When Through Deep Waters

by Rachelle Dekker

  Betty’s shoulders trembled, her face paler than before. Her eyes were wide with horror, as if Betty herself had suddenly seen the children. A tear slipped down Betty’s cheek, and she reached to brush it away. She took a deep inhale and shook off the sudden fright that had captured her. “You must have heard that from Josephine. She used to call one of them Evie—it’s such a strange little name, isn’t it?” Betty had dropped her eyes back to the floor as she began to fiddle with the hem of her sweater, a telltale sign that she was extremely uncomfortable.

  But all that was suddenly lost on Alicen, because her brain only registered children and Evie. All the logic in the world struggled to make sense of what her soul was itching to believe.

  The smaller, weaker part of herself gained ground as emotion rammed her like a train. As if she’d been standing on a silent track and then suddenly a full-speed locomotive had appeared, giving her no time to try and save her own life. Again she lost control of her words and phrases as they tumbled out on their own. “A little girl with pigtails named Evie,” she whispered, her eyes fixed forward, her mind desperately trying to find some sort of footing.

  “Enough, Alicen,” Betty said. “She did this to you, honey. Grandma Joe put all this nonsense inside your head, and now it’s coming back. What do they call it, repressed memories or something like that?”

  But Alicen was ignoring her now, lost in her thoughts. “I thought I knew that name because of Jane. How could Jane and Grandma Joe both use that name?”

  “You must have said it before, and Jane heard it from you,” Betty said. “That’s possible, right? Does it even matter? All that matters is that this came from that crazy old woman. I should have gotten you out of there sooner.”

  Alicen was barely listening. Her lips quivered, tears hot but silent on her cheeks. “What if . . . ?” Alicen didn’t need to finish her question.

  “No, honey,” Betty said as she composed herself and walked around the counter’s edge to place her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’ve heard people talk about tragedy stirring up things you may have forgotten. She filled your mind with poison, and then in your greatest moment of brokenness, it’s coming back to haunt you. That’s all this is.”

  Alicen shook her head, still not looking toward her mother, still struggling to peel herself off the steel track where she’d been flattened. “All this is?” she asked. “What . . . what if . . .” Tears stifled whatever words she would have tried to say next, and a small cry escaped from her mouth instead.

  Betty grabbed Alicen’s other shoulder and twisted her until she was facing her mother, Alicen’s eyes still lost to the ground. “Honey, look at me,” Betty said. She reached out her fingers and forcefully raised Alicen’s chin so that their eyes couldn’t avoid each other. “Look at me.”

  Alicen obeyed.

  “You are sick. This is not real; it’s all in your head. Are you skipping your medication? You have to be very diligent about it.”

  Alicen nodded. “I’m taking it,” she said. She felt like a little girl, standing there in her mother’s grasp, being directed and scolded.

  “Well then you need to do more. You need to tell that doctor to give you something else. You need to make this stop,” Betty said. The softness in her tone was retreating with each word she spoke; the disapproving tone Alicen knew so well was returning.

  “They make me feel so—” she started, not giving Betty the response she wanted.

  “Get a grip, Alicen,” Betty snapped.

  Alicen clenched her teeth together and dropped her gaze again. Her mind too broken and feeble to fight back. Yes, get a grip, Alicen. Her mind smacked her with cruelty. Act like an adult, Alicen. What would your mother say, Alicen? Betty must have noticed how harsh her last statement had been, because she gave Alicen’s shoulder a friendly rub.

  “Honey, if you don’t get ahold of this sickness, it will ruin your life. Like it did your grandma’s,” Betty said. “I want more for you than that. I always just wanted more for you; don’t you see that?”

  Alicen still said nothing. What would she say? Yes, Mother; thank you, Mother; how kind of you, Mother, her mind teased relentlessly. Pain thumped inside the center of her forehead, and Alicen breathed through it. Too many broken elements were swirling around in her mind.

  “Alicen, do you hear me? Do you see how troubling this is?” Betty said.

  Alicen nodded and turned her gaze back up toward her mother. “Yes,” she replied. “This is my trouble.”

