by Raven Scott
“Oh . . . why?”
“You’re my sister. We should know about each other.” Shit, this girl. Natalia frowned, her slender brows furrowing, and I was kinda shocked how light she was— slim and slender, and she weighed nothing as she sat back with a huff. “I thought ice cream was pretty safe. We can go somewhere else, or stay here.”
“Um, I mean, it was your idea, so it’s up to you.” She popped up like a daisy in the snow, her hair fluffing around her shoulders, and uncertainty assaulted my chest. Grabbing my hand, her little palm was sweaty, and I frowned slightly. “Did you run back here?”
“It wasn’t far. Mom didn’t make it all the way down the road before she stopped the car. She’s probably still there. Maybe she didn’t know I left yet. It doesn’t matter. She said I wasn’t allowed to talk to you, but she also said never to listen to someone who’s crying.” My brows shot up at that, and I barked an uncomfortable laugh as Natalia tugged my arm insistently. Hauling myself off the sofa, I took my glass with me ‘cause I was really gonna fucking need a drink if I was having a surreal conversation with my twelve-year-old self.
Of course, she might’ve been a lot like me, but she wasn’t me. Even though the resemblance was freaky. I mean, obviously, my dad was destined to pop out girls no matter who he was with, but to find someone who also had a predisposition to twins . . . was nuts.
Leading me through the house, Natalia tugged me into the backyard where the party was still going on, and Erik’s jaw damn near fell off his face when he saw us. Shooting him a pleading look to do his job and get me the Hell out of the situation, I scowled silently when he shook his head. A rash of mumbles swept over my head, but Natalia turned to me to hoist her long body onto the counter and cross her legs.
I guess we were just gonna talk right here? Taking a huge gulp of my wine, I inhaled a stabilizing breath before seating myself next to her.
“So . . . what do you want to know?” I regretted the question instantly, and I raked my hand roughly through my mangled bun as my eyes fluttered closed briefly in agitation. “I don’t really know what to tell you, kid.”
“My dad . . . o-our dad . . . even though he did that, do you think he’s a bad person?” Oh, fuck— fuck— God damnit. Why the Hell did I have to deal with this right in this moment? I should’ve fucking left when I had the opportunity! How was I supposed to know this girl would come running back and pull this shit? Ugh.
“Uh, that’s a good question. I think ‘bad’ is a determinate of your experience with someone. Even if my experience with him was crappy, that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person or that he’s bad for you, just that he’s bad for me. Does that make sense?” She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, and my eyelid twitched at the frown on her round face. “It’s a difficult thing to figure out.”
“Did you like horses? Because I hate horses— they’re big and smelly, and I really don’t like them.” Sucking in a deep, loud breath to try to push the discomfort from squeezing my heart, I nodded firmly as faint memories barraged behind my lids when I blinked.
“I did. I really don’t remember a lot, but I remember wanting to have one of my own.” Stereotypical white girl. Except, in Dallas, every apartment you rented came with a complimentary horse trailer. “Why?”
“I told my da— our dad . . . that I hate horses and that I don’t want to take riding lessons, but he was all like ‘wha-a-at, you love horses’ and I have literally never loved horses.” Coughing a laugh as she swayed her body dramatically backward, I covered my smile with my wine glass, and Natalia pursed her lips thinly. “If my parents get divorced, what’ll happen to me and Valentine and Anna?”
“Well, hopefully you’ll adjust. The truth is, I don’t know what’ll happen, Natalia. As eerie as it is, we’re not the same person. I have no idea what I would do because my parents didn’t get divorced.” Uh-h-h, I was definitely out of shit to spew, and I leaned back a little to lip my wine glass and take a big sip. “My life isn’t a blueprint for yours.”
“My dad— our dad—" She’s trying way too hard. It’s kinda sad. I mean, in no uncertain terms did I expect this little girl to simply accept that she had siblings twice her age. That her dad wasn’t her dad, and there’d been so many lies that she had to confront right now. That her parents will get divorced, and her life will fall apart. “Do you think he’s ashamed of you? Now, I mean, before today, I always thought that he was trying to make me like things I didn’t like because he was ashamed of who I was and wanted me to be more . . . I don’t know . . . different . . . than who I am.”
