“I couldn’t . . .” Tears snuffed out her words and dripped off her chin. She had tucked away memories of her baby, erased them from her mind, and now they hurled themselves at her like bullets. “I couldn’t let our evil destroy him. Children should be protected.”
The silence grew, spreading deep into her ear canals and pressing against her brain. Her hands started to tremble as sorrow and anger rolled up from her belly in equal measures. She could still feel the pillow between her hands. There in the shadows of her room. His newborn body so small and helpless. She hadn’t needed to apply much pressure; she hadn’t needed much time. Smothering his life had been easy. She chased away the memories of the first life she’d taken. It had been the only way. A necessary sacrifice.
“I saved him,” she whispered. “I paid my debts with his life. I was paying my debts!” Her voice rose and filled the small space, ringing in the silence, then fell quiet without a response. She huffed in fury, hot, angry tears filling her eyes. “Don’t abandon me now!”
Another beat of silence passed. Victoria let out a horrid scream and banged her fist against the steering wheel. Over and over, with another loud crack of her vocal cords. And then she went still. Short breaths coming and leaving her mouth. Her eyes fixed forward through the windshield on nothing but an empty parking lot. She was losing control. She switched her anger to a different target. Alicen.
Alicen was doing this to her.
Victoria brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen in her face and took a steady inhale. This was no one’s fault but Alicen’s. She was refusing to be held accountable. Victoria thought Alicen could be fixed, saved. A device to help Victoria make amends for her own mistakes. But if Alicen wouldn’t accept help, then there was only one road left. Victoria wouldn’t continue to pay for Alicen’s mistakes.
Death.
Victoria took a relieved breath. “I thought you had forsaken me.”
You would never let me be free.
“No,” Victoria said. “You’re my trouble.”
Kill her as you killed me, as you killed him.
“Yes. It is the only way.”
It will not bring you forgiveness for what you’ve done.
“Forgiveness is a myth.”
Uncle Donald’s voice fell silent again as the solution crystallized in Victoria’s mind. Payment was necessary. As Victoria had paid with the life of her child and the life of her uncle, Alicen would pay. With her life.
23
The moment Alicen was aware of her existence, the pain started. Deep throbbing, seeming to stem from the middle of her brain, coursed down her neck and spine. She couldn’t open her eyes or move her limbs; all she could do was be still and feel the suffering of her body.
A stream of questions started to materialize, but before they could become clear, Alicen’s natural defenses shooed them off. She was too weak for curiosity. Too weak for analysis. Instead she focused on breathing, which itself required labored effort.
Muffled voices rubbed at the edge of her consciousness, and she opened her eyes to clouded darkness. Light peeked through in bits and pieces, so she wasn’t sure if it was actually dark in the place she was or if her vision just wasn’t working. She couldn’t make out any words, just mumbled tones from unknown sources.
The darkness blocking Alicen’s vision started to lighten, turning a deep shade of gray and slowly lessening as images began to form. She saw movement to the side and sent a signal to her neck to turn her head. Nothing happened. She was still frozen solid, the chemical connection between thought and motion severed.
The images forming before Alicen firmed and took solid shapes. Walls, a ceiling, the railings of a bed, a bedside table, a lamp. Things close to her and easy to make out, along with two people standing across the room.
A taller woman, dark hair, dark suit, a presence of command about her. An older man standing opposite the woman, the two caught up in conversation. Their voices were strained, cottony, as if coming through a thick wall before reaching her ears.
“With all due respect,” the man said, “in my medical opinion, I’m just not sure this course of treatment is best for her.”
“Your concerns have been noted, Dr. Wells,” the woman said, “but the call is mine to make.”
Finally Alicen’s brain was awake enough to communicate with the rest of her body, and she moved her chin slightly so that her eyes were directly pointed at the two bodies standing in the corner of the room. The fog and shadows cleared then, and the room became a complete picture, though she still wasn’t sure where she was, or why. It was as if a stopper had been placed between her current brain activity and the memories of her past.
The man noticed Alicen staring at them and motioned toward the dark-haired woman with a nod in Alicen’s direction.
The woman turned and smiled at her. “Alicen, you’re awake.” She took a small step forward, and Alicen noticed how perfectly even her skin was. A prick of familiarity nibbled at her mind, and even though she couldn’t remember how, Alicen thought maybe she knew this beautiful stranger.
“How are you feeling?” the old man beside her asked.
Alicen wanted to reply, but she was still regaining control of her body, so her jaw seemed unusable. She racked her brain for something to stabilize her situation but came up empty. She just couldn’t remember.
“Don’t worry; this is normal,” the woman said. She looked back over her shoulder toward the man. “That will be all, Dr. Wells,” she said.
The doctor hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, but after a moment turned his attention to Alicen. “I’ll come by later when you’ve had more rest,” he said.
“That won’t be necessary,” the woman responded. “I’ll take it from here.”
Again the doctor seemed unsure what to do, but knowing his place, he finally sent Alicen a small smile and left the room.
