by Tiffany King
18
“DOES YOUR head hurt?” Dr. Marshall asked sympathetically.
I couldn’t answer her. My world was spinning out of control. Didn’t she see that? Her lips were moving, but the roaring in my head allowed no sound to enter. I tried to process her words, but they made no sense. Mother cared for me all those years. How could she have … No, it just wasn’t possible. She told me time and again that Mom and Dad didn’t want the burden of me. Could she really have taken me from my family? I wanted to lash out. Lash out at Mother for what she had done. Lash out at Dr. Marshall for telling me.
I slammed my eyes closed, hoping for some sort of relief. Instead, images filled my head, playing like a movie. Images of me playing outside with Daisy and then suddenly being shoved in a car. Images of the days that followed of me screaming and crying for Mom and Dad. Images of the shots and the drugs that kept me medicated that she had given me and the sickness that had followed, which had been blamed on my allergy to the sun. Lies. All lies.
And Mia.
My Mia.
My twin.
It wasn’t possible.
How could I have imagined my sister? My amazing twin who I loved more than anyone in the whole world.
I wanted to hurl. If my stomach hadn’t been empty I would have. Instead all I could manage were uncontrollable dry heaves, twisting my stomach until it felt like it was being ripped from the inside out. Someone reached for my arm, trying to calm me, but I fought them off. I was inconsolable. I wished I had never left Mother’s house. Why did I leave? In one swift moment I had lost everything I believed in.
When I woke hours later the sun was no longer shining through my window. The blinds were still open, so I could see the stars sparkling in the night sky. I couldn’t remember ever seeing stars before or how beautiful they were. They weren’t warm like the sun, but they held my attention just the same. My mind drifted to Dr. Marshall, but I pushed it to the far recess of my mind. I wasn’t ready to accept her uninvited truth. I physically ached from my loss.
I was so deep in thought I didn’t notice the chair next to my bed shifting.
“Hi, honey.”
The woman with the familiar face had returned. I mean Mom, I guess. I knew who she was. Mother led me to believe she didn’t want me and then suddenly she was here. She did want me all along, so did my father. I didn’t know how to wrap my brain around this revelation. Thinking about it made my head start to pound painfully all over again.
I eyed her warily, unsure of what she expected from me. For that matter, what anyone expected from me. I had no idea who I was anymore. Dr. Marshall’s last words blared through my head. “You are Mia Klein. There is no Leah.” The statement was like a tidal wave that wiped out my entire world. I blinked and a line of tears tracked down my cheeks, blurring my vision.
Mom stood up and grabbed a handful of tissues. I expected her to hand them to me but she reached over and gently mopped the tears from my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she murmured, stroking my hair. Reflexively, I jerked away. Her eyes clouded over.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked.
Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Never apologize, Mia.” I flinched at the name, but she missed it as she reached for the plastic pitcher sitting on a tray opposite the bed.
“Thank you,” I said, accepting a cup of water gratefully. I took a long swig before placing it on the table.
“It’s my pleasure, honey.” A tear escaped her overflowing eyes.
“Are you sad?” I asked. I had Dr. Marshall’s version of the truth, but I had to hear it from Mom. I needed proof that this was all real.
She shifted forward in her seat and wiped away her tears as she smiled. “No, baby. I’m just really happy. I never thought I would see you again. When I think about what that monster did to you—” Her voice broke off as a man entered the room—Dad. He was older than I remembered. They both were. Of course they were. It had been a long time. His hair had slightly grayed and he had more wrinkles around his eyes. The easy smile I fondly remembered from years ago was absent. His face was distant and guarded.
“Hello, Mia. How you feeling?” he asked formally, stepping around Mom’s chair. I flinched again at the name, only this time it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Mom and Dad exchanged a look of uncertainty.
Snakes of dread withered in my stomach.
They knew.
I was fractured.
