by Jamie Magee
See
By
Jamie Magee
Author of the Insight Series
Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly. ~Proverb
Chapter 1
Something’s wrong...something’s missing...I just don’t know what it is. Everything is foggy. I can’t focus...the annoying whispers behind the shadows of this ER room won’t be silent long enough for me to understand what the doctor is saying to me or my mom.
I never should have trusted Bianca...‘No big deal – just a few people. Your mom will never know’...Why did I give in to her? I felt like I had a reason – that I had a plan, and somehow my plan went wrong – real wrong.
I wanted my headphones. I needed my music to block the whispers so I could hear what my mother and the doctor were saying about me. I could see both concern and anger in my mother’s eyes. I had never once dared to defy her, to step out of the safe ‘glass box’ she kept me in. I did what I was told to do when I was told to do it. I’m not a pushover – too weak to think for myself; I just knew that very soon...just months from now, I would leave her...I didn’t want to leave her with bad memories of me...to let her think that she was not a good mom - because she was.
I furrowed my eyebrows as a memory flashed before me. I was sitting on my bed with Bianca, listening to music, and she started to talk about our summer trip to Cancun. Cancun? Was I going to Cancun with her? No, no way. If I was planning to – I was going to get out of it. Why would I agree to go anywhere with her? I shook my head from side to side and tried to focus. The last thing I clearly heard my mother say was that I was never going anywhere near Bianca Nathenson again. I sighed, feeling relief in knowing that I could hide behind that threat and avoid any trip with Bianca.
I looked at my mom and pointed to my hoodie on the chair, which had my phone and headphones in it. She shook her head no, then continued to focus on what the doctor was saying. I let out a frustrated breath, then scooted toward the end of the table to climb off so I could get them myself. My mom causally raised her arm to tell me to stay put.
I heard the whispers laugh at me, then start to say my name over and over again. I closed my eyes and tried to remember a sound, one with a screaming guitar, one that could take me above this menacing sound. I started to move my fingers against the table, somehow mocking the sound my mind had captured in my memory.
I’ve always heard sinister whispers around me, ones that stifle the real sounds of the world. When I was little, my mother had my hearing checked over and over - only to find that I was normal. Whatever that means. You would think that hearing strange voices taunting you would be terrifying; they didn’t scare me - but the shadows behind them did, though. At times, I swear the darkness in the world is the voice I hear. When my music is playing in my headphones, the whispers fade and the shadows of the world lose their eerie stance. That is the only time I can truly hear – well, it used to be the only time...oddly, I never hear them around my friends Bianca and Britain. Maybe that’s why I put up with them.
Bianca and I have only been close friends for a few months. She was kicked out of private school for bad grades. I’m sure her father could have found a way to buy her back in, but she told her dad she wanted to go to public school, that it would be an adventure. The only reason we became friends in the first place was because we sat next to each other in every class. Bianca was a smart girl but entirely too spoiled, which made her lazy. Being lazy and smart gives you reason to develop an even more sinister personality trait; she was a fantastic manipulator, and her beautiful, seductive nature helped her do just that to everyone - not just boys.
Honestly...I never really liked her, but I found comfort in the saying ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’ Oddly, right now…I can’t remember why I didn’t like her…it was like part of me was telling me I had to protect myself and others from her, and the other part of me was telling me that I adored having her around me. It was like someone was in my mind, turning my thoughts against one another. I let every memory of Bianca rush through my mind as I tried to understand why I didn’t like her. Who was I trying to protect? I couldn’t come up with anything.
The only other friend I had besides Bianca and Britain was Madison…she wasn’t even here; she was back home in Salem. She had met Bianca before, and it was more than clear that they weren’t fond of each other. One thing’s for sure, Madison didn’t need anyone to protect her – she was fearless. The first chance I got, I was going to call her…Madison had a way of making me understand myself, she had a way of helping me find the answers that were always there.
I’m sure Madison would be furious when I told her how stupid I was tonight, but I also knew she would get over it and help me figure out what I was missing.
Yesterday, Bianca came up with the grand scheme to have a party at my apartment. She had overheard my mom’s housekeeper making plans to have dinner at her daughter’s, which was outside of the city, meaning she would stay the night. She knew my mother was on a business trip and we had just taken the last exam of our high school career. All that was left was a walk down the line on Saturday.
I clearly remember telling Bianca no party; just a few people over for a few hours, and from what I remember, she agreed. In fact, she offered just to let Britain and I have the night alone. I remember considering the idea – not because I liked him…that’s not it…I think I wanted to talk to him – to convince him of something – I just couldn’t remember what right now.
Britain went to Bianca’s old school, and she insisted that he was perfect for me. I met him on her first day at my school; he picked her up and offered me a ride home, too. I said yes. I never say yes, especially to people I don’t know – at this moment, for the life of me I could not remember why I let myself do something so stupid.