  “Promise me you’ll stop trying to make what isn’t real into something else. Talk to the doctor; don’t let this follow you all of your life. Promise me,” Betty insisted.

  And Alicen conceded. “I promise.”

  Betty sighed and gave a small smile. “Good, honey; that’s good. I just want you to be happy.”

  Alicen tried to ignore the little voice from deep within that said Betty didn’t care one tiny bit about whether or not Alicen was happy. She just didn’t want Alicen to be crazy. She’d rather her be numb.

  But Alicen didn’t want to be crazy either, and numb seemed so much more appealing. She’d hoped that she could put her mind back together. That she could reassemble a clear sense of what was reality and what was fiction. But maybe the only way to do that was to just shut it off altogether. Pay her debts.

  The tiny voice whispered again, and Alicen tried to hide any fear from spreading across her expression. But, Alicen, what if what the world believes is fiction is actually reality?

  18

  Alicen managed to make it through another network session without grossly overexaggerated thoughts of violence, though it was hard every time Stew expressed how helpful carrying around an umbrella had become. Apparently his personal storm cloud didn’t soak him through as often, which made him more talkative than ever.

  Alicen tried to pay attention as others spoke, but her mind kept getting dragged away to thoughts of what she’d discussed with Betty the afternoon before. Grandma Joe saw children too. That phrase had become a permanent fixture in her mind, and she couldn’t help but glance over at Shannon each time it crossed her brain. Shannon had claimed to see them too. It just didn’t make sense. If Josephine had planted this poison in Alicen’s mind, then how could a complete stranger—a woman who couldn’t possibly have known Josephine—be seeing the same invisible force Alicen was? There had to be a connection that would help Alicen understand it. By the time the meeting drew to a close, Alicen had decided she needed to ask Shannon how she could know anything about the children.

  She waited as Gina gave closing remarks and dismissed the group. People started to collect their things and move. Some chatted as they waited for their scheduled nurses to come and escort them back to their rooms. Alicen watched Shannon stand and move to the beverage table along the back wall of the room.

  Alicen stood and casually drifted toward the table, avoiding interaction with anyone else. She stepped up next to Shannon and waited for the woman to notice her. She didn’t. The older woman just picked through the iced crate of juice containers, passing over a couple marked orange, clearly looking for the perfect one.

  Alicen cleared her throat, and Shannon gave a little jump. She turned her surprised expression to Alicen and drew her lips together in a tight line. Her eyes were worried and confused as they darted between Alicen and the plastic carton filled with juices.

  “Do you want one?” Shannon asked in a tiny voice.

  “No thanks,” Alicen said.

  “Okay,” Shannon replied and then went back to searching.

  Alicen racked her brain for the right way to bring up what she wanted to ask. It was pretty clear that Shannon was skittish and timid, and Alicen didn’t want to scare her off. “Hey, Shannon—it is Shannon, right?” Alicen asked.

  Shannon glanced up at her for a moment and then smiled.

  Alicen decided to take that as a yes and a sign that the woman was listening.

  “Can I talk to you about what happened between
us the other day?” Alicen asked. She couldn’t help but feel like she was talking to a child, even though the woman had at least two decades on her.

  “What happened between us the other day?” Shannon asked, still carefully examining each juice bottle.

  “You know, when you found me outside, when you talked to me about . . .” Alicen paused and dropped her voice to a whisper. “. . . the children?”

  Shannon selected an orange juice bottle that looked exactly like the ten others she had passed over and turned to Alicen. She held it out. “Do you want a juice? The orange is my favorite. I can find you a perfect one if you want?”

  “No, Shannon, I don’t want a juice, I want to talk to you about the children. The ones you see?”

  Shannon’s brow dropped and she shook her head. “I don’t think I want to talk to you about this. I just wanted juice.”

  “Shannon, please; I need to know . . .”

  Shannon shook her head and started to walk past Alicen. Alicen felt her desperation take on a mind of its own, and she reached out and grabbed Shannon’s arm.

