Harley Merlin 8: Harley Merlin and the Challenge of Chaos

by Forrest, Bella

  “There were markers that had to be hit before this could happen,” mini-me replied. “It just so happened that Katherine worked much quicker than anticipated.”

  “So this is Chaos’s fault. And now I’m the one trying to scrabble everything together at the last minute because it underestimated her.”

  Mini-me shrugged. “If that makes it easier to swallow, then sure. Now, how about we go for a little walk?”

  “Where?”

  “Questions, questions. You will see.” Mini-me jumped up and headed for the nursery door, grabbing a rag doll from one of the shelves and trailing it along the ground beside her. That’s right, just add to the creep factor. Up until that moment, I’d had no idea I could leave this place and go somewhere else in this weird otherworld, but it looked like I was about to find out how far this place stretched. She turned the handle and gestured for me to follow her.

  Stepping out, I entered a narrow, gloomy hallway. Anemic bulbs swung from the ceiling, casting a sickly glow on the ground below. Mini-me walked on ahead, flashing in and out of focus as she passed through the pools of dim light. I’d seen horror movies that started this way, and I sensed I was walking into some kind of nightmare. Steeling myself, I hurried after her, my boots echoing in the narrow corridor, reverberating back as though someone was following me. I kept glancing over my shoulder, just to be sure, but behind me, there was nothing but black, the bulbs sputtering out as we passed under each one.

  “Would you prefer to be called Harley the Snail?” mini-me asked, turning to look at me.

  “You’re surprisingly fast for a little kid,” I replied, defensively. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

  “Language.” She tutted. “Actually, this is the first stop.” No sooner had she said it than a door appeared in the side of the corridor, a silver handle glinting in the gloom.

  “What is it?”

  Mini-me rolled her eyes. “Do I have to do everything for you? Open it, and you’ll find out. I can’t hold your hand through all of this, or Raggedy will get jealous.” She lifted the doll, letting it dangle limply from her hand, like someone hanging from the end of a noose. Yeesh…

  I turned the handle, opening the door wide. Beyond, I saw the red brickwork of my old elementary school. Memories came flooding back as I stepped through, the door staying open behind me. I’d barely walked two steps when I heard a ruckus nearby. Turning, I saw the back of a little girl. She was staring at a little boy, who was taunting her. I know this. The boy was tugging at her bag—my bag. A moment later, the strap broke, sending the contents spilling out onto the sidewalk. I remembered it all, like someone was playing the movie of my life, right in front of my eyes.

  I was in first grade when I unleashed my first bout of Telekinesis, and all because Billy Brucker wouldn’t stop picking on me. From the first day I’d walked into class, he’d targeted me. Some days, it had been stolen pencils, or “accidentally” dropping paint on one of my drawings. Other days, it had been pinches in the arm, and him trying to corner me in the hallway. But this day… well, after this, he’d never bothered me again. I sensed the moment before it came, watching the little version of me as she threw up her hands and sent Billy Bruckner flying across the road in front of the school. He landed on the opposite curb, blinking in confusion.

  You deserved that, you little bastard.

  “Anything interesting?” Mini-me appeared in the doorway.

  I shook my head. “I know this. I didn’t forget this. This can’t be it.”

  “Then what are you dithering for? Time’s a-wasting.”

  Mini-me was already pressing on ahead, leaving me to play catch-up. I headed back into the corridor of doom. A few moments later, we stopped beside another door. This one had a bronze handle, though I wasn’t sure if that meant anything.

  Before mini-me could hit me with another round of snark, I opened the door and entered. This time, I found myself in the bathroom of the Bradleys—they’d been my second or third foster home, though I’d been to so many that it was hard to keep count. There wasn’t much room, but I was pretty sure none of the people in my memory knew I was here. Pressing myself back against the jade-green tiles, which I remembered as if it were yesterday, I waited, even though I already knew what was about to happen. This was a memory that had haunted me for years, but I’d never shied away from it.