Throughout that day, I’d grown addicted to the nothing I could hear around Bianca – it made listening to the teachers so much easier. Imagine how astounded I was to find that not only was it silent around Britain, too, but it was almost like I felt protected – like the whispers and shadows were afraid of him.
You would think the effect he had on my surroundings alone would make me want to be with him, but it didn’t. Britain has the all-American image: tall, short blond hair, steel blue eyes, athletic build – honestly, he wasn’t really my type; more like the total opposite of what I like in a guy. Bianca thought that if I dated someone like Britain, my mother would open a window or two in my glass house. I could not understand the purpose in her plotting. I would be eighteen in October, and at that point I was going to take over my life. I had focused intently on school just to graduate a year early – just get out on my own sooner...I only had to get through the next four-and-a-half months.
I don’t remember much of anything that happened tonight…all I could remember was suddenly feeling so sick…out of control...and… afraid…of what, I don’t know. What I do remember is Britain carrying me to my room. I remember the concern I could see in his intense blue eyes as he leaned over me – it was like he was afraid something was seriously wrong with me.
From my vague memories I could recall that he was tracing my cheek bone, whispering my name, when my mother charged into the room.
I still don’t know why she came home early. I remember not being able to focus on her, slipping in and out of consciousness. I woke up here with a splitting headache and my furious mother arguing with other parents in the hallway. I gathered from the muffled conversation around me that each of us had some form of a date rape drug in our system, even Britain - which, in my opinion, made him innocent. Why would he give me the drug, and then take it himself? Seriously, what was his motive - to take a nap with me? I was more than sure it was all Bianca’s doing. I was starting to think that Brita
in was who I was trying to protect from Bianca…but even that didn’t make any sense. Britain has this dominant energy that seems to pour from him. The head-spinning confusion I was feeling was causing the worst headache I’d ever had.
The doctor took out a small flashlight and looked into my eyes, then she listened to my heart and had me take in deep breaths.
“Does anything hurt?” the doctor asked me.
“Just my head,” I said under my breath.
The doctor nodded. “That’s normal. I’m sure everything is a little foggy right now. It will take a few days to completely overcome this experience. You need to stay hydrated and get substantial rest. I’ll schedule a follow up with your primary in a week.”
The doctor entered a few notes into her computer, then looked at my mom. “I’ll look at the test results again before I send the file to her doctor, but I do not think she ingested very much. The effect on her was powerful because she is so petite; if she weighed twenty pounds more, it would not have affected her at all.”
I rolled my eyes; I was barley five foot - 120 pounds was a far cry from any weight I’d ever reached. I was sick of people hinting that I needed to gain weight or looking for signs that I had some kind of disorder. I mean, could someone not be small without all the accusations?
“I’m going to let her go home…” the doctor said, looking at me again. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else troubling you?”
I heard the whispers laugh, and my cheeks blushed with anger. As if my mom could see me struggle, she reached her hand for the side of my face and cradled my ear. “She’s not acting like herself…she seems timid...afraid - and my Charlie is not afraid of anything. Could these drugs have affected anything else? Is she going to remember tonight? Will she be able to tell me who did this to her?”
“It’s hard to say,” the doctor said as her eyes filled with sympathy. “Our mind has a way of blocking out trauma. I assure you, her body was not hurt on any physical level. The others that were with her are suffering from the same aliments. She may have gaps in her memories, but they will come back. Keeping her in the routine of her life will stimulate them. Charlie and each of her friends are very lucky you came home when you did…before you know it, your Charlie will be back.” The doctor smiled slightly before she turned to leave.
Once she closed the door, I scooted off the table, pulling the IV with me. I wanted my headphones and clothes, and I wasn’t going to wait for some nurse to finish her coffee break and decide to take it out of me.
“Sit down,” my mother said firmly.
She walked over to the chair and picked up my skirt and top and tossed them at me. I slid them on, then reached for my hoodie, pulling my phone and headphones out. My mother shook her head as she watched me hit play and sigh.
“I cannot believe you. Have I not taught you anything?” she asked, reaching to turn the volume down before sitting down and crossing her arms and staring at the closed door.
“You’re in trouble now,” the shadows whispered over and over in the most annoying hissing sound.
I shook my head in anger. “Whatever,” I mumbled to them before turning the sound up again.
“Don’t ‘whatever’ me, young lady. Do you have any idea how hard I work to give you the life you have, the sacrifices I’ve made? The nights I’ve spent alone, not living any kind of life so you could have at least one parent that was there for you?”
I bit my lip. I knew if I told her that I was not talking to her – that I was talking to some invisible darkness she would think I was insane. I had no choice but to act like I meant to say that to her.
“Sorry… maybe Dad should have died before he got you pregnant - then you wouldn’t have had to worry about raising me.”
She had crossed the room and slapped my face before I had the chance to say I was sorry for my last remark. I held my cheek and looked into her disbelieving eyes. She had never hit me in my entire life. I knew I must have hurt her. I could not stop the angry tears that swelled in my eyes. She must have mistaken them for grief because she pulled me to her and rocked me from side to side. “You’re our love…you’re my gift,” she whispered in my ear.