  The older woman whirled around, fear brimming in her eyes, and looked at the place where Alicen was holding her. “Let go of me,” she said.

  “Just tell me about what you saw,” Alicen started.

  “I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything about any children,” Shannon said, yanking her arm away.

  “But you said you saw them that day.”

  “No, I didn’t. I don’t know anything about children.”

  “Shannon, you said . . .”

  “I didn’t say anything to you; I don’t even know you. I don’t talk to people I don’t know, I don’t go into the forest, and I don’t know anything about children.”

  Alicen felt desperate to get ahold of the situation and could feel the eyes of a couple people now watching. “You said you had a son once,” she said.

  Shannon’s face dropped, her skin paled, and her lips quivered. Her eyes filled with tears as she clutched the little bottle of orange juice to her chest. “How—how did you know that?”

  “You told me,” Alicen said.

  “No!” Shannon yelled. “No, I didn’t tell you anything!”

  Alicen took a step back from the woman as a nurse came up to them, accompanied by Gina. “What is going on here?” the nurse asked, her eyes switching back and forth from Alicen to Shannon.

  Shannon held a finger up toward Alicen, her hand trembling, and spoke to the nurse. “She attacked me.”

  Alicen’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I did not attack her.”

  “You attacked my mind!” Shannon yelled. She turned back to the nurse. “She knows about Tommy. I didn’t tell her, but she knows and she tried to get me to tell her about him.”

  Gina stepped in and looked at Alicen. “How do you know about Tommy?”

  “She told me,” Alicen said.

  Surprise crossed Gina’s face, and she turned to Shannon. “Shannon, that’s wonderful that you told her.”

  “I didn’t tell her! I don’t even know her! I wouldn’t tell her!”

  “Okay, Shannon; it’s okay,” the nurse said, trying to regain control of the situation. “Why don’t you let me walk you back to your room?”

  “She made it up!” Shannon yelled, pointing at Alicen. “She’s crazy! She made it all up.”

  Alicen opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The entire scene was madness.

  “Let’s go back to your room, Shannon,” the nurse said again, sending a warning look at Alicen over her shoulder, and again Alicen felt her mouth drop open. Was she being blamed for what was happening here?

  Shannon nodded to the nurse, threw a final hateful glare at Alicen, and let herself be escorted out of the room, rambling under her breath about how Alicen was crazy with each step. Alicen stood frozen, completely thrown by what had just happened.

  “You shouldn’t make stuff up,” someone said behind her, someone else from group but not someone Alicen knew a name for.

  “I didn’t,” Alicen defended.

  “Shannon has never talked about her son,” Stew said to her right.

  “I didn’t even know she had a son,” another girl said.

  “Why would she tell you about him?” Stew asked.

  “You shouldn’t make stuff up,” the nameless person said again.

  “All right,” Gina said, “that’s enough. Everyone off now.”

  The room cleared out as Gina placed a hand on Alicen’s shoulder and offered her a smile. “It’ll be okay,” she said.

  “I didn’t make it up,” Alicen said.

  Gina nodded, her eyes sympathetic. “I’m sure you didn’t,” she said, but she said it the way a person would when she didn’t actually believe you were telling the truth. “Maybe you should share during our next session? It would be good.” And with that, Gina smiled and left the room.

  A single thought drifted through Alicen’s mind. What if Shannon had never been there that day? What if she had simply imagined the encounter, like she imagined the children themselves? What if Alicen had, in fact, made it up?

  You are failing, little Victoria.

  No, Victoria thought as she paced back and forth across her dark office.

  As she fails, so do you.

  “No,” Victoria said. “I will not fail.”

  Born from filth, a worm, a failure.

  Anger poured through her veins, and she reached over to her desk and swept her open hands across the left side, sending its contents to the ground. They landed with a crash that vibrated under her feet as her uncle’s deep laughter filled her brain. She took several deep heaves of hot air and tried to calm the tremor in her hand. She was losing control.

