by Tiffany King
Time lost all meaning. My brain was mush. Eventually, I stopped hearing any sound. I had reached my bliss. I wanted to thank them, but my tongue was thick and uncooperative. I stopped trying to figure things out when my eyes closed.
I woke up suddenly as my eyelids were pried open and a bright light shined in my face. Tubes stuck out of my arms and the familiar IV needle protruded from my hand. The whole thing had been a dream. I never hit Mother with the strap, never made it outside. Mother had been right. I was hers.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said, wondering if any more trouble was coming. It was not her face that peered down at me. An older gentleman in a white coat smiled as he patted my arm. “You’re going to be okay, young lady. Your parents are on their way.”
Parents? Clearly I was still dreaming. It was the only explanation. I would wake up and Mother would be here. She would be mad, but that was okay. At least I got to feel the warm sun once, if only in my dreams. Strangely, the pain I remembered from before was gone. My world was back to normal.
The sound of voices startled me again sometime later. I was still too groggy to comprehend them, but a cool hand clasped mine as the voice spoke again. It sounded familiar. One that I hadn’t heard in a long time. I had to still be dreaming. My fingers wanted it to be real. They closed tightly around the hand holding mine. The illusion would disappear as soon as I opened my eyes. A part of me wanted to keep this dream as long as possible. I could hear the voice murmuring, thick with tears.
My eyes fluttered open of their own accord and I recognized her instantly. She was older, her face lined more than I remembered and covered in tears, but the smile was the same. “Momma?” I croaked.
“I’m here, sweetie,” she wept, stroking my forehead.
15
MIA
THE DARKNESS had become more consuming. It smothered my room, blocking out all light. There was no way to fight. It wasn’t something I could push away. I did the only thing that seemed rational at the time and slipped on Jacob’s Green Lantern ring that no longer felt quite as big on my finger, and pulled my blankets up over my head. I clamped my eyes closed, telling myself the darkness couldn’t get me under the blankets. I pretended the tugging sensation I felt at my feet wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I wanted to wake up Jacob but I was too terrified to even move. The darkness wanted to snatch me away, like a monster from the scariest of horror stories. Why didn’t I listen to Jacob and tell Mom and Dad? They could have helped me.
My room became oddly cold. I shivered uncontrollably, clutching my blanket tightly around my body. The tug at my feet grew stronger, but I refused to peek. Deep in my heart I knew the time to run and hide had passed, but I couldn’t bring myself to face it. My heart thundered fiercely in my chest like a runaway train. I wondered, maybe even hoped that my heart would give out before the darkness could take me.
The seconds ticked by, measured by my steady pulse. No longer able to take the torture a moment more, I slowly began to pull the blanket away from my face. Inch by inch, until I could feel the cold air on my forehead. It kissed my eyelids as I tugged the blanket down over the peak of my nose. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my face was completely uncovered. My eyes remained nailed shut. I couldn’t decide if it was more terrifying not to look.
The moment I opened my eyes, nothing would ever be the same again. I could feel it.
My eyelids did not open slowly when I removed the blanket. Instead they popped open abruptly, as if I no longer had control over my own body, exposing the darkness at once.
Fear is a monster. Once you let it in, it eats you from the inside out.
In spite of that, fear was not the enemy. My enemy was the absence of everything. A scream rose in my throat but never found an exit as the darkness finally took what it wanted most. Me. The darkness had won.
16
LEAH
MY HEAD was a mess. Nothing made any sense. I faded in and out to the sounds of machines beeping loudly around me. The prick of a needle going into my arm made me gasp. Voices shouted over each other, making it hard to discern what they were saying. At times it was as if I was floating. Time had no sense of meaning. Each moment I managed to pry my eyes open a different face peered down at me. I called out for Mother but she never seemed to be there. Tubes were shoved in my nose and suddenly I could breathe easier.
I slept.
I woke.
More machine beeps again. This time I opened my eyes to see faces that felt vaguely familiar. Their lips moved but their words confused me. I called out for Mother again. My heart raced, causing my pulse to thump madly against my skin. There were too many voices. I covered my ears and clamped my eyes closed. Every bone in my body felt leaden and heavy. I just wanted to sleep, to be left alone without anyone talking over me, or poking me or prodding me. I just wanted them to stop. I needed space. A moment to process everything. It was all too much.
The words refused to come, stuck somewhere in my lungs, which had become a fist, squeezing any available air. I couldn’t breathe. My chest heaved as gasps of air wheezed out of me.
“Breathe, honey. Just breathe.” The familiar face appeared again at my side, stroking a hand over my forehead to soothe me.
“Where’s Mother?” I asked, trying to look beyond the many bodies in the room. “Mother. Don’t be mad.”
Then the familiar face broke. One minute it was beaming down at me, the next it looked at me like I’d killed her. Before I could understand what I did done wrong, her face disappeared from sight. Grief seeped in like a wave washing away everything in its wake.
“You’re okay, sweetie,” a young nurse said as she adjusted a dial that caused more air to pour through the tubes in my nose. “Just breathe.”