“Natalia, I think he has a lot of shame and guilt, but I don’t think it has anything to do with you.” A throbbing, sharp ache assaulted my chest, and I reached to rub the spot as she turned to me with big, confused brown eyes. “He probably took it out on you, wanting to fix the things he did and not fail the way he did fourteen years ago. But the thing is, even if he is ashamed of me, I’m not ashamed of me. I went through a lot, but I’m alive. You can ask any of your male family members . . . war changes you, and for us girls, that war usually happens right here.”
Slowly reaching to tap her forehead, I brushed back her soft, soft hair, and Natalia smiled as relief slumped her shoulders. Nodding firmly, I swung my legs over and planted my feet on the ground, but I never got the chance to stand up.
37
Erik
“It’s been a week, Mom.” Glancing through the slit of a window into Natasha’s hospital room, I covered my mouth to hide my snarl as my lip curled back. “Why haven’t they taken her off the sedatives yet?”
“Because she bit the nurse in the face, Erik, you know that.” My mom smiled sympathetically as my chest tightened, and I ran both my hands up over my head to lean heavily against the wall. Worry ate away at me, and I crouched down to rub my face roughly as the last few days raced through my mind’s eye.
“They won’t let me in until they’ve talked to her, but they can’t talk to her. This is worse than when Ben died.” I’d made the mistake of giving Natasha and Natalia some semblance of privacy and not listened into their conversation, and now, I really wish I had been nosy. Natasha blacked out, collapsed right there, and, at first, I thought she had drank too much.
But we got to the hospital and she had a real heart attack. Natasha was twenty-six and had a fucking heart attack.
Whenever the sedatives wore off and she woke up, she fought— she fought so hard, screaming in Spanish. I didn’t even know she knew Spanish.
Placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, my mom sat in the chair next to me, and I scratched my scalp harshly. I had never felt so helpless, so useless, and I blew out a hot breath as the sounds of the hospital hallway filtered into my scope of comprehension.
“No one returned the calls I made from her phone.” Even Illya, who I thought would actually call back, hadn’t bothered, and I inhaled sharply through stinging nostrils. “Her twin sister . . . ”
“You’re here, though. That’s what matters, Erik.” Of course, I didn’t know why no one called back, but semantics, damnit! Natasha had a fucking heart attack, as in her heart almost stopped beating. She could be dead, and my attempt to blast phones was being ignored!
“Erik!” My head snapped up at the deep, booming voice, and surprise nearly ripped my eyebrows off my face. Carlyle— of everyone I fucking called, it had to be Carlyle who showed up. Standing up as he strode toward me, tall and broad and in total command, I sniffed and straightened my shoulders. “What happened? I got here as fast as I could.”
“Where’s Valerie? I called her for two days straight.” He, at least, had the decency to look irritated as he shook his head curtly, and I scowled darkly. “She . . . she had a heart attack after confronting her dad. Her dad is my uncle by marriage, although I doubt it’ll be for much longer. My Aunt Kathy already started the divorce.”
“Right.” Carlyle didn’t seem the least bit surprised, and my eyes narrowed on him as I clenched my jaw hard. “Valerie’s not c
oming, Erik. She thinks this is a stunt to get her to talk to Natasha, and nothing I say will convince her otherwise. I considered dragging her along, but I wasn’t sure if it’d do more harm than good considering the severity of her breakdown.”
“Why did you come, Carlyle?” He cocked his head at me like a snake sizing up its prey, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Meeting my gaze, Carlyle’s lips tilted down, and I could’ve sworn the air grew a few degrees colder.
“Her attending wants to transfer her to a psychiatric inpatient institution. As it so happens, I am very good friends with the medical director of the place, and we had words. He’s convinced, as I am, that Natasha’s current state will not last, and that permanent residency is unneeded. I came here because, well, you don’t have the resources to force things to happen, and I do. It’s been six days— you understand the significance of that number, Erik.” My eyes widened in realization, and I nodded as a spark of hope lit in my chest, burning hot to force steam through my nose. Carlyle tilted his head back, eyeing me down his nose, but I didn’t care about his looking down on me. “I’m flying in a friend. She should be here in about four hours, and by then, she’ll know most of the situation. Of course, you’ll have to fill in the more recent developments.”
