by Mia Storm
“Where were you when the fire broke out?”
“I…” …don’t remember.
“Do you remember how you got out?” she presses.
I rub harder at the ants under my skin. “I told you. Destiny got some wet blankets and we ran through the fire.”
“So, she was there.”
I spin on her. “Why are you asking me all this? Destiny’s your patient, not me!”
“Why don’t you sit, Lilah. Can I get you some water? Or something else to drink?”
“Where’s Destiny?” I say, crossing to the door and opening it. The small waiting room is empty.
“She’s in her room. And, to answer your question, I’m asking you because she’s having difficulty recalling all the details about the night of the fire. It seems to be the focal point of whatever trauma caused her to break down last week. I’m just trying to sort through some things so I can help her.”
I close the door and lean against it. “We were trapped. We thought we were going to die. It was terrifying.”
She nods slowly. “That’s totally understandable. When one’s survival is threatened, the whole system goes into survival mode and decisions aren’t always conscious. Details blur and actions don’t get recorded in short term memory. In extreme cases, when the trauma threatens the psyche, the mind will deliberately block the memory as a defense.”
“You think Destiny’s doing that?”
“Neither one of you seems to have a clear recollection of events that night.”
I move back to the couch and sit. “How can I help her?”
“Anything you remember could be significant.”
I try to trace my steps from the time I got home until the fire, but I only get flashes. A yell. A scream. Water.
A sick feeling settles in my stomach and the ants are itching my skin again.
I was wet, and it was more than the blankets we soaked in the tub. Why was I wet?
The image I sometimes see in my nightmares of blood swirling down drain surfaces in my mind.
There was blood.
I shake my head, shaking off the ants along with the clammy feeling. “I don’t remember.”
“I’m discharging Destiny,” Mary says slowly, “but she’ll need to continue to some with outpatient therapy. I’d like to see you separately for a few weeks and then we can work into sessions with the two of you together.”
I stand, feeling the need to run again. “Why do I need to come?”
She smooths her skirt as she slowly gains her feet, then moves to her desk. “You’ve clearly both suffered a horrible trauma. Destiny’s never going to truly recover until she can face what it was.”
“I’m fine,” I say, shaking my head again. It just keeps doing that.
She pulls open a laptop on her desk and looks over the screen. “Will Mondays after school work for you?” she asks as if I said nothing.
“I have to work.”
She looks up at me. “What is your schedule? Do you have a day off?”
“Not if I can help it. We’re broke. And, also, we have no insurance, so I don’t think we can afford to see you.”
“Let’s not concern ourselves with that,” she says, shaking her hand in the air without looking up from her screen. “I could see you Saturday mornings if that’s the only day you’re available.”
“I still don’t understand how me coming here is going to help Destiny.”
“So, nine o’clock?” she says, looking at me with raised eyebrows.
And I get that she’s not taking no for an answer.
♫
When I get to Destiny’s room, she’s ready to go. We take the bus down the hill to town and when she sees the security door, she looks a question at me.
“Bran,” I say as I turn the key in the lock, a little afraid to bring him up.
Her lips purse, but then she nods.
“I’ve got a box of mac and cheese that I can make for dinner, if you want,” I say on the way up the stairs.
“Okay.”
It’s the first word out of her mouth since she said hi when I walked into her hospital room, and I’m not sure if I should try to make her talk or not. There was no instruction manual for my slightly crazy sister in the discharge paperwork, so I’m flying by the seat of my pants.
“There might be an apple I can slice to go with it,” I say.
Once we’re through the door, she looks at the boxes, but doesn’t say anything.
“I only unpacked the things I needed,” I volunteer.
I wasn’t sure if we were staying or going, and I didn’t want her to come home and be upset that I’d unpacked everything.
She goes to the kitchen and starts filling our only pot with water.
“I’ll get that, Destiny,” I say, following her. “You should just rest.”
“That’s all I’ve been doing.” She sets the pot on the stove and cranks on the burner. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”
“I’m fine. It’s my turn to look after you for a change.”
She braces her hands on the counter without turning. “What did Mary say to you?”
My heart jumps in my chest. “She just…” I shake my head. “Nothing really.”
Finally, she turns and leans against the counter, watching my face as she says, “She wanted to know about the fire.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.
“What did you tell her?”
I shake my head and drop into a kitchen chair. “When I tried to remember what happened…” I shrug. “Maybe I just hate Mom and Dad so much that I blocked it all out, but I can’t really remember much.”
I expect her typical concerned squint, but what I see in her eyes instead is relief. “You don’t have to go to that appointment, Lilah. She can’t force you to.”
“Good. She kind of creeps me out.” But even as I say it, I know that’s not entirely accurate. She didn’t creep me out as much as the loose fringes of memory I couldn’t weave into a whole tapestry.
“Good,” she repeats with a nod, turning back to the pasta. “Then it’s settled.”
While the pasta cooks, she starts unpacking the kitchen things back into the cupboards.
“So, I guess this means we’re not leaving?” I say.