Fresh oxygen flooded my lungs. I inhaled deeply, working to regain my composure. “You’re okay,” the familiar voice murmured. Although I recognized her face, I hesitated to put a name to it. She stroked my forehead again with a gentle touch, tears flowing down her cheeks. I had so many questions, but my eyes felt heavy and refused to stay locked on hers. I fell unconscious before I could get the next word out.
She’s there each time I’m awakened, always on the outskirts, silently hovering. Her presence was comforting amid the unfamiliar sounds around me, but my eyes refused to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time. During the brief moments I would awaken there always seemed to be a new nurse or doctor peering down at me. I found it hard to keep up. After so many years of having only Mother seeing to my needs it was unsettling to have so many people constantly around me, the buzz of voices, knowing that I was being talked about. And yet the gist of their words was just beyond my comprehension. I craved the peace of my basement. At least there it would have been quieter, less chaotic.
The firm grip of a blood-pressure cuff around my arm is what finally woke me on a bright morning. I glanced around my room and found that I was alone except for a nurse. I had expected to see the woman with the familiar face again, but as far as I could tell she was nowhere around. Had my mind played tricks on me? Maybe she had never been there at all. The thought occurred to me that maybe I had been taken to Mother’s hospital? I braced myself, anticipating the moment she would walk through the door, sure to be angry over all the trouble I had caused.
“Well, hello there,” chirped the nurse taking my blood pressure, seeing that I was awake. She beamed down at me. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” I croaked, surprised that my voice was so rough.
“Here you go, honey. You’re severely dehydrated.” She held a cup of water out for me so I could sip from the bendy straw. Her cheerful tone and caring bedside manner was a steep contrast to Mother’s. My own mouth turned up in a smile in response. “We have you hooked up to fluids but your throat is going to feel very dry for a while.”
I drank greedily from the cup, not sure I could ever remember a time I had been so thirsty.
“Not too fast,” she said, pulling the cup back slightly. “We
don’t want you to get sick.”
I released the straw from my lips like she wanted but still felt like I could have guzzled a gallon of water if she would have let me. “We” don’t want you to get sick. That was what she had just said. I couldn’t help wondering who the “we” was. Actually, I had a million questions buzzing around in my head. Before I could get my tongue to wrap around them though there was a knock on my door.
“Mother,” I whispered. A tremble radiated throughout my body. I knew I needed to apologize but I wasn’t ready yet. Bile rose in my stomach and I wished I were alone. The bright, cheery nurse shouldn’t have to see my punishment, to witness my shame.
“Can I come in?” a rich, female voice asked.
I let out a breath, sinking back in my pillows.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Marshall,” the woman said as she entered my room. She held out a thin hand with long fingers and a perfectly sculpted manicure. I stared at her hand for a long moment. Oddly, I’d never shaken another person’s hand before. She smiled patiently, waiting until I was ready. I tentatively reached out my own hand and placed it in hers. My hand looked pasty and dead in comparison.
I watched apprehensively as she settled into the chair next to my bed.
“How are you doing?” she asked conversationally, like we were old friends.
I stared at her mutely. There seemed to be no right answer to the question. Everything was very confusing at that moment.
“I talked to your doctors and they tell me you’re going to make a full recovery, considering.” Her eyes clouded over briefly on the last word.
“Are you one of my doctors?” I asked. My voice was still croaky and I wished I had more water.
“I’m a psychologist here at the hospital. In cases like yours, the hospital likes to bring in someone of my expertise early on. We’re going to have a lot of chats, if that’s okay with you?”
I nodded as I rubbed my wrist. I didn’t think Mother would like it, but I didn’t mention that.
“I imagine you’ll be glad to have your IV removed soon.”
I looked down at the tubing attached to the needle in my hand and absently scratched at it. Up until then I hadn’t given it much thought. It was more tolerable than the handcuffs that had bound me to the bed in my basement room. My eyes shifted to my other wrist covered in a thick gauze bandage.
“I work in the medical field, but I’ve always hated IVs,” Dr. Marshall rattled on in spite of my silence. “And what about when they’re trying to find your vein with the needle?” She shuddered for emphasis. “Do you hate needles too?”
I shrugged my shoulders again. I ran her question through my head. Was I afraid of needles? It was a trivial thing considering there were worse things to fear. Mother gave me shots and I always knew that I needed to hold still. I did dread it when she would appear with shots in hand. Did that mean I was afraid of needles?
“Mother wouldn’t allow me to be afraid of them. I held still because I was told to,” I said.
Dr. Marshall remained indifferent, more curious than anything. “Mother?” she inquired. “Is that the woman you were staying with, Judy Lawson? You call her Mother?” she asked, jotting something on the notebook that sat on her knees.
“Yes,” I answered though I didn’t know that was Mother’s name. I remember one time making the mistake of asking Mother what her name was and she slapped me in the mouth in response, insisting that Mother was all I needed to know. After that I never ever considered bringing it up again. “Is that wrong?” I asked as the doctor continued to make her notes.
She looked up from her notepad. “Nothing you say is wrong. I know you’re confused. I’m only here to help you. Can you trust me to do that?”
