Sandra Jones Is Dead

After Sandra Jones jumps off a cliff, a town is left reeling. As her family and friends provide pieces of information, secrets are revealed and more questions are asked than answered. What happened?

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8. You Told Me, Sandra Jones

She seemed uneasy as she walked through the door, glancing behind her as if to make sure she wasn’t followed. I knew this because this was how she always entered my office – and she hadn’t told anyone she was seeing me. “Hello Sandra,” I began, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” She told me. At least she was being honest. “I want to throw myself off that cliff.”

“Please don’t.” I said. “I’ll write you a new prescription after we’ve spoken.” The drugs I was giving her weren’t that strong, but I didn’t know how well she had hidden her feelings. “Okay.”

“So, what has happened since last week?”

“My diary. I’ve been writing in my diary. Here.” She thrust a weighty notebook at me, filled with scraps of drawings and scribbled lines.”

“No, Sandra Jones.” I said. “What has happened? I don’t want to hear it from your diary, although I will read it. I want to hear it from you.”

“Well…” She began, “On Monday my biology teacher gave us a shitload of homework-” She paused, “Is it okay to swear?” I nodded. “Anyway she gave us so much homework. For Wednesday of all things!”

“Did you complete it?” She frowned.

“No… I got detention Wednesday lunchtime. Then I had maths and I’ve been finding it really difficult recently and I’m not entirely sure I want to do medicine anymore and…” She babbled on for a few minutes, finishing with, “I’m just not happy with my life anymore. I need to do something else.”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, pulling a piece of paper and scribbling down contact details for a friend of mine in careers advice. “I don’t know…” She muttered. I flicked through her diary quickly, searching for inspiration. “What about art, Sandra Jones? There’s an awful lot of doodling in here…”

“No!” She shook her head violently, “Mum would never!” And therein lies our problem, I thought,  you’re scared. “Well I’ll tell you a secret Sandra Jones. My mum never wanted me to be a psychiatrist. Said it was an easy job, listening to people. But I did it. So can you.”

“No.” She said, “I can’t do art because I don’t want to do art because I don’t want to be here!”

 

And thus our session ended. The time ran out. She ran out.

 

And then she threw herself off that bloody cliff.

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