After my mother had tried to kill me and Matt tackled her in the kitchen, someone had called 911. She was hauled off in a police car, still screaming things about me being monstrous, while I was taken away in an ambulance.
Charges were brought against my mother, but she pleaded guilty by reason of insanity, and the case never went to trial. They had originally given her a cross-diagnosis of latent postpartum depression and temporary psychosis brought on by the death of my father.
With medication and therapy, there had been the general expectation that she would be out in a relatively short amount of time.
Cut to eleven years later when my brother is talking to the security guard so we can get clearance to get inside the hospital. From what I understood, she refused to admit any remorse for what she’d done.
Matt went to visit her once, five years ago, and what I got out of it was that she didn’t know she’d done anything wrong. It was inferred, though never actually spelled out, that if she got out, she’d do it again.
There was a great deal of bustling about once we finally got inside. A nurse had to call a psychiatrist to see if I would even be able to see her. Matt paced anxiously around me, muttering things about everyone being insane.
We waited in a small room filled with plastic chairs and magazines for forty-five minutes until the doctor came to meet with me. We had a brief conversation in which I told him that I only wished to speak with her, and even without persuasion he seemed to think it might be beneficial for me to have some closure.
Matt wanted to go back with me to see her, afraid that she would damage me in some way, but the doctor assured him that orderlies would be present and my mother hadn’t had a violent outburst in eleven years. Matt eventually relented, much to my relief, because I had just been about to use persuasion on him again.
He couldn’t be there when I talked to her. I wanted an honest conversation.
A nurse led me to an activity room. A couch and a few chairs filled the room, along with a few small tables, some with half-completed puzzles on them. On one wall, a cabinet overflowed with beat-up games and battered puzzle boxes. Plants lined the windows, but otherwise it was devoid of life.
The nurse told me that my mother would be there soon, so I sat down at one of the tables and waited.
A very large, very strong-looking orderly brought her into the room. I stood up when she came in, as some kind of misplaced show of respect. She was older than I had expected her to be. In my mind she had stayed frozen the way I’d seen her last, but she had to be in her mid-forties by now.
Her blond hair had turned into a frizzy mess thanks to the years of neglect, and she had it pulled back in a short ponytail. She was thin, the way she had always been, in a beautifully elegant borderline-anorexic way. A massive blue bathrobe hung on her, frayed and worn, the sleeves draping down over her hands.
Her skin was pale porcelain, and even without any makeup, she was stunningly beautiful. More than that, she carried this regality with her. It was clear that she had come from money, that she had spent her life on top, ruling her school, her social circles, even her family.
“They said you were here, but I didn’t believe them,” said my mother with a wry smirk.
She stood a few steps away from me, and I wasn’t sure what to do. The way she looked at me was the same way people might inspect a particularly heinous-looking bug just before they squashed it under their shoe.
“Hi, Mom,” I offered meekly, unable to think of anything better to say.
“Kim,” she corrected me coldly. “My name is Kim. Cut the pretense. I’m not your mother, and we both know it.” She gestured vaguely to the chair I had pushed out behind me and walked over to the table. “Sit. Take a seat.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, sitting down. She sat down across from me, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair, like I was contagious and she didn’t want to get sick.
“That’s what this is about it, isn’t it?” She waved her hand in front of her face, then laid it delicately on the table. Her nails were long and perfect, recently painted with clear polish. “You’ve finally figured it out. Or have you always known? I never could tell.”
“No, I never knew,” I said quietly. “I still don’t know.”
“Look at you. You’re not my daughter.” My mother gave me a contentious look and clicked her tongue. “You don’t know how to dress or walk or even speak. You mutilate your nails.” She pointed a manicured fingertip at my chewed-down nails. “And that hair!”
“Your hair isn’t any better,” I countered. My dark curls had been pulled up in their usual bun, but I had actually tried styling my hair this morning when I was getting ready. I thought it looked pretty good, but apparently I was wrong.
“Well . . .” She smiled humorlessly. “I have limited resources.” She looked away for a moment, then turned back to rest her icy gaze on me. “But what about you? You must have all the styling products in the world. Between Matthew and Maggie, I’m sure you’re spoiled rotten.”
“I get by,” I allowed sourly. She made it sound like I should feel ashamed for the things I had, like I had stolen them. Although I suppose, in her mind, I kinda had.
“Who brought you here anyway?” Clearly the idea had just occurred to her, and she glanced behind her, as if she expected to see Matt or Maggie waiting in the wings.
“Matt,” I answered.
“Matthew?” She looked genuinely shocked. “There is no way he would condone this. He doesn’t even . . .” Sadness washed across her face and she shook her head. “He’s never understood. I did what I did to protect him too. I never wanted you to get your claws into him.” She touched her hair, and tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back and her stony expression returned.
“He thinks he has to protect me,” I informed her, mostly because I knew it would bother her. Disappointingly, she didn’t look that upset. She just nodded in understanding.