I closed my eyes, wishing I could block out the world. Sleep would have been welcomed. My new reality was as difficult as the one I had just escaped from.
My eyes opened again with Dad staring down at me. He did not reach out and I was relieved. His granitelike expression was more difficult to read.
“I’m okay,” I lied. I wasn’t hurting on the outside, but between Dr. Marshall’s bombshell and Mom’s tears and piercing words about Mother, my insides were a tangled mess. “Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.
Mom shook her head but Dad stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder. “She deserves to hear it from us. It’s all over the TV and besides, she’s already been questioned by Detective Newton.” He talked over me like I wasn’t there but I caught the gist of his words. Mother was in trouble—had she been caught?
“Mia can’t handle this after what happened this afternoon.” Mom’s voice rose an octave higher. “We shouldn’t be pushing her.”
“She has a right to know,” Dad clipped out. The tension in the room became thick and uncomfortable.
Mom protested again but I interrupted her. “I have to know.” She sank deeper into her chair as if my words had deflated her.
Dad began again in a flat tone, filling me in on what they knew about my abduction. On a bright sunny day in August of 2007, Judy Lawson had taken me from our front lawn when I was six years old. Mom and Dad hadn’t given up on me like I was led to believe. According to Dad they had done everything in their power to find me. They worked with the FBI and even hired private investigators when the authorities eventually gave up the search.
Ironically, Mother’s house—Judy’s house—as it turned out was less than four miles from our house. Considering how long I remained locked in the basement, it may as well have been oceans apart. On the day that I escaped, an off-duty sheriff’s deputy, who lived two houses from Judy, was outside watching his kids ride their bikes they had received that morning for Christmas when I burst from Judy’s house and ran out to the middle of the street. He was the one who called the ambulance when he saw my scars and fresh bruises. Judy tried to get away in the confusion but he apprehended her before she could escape.
I sat in mute shock as all the details were laid out for me. Halfway through Dad’s recollection Mom reached for my hand to comfort me. I had to fight the urge to pull away, not wanting to hurt her. I knew she was happy to have me back but I didn’t know her. I didn’t know either of them.
Mom squeezed my hand. “Are you up to some company?” she asked once Dad had finished. “Jacob has been eager to come see you, but we wanted to talk to you first. I don’t think wild horses will keep him away any longer,” she added.
Jacob?
Jacob was here?
I’d been afraid to ask about him. Fearing he was no more real than Leah. “Yes, of course I want to see him.”
Dad left my side and opened the door. Jacob walked in hesitantly. He wasn’t what I had been picturing. He was bigger and broader in the shoulders than Dad, and his hair was long. It hung almost to his collar and looked windblown. As he moved toward my bed, I couldn’t help scooting back apprehensively. This was not my Jacob. The person standing in front of me was virtually a stranger. I searched his face for the boyish features I remembered from so long ago. Ten years of erased memories had me starting from scratch. There was nothing I remembered about his hardened face until he stretched into a slow smile. And then I saw it. The way his mouth quirked. It was faint, but familiar.
“How’s it going, Mia?” he asked, reaching up to ruffle my hair
like he had done when we were younger, another gesture I remembered.
The corners of my mouth stretched into a tentative smile. “Jacob,” I breathed, surprising everyone by laughing with delight when he gave me a crushing hug. I could hear Mom chastising him to be easy with me, but I burrowed into his embrace. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been hugged with so much compassion. It felt like home.
He pulled away at Mom’s urging. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asked with concern, plunking down on the foot of my bed.
Dad and Mom exchanged a look, but neither made him get up. I was glad. Jacob, I knew. Jacob was a part of a different life.
“You didn’t hurt me. I forgot what a hug like that felt like,” I said, not giving much thought to my words. Only when I saw Dad flinch and Mom look away did I second-guess myself. Even Jacob looked visibly shaken. “I’m sorry. I won’t talk about Moth—Judy, if you don’t want me to,” I said quietly.