My fingers plucked nervously at the blanket beside me. I was afraid of the trouble this would cause and I wasn’t sure Dr. Marshall understood that, but I wanted to trust her. I nodded again.
She smiled brightly at my words. “Very good. We’re destined to be friends by the time we work all this out.”
I smiled tentatively. “I’ve never had a real friend,” I said.
Her face clouded for the briefest of moments before spreading back into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She could not fool me. I may not understand a lot of things, but studying facial expressions had been a means of escaping punishment. Mother’s moods could be read like pages in a book.
“I’m honored to be your first.”
I instantly responded to her smile, feeling more at ease than I had since arriving at the hospital.
“I think if we’re destined to be friends though, we should be formally reintroduced. Hi, I’m Dr. Alexandra Marshall,” she said, holding her hand out again. “You can call me Alexandra.”
I couldn’t hold back a smile. Something about her made me feel like I could trust her. “I’m Leah,” I said, shaking her hand like a pro.
I watched as she released my hand and jotted something on her pad. Had I done something wrong? My eyes moved to the paper, but the way she held it made it hard to make out her words. “I see. Well—Leah,” she said, pausing on my name. “What do you remember about the day you were rescued?”
“I left,” I answered simply. “Mother was angry, she probably still is. I knew the sunlight was bad for me. She warned me but I had to see for myself. Is that why I’ve been so sick?”
“Judy Lawson told you the sunlight would make you sick?” she asked, twirling her pen.
“Yes. In technical terms it’s called Erythropoietic Protoporphyria but that’s a pain to say. Basically, I’m allergic to the sun.”
“Were you always allergic to the sun?”
“Since I was little,” I answered uncomfortably. I didn’t want to admit that my parents had given me up because of my sickness. “Mother knew how to take care of me.”
“Speaking of which, there are some people here who are pretty anxious to see you,” Dr. Marshall said, almost as if she had read my mind. “Are you excited to see your family?”
I shrugged. “They gave me up when I got sick. I’m not sure how I feel about seeing them. I can’t wait to see Mia though,” I said with open honesty and excitement.
Her face shifted into a forced smile.
“I see. Tell me about Mia.”
“Mia is my twin sister,” I said, barely able to get the words out.
“Your twin?” Dr. Marshall asked. “Did Judy tell you about Mia?”
I shook my head. Why would Judy tell me about Mia? I was old enough when she took me to live with her to remember my family. “I could never forget Mia,” I said with conviction.
“I understand. Why don’t you tell me a little about Mia.”
I nearly laughed out loud in relief. It would be a piece of cake to talk about Mia.
“Mia is amazing,” I started, feeling happy for the first time in days. “We’re twins, but she’s everything I’m not. She’s funny, smart, and she’s always good,” I said, wishing my voice would stop shaking. It wasn’t like I was admitting that I wasn’t necessarily good, but she might have drawn that conclusion. Would she be less inclined to be my friend if she learned all the bad things I’d done? Probably.
I pushed the negative thoughts back in my mind and continued describing Mia, the perfect twin.
There were so many things I knew about Mia. I talked in great detail, proudly boasting over all her attributes.
“You seem to know a lot about your sister,” Dr. Marshall said when I finally finished.
“Of course I do. She’s my twin,” I said indignantly. Did she really think I wouldn’t know my own sister?
Dr. Marshall nodded, jotting again in her notebook. “I have to admit, I’m a little confused. Some of the things you remember about Mia don’t match up with your time with Judy Lawson.”
I looked at her blankly, wondering what her point was.
“For example, you mentioned that Mia is a straight-A student, but you were six years old when you were taken. Your parents tell me that the scho
ol year had just started when you disappeared. That’s a little early for grades, isn’t it?” Her tone remained soft and careful. “How do you know Mia is a straight-A student?” she gently prodded. Her question caught me off guard and I couldn’t help recoiling away from her.
My head began to pound painfully.
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
I rubbed my temples, searching for an answer that would make the throbbing subside.
“You also said that Mia likes to volunteer when she’s not doing schoolwork or hanging out with her friends.” Her words continued to pierce my head like a knife.
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
I couldn’t concentrate. “She’s my sister. I have to know these things,” I mumbled. None of this was making sense.
Pound.
I massaged my temples harder. Her questions were ridiculous. I had the sense that she was trying to trick me, but I had no idea why. Everyone knew Mia was a straight-A student, and all the other stuff I had said too. Why would I lie about that? All she had to do was ask around.
Pound.
“Leah, honey, do you understand that Judy Lawson kidnapped you?”
Pound
Pound
Pound
My head was splitting open, making speech no longer possible. I could only gape at her. She was wrong. Mother took me in when nobody else wanted me. I shook my head defiantly.
“Sweetie, Judy changed your name. You are Mia Klein. There is no Leah.”
17
MIA
A SCREAM never left my throat.
The blackness I’d feared for so long seeped into my open mouth.
I could not breathe.
It was everywhere.
I could feel it spreading throughout my body.
Consuming me.
I tried to close my mouth to stop it, but my body no longer belonged to me.
The darkness filled every part of me.
And I ceased to exist.
PART TWO