“For all his sense and maturity, Matthew can be incredibly naive. He always thought of you as some lost, sick puppy he needed to care for.” She brushed a frizzy strand of hair from her forehead and stared at a spot on the floor. “He loves you because he’s a good man, like his father, and that has always been his weakness.” Then she looked up hopefully. “Is he going to visit me today?”
“No.” I almost felt bad about telling her that, but she smiled bitterly at me and I remembered why she was here.
“You’ve turned him against me. I knew you would. But . . .” She shrugged emptily. “It doesn’t make things easier, does it?”
“I don’t know.” I leaned in toward her. “Look, M- . . . Kim. I am here for a reason. I want to know what I am.” I backtracked quickly. “I mean, what you think I am.”
“You’re a changeling,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that by now.”
My heart dropped, but I tried to keep my expression neutral. I pressed my hands flat on the table to keep them from shaking. It was just as I had suspected, and maybe I had always known.
When Finn told me, it had instantly made sense, but I don’t know why hearing it from Kim made things feel so different.
“How could you possibly know that?” I asked.
“I knew you weren’t mine the second the doctor placed you in my arms.” She twisted at her hair and looked away from me. “My husband refused to listen to me. I kept telling him that you weren’t ours, but he . . .” She swallowed, pained at the memory of the man she’d loved.
“It wasn’t until I was in here, when I had all the time in the world, that I found out what you really were,” she went on, her eyes hardening and her voice strengthening with conviction. “I read book after book searching for an explanation for you. In an old book on fairy tales, I found out what kind of parasite you truly are—a changeling.”
“A changeling?” I fought to keep my voice even. “What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?” she snapped, looking at me l
ike I was an idiot. “Changeling! You were changed out for another child! My son was taken and you were put in his place!”
Her cheeks reddened with rage, and the orderly took a step closer to her. She held up her hand and fought to keep herself contained.
“Why?” I asked, realizing that I should’ve asked Finn this question days earlier. “Why would anyone do that? Why would they take your baby? What did they do with him?”
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing.” She smiled sadly and fresh tears stood in her eyes. Her hands trembled when she touched her hair, and she all but refused to look at me. “You know what you did with him. You know far better than I do.”
“No, I don’t!” The orderly gave me a hard look, and I knew I had to at least look like I wasn’t freaking out. In a hushed voice I demanded, “What are you talking about?”
“You killed him, Wendy!” My mother snarled. She leaned in toward me, her hand clenched into a fist, and I knew she was using all her willpower to keep from hurting me. “First you killed my son, then you drove my husband insane and killed him. You killed them both!”
“Mom . . . Kim, whatever!” I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. “That doesn’t make any sense. I was just a baby! How could I kill anyone?”
“How did you get Matthew to drive you here?” she demanded through gritted teeth, and an icy chill ran down my spine. “He would never drive you here. He would never let you see me. But he did. What did you do to him to make him do it?” I lowered my eyes, unable to even pretend to be innocent. “Maybe that’s exactly what you did to Michael!” Her fists were clenched, and she breathed so hard, her delicate nostrils flared.
“I was just a baby,” I insisted without any real conviction. “I couldn’t have . . . Even if I did, there had to be more people involved. It doesn’t explain anything! Why would anybody take him or hurt him and put me in his place?”
She ignored my question. “You were always evil. I knew it from the moment I held you in my arms.” She had calmed herself a bit and leaned back in her chair. “It was in your eyes. They weren’t human. They weren’t kind or good.”
“Then why didn’t you just kill me then?” I asked, growing irritated.
“You were a baby!” Her hands shook, and her lips had started to quiver. She was losing the confidence she had come in with. “Well, I thought you were. You know I couldn’t be sure.” She pressed her lips together tightly, trying to hold back tears.
“What made you so sure?” I asked. “What made you decide that day? On my sixth birthday. Why that day? What happened?”
“You weren’t mine. I knew you weren’t.” She brushed at her eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. “I had known forever. But I just kept thinking about what the day should’ve been like. With my husband, and my son. Michael should’ve been six that day, not you. You were a horrible, horrible child, and you were alive. And they were dead. I just . . . it didn’t seem right anymore.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “It still isn’t right.”
“I was six years old.” My voice had started quavering. Whenever I’d thought of her or what happened, I’d only ever felt numb. For the first time, I really felt hurt and betrayed.
“Six years old. Do you understand that? I was a little kid, and you were supposed to be my mother!” Whether she really was or not was irrelevant. I was a child, and she was in charge of raising me. “I had never done anything to anyone. I never even met Michael.”
“You’re lying.” My mother gritted her teeth. “You were always a liar, and a monster! And I know you’re doing things to Matthew! Just leave him alone! He’s a good boy!” She reached across the table and grabbed my wrist painfully. The orderly came up behind her. “Take what you want, take anything. Just leave Matthew alone!”
“Kimberly, come on.” The orderly put his strong hand on her arm, and she tried to pull away from him. “Kimberly!”