  My eight-year-old self was sitting in the bath, playing happily with a toy boat, surrounded by bubbles. Her head whipped around as someone breezed past, through a door I couldn’t see. Mr. Bradley stormed in and wrenched at her arm, trying to drag her out of the tub. The little girl fought back, terrified of him. I’d always been scared of Mr. Bradley.

  “You think you’re at a hotel, huh?” he snarled.

  “N-no, Mr. Bradley.”

  “You think you can just play around in here while others are waiting?”

  “N-no, Mr. Bradley.” She tugged her arm away from the man’s vise-like grip, crashing back into the water with a loud splash, sending water spilling out onto the bathroom floor. Mr. Bradley’s cheeks turned beet-red as he launched a tirade of expletives at the poor girl. Me.

  Frightened out of her mind, eight-year-old me tried to hide under the bubbles, the water freezing over as a whirlwind of icy Air swept around her. He’d lost his mind after that, blaming the plumbing, and I’d been carted off back to the orphanage until they could find another foster family for me.

  “How about this one?” mini-me chirped.

  “No, I remember this day clearly,” I replied.

  “Tick-tock, Harley.” As if I wasn’t already aware.

  Leaving that awful memory behind, we carried on down the corridor. Through a few more doors, I saw my childhood self causing havoc without even realizing what she was doing. I hadn’t known then what I knew now. I saw myself at twelve, setting fire to the Corbin family’s curtains at Christmas with a stray tendril of Fire after their son had tried to touch me where I didn’t want to be touched. I saw myself accidentally tearing the Gingers’ backyard in two with a blast of Earth, just shy of my fourteenth birthday, because I’d said I didn’t want a party and Mrs. Ginger had wanted to show me off to her friends. She’d called me ungrateful and wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell her that I didn’t like to be surrounded by big groups of people. So, I’d taken my teenage revenge on her garden. I saw myself in my bedroom at the Taylors’ house, aged fifteen, trying to keep their oldest son, Eli, from attacking me. I’d sent a spiral of Water at him, dunking him completely, while the family pit bull, Barker, had stood guard over me, barking his head off and snapping his teeth at Eli.

  But none of this was new to me. None of this was hidden.

  Through the next door, I entered the parking lot of the casino. Deep down, I guessed I’d been hoping for this memory, ever since mini-me had mentioned Wade. My heart lurched as I saw him trying to find the escaped gargoyle, just as I’d seen him that night, when I’d come out to get in Daisy and drive off. Man, I’d hated him back then. He’d been so smug and arrogant, nothing at all like the Wade I’d come to love. I guessed we’d both been putting up fronts. I’d been lost, with no idea what I was going to do with my life beyond spotting cheaters at the tables and trying to pretend like all I needed was my independence to survive. My entire life had changed in that one, serendipitous encounter, and even though we’d snarked at each other like nobody’s business, I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. I miss you. I knew this Wade couldn’t hear me, but I wanted him to know, all the same.

  “How about this one?” Mini-me popped up at my side.

  “No, this is a good one,” I replied sadly. There were way too many Harleys in this image. I backed away, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. It was too overwhelming to see that now, no matter how much I wished I could’ve stayed a bit longer.

  After a few more doors that didn’t show anything remarkable, I reached one with a blue ceramic handle. Feeling a bit disheartened after pushing through my en
dless memories, with nothing to show for it, I turned the handle and entered the next room. I frowned as I looked around at the bedroom, which was steeped in a cold, blue light. Flowers snaked up the walls, and a lamp shaped like a rocket cast a pale glow on the bed, where a small version of me sat, knees tucked up to her chin. I remembered the room. I was back at the Bradleys’ house again. I would’ve recognized that hideous wallpaper anywhere. But I couldn’t quite remember this moment. Then again, I’d had a thousand moments like this while I’d been living at the Bradleys’.