“Erik, hey.” Rounding a corner behind his boss, Theo shouldered his way toward me, and surprise-tickled my sternum. “Illya said to apologize. She’s still in the hospital from when Natasha kicked her in the chest.”
“Ah, is she okay?”
“She’s a tough bitch, she’ll be fine.” He held out his mangled hand for a shake, and I nodded curtly. That’s right. It really hasn’t been that long since we left New York. Time moved strangely, and I tensed before gesturing to my mom standing quietly behind me.
“This is my mom. Mom, this is Theo, and Carlyle.” They did their little greetings, and I rubbed my palms up my face and over my head before speaking up again. “So, what are you two doing here? You couldn’t just call Natasha’s cell and tell me all this?”
“I could’ve. To be honest, it was easier to fly down here myself rather than hope to get you on the phone. Do you know the state of her EKG yet?” Shaking my head, I wasn’t sure whether or not to be surprised when Carlyle looked like he was gonna tell me. “It’s good. There wasn’t much damage. It wasn’t a catastrophic failure, but more like a hiccup. That being said, you don’t have the option to accommodate Natasha anymore. She needs to be treated, which is where my friend comes in. She’s a world-renowned psychologist with decades of experience with survivors.”
“That’s very generous, Carlyle, but, dude, why are you here?” For a long moment, Carlyle simply stared, and I met his gaze steadily even as dread began to pool in my gut. He never gave anything away, and I hated how hard he was to read. Finally, he sighed, and the blood drumming in my ears dimmed as he rubbed his jaw roughly.
“My sister killed herself a long time ago. You said something that really hit me, and I can’t not try this time. It’s not much consolation, but all the money in the world can’t bring my sister back. She committed suicide because she was very alone, isolated, and depressed, and no one cared or noticed until after she was gone. You said it yourself, Natasha felt very lonely with the wedge my relationship with her sister had put between them. In a way, I’m responsible for this. I could’ve given Natasha more materials to be prepared, since I did my due diligence on you and knew that her father was your uncle.” I winced noticeably at his confession, but he waved me off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago. You have access to her phone, so you can call me when . . .”
The door rattled loudly, like someone body-slammed it, and I whipped around as Natasha beat her palm against the window. She sweated through her gown, and I didn’t hesitate to open the door even though I really wasn’t supposed to. Her monitors were going haywire through the crack, and she fell back onto her ass before I could catch her. Trembling violently, she wheezed for breath, her bright, almost fevered eyes gazing at some distant point beyond the door, and I knelt down to take her hand.
Worry compounded by the stunned silence, Natasha had enough drugs in her to knock out a rhino. She shouldn’t have been able to wake up, let alone get out of bed, and I clenched and released my jaw. Glancing over my shoulder, there was an army of nurses crowded by the door, but none of them wanted to get too close. After all, Natasha had bit some girl’s cheek almost all the way off.
“Is Natalia here?” Croaking hoarsely, Natasha blinked blearily before focusing on me, and I shook my head as anxiety clogged my throat. “Good. That’s good. Yeah.”
Sometimes, I felt so fucking dumb that it drove me insane, and Natasha’s eyes flooded with huge, heavy tears. She managed to stand, by herself, and I wasn’t sure whether grabbing her would set her off or not. My hands itched, and prickles skittered up my arms just under my skin as the tension in the air reached the point of buzzing audibly.
Her face paled, and I didn’t really have a choice when Natasha doubled over to throw up all over my shoes. She hadn’t eaten anything in days, but an impressive amount of bile and water came spewing out of her mouth to splatter on the floor. The sound of her gagging and straining, the feeling of her ribs against my forearm, the stench that wafted up from under her gown— it was sickening in itself, but it was her rasp that really made my stomach churn.
