shut, and I have that all too familiar feeling of the restraints on my limbs, that horrible lumpy mattress, and the funny smell from the disinfectants used on the Isolation Ward.

"Mr. and Mrs. Howard, I am Healer Thomas Edwards, and I am taking care of your daughter on this ward." As Edwards finishes this sentence, my worst nightmare is being confirmed; I am back at St. Mungo's. "As you know, she is here due to a possible suicide attempt last night. Eleanor was found in her room, unconscious, and next to a broken bottle of her medication. She didn't have anything in her system; however, I believe there has been some serious concern about her unstable behavior."

I hear my father say, "The Headmaster wrote us early this week that she seemed to be battling with some depression. He expressed the possibility of having Nell committed, because she may be having another breakdown." I can feel his familiar touch as he takes my hand. "Do you think this could have been a failed third attempt?"

I want desperately for them to understand I was not trying to kill myself. As I take a breath to speak, I can feel how much pain remains in my chest and back. I manage to gasp out the word "didn't."

"She's been repeating that word over and over since she came here early this morning," he informs my parents. "Does this mean anything to you?"

"No, I have no idea." The tone of Dad's answer seems to indicate he is very concerned about what I meant by saying that word.

"I have some forms to fill out for an involuntary commitment of an adult patient. I believe a lawyer has begun most of the paperwork for guardianship so you can handle her affairs. You will be responsible for decisions concerning her care. She can no longer check herself out of treatment. I think this is for her own good, because she is a danger to herself."

"Our daughter has been very troubled since she was a teenager. Her last episode was at least fifteen years ago, and we hoped that she would never find herself committed again. I know her health has been rapidly declining; however, I kept wishing this would never come to pass," Dad states sadly.

"Nell, it's Mum." I have no idea how I am going to face her now. "Can you open your eyes and look at me?" She strokes my forehead in a comforting gesture, but I still don't want to face my parents.

The glare of the lighting is burning my eyes as I see an elderly Healer standing next to both of my parents. I notice his badge has the name "Thomas Edwards, Chief Healer, St. Mungo's Psychiatric Ward."

"Looks like Bulstrode is now scrubbing bed pans in the 'Spell Damage' ward after all."

Mum reluctantly signs the papers to have me committed for something I did not do. I feel so betrayed. I desperately want to tell them I am not going around the twist again. This is another example of "it's for my own good" pushed too far.

The Healer leaves the room with the forms, allowing me a few minutes alone with my parents.

"Nell, we brought you here, because you need the help. Everyone is so worried about you lately." Dad is trying to control his tears, remaining stoic in this heart breaking moment in his life. "I tried to get in touch with Remus, but he has been out of contact. Dumbledore said he found some work, and he is attempting to track him down for you."

Unwanted tears of frustration are falling down my cheeks, and Mum uses a tissue to dry my face. "We need to leave you, but I promise we'll be back during the next scheduled visiting hour." She gives me a quick kiss on my forehead, takes my father's hand, and leaves with a stifled sniffle.

The elderly Healer walks back into the room carrying a glass with some type of liquid in it. I obediently swallow what tastes like a cross between motor oil and rotten cabbage. I don't like taking "mystery potions." Experience on this ward has taught me something; patients should never make a fuss when told to take any form of medication, because your refusal to follow directions always makes it into that stupid file that follows you everywhere.

Every time I wake up, it is like being the subject of a slide show. I come back to consciousness to see someone else in the room making comments about my behavior. One time, I float to the edge of consciousness only to hear conversations from several Healers about my case, making me feel like an exhibit at the London Zoo.

A familiar cough permeates the fog impairing my cognitive function, and I realize Dolores is visiting my new home.

"Healer Edwards is restricting Eleanor's visitors to her guardians and lawyer. I can only let you see her for a few minutes. I could get into a lot of trouble for letting you in here," a female voice I don't recognize says in a whisper. "Be careful not to wake her up, because he wishes her to remain sedated for the next few days."