  A kid waltzed in. Eleven years old, with a mohawk and a pair of sunglasses resting on his head, even though it was dark out. Seamus Bradley. He was the Bradleys’ only son and had been more of a nemesis to me than Billy Bruckner. He’d hated me from the moment I arrived at that house and hadn’t made any attempt to hide the fact. Even so, I couldn’t remember this incident. He’d always gone around with those stupid sunglasses on his head, but my bedroom had been off limits to him, by Mr. Bradley’s terrifying decree. So, what is he doing here? I tried to rack my brain, but I couldn’t recall it at all.

  “Ugh, what’s that smell?” Seamus made a show of pinching his nose, a nasty grin on his face. “Oh, that’s right, it’s you, isn’t it? That must be what foster kids smell like.”

  “Leave me alone,” eight-year-old me replied.

  “Why should I? This is my house; I can go where I want. It’s not your house. You don’t get to tell me what I can do.”

  “Go away, or I’ll shout for Mr. Bradley.”

  Seamus laughed coldly. “Dad’s not going to do anything to me. I’m his son, remember? You’re just some thing he picked up off the street. You want to know why?” He waited, but I didn’t reply. “It’s because he felt sorry for you. He doesn’t care about you. He thinks you’re trash. Hey, maybe that’s why he picked you up. You shouldn’t leave trash lying around. It’s bad for the environment.”

  “Please… just go away.”

  “No, I don’t feel like it, so I won’t.” He flicked a casual wrist. “How come you’ve got no mom and dad, anyway?”

  Little me buried her face in the sheets. “Go away.”

  “They junkies or something? They out on the street, right now, with their begging bowls and sleeping bags?” He sneered. “I bet they are, aren’t they? Either that, or they took one look at you and decided they’d be better off without you. You ever seen The Hunchback of Notre Dame? You’re the ugly little thing they leave on the steps at that church. Yeah, that’s what you are. And, hey, guess what I’m going to call you—Quasi. How about that?”

  “Just leave me alone,” I begged from under the covers.

  “I mean, who would want you?” he went on. I could hear the stifled sobs of my eight-year-old self, her little body shaking violently beneath the fabric. “Oh, you’re going to cry now? Why? You don’t like the truth?”

  “I haven’t done anything to you. Just leave me alone.”

  “Your mom and dad probably thought they’d be better off dead than have to hang around with you. They probably dumped you and shot themselves, just to get away from you.” He laughed cruelly. “That’s why you’re an orphan, Harley—because nobody wants you. You’re not supposed to be wanted. Nobody could love a nasty, stinky little thing like you. Your mom and dad didn’t want you. My dad doesn’t want you. My mom doesn’t want you. And I don’t want you. You’re disgusting. You make me want to puke, just looking at you. Gross.”

  My nineteen-year-old eyes widened as the memory began to creep back into my head. This was the moment when it had all gotten to be too much. I’d done my fair share of sitting by the window, hoping my mom and dad would somehow come back for me, never losing hope that I belonged somewhere. But then this had happened. I’d already gone through the incident with the bath—that was the reason I’d been sitting in my room in the first place, if I remembered right, petrified that I was going to be sent back to the orphanage. I might not have liked Mr. Bradley, but being with an actual family had been better than getting shipped back to the orphanage, embarrassed and ashamed that the foster family had given up on me. This was the first time I’d truly felt alone in this world, with nobody to turn to. It was the first time I’d understood that nobody was coming for me. Seamus’s words had stung because I’d believed them. I’d believed that I wasn’t wanted, even before he’d said those horrible things.

  It was the only time in my life that the feeling of loneliness had become so unbearable that the Chaos inside me had reacted. It had reacted to other emotions in my life, sure, but this was the only time loneliness had driven it to snap within me. Which it did, at that moment, lighting little me up like a beacon. My body was glowing, my eyes turning a crackling shade of bronze, tendrils of Chaos wrapping around my fingertips and threatening to explode.

  Seamus reeled back in horror, sprinting for the door and calling for his dad. It was the straw that had broken the camel’s back with the Bradley family. I’d been sent back to the orphanage the very next day. Seamus had told them I’d picked up the lamp and thrown it at him and tried to set him on fire with it, and they’d believed him, especially when they’d seen the lamp that had been shattered by my Chaos. I supposed it was the only way his human mind could explain why I’d been glowing.