When he was gone, the familiar woman took a step toward Alicen’s bedside, reached for a chair that stood against the wall beside the small nightstand, and moved it to face Alicen. She sat, her eyes holding Alicen’s face close. “Do you mind if I sit with you for a little while?”
Alicen didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure she could have if she’d wanted. She just watched as the woman leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs.
“You are probably a bit confused; again, that’s completely normal, so let’s start with the basics. I’m Victoria, the administrator here. Do you know where here is, Alicen?”
Alicen’s eyes darted around the room, searching for something that might give her a clue, but she came up short. She felt like she should know but couldn’t place the answer through the haze.
“It’s all right. You’re at Clover Mountain Retreat Center in Red Lodge, Montana. Does that sound familiar?”
Alicen swallowed, the muscles in her throat finally feeling normal. The rest of her body was slowly following suit. She could curl her fingers, bend her wrists, twist her ankles. Everything was sore, but being able to send the correct messages to her limbs and have them react accordingly felt like a triumph. Now if only she could get her mind on board.
She tried to push through the cloud of smoke that filled every corner of her brain but only found more smoke. She had feelings but couldn’t pair them with past moments, so they just felt useless. She felt familiar with the things Victoria was saying, but she had no recollection of them.
“You’ve been attending sessions here for the last month but only just recently moved onto campus,” Victoria said. Her tone wasn’t unwelcoming, and that felt mildly reassuring. “Do you mind if I’m a bit blunt with you, Alicen?”
Alicen shook her head and cleared her throat. “No,” she whispered, thankful to find a word.
“You tried to kill yourself a couple of days ago; do you remember that?”
Alicen registered a wave of surprise and searched for the sense of familiarity she’d been receiving as Victoria spoke. Nothing. How could she not recall trying to kill herself?
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“I know you’re struggling to remember,” Victoria said. “Don’t worry; you haven’t lost all of your memories. You’ve been given a mixture of antipsychotics and sedatives for the last forty-eight hours to ensure you don’t harm yourself again. The effects of this combination can result in memory blocks that should fade with time.”
As if Victoria’s words had an echo, they filled Alicen’s head space. To ensure you don’t harm yourself again. Pressure filled the center of her forehead. A mixture of antipsychotics and sedatives.
“Am I crazy?” Alicen asked.
“We don’t really like to use that word around here, but it’s safe to say you aren’t well, Alicen.”
“Will I remember?” Her voice was building in strength but still sounded rough and groggy.
“Do you want to remember? It will be very painful for you,” Victoria said.
Alicen felt the wheels of logic begin to crank in her brain. “Painful enough that I would rather be dead,” she said more to herself than to Victoria. The striking woman didn’t respond but instead waited as the reality of Alicen’s situation started to take up residence in her mind. Something had broken her enough that she wanted to die rather than live with the pain.
A heavy and sudden wave of sorrow began in her legs and rolled up her entire body until it was the only thing she could feel. Loss, strong enough that Alicen struggled to breathe, pressed against her chest like an anvil. Tears caught at the backs of her eyes, and pity filled her throat. An image of a sweet little girl danced through her mind, and in a single moment Alicen remembered her. “Jane,” she whispered as tears escaped down her cheeks.
Victoria leaned forward and placed a soft hand on Alicen’s forearm. “I understand, Alicen, more than you know.” Sorrow flashed across Victoria’s face, and her eyes seemed to look past Alicen to a different place entirely as she spoke. “I lost a child once. A son. The world is a dark place, and children should be protected.”
Victoria’s voice had fallen to a whisper, and she lingered on her words for a short moment before switching off whatever she was seeing behind her eyes and focusing back on Alicen. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’m going to take away the pain.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” Victoria said. “Would you like that?”
Alicen nodded and sniffed, her agony still clawing at her insides like a caged animal. Victoria smiled and pressed a large button on the end of Alicen’s bed. The front half started to rise slightly as a mechanical humming buzzed through the room until Alicen was comfortably situated in a near-seated position. Victoria then reached over to the nightstand beside Alicen’s bed. On top a small white cup was perched. Alicen hadn’t even noticed it before, but there it was. Victoria grabbed it gently, placed it in her palm, and held it out for Alicen to see.
Inside were a handful of pills of different colors, shapes, and sizes. Alicen glanced from the medication back to Victoria, who was sweetly smiling, almost with pride.
“These will take your pain away,” Victoria said. “I hand-selected each one myself. I know better than anyone what you need.”
Alicen looked at the pills as more pain erupted through her senses. Whispers from the past ignited more memories that amplified her torment. Statements such as, “You’re very sick, honey,” and “You’re seeing figments that aren’t real,” and “We just all want you to get better” filtered through her mind like thick waves of smoke. Words like suicide and schizophrenia accompanied the phrases, adding more fuel to her burning pain. Images of her concerned mother, her exhausted friend Louise, then a picture of Grandma Joe swept in and out like licking flames.
You’re sick like your grandmother was sick, Alicen.
You think you see children like your grandma saw children, Alicen.
You’re sleepwalking, Alicen.
You tried to kill yourself, Alicen.
You killed your daughter, Alicen.
You’re completely broken, Alicen.