From the smell of rancid perfume, I can tell Dolores is standing next to my bed. I hear the scraping of a chair on the floor. "This is such a tragedy." She is stroking my hair, and I long to slap her hand away; however, I want to hear what she has to say. "Her behavior has deteriorated so rapidly in the past few months. It seemed to grow worse when she reappeared after the holiday. Eleanor became violent towards me when I laid down some simple rules after the holiday. Why, she has been caught coming out of empty classrooms with men during the school day; who knows what she is doing in that room." She has stopped stroking my hair and places her hand over mine. "How sad that she's been declared unable to handle her affairs, and those poor parents having to deal with a troubled child so long, and now they are forced to bear the burden of caring for her once more." It sounds like a false wail of sympathy is coming from her mouth. "I would like to send her some roses to cheer her up; she so loves flowers."

"Princess, if I was not strapped down and wandless, you would be so dead, they would need to bury you twice."

"Sorry, Healer Edwards has given orders that nothing may be delivered to her room without permission from her parents," the unknown person informs Dolores, correcting my ability to have deliveries.

"Has she said anything?" Dolores inquires.

"I really cannot reveal any conversations, but Healer Edwards said she is repeating the word 'didn't' over and over." I can hear the squeak of shoes on the waxed floor. "You were there that night, do you understand what she meant by that?"

"I have no idea, but Eleanor is so delusional lately, it might just be nonsense. She was walking about the school looking so lost and depressed." Dolores lets go of my hand, but she is still next to me. "She is faking some illness to get out of her duties. She even has everyone convinced she is dying."

"How awful it must be for you, Madam Umbridge," the unknown female voice expresses. "I am sorry, but this is the most I can allow you to be in here." The chair moves back to its former position, and I can hear the squeaking of shoes receding out the door.

I am not sure of how much time has passed since I fell back to sleep, but I am finally finding some clearness in thought; however, there are severe cramps rolling across my back and chest. The scrape of the chair against the floor is pulling me rudely back to my misery.

"Good Morning, Eleanor." My eyes snap open, and I find that it's Edwards again. I am not really in the mood for socialization right now. "Do you remember me? I am Thomas Edwards, the Chief Healer of the Psychiatric Department; I will be taking care of you." I notice he has that stupid file with every sordid detail of my life. I wonder if Bulstrode's comments are still in there.

"Eleanor, I want to talk about what happened the day before you came to us," he calmly starts the new subject in our conversation. "You were found in a room with a broken bottle of medication; however, the tests show there was none of it in your system."

"I didn't hurt myself," I choke out as another cramp slides across my back and chest. "I fell and tried to pull myself up on the table, but the table cloth moved and a bottle fell off." I am not going to tell him that cause of the fall was a five foot tall pink nightmare, masquerading as a staff member. I want to keep it to myself until I can speak to Mum and Dad privately. I don't want to sound like I am ranting and raving. "I kept trying to tell everyone that I didn't do that, but no one seemed to understand."

It looks like he finally gets the hint as he says, "Ah, that's why you kept repeating the word 'didn't' over and over." He does not skip a beat as he asks, "Your friends seem to worry about how depressed you have been lately. Can you explain why?"

"So far, I have been treated like a toddler, dismissed as a nymphomaniac, called too unstable to handle my own affairs, and that I have faked my health problems to gain attention. Yeah, you can say I'm a little depressed and pissed off." He looks a little shocked with my candid reply to his question. "For the record, I would like to say that I have not been running around with strange men, satisfying an insatiable appetite for sex. That is a figment of Dolores Umbridge's twisted imagination. Having a boyfriend at the school is a bit difficult; the choices are so limited. They are either way too old or a complete pompous arse."

"Eleanor, I have heard that you may be exaggerating the extent of your illness. One source said you were having seizures, but they are caused by stress. They are real seizures; however, they are caused by emotion and not electrical issues. This form of pseudo-seizure could be part of the problem," Edwards discusses, his pen poised for my reply.

The restraints are keeping me from shifting my position so I can relieve another round of cramps rolling across my back "Are you calling me a hypochondriac? I don't like having seizures, because it is painful and a bit embarrassing. I am not making this up because of some repressed feelings," I snap, trying to shift again; however, I don't want to scream out in pain; this would look like a ploy for pity. "I just want to be left alone! I hate calling attention to myself; I had enough of that in school!"

"Eleanor, why are you fidgeting so much during our discussion?" Edwards asks, looking a bit mystified at my behavior. "I know you want to lash out and hurt me as you did that trainee Healer during your hospitalization after the second suicide attempt."

"No." My wrists and ankles twist in the restraints as another round of blinding pain hits me, trying to escape the torture.

