“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jag replied. “Very. Very. Okay.”
25Jag
Jag’s leg bounced up and down as he finished telling his story to the solicitor at the other side of the desk. He felt sick. His skin was cold and clammy, and it was only Michael’s fingers, twisted through his own, that kept him even halfway to grounded. He’d kept things as sketchy as possible, giving Lauren Jones less detail than he’d forced himself to spew out to Michael, but he still felt raw. It was hard opening up about his past, especially to a stranger. He still felt as if he was a fractured structure of glass that would shatter the moment anyone applied even a little more pressure. He had to get it out, though. Lauren couldn’t help him unless he was as honest as he could be with her. And God, he desperately wanted to stop running and start living.
Lauren had listened intently to everything he’d said, taking copious notes. Her expression had been carefully schooled, so he couldn’t even begin to guess what she was thinking. When it was clear he’d finished, she held her pen at both ends and leant back in her chair.
“Firstly, you were a minor when your parents put you into that institution. You’re an adult now, and that changes a lot. You have your own voice and your own rights. Secondly, you can only be sectioned if there’s cause under the mental health act. I understand your concern that your mother would be able to do it anyway, but homosexuality is not a mental illness,” Lauren said. “Even if it was, having a mental disorder is not enough grounds in and of itself to detain someone. There has to also be a concern for your safety or that of others.”
Detained. The word made Jag shiver violently. He ran his tongue over his dry lips to moisten them. “Couldn’t she make it up? Or whoever she gets to say I need to be locked up?”
“Only if they want to risk having their medical licenses revoked if it can be proved you’ve been falsely sectioned.”
Michael squeezed his hand reassuringly, but Jag barely felt the pressure.
“And if his parents tried to section him, would Jag be able to contact you first?” Michael asked.
“You’d have the right to contact a solicitor, yes,” Lauren said, directing her response to Jag. “But if there’s genuine concern for your safety, medical professionals don’t have to wait for me to arrive, nor would I be able to stop them from detaining you.”
“Genuine concern,” Michael repeated. “But there’s no genuine concern. Jag’s clearly not a danger to anyone.”
Jag swallowed. “So…what you’re saying is that theycouldsection me, but that you’d be able to get me out?” He stared at Lauren, willing her to agree. He needed to be able to believe in her. He needed her to give him hope.
“I could help you apply to be discharged, yes. And if the grounds on which you were sectioned in the first place were shaky—”
“Or false,” Michael interjected.
Lauren carried on, barely missing a beat. “Or if they haven’t followed the rights steps, it should be a fairly straightforward process.”
“But it shouldn’t even have to get that far,” Michael said, his voice rising.
“I agree, and I honestly doubt that it would,” Lauren said. “But it’s important that you understand the process, just in case.” She smiled at Jag. “It should be a relief to know that it would take more than one medical professional to section you. It’s normally a team of three.” She began to count off on her fingers. “An approved mental health professional, a medical practitioner, and a section twelve-approved doctor.”
“You mean a psychiatrist?” Michael asked.
“Usually, yes.”
“My parents would get a shrink fromthatplace,” Jag said bitterly. “I’m sure all the ‘doctors’ there would back them up.”
“The decision isn’t arbitrary,” Lauren carried on. “They can’t just look at you and decide you need to be hospitalised. You’d be interviewed and assessed, andifthey wanted to section you, they’d need to give reasons and file the appropriate paperwork. But they have to take into account your mental and physical health, whether or not you’re acting in a way that harms your health, whether you’re safe at home, and they’d also have to look at what medication you’re on.”
“I don’t take anything,” Jag said. “I don’t need to take anything.”
He stared down at Michael’s fingers, entwined with his own. Lauren’s words should have been making him feel safer, but they weren’t. In theory, there was no way his parents could section him and take him back to that place. He wasn’t mentally ill, and he definitely wasn’t a danger to himself or others. There were no medical grounds whatsoever to detain him. Rationally, he knew that now, but emotionally? He was still in flight mode. Still petrified and more than a little paranoid. They wanted to take him back to that place to fix him, and his fear told him they’d find a way, lawful or not.
Lauren put the pen down and leant forwards onto the desk. “I understand why you’re scared, but unless there’s something you’re not telling me about your mental health, there’re no grounds that I can see that would lead to you being sectioned by anyone.”
Michael gnawed on his thumb. “So you’re saying there’s no need to worry at all? That Jag can just live his life without being scared his family will turn up and drag him back to that hellhole?”
“I’m saying that, based on the information I have, there’re no legal or medical grounds under which they could send Jag back there.”
“Would it help to have our own doctor assess his mental health?” Michael asked.
Lauren pursed her lips. “It couldn’t hurt.”
Jag stiffened. He almost felt as if he wasn’t there, as if decisions were being made around him once again, as they had been when he was fifteen.