She shoots me a glance. “I think I’ll see if Ambling Rose is looking for any help.”
I smile at the idea. “You should bake something and take it over when you go. Even if they’re not looking for anyone, one taste and they’ll hire you on the spot.”
She smiles back. “Grandma would roll over in her grave if she thought I was divulging her secret recipes.”
I pick up the slightly mealy apple and rinse it in the sink. I grab the carving knife Destiny just unpacked and slice it in half, then quarters. But as I’m cutting the core out, the knife slips and the point digs into my hand. I pull it out and watch a bead of blood pool in my palm. As it grows, the ants start crawling under my skin again.
The image of the sharp point of a knife against Destiny’s forehead flashes into my head and I my eyes fix on the white scar there.
Blood on the carpet.
Blood swirling down the drain.
My vision goes red and all I see is blood…
Destiny’s on the floor, a spray of blood across her shirt that’s not hers. And I’m covered, my hands and my clothes soaked.
I grab some fresh clothes from Destiny’s closet and help her to her feet. We make it to the bathroom and I strip, then help Destiny out of what’s left of her clothes. She’s unsteady and I get in the shower with her to prop her up while I rinse the blood off us both. By the time we finish and I turn off the water, she’s starting to get her wits. I sit her on the toilet and she’s able to dry herself off.
“Do you smell that?” she says.
And I do—the smell of something burning. I push open the door and the smoke nearly chokes me.
“Oh my god!” I croak, covering my face with my towel.
<
br /> We yank on our clothes and stumble to the stairs. Flames lick the broken banister and the drapes on the window near the front door are a torch.
“What do we do?” I shout, then start coughing and can’t stop.
Destiny pushes me down and tells me to stay there before staggering to her room. She comes out with the blankets off the bed. She takes them to the bathroom and I hear her coughing too as she turns on the tub. She comes back a minute later and throws a wet blanket on top of me. “Wrap it around you, including your head.”
I get to my feet and struggle to drape the heavy blanket over my head, finally tugging it tightly around the front of me and leaving just a hole to peek through.
“Ready? she says between coughs.
I nod and she starts down the stairs.
“We’re going to have to run through it,” she says as the heat intensifies. “You go first.”
“I can’t!” I scream. The fire is louder now, and so hot I feel my skin tighten even through the wet blanket.
“You have to! I’ll be right behind you!”
I shake my head, terror petrifying me into stone and gluing my feet to the stair.
“We can’t wait!” she yells, then grabs my blanket and starts dragging me.
When I realize we’re going no matter what, I grab onto her and start running. Flames lick at the edges of my blanket and the heat is so intense I’m sure I’m burning alive, but I run and don’t stop until we’re outside.
The sirens are so loud they scramble my brain, and as we move down the walk, I see Mom, sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, staring at the burning house. Her expression is totally blank, but as we pass, she says, “It went faster than I thought it would,” without taking her eyes off the building inferno.
I know that’s supposed to be some kind of apology, but Destiny and I drop the blankets and just keep walking.
I slow at the corner and start to turn to watch as the emergency crews screech to a stop in front of our house, but Destiny grabs my hand and yanks me across the street. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Lilah?” She’s got my shoulders in her hands. She starts shaking me. “Lilah!
I drop the bloody apple and realize tears are coursing down my cheeks. I brace my hands on the counter until my legs will carry me to the table, where I collapse into a chair. “I remembered.”
She grimaces. “What do you think you remember?”
I’m all questions and no answers. I grab onto the first one that spins past in the cyclone of my mind. “Why did we run? Why didn’t we stay with Mom when we got out of the house?”
“She was going to jail. CPS would have split us up if they knew we existed, stuck you in some foster home or whatever.”
I know there’s more she’s not telling me by the fear that flashes in her eyes. “I remember a knife…the one from under my bed. I see it against your forehead in my dreams sometimes,” I say, pressing my finger to the place on my forehead where the scar is on hers. My heart is struggling to keep a rhythm and I hold my breath. “Did I do that to you? I can’t remember.”
Her eyes widen. “God, no, Lilah!” She shakes her head as if shaking away a memory. “No, it wasn’t you.”
“Then who?” I know it’s probably wrong for me to push her when she’s just gotten home, but I have to know. “I keep seeing blood… a lot of blood.”
She stands and shakes her head again. “I’m not doing this, Lilah. Just let it lie.”
She disappears up the hall and closes the door to her room as the macaroni on the stove boils over.
Chapter 29
Bran
I’m not sure how to play this since Destiny’s been home, so I’ve let Lilah take the lead. I’m trying not to read too much into it, but I’ve felt on the edge of a panic attack since she came in last night to play at the bar. She was distant, not like she was angry, or even upset, but more distracted. Or really, haunted.
I gave her space, because it’s all I really can do. She and Destiny have some things to work out. My biggest fear is that I’m the root of it, and as hard as I’ve fallen for Lilah, I can’t be responsible for driving a wedge between her and Destiny. Which is why I told her I needed Destiny on board with this. I’m just not quite sure how to make that happen.