"I want you to get past your anger issues. Why are you so agitated?" Edwards inquires, oblivious to my pain.

"Pain," I choke out, my entire body twitching from the agony.

Edward's face is becoming blurry as he says, "Yes, Eleanor, working on your deepest issues in painful. Don't avoid this issue by expressing it through an imagined illness."

I just want him to understand this is not in my head. "Chest hurts..." I gasp, while my breathing comes in a series of short, high-pitched, popping noises. "Can't... breathe..."

Edwards is standing over me, but he is now just a shadow in my blurry vision. "Eleanor, I need you to calm down; you are going to hurt yourself." I can feel the relief of the restraints being removed." His voice is rapidly fading as a curtain of grey slides across my eyes. "Eleanor?" I can hear him inquire, but I am unable to respond. As everything is going dark, my eyes close for the last time, and I can hear him shout to get someone from Cardiology Department. The last words I hear are, "Will you hurry! I'm losing her!"

A rush of noises launches me into awareness as I attempt to orient myself. I can hear the sound of several chairs scraping across the floor and whispers coming from the occupants discussing something urgently. Although my chest no longer has cramps hitting me like waves on an ocean, my breathing is still coming in wheezing gasps.

"I appreciate you contacting us so quickly," whispers someone sounding like Mum. "We were told that she could have a heart attack one of these days, but I was hoping one would never happen." Mum has a definite note of sadness. "Nell has been dealing with this since she was fifteen. I never thought I would be sitting here one day watching her slip away." What Dolores said about me being a burden to my parents during my entire life has a ring of truth. I have done nothing but brought sadness and misfortune to their lives.

I can hear Edwards' smooth speech as he introduces someone new to the room. "This is Healer Preston from the Spell Damage Ward."

"I thought Nell had a heart attack?" Mum inquires in confusion. "When you contacted us, you told me that was the problem." She seems to be getting a bit worked up.

"From the looks of her condition, she seems to have had several heart attacks in the past few months," says a female voice says whom I do not recognize. "When did someone notice her behavior change drastically?"

"Her friends at the school said her personality changed in late November. The Headmaster commented that she went from making her normal snappy comments to withdrawn and anti-social." I can smell Mum's perfume as I feel her familiar touch on my hand. "It was about the same time Minerva McGonagall found her on the bathroom floor covered in blood from falling on a glass that shattered on the floor."

I can hear someone take a deep breath and inquires, "Where exactly are you going with this?" I realize the owner of the voice is Dad.

"Eleanor is the victim of curse that I have only read about in textbooks, because it was outlawed thirty years ago," Preston explains in a manner that is not condescending to my parents. "It was used as a way to interrogate someone without using potions. The curse is one that can be quickly learned but easily botched with lethal results."

Edwards cuts in with, "All it takes is the correct contact of a wand with the vital area of the body you wish to stop working momentarily and cause pain. For example, if applied to the neck, you can cut off someone's ability to breathe." I can hear him moving closer to where I am lying, and I long to open my eyes to tell what really happened and point the finger at the culprit; however, my wheezing is making it nearly impossible for me to speak.

"Whoever did this to Eleanor applied it too long in the chest, causing substantial injury on her heart and lungs. I have evidence this is not the first time this may have happened. She may have been attacked around the time of her first collapse." The Healer has confirmed my worst fear of Dolores trying to kill me. "Unfortunately, that is not all. This type of curse does not wear off when the wand is withdrawn. The long term effects can be organ damage, cognitive difficulties, and depression." Preston is attempting to prevent Edwards from taking over her case.

"I hope your daughter can tell us who did this to her and when it occurred. We cannot help her if I don't know what happened." Edwards butts into the conversation again like a toddler looking for attention. "She still needs some psychiatric help; however, the curse's effects need to be eliminated before I can look into her issues. There are some lingering psychological problems brought on by the repeated heart attacks."

"If this is some sort of curse causing her problems, isn't there another ward that she should be in?" Dad inquires. "Nell told me a long time ago that you have separate wards for magical injuries."

"Eleanor is still a danger to herself, and I want to make sure she doesn't find a way to cause self-injury. Just because a curse is undone, doesn't mean the damage is going to go away instantly," Edwards comments. "I am concerned that the person who did this may try again at some point, and here we can restrict visitors very easily."