  As I glanced at the glowing figure on the bed, her emotions swept toward me, hitting me like a punch in the chest. I felt that pain all over again, that loneliness and misery, and the permeating feeling of rejection that had sunk deeper into my bones from that moment on, making me realize that I couldn’t rely on anyone. The Smiths had built me back up to some degree, reminding me that there were good people in the world, but that wouldn’t come for this little girl for another eight years, and she had so much more to endure before she learned that not everything was bleak and cruel. She had no idea that she’d find friends in a coven, not far from where she sat right now. She had no idea that she’d find love and open her heart again, in a way she’d never have thought possible. Eight-year-old me was lost and in pain, and nothing but time could fix that, even if I wished I could fix it for her.

  On impulse, I walked to the bed and sat down, my cheeks damp with tears. This night had been the worst of my life, and I hadn’t remembered any of it. I’d pushed it so far into the depths of my mind that I’d forgotten it altogether, because the thought of reliving this type of agony was too terrible to comprehend. I’d already lived through it once, so why have it on repeat? Why force myself to remember how alone and unwanted I’d felt, when I’d had to go through eight more years of that feeling? I’d been told, every day in those ensuing eight years, how unwanted I was, but this moment had been the epicenter. The seed from which I’d hardened myself and learned not to care, shutting myself off completely from anything and everyone who could hurt me.

  “Hey,” I said, reaching out to the little girl. “Harley?”

  The girl blinked. “Who are you?”

  “A friend,” I replied. “And I just want to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be happy, one day, and you’re going to forget all of this. You’re going to find out that you’re wanted, more than you could possibly imagine. You’re going to be loved, and you’re going to love, so you can’t harden yourself so much that nothing can get through. Don’t make that shell too thick, okay?”

  The girl’s lip trembled. “Are you lying to me? They all lie.”

  “No, I’m not lying,” I assured her. “And you’re not alone. You never have been. I know it must feel like it, and I know it hurts, but you’re loved, Harley. Your mom and dad are looking down on you, and they love you so much… so much. All you have to do is keep them in your heart and never forget them, and they’ll always be with you, walking at your side. Whenever you feel sad or alone, just think of them, and know that they’re listening and they’re wishing they could be with you, to take your pain away. You’re not unwanted. You’re so very loved, more than you could imagine.”

 
“My mom and dad are with me?”

  I nodded. “Every single day. They never left.”

  “Are you an angel?”

  I smiled. “No, I’m not. I’m just here to tell you that you don’t have to listen to the people who don’t matter, because you’re going to be extraordinary. You’re going to have a real family again, soon enough. Just hold on. Please, hold on and don’t close yourself off. Don’t ever lose the ability to love, because all the happiness in the world is coming.”

  “Are you a fairy godmother?” A warm smile broke out on eight-year-old me’s face. “You must be.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe, but just promise me you’ll never let that spark go out.”

  She nodded slowly. “I promise.”

  “Come here.” I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into a hug, feeling her little hands grip me tight. “It’s all going to be okay, Harley. I promise you.”

  “This is for you,” she said, pulling away. From under the covers, she pulled out a strange piece of matte black glass. “It’s the secret I’ve been holding on to for far too long.” Her voice changed, coming out as a weird, deep echo.

  “What is it?” I took the gift and held it, the shard ice cold against my palm.

  “The key you’ve been looking for.” I looked back at eight-year-old me, and almost screamed. Her body was starting to melt away, like a wax doll that had been put too close to the fire.

  “She finally cracked it. Slow claps for us.”

  I turned to find mini-me standing in the doorway and clamped my hand over my mouth. She was starting to melt away, too, her face dripping onto the floor, her hand letting go of Raggedy. The doll turned to ash the moment it hit the ground, the floorboards turning to liquid underneath it.

  Around me, the walls were melting, and the bed was melting, and the broken rocket-ship lamp was melting. Everything was melting. And I had no idea how to get out of this state before I started to melt, too.

  Thirty-One