My phone wakes me early Saturday and I pick it up and squint at the screen. When I see Lilah’s number, I snap it up.
“Hey.”
There’s a long pause. “Do you have time to talk?” she finally asks.
“Yeah. Absolutely.” I climb out of bed and rake yesterday’s jeans up from the floor next to my bed. “Should I come by or…?”
“Yeah. I’ll meet you out front.”
“On my way,” I say, tugging them up my legs. I disconnect and find a fresh T-shirt, then yank on my leather jacket on the way out the door.
When I pull up, she’s already waiting outside. I reach across to open my passenger door and she climbs in.
“Where to?” I ask.
She shrugs and slumps into the seat.
I roll away from the curb and drive. “Everything okay with Destiny?”
Finally, she looks at me. She looked tired yesterday and it made me wonder about her nightmares. Today, she’s worse; purple crescents under red-rimmed, lifeless eyes. I know that look. She hasn’t slept in a while.
“I’m not sure.”
“She hasn’t…you know, had any meltdowns or anything, has she?”
She shakes her head. “We’ve never talked about the night our house burnt down. I always thought it was because…” She shrugs then lifts her gaze to mine. “You know that scar on her forehead?”
I nod.
She lowers her gaze and watches her fingers fidget with the strings of her hoodie. “She got the cut that night. I used to keep a big carving knife under my bed because there were some scary people squatting at our house most of the time. I’ve seen the tip of that knife making the cut in my dreams. I was afraid to bring up the fire because I was afraid I’d hurt Destiny even though I couldn’t remember.”
I don’t like the thought of Lilah feeling like she needed a knife to protect herself in her own home, and again find myself wishing her parents bodily harm.
“I asked her on Monday when we got home. She said it wasn’t me. But…” She shakes her head. “Something happened with Destiny and me the night of the fire that I can’t remember. The thing is, every time I try, I feel sick and ants start crawling under my skin.”
“Have you asked her?”
“She won’t talk about it.” She rubs her eyes then looks at me. “I’m scared, Bran. I’m not really sure if I want to know.”
I snag her eyes with my gaze and hold them. “Only you know if you’re ready to face down your demons, Lilah.”
She tips her head against the window as if it’s too heavy to hold up.
We’re passing the shelter at the downhill end of the park and I pull over. “You want to walk?” I ask, nodding at the path that winds up the hill to the playground up top.
She looks at me a long second, then pushes out her door. I climb out and take her hand. She wraps her fingers tightly around mine, but her skin doesn’t scorch through mine the way it usually does. She feels clammy, and there’s a tremor in her hand.
The last stubborn leaves of fall are now curled in dry brown heaps at the side of the path, crunching under our feet as we start up the hill.
“I talked to Destiny’s therapist on Monday,” Lilah says, watching the dead husks swirl around our feet in the crisp breeze. “She was asking about the night of the fire. She thinks Destiny needs to remember what happened, but I think she already does.”
I try to follow what she’s saying. “You think Destiny’s pretending not to remember?”
She pulls her hand from mine and shoves them into her hoodie pockets. “I only remember parts of what happened that night. She seems nervous that I might start to remember more.”
“Maybe if Destiny’s trying not to remember, y
ou should be glad you don’t,” I say wishing that I could forget half of the things that I relive in my nightmares. “Some things are better left alone.”
She watches the path unfold in front of us and leads me to a bench under a group of leafless trees. For a minute, she just looks at it, but then she brushes the leaves off and sits. I sit next to her and loop my arm over her shoulders. My heart releases the breath it’s been holding when she leans into me and lays her head on my shoulder.
“I’m supposed to see her therapist again later this morning. Destiny doesn’t want me to go.”
I tip my face into her hair and breathe deeply. “I think what you choose to do is up to you, not Destiny.”
She presses tighter to my side. “I want to. Maybe she can help me remember.”
“But you said you weren’t sure you wanted to.”
She lifts her head and fixes me in her gaze. “But I think I have to.”
I brush my fingertips over her cold cheek and along the line of her jaw. When I pull her into a kiss, she kisses me back.
“Will you take me?” she asks, leaning into my side again.
“Of course.” I would do anything for her. All she has to do is ask. But if this therapist ends up destroying her by digging up whatever this memory is her mind is protecting her from, I’ll never forgive myself.
Chapter 30
Lilah
Bran walks me to the door of the hospital. “Do you want me to come in with you?”
I shake my head. “Will you wait?”
His eyes grow darker and search mine. “Of course, Lilah. I’m not going anywhere.”
I take both of his hands in mine, and despite the fact that my heart is about to explode, it warms with the love and concern I see in his gaze. “Knowing that is the only thing that gives me the strength to do this.”
He kisses me and when our lips part, I back away and turn for the door. When I get to Mary’s waiting room, it’s empty. Her office door is open.
“I’m so glad you decided to come, Lilah,” she says, appearing in the doorway.
I mentally brace myself. Now that I’m here, I have to follow through. “I remembered some things after I was here.”