  Victoria closed her eyes. Took her mind to a safe place. A place where she imagined she was someone else. Someone calm and sweet. Innocent and free. Where the world hadn’t marked her with dirt and left her to die alone.

  Vicki: Why so angry?

  Victoria: Angry is better than weak.

  Vicki: I’m afraid of you when you’re angry.

  Victoria: You’re afraid of everything.

  Vicki: Aren’t you afraid?

  Victoria: Not anymore.

  Vicki: Will you protect me from the demons?

  Victoria: Always.

  Vicki: Don’t let him get me.

  Victoria: I never would.

  She took a slow breath and opened her eyes as the air passed out through her teeth. Her office still again, the thundering of her heart back to a normal pace. She stooped down to collect the items that had scattered across the floor and neatly placed them back on her desk. The moment of weakness had passed.

  Aren’t you glad I didn’t let you be weak like Vicki?

  Victoria tapped the stack of files in her hand so they were perfectly aligned and then set them in the replaced metal basket where they belonged.

  Like Alicen?

  Yes, Victoria thought. He had taught her well, even if the lessons had come at a painful price.

  Penance is due for Alicen’s weakness.

  No, Victoria thought. She knew what he was referring to. Her skin in the game. Stored away from inquiring eyes, hidden under a loose tile in the bathroom. She could sense the small wooden box calling to her, as if it had a tongue and were whispering her name.

  Penance, little Victoria. You reap what you sow.

  “It isn’t my filth,” Victoria said.

  Her filth is your filth. Her trouble, your trouble.

  The hidden scars burned along her wrists. Both beckoning her to serve and screaming at her to run. Her source of release was also her source of pain.

  “No—it isn’t my failure,” she whispered.

  All their failures are yours. You can’t atone if you don’t know what you are. His words crashed down over her like fiery waves. Don’t forget what demons lie within.

  The familiar statements were truths burned into the marrow of her bones. Helping her remember so she could do wha
t was necessary to control her trouble.

  Only through the admittance of our stains.

  Her constant savior and accuser.

  Life always comes to collect.

  Again she felt the pull from the dirty secret, and it moved her feet across the office floor into the small bathroom. Without pause she removed the hidden box and held it firmly in both hands.

  Release your darkness, little Victoria, so it doesn’t swallow you whole.

  She couldn’t open the lid because she knew doing so would seal her fate. But she couldn’t stop herself either.

  It slipped open easily, and inside lay a single razor blade. It caught the starlight shining in through the tiny bathroom window, and Victoria felt a sense of peace begin to spread.

  She’d always found the razor to be the most efficient. Knives and glass cut too deep, and she only needed small lines to release what was trapped within. A habit she’d formed in her early teens. One she hadn’t practiced in a while. One she’d missed.

  Victoria didn’t flick on the bathroom light. She didn’t need it. She could find the perfect spot with her eyes closed. She grabbed the small razor as a tremble of desire and horror pulsed through her palm.

  Yes—good, Victoria. Payment is due for all she has done.

  Tears already collecting in her eyes, Victoria pulled up her sleeve and lowered the tip of the blade to touch her flesh. A spark of familiarity drove her arm up as she pressed down, breaking the skin. Pain burned up through her limb and down into her fingers. Tears dripped down her cheeks as blood pooled and ran across her wrist.

  And peace settled into her mind as her inner demons were exposed. Victoria closed her eyes and saw Alicen’s face. She started a new line in her skin, dragging the blade up her wrist. She was paying for Alicen’s weakness.

  For now this will do, but she needs to atone. So you can atone.

  Yes, Victoria thought as she started a third drag in her skin. Alicen would pay for her filth. If necessary, she would pay with her life.

  19

  The stronger dose of antipsychotics didn’t take long to get comfortable in her system. The next few days passed in a slow sludge of what her reality would possibly be like from now on. A massive cloud of eternal fog that shut out most of the world. She could still see everything, of course; she could still hear the words, but everything was captured in a haze. The colors weren’t as bright, and no one’s words were as clear. But the children and their haunting whispers were gone, and for all intents and purposes, Alicen’s mind seemed mended.