Mom rushed to my side. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears again, but she maintained her composure. I was relieved. “Sweetie, we want you to be able to talk to us. You can tell us anything. The good and the bad.” She gulped hard on the last word before throwing her arms around me. Her hug was gentler than Jacob’s, but felt just as loving. My initial reaction was to stiffen, but she held on and after a moment I relaxed into her. Her embrace was so familiar that my own eyes felt damp. Just the scent of her had my mind suddenly recalling images long forgotten. Burrowing my nose into her neck, I tried to distinguish the smell. It was the outdoors. And then I remembered. Mom liked to plant flowers in the garden. That was the scent I remembered, the grass, the soil, playing in the sunshine. The sunshine that wasn’t my enemy. Judy had taken this from me.
19
“HOW ARE you feeling today?” Dr. Marshall greeted me the next morning.
“Okay,” I lied, watching as she claimed her seat from the day before.
I eyed her apprehensively. That was everyone’s favorite question. Last night I had been able to push our disastrous first session to the back of my mind with the distraction of my family’s visit. Now with the bright sunlight streaming through the window, there was no escaping her previous visit that had unraveled in my head.
“It was a tough session. I’m sorry I caused you pain. That was the last thing I wanted to do. Do you still trust me?”
I hesitated for a moment before shrugging. Did I trust her? I didn’t know. Did I trust anyone? I wasn’t sure about a lot of things, but I knew that none of it was her fault.
“Do you have any questions for me?” she probed gently.
Her question wasn’t funny, but a hysterical laugh churned in my stomach, begging for a release. I held it back. She already thought I was crazy enough. No reason to give her more ammunition. I had about a million questions for her, but I had no idea where to begin. Everything I believed to be true was rapidly unraveling.
Dr. Marshall sat patiently while I tried to work through the conflicting demons in my head.
After a few minutes, I was able to contain the maniacal laugh before it could surface. “How could I make up a sister?” I asked. “Am I crazy?” The words came out in a rush on top of one another.
“Crazy is a word I don’t like to use. Is your brain a little confused? Yes. But that’s why I’m here. Together we’re going to figure things out. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Look at us making a step in the right direction,” she teased, smiling at me. “As for your first question, that’s a bit more complicated. Our brains are our most important organ. They control everything we do and everything that we are, and yet they are very fragile. A simple bump on the head can cause the brain to swell and completely stop functioning. In spite of that, the brain is a magnificent organ. It is designed to protect not just itself, but the body it resides in. When a person is put through a trauma that is severe enough, the brain has a way of shutting down certain aspects. It also provides a way to escape a situation. As we begin to learn more about your time with Judy Lawson, we will hopefully find a connection that will lead us to your sister, who more than likely saved you. I do not want you to resent the Mia you created. It was through her that you are most likely here with us today.”
I mulled over her words. It was a lot to digest and I was still having a hard time grasping the idea that I had made up a whole person.
“Do you have more questions?”
I nodded, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. I was terrified of my next question and wasn’t sure how to even ask it.
Dr. Marshall didn’t push. She sat back in the chair with her legs crossed, patiently waiting for me to form my thought.
“Who is Leah?” I asked the question so timidly I was surprised she could hear me.
Judging by her expression, I could tell my question had thrown her off guard. This time it was her turn to search for the right words. I wasn’t as patient though. My fingers fidgeted nervously in my lap and my right foot tapped the bed rail over and over again.
I was beginning to think she wouldn’t answer until she finally opened her mouth to speak. “Leah was Judy Lawson’s daughter. She died by drowning while playing in a friend’s pool six months before Judy took you. The details are sketchy, but it appears that Judy took Leah’s death hard, understandably. She took six months off after Leah’s death and had just returned to work at your pediatrician’s office. That is where she first saw you.”
I digested her words, absently massaging the dull ache in my head. It wasn’t the steady painful pounding from the day before, but a reminder of how difficult the truth was to process.