Shame and regret joined her sense of loss like thick wooden planks added to the already-billowing fire, causing the flames to explode with heat. Alicen wanted to cry out in pain as memories continued to hurl themselves at her, each one seeming to add another layer of suffering.
You did this to yourself, Alicen.
You’re crazy, Alicen.
You’ll never be free of this, Alicen.
Get a grip, Alicen.
Act like an adult, Alicen.
What would your mother say, Alicen?
“You don’t have to feel this way if you don’t want,” Victoria said, snapping Alicen back to reality. “You can feel nothing.” Victoria reached her palm out farther so that it was only inches from Alicen’s chin.
“The choice is yours,” Victoria said. “But it isn’t automatic. You have to take it.”
A longing for the numbed state she’d woken to fixed itself like a pillar in Alicen’s gut. She didn’t want to remember anything more. She didn’t want to feel the agony or shame of what she had done. She only wanted escape.
Yet there was something else, too. A tickling deeper than her skin and bones. A feeling she couldn’t explain but could feel. Like hearing a tune but being unable to remember the lyrics.
When through deep waters.
The rest is only shadows.
There is another way.
“They were real,” Alicen mumbled, her heart invading her mind.
“Who were real?” Victoria questioned. “The children?”
“They were sent to help me remember.” The words were coming from Alicen’s lips, but even as she said them they sounded impossible.
“Sent from whom? A greater being? God?” Victoria let her words stand as Alicen’s mind mocked the thought of such a thing. “You believe God is trying to save you? After everything you’ve done? A mother who failed her daughter?”
Alicen’s original state of shame swept across the strange sensation that had tried to break through. Pain strong enough to cloud everything with darkness. A reality she was starting to remember, leading her toward a single truth.
“Look at me,” Victoria said.
Alicen did as she was told.
“God is not trying to save you.”
Alicen swallowed, a fresh wave of tears filling in behind her eyes.
“But I am trying to save you,” Victoria continued. “You are troubled. Take the pills, Alicen. Stop fighting your true nature.”
Victoria was right. Alicen was foolish for believing anything different. Her mind was broken, a cruel fate she’d brought on herself. And that was enough for Alicen. She reached out and took the small cup, its contents looking like freedom.
“Good, Alicen; that’s good,” Victoria said. “There will be some side effects, so don’t be alarmed. But it will be worth it. Trust me.”
Alicen downed all the pills with ease, watching as Victoria’s face glowed with satisfaction. She told Alicen a couple things about her new medication regimen that seemed mildly important, but Alicen barely heard her. The moment the drugs hit her system, the world started to haze.
She could see Victoria’s lips moving, could hear the mumble of words, but mostly Alicen’s head was filled with the satisfying calm that came from feeling nothing. Welcoming the sensation, she let the meds take her down into a surreal state of peace.
24
Days passed slowly, like watching paint dry. Alicen barely left her room. She was hardly able to, and it was getting worse by the day. The side effects Victoria had warned her about were cruel. Piercing headaches and stomach cramps, vomiting up most of what she managed to get down. Hours would pass where she would feel like maybe she’d finally adjusted to the medication, and then she’d experience hours of physical torment and fear she never would.
On top of that, her mind was caught up in a constant haze. Like sitting behind a thick screen, knowing the world was in front of her but not really being able to experience it. It was better this way, Victoria said. She visited often, delivering Al
icen’s pills herself. Reassuring Alicen that soon the pain would be gone.
A couple times Dr. Wells had come and sat near the end of her bed in a pulled-up chair. He asked her how she was feeling and if she needed anything. She never responded with more than a nod or smile. He sounded concerned at seeing her in such pain. She even overheard him testing Victoria on the medication regimen, but Victoria never wavered.
At some point in the last few days, Alicen had stopped caring that everything made her vomit or ache. Physical pain was preferable to memories of Jane racking her soul. At least the numbing agony stopped the guilt and heartache. And Victoria kept promising it would be better soon. So Alicen suffered alone, in her room, wishing for the better that was promised her to come sooner.
Currently she was curled up on top of her half-made bed. She’d managed to shower and put on normal clothes that morning. At least normal for Clover Mountain. Gray cotton pants and matching gray long-sleeve top. A navy button-up sweater topped it off. She wore white socks with no slippers.
A young female nurse had delivered lunch ten minutes earlier, and the food sat untouched on the small desk across the room. There was a soft knock on her door, and after a moment’s delay, the door opened, and Louise poked her head inside. “Hey,” she said.
Alicen tried for a smile but gave up. She thought about sitting or even rolling over to better see her friend, but all movement felt like wading through sludge. So instead she did nothing.
Louise smiled and walked in. She was alone. The same as the last time she’d come. Alicen wasn’t surprised. Betty didn’t do hospitals, even if they were called retreat centers. Louise shut the door behind her and crossed the room, carrying a brown paper bag against her left side. She must have noticed it drew Alicen’s attention, because she held it out and shrugged.
“I thought you could use some things from home,” Louise said. “They took the face cleanser I brought—some chemical thing—but otherwise everything else cleared.”
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