“Leave him alone,” she shouted again, and the orderly started pulling her up. She fought against him, screaming at me. “Do you hear me, Wendy? I will get out of here someday! And if you’ve hurt that boy, I will finish the job I started!”
“That’s enough,” the orderly bellowed, dragging her out of the room.
“You’re not human, Wendy! And I know it!” That was the last thing she yelled before he carried her out of my sight.
The staff let me sit there for a minute, trying to catch my breath and get myself under control. Matt couldn’t see me like this. I really, really thought I was going to throw up, but I managed to keep it down.
Everything was true. I was a changeling. I wasn’t human. She wasn’t my mother. She was just Kim, a woman who had lost her grasp on reality when she realized I wasn’t her child. I had been switched for her son, Michael, and I had no idea what happened to him.
Maybe he was dead. Maybe I really had killed him, or someone else had. Maybe someone like Finn.
She was convinced that I was a monster, and I couldn’t argue that I wasn’t. In my life, I had caused nothing but pain. I had ruined Matt’s life, and I still was doing that.
Not only did he constantly have to uproot himself for me and spend every minute worrying about me, but I was manipulating and controlling him, and I couldn’t say for sure how long that had been going on. I didn’t know the long-term effects of it either.
Maybe it would’ve been better if she had killed me when I was six. Or better yet, when I was still a baby. Then I wouldn’t have been able to hurt anybody.
When the staff finally led me back to the waiting room, Matt rushed over to hug me. I stood there, but I didn’t hug him back. He inspected me to make sure I was all right. He had heard there was some kind of scuffle and was petrified that something had happened to me. I just nodded and got out of there as fast as I could.
FIVE
insanity
So . . .” Matt began on the drive home. I rested my forehead against the cold glass of the car window and refused to look at him. I had barely spoken since we’d left. “What did you say to her?”
“Things,” I replied vaguely.
“No, really,” he pressed. “What happened?”
“I tried talking to her, she got upset.” I sighed. “She said I was a monster. You know, the usual.”
“I don’t know why you even wanted to see her. She’s a terrible person.”
“Oh, she’s not that bad.” My breath fogged up the window, and I started drawing stars in the mist. “She’s really worried about you. She’s afraid I’m going to hurt you.”
“That woman is insane,” Matt scoffed. “Literally, since she lives there, but . . . you can’t listen to her, Wendy. You aren’t letting anything she said get to you, are you?”
“No,” I lied. Pulling my sleeve up over my hand, I erased my drawings on the window and sat up straighter. “How do you know?”
“What?”
“That she’s insane. That . . . I’m not a monster.” I twisted my thumb ring nervously and stared at Matt, who just shook his head. “I’m being serious. What if I am bad?”
Matt suddenly put on his turn signal and pulled the car over to the shoulder. Rain pounded down on the windows as other cars sped by us on the freeway. He turned to face me completely, putting an arm across the back of my seat.
“Wendy Luella Everly, there is nothing bad about you. Nothing,” Matt emphasized solemnly. “That woman is completely insane. I don’t know why, but she was never a mother to you. You can’t listen to her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Be serious, Matt.” I shook my head. “I’ve gotten expelled from every school I’ve ever gone to. I’m unruly and whiny and stubborn and so picky. I know that you and Maggie struggle with me all the time.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re bad. You’ve had a really traumatic childhood, and yeah, you’re still working through some things, but you are not bad,” Matt insisted. “You are a strong-willed teenager who isn’t afraid of anything. That’s all.”
“You are!” Matt said with a smile. “Since we’ve moved here, you have shown so much promise. Your grades are going up, and you’re making friends. And even if that makes me a little uncomfortable, I know it’s a good thing for you. You’re growing up, Wendy, and you’re going to be okay.”
I nodded, unable to think of an argument for that.
“I know I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you, and I love you.” Matt bent over so he could kiss the top of my head. He hadn’t done that since I was little, and it stirred something inside me. I closed my eyes and refused to cry. He straightened back up in his seat and looked at me seriously. “Okay? Are you okay now?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I forced a smile.
“Good.” He pulled back into traffic, continuing the drive home.
As much as I inconvenienced Matt and Maggie, it would break their hearts if I left. Even if going with Finn would be more promising, it would hurt them too much. Leaving would put my needs in front of theirs. So if I stayed, I put them before me.
Staying would be my only proof that I wasn’t evil.
When we got home, I went up to my room before Maggie could try to talk to me. My room felt too quiet, so I went over to my iPod and started scrolling through songs. A light tapping sound startled me from my search, and my heart skipped a beat.
I walked over to my window, and when I pulled back the curtain, the rain had stopped, and there was Finn, crouched on the roof outside. I considered closing the curtain and ignoring him, but his dark eyes were too much. Besides, this would give me a chance to say a proper good-bye.
“What are you doing?” Finn asked as soon as I opened the window. He stayed out on the roof, but I hadn’t moved back so he could come in.
“What are you doing?” I countered, crossing my arms.
“I came to make sure you’re all right,” he said, concern in his eyes.
“Why wouldn’t I be all right?” I asked.
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