“Is that why Judy kept me locked away?” Her name still felt foreign on my tongue. I had called her Mother for ten years. It felt like a betrayal to call her anything else. “Was she afraid I would die like her Leah?”
“Perhaps, but understand there is more to her psychological state of mind than we will likely ever know. I’m sure in the beginning she didn’t want you to be found. The FBI and local authorities were combing the surrounding areas for you. Locking you in the basement meant that you wouldn’t be found. As for the rest of the time, I can’t tell you. According to some of the notes I have reviewed from her arrest, it would seem Judy truly believes that you are her Leah.”
I picked at the blanket covering my legs, feeling uneasy. Everyone wanted to paint Judy as the bad person, but they didn’t know everything. I had made it difficult at times while she cared for me. “I was her Leah,” I admitted, feeling embarrassed that I was still confused.
“Mia, you did nothing wrong. You were dragged into a terrible situation and you learned to adjust the only way you could. You had no choice but to become Leah. That’s something you have to understand. You were the victim in all of this. Do you understand?”
Victim? Somehow it just didn’t feel right.
“But I—” I had a thought in mind, but cut it off before any further words could escape.
Dr. Marshall watched me carefully, as if she already knew what I was hiding. I shifted uncomfortably on my mattress. “Nothing you tell me will change the fact that you were the victim. I’m here to help you understand that none of this is your fault. I know it’s going to be hard and at times more than you can handle, but I hope you will learn to trust me with all your secrets.”
I nodded though I couldn’t imagine confiding everything to her. There were things I had tried hard to bury. I shifted the conversation in a different but equally complicated direction. “Do I have to answer to Mia?” My voice shook slightly.
“Are you afraid to use that name?”
I shook my head. My fingers continued to pull at the strings on the knit blanket covering my lap. “It doesn’t feel right. That name belongs to someone else.”
“Yes, it does. It belongs to a part of you. You clung to that name, trying to maintain a part of your old life. Mia was your hope.”
If Mia was my hope, then what was Leah? Without looking up, I wound the string around my fin
ger, making the tip blood red.
“Would you like me to call you Leah?” she asked, watching me as I slowly unwound the string so that the blood flowed back into my index finger.
It sounded like another trick question. If I answered honestly, she would probably scribble on her notepad that I was too far gone, mentally unstable, and hopelessly incapable of accepting reality. I felt like I knew what Dr. Marshall and even my parents wanted to hear from me, but I couldn’t bring myself to give it to them. In the short amount of time I had been in the hospital, everything had been dropped on me at once—details about Judy, seeing my family again, the truth about Mia. Each new detail was like a bomb exploding in my face.
As I pondered Dr. Marshall’s question, I found myself aching for my room in the basement, the familiar surroundings. I had dreamed about getting outside that room for so long that I never contemplated what I would lose if I actually made it. How could I have known that Leah would be snuffed out the moment I opened that door? Grief like I had never felt before clawed its way up from my stomach.
Everyone believed it was a miracle that I was found, but would they feel the same in my shoes? In one instant Mia no longer existed and Leah was also gone. I was an empty shell.
My honest answer? I missed Leah. I missed my life. I missed Mother. I was nothing.
20
MY WRIST was free. I touched the discolored skin where the IV needle had been. It was tender. I poked it harder, causing a sting of pain to radiate up my wrist. It felt normal and oddly comforting.
Over and over again I rubbed, poked, and squeezed my wrist, reclaiming a small part of myself that had been taken the day I was found. It was insignificant, but at least something.
Eventually my wrist became numb from all my probing. I reluctantly released it and picked up the television remote. Over the past few days I had gotten into the habit of leaving the television on constantly. When I had visitors, which seemed to be all the time, I would reluctantly turn the volume down, but refused to turn the television off. One of the nurses tried shutting it off a few nights ago after I’d fallen asleep, but I woke up instantly. She smiled when I switched it back on.