"We want to give you a few minutes alone with Eleanor. She is still in danger of not pulling through, and I think having her parents at her side can increase the odds of a positive outcome," Preston says, his footsteps retreating from my bed.

The warm touch of my Mum's hand and Dad's humming a song I once knew as a child is helping me to relax, and I retreat into a restful and healing sleep.

Someone's touch is pulling me out of the abyss to the reality of St. Mungo's. I no longer smell Mum's perfume or Dad's aftershave, so I know the person next to me is not either of my parents. I open my eyes to see Remus and Rupert sitting next to my bed. The familiar hand holding mine is Remus'. The light is very subdued, but I would know it was him holding my hand even if it was pitch dark.

"We can only stay in here for ten minutes, because Healers Preston and Edwards want her to remain as quiet, because her heart is still in danger of failing again. That curse took so much energy away from her," Rupert whispers. "I am going to leave you both alone for awhile." I watch him walk across the room and reluctantly leave.

Remus looks so tired and careworn. "I received a letter from Dumbledore saying that you had tried to kill yourself again; I tried to get here as fast as I could. When I arrived, I found out that you had a heart attack due to some outlawed curse," Remus says in a hoarse whisper, stroking the top of my head with his free hand. "What is this about us and hospital reunions?" he inquires with a wry grin, attempting to lighten the mood a bit. "Nell, can you tell me who did this to you?" I am almost afraid to answer this question, because I know it will get back to everyone, and I don't want to look weak.

However, I know Remus and my parents will not be that judgmental about my capability to take care of myself. I manage to croak out, "Dolores." I can feel tears forming in my eyes.

He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, giving me a charge of courage. "Did she curse you in November before you collapsed in your bathroom?" he inquires. Before I can answer, he holds one finger to his lips. "Just nod or shake your head, I don't want you to wear yourself out." I manage a weak nod of my head as he asks another question. "Did it happen again a few days ago?" I nod my head again, and the tears flow unchecked. "Were you worried that we wouldn't believe you the first time?" I nod again, spasms of silent sorrow emanate from my body. "Nell, your parents and I don't see you as being a liar to gain attention." Remus pulls out a handkerchief from his threadbare robes.

"...Weak." The word comes out in a very breathy whisper. I look away from his eyes out of shame.

He turns my face to look him in the eye saying, "You are not weak, Nell. When that woman targets someone, there is little chance of avoiding her wrath. She is underhanded and cruel with unlimited resources to create havoc." The best way to defeat Umbridge is to beat this curse and come back fighting."

Ten minutes have passed and I am totally exhausted by his visitation, and Rupert has come in to tell Remus it is time to go. I don't want to be left alone right now, and I refuse to let go of his grip; however, I am too weak to continue hanging on to his hand. He leaves the room, making it a point to stop and look at me in the doorway before he leaves.

Rupert has not left the room, and he walks over to the bed, looking as if he wants to burst into tears. "I'm sorry, Nell. I jumped to the wrong conclusion when I found you lying next to that bottle. It hurt so much when I thought you were gone. I really do love you. I wish I had the guts to tell you this when we were at school, but I could not pluck up the courage just to say it." He takes a deep breath as if he were going to dive to the bottom of the ocean. "Severus cornered me a few weeks ago, telling me that I was not good enough for you. I believe that after what happened recently, he is right; I am below your standards." He wipes his cheek with his hand before any tears can fall.

I can't let him feel this way. He isn't below my standards; if anything, I am damaged goods, and I don't deserve happiness. I just cause misery and pain to those around me. I manage to force out the word "no." I attempt to reach for his hand, but I just cannot summon the energy for an extended effort. Instead, Rupert reaches out for mine; I notice the dark circles underneath his hazel eyes, and his clothing looks like he hasn't been changed in days.

"I should be as romantic as the person sending you that poetry book last winter. I seem to lack that ability in the excitement department. All I gave you for Valentine's Day was a book of tort statutes. I am such an idiot, and I guess you feel that I am a little boring," he says in mournful tone, gently squeezing my hand.

The word "no" comes out of my mouth without my thinking about it. I don't see him as boring at all; he has always been a pain in the arse, but he means it for the best. I watch the same smile he gave me the day last winter before Severus was leering over my shoulder in a bid of intimidation. I fight the encroachment of sleep overpowering me as his smile lights a bit of spark in his eyes. I lose the struggle and fall asleep to the sensation of him holding my hand.