“I feel better now.” Pursing my lips thinly, I glanced over at Theo, and he shuffled through the gaggle of nervous nurses to help me with Natasha. She didn’t tense. I didn’t know if it was because of the massive sedatives she’d been injected with. Hauling her limp body back to the bed, I peeled her greasy hair back from her forehead and cheeks, and she sniffed hard. “I beat them this time.”
“Okay. That’s good, Natasha.” There were so many undertones, so many words she couldn’t force out, and I managed a pathetic smile as she squeezed my hand weakly. “You did good. I’m really proud of you.”
“Damn right.” Blustering a hoarse laugh, I clamped my mouth shut as dazed eyes struggled to focus on mine. Natasha’s expression became grave, and my heart thundered hard against my ribs as she licked her chapped lips heavily. “Erik, will you marry me?”
My jaw unhinged at that, shock bristling over my entire body, and my heart threatened to explode. What the fuck kind of question was that? Wasn’t that my job, and not after five weeks of absolute fuckery? We haven’t even started our cross-country trip— what if she likes trap rap? I won’t listen to trap rap for the rest of my life.
“I know you’ve got balls of steel, but can you just let me take the reins on that? Preferably when you’re not drugged out of your mind.” At least I know you’ll say ‘yes’ if I ask. Which I might. I’ll keep you on your toes.
38
Erik
“So, wait a minute, I don’t understand. Natasha had such an intense delusion that it replaced parts of her original memory about the kidnapping?” This lady that Carlyle brought in shook her head, and I scowled darkly as I rubbed my jaw in agitation. “I don’t get it. What the hell happened?”
“Essentially, the heart attack she suffered cut blood flow to her brain just long enough to ‘reset’ it, in a way. Think of it like a rubber band too tight around your finger. You unwrap the band fast enough, and everything goes back to normal even though your finger went numb because the nerves were dying. That’s what happened to her brain. Now, ‘replaced’ is a bit of a strong theory considering she still acknowledges the original version of events. The delusions she’s been suffering through the past six and a half days created a restructure of events, like watching a wrestling match with two different outcomes, but the same swings and misses and what-not.” She steepled her fingers as she spoke, her expression becoming more perplexed even as she talked it out, and I barely followed. “Her subconscious mind acknowledges that that particular event is killing her, so it did what it considered self-preservation. It’s almost unheard of, but it has hap
pened before.”
“Self-preservation? How is that self-preservation?” An ache beat against the backs of my eyes, and Dr. Laura smiled sympathetically at me as she leaned forward to prop her elbows on her knees.
“It’s honestly kind of a conundrum, Erik. If her delusions were a completely different entity than reality, as delusions usually are, she would never leave this hospital again. However, the only point that I can tell her delusions diverge from reality is her fighting back against her captors. Now, under normal circumstances, that would be enough for inpatient referral, but, again, these aren’t normal circumstances. Natasha acknowledges and has full awareness that in reality, she didn’t fight back. She acknowledges completely that she was ‘dreaming’, as she put it, and that her fighting back is something she made up while in the midst of her break. She’s got a very firm grasp on reality.” My cheek twitched. I got that so far, and Dr. Laura shot me an inquisitive sidelong glance as I rubbed my palms together. “That’s where self-preservation comes in. Natasha’s heart can’t withstand the stress of those emotions, so her brain created an alternative series of events to help ease that stress. Her most recent EKG proves that there’s a slight improvement compared to the one performed seven days ago when she was admitted.”
“Okay, so she’s covering up again, basically.” Dr. Laura nodded, and sourness coated my tongue. Why didn’t you just fucking say that to begin with? “What’s going to happen now?”
“I’m going to do another assessment to determine if she’s mentally stable enough to leave the hospital, and you should be halfway to Nashville by Monday. Of course, Carlyle made it a point to strong-arm the hospital into agreeing that, under my supervision and on the condition that Natasha call me at least once a day, she be released as soon as possible.” My brows rose in surprise. I don’t know why I expected her to hitch a ride with us or something? She smiled, tucking back a thick lock of grey hair, and I tore my eyes off her to stare at the floor. “How about you, Erik? How are you handling all of this?”