My father was a gorgeous man - at least, that is how I see him in his pictures. He was a divinely talented musician, but knowing how to play every instrument was only one amazing part of his gift; it could not compare to his voice, which was simply hypnotic. I love listening to his tone, the poetic lyrics that could range in almost any direction. I’d only seen a few clips of his live performances, but it was clear that on stage was where he belonged. His audience would embrace every emotion he conveyed and scream for his attention.
My mother met him by chance at an acoustic show he was performing in her hometown of Salem. Her friends had thought she needed a night out, that she needed to feel alive - if only for a few hours.
You see, life had dealt my mother a cruel card more than once. When she was seventeen, she fell in love and found herself pregnant with my sister, Kara, who is now twenty-eight. Kara’s dad left my mom and never looked back. Eight years after that, she had put herself through school and was completely devoted to Kara, not even taking a moment to breathe.
My father was her prince charming; my mom’s friends told me every girl fought for my father’s attention, but the only girl he could see was her. It took him almost a year to convince her to fall in love with him, and another year to put a ring on her finger. He promised her that he would stop touring and only produce music, that he wanted a family.
He was on his way home from his last tour when his bus crashed, killing everyone except the driver. My mom was seven months pregnant with me, and once again she was left alone to raise not only a twelve year old, but also a newborn.
This, in my opinion, made her crazy. She locked Kara and me away. Our house was silent; no music, no laughter. I was never allowed to do anything that might have any element of danger, meaning sports, riding the bus – not even sleepovers. I considered myself lucky that I was allowed to go to school. I was sure my odd way of locking myself inside of music – of avoiding silence so I could hear - made my mother more determined to protect me.
I’d stopped talking about the whispers when I was thirteen; by then, I’d discovered how to muffle them: headphones. In the beginning, it was only when I listened to my father’s music, but as the months and years passed, I found that almost any music – at least music with a guitar - could hinder the fearful sounds around me.
The nurse walked in the door. Interrupting my mother’s embrace, she took out my IV; the moment I was free, I rushed to the door.
“I have to get out of here,” I said to my mom, holding her stare and ignoring the random shadows from the corners of the room.
She nodded. “I want to ask the doctor a few more questions and make a phone call…wait for me in the lobby. I’ll make sure you are signed out,” she said, balling her fist and crossing her arms.
I shook my head, then pulled the hood up on my hoodie and walked out of the room as fast as I could. I have never been able to handle hospitals very well. The smell and the sick people were nauseating to me, and the ER had to be dirtiest place on Earth, in my opinion. The lobby was swarming with people. There was nowhere to even stand.
A sick feeling came over me. I felt like I was in trouble. I’ve never given my mother a reason not trust me, and I was furious that I messed up this bad – this close to the end.
I fumbled with my phone, fighting with my trembling hands as I found Madison’s name and texted, “Are you up?”
She texted back immediately, “Yeah!! I was on my way there but your mom told us to stay here –are you on your way home – I’m freaked out for you.”
I furrowed my eyebrows as I read her text. Why would I go home to Salem? It was hours away, and I had graduation in just a few days. I couldn’t figure out why she was ‘freaked out’; I thought she would be mad. I figured my mother had told her what happened – and more than likely made it wors
e than it was.
I texted back, “Home – what? No – the only the only place I’m going is to bed.”
A second later, my phone rang; it was her.
I answered and said, “Hold on, it’s loud in here.”
I saw a cop outside the door and figured I would be safe close to him. It was the dead of night, and a breeze was blowing. As I felt the wind, I saw the shadows across the ground begin to move – almost slither- in my direction. The stress of everything I’d been through tonight allowed me to be angry, not afraid. I pulled my shoulders back and glared at the ground, refusing to run from them.
“Are you there?” I said as I put my phone to my ear.
“What do you mean ‘it’s loud’?”
“I was in the lobby of the ER; I couldn’t hear over them,” I said in an exhausted gasp.
“Is it quiet now?” she asked in a concerned tone.
I looked to the shadows across the ground and heard their echoing laughs. I tried to remember if I had ever told anyone about them or not. I couldn’t recall – and I knew if I started to talk about them now, they would think the drugs in my system were causing me to go insane.
“Not really…but I can hear you,” I mumbled
She hesitated before she said anything. “Your mom said she thinks something is wrong with your memory.”
“When did you talk to her?” I asked, confused.
“I didn’t – I overhead them talking about you a minute ago.”
“Who?”
She didn’t say anything for a minute or two; I thought I heard her whispering to someone, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying.
“Madison – I’m tired; I’ll just call you tomorrow.”
“No – wait. I think we should come get you. They’re talking to your mom; I’m trying to see what she says.”
“We? They? What are you talking about? You’re not driving two-and-a-half hours in the dead of the night to see me. I’m fine. It was no big deal; I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”