A silence stretches between us. I know she is waiting for me to confess my deep, dark secrets. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m fine. The heavy silence continues, her waiting for me to talk, me waiting for her to leave. At last she moves, but not in the direction I’m hoping.
She touches my shoulder. “I know you’re not going to like what I’m going to say next but, I don’t think you should use the Vertix anymore. It’s dangerous. I think that’s what's prompting all this weird behavior.”
My eyes, once heavy, snap wide open. I sit up, my sudden alertness chasing the strange visions away. “What do you mean stop?” I bark. “Stop using it altogether? No. I can’t do that.”
Sarah withdraws her hand, surprised by the intensity of my reaction. “You can’t see what it’s doing to you, Mags. You’re a completely different person. It’s like a parasite is slowly eating away at your sanity. I know you see things, I hear you in here…talking, yelling, crying sometimes when you have to disconnect from it. It’s not healthy, Mags. It wasn’t designed for this sort of dependency.”
I recall the conversation I overheard on the train and a snarl rips from behind my teeth. “Are you saying I’m addicted?” I growl, remembering what they called people who couldn’t control themselves. Losers.
“I don’t know if that’s even a thing, Mags. I’m just telling you what I’ve seen,” Sarah says. I feel the bed shift as she stands.
My blood boils and my amygdala kicks into hyperdrive. I leap off the bed and stalk toward Sarah like a bloodthirsty wolf cornering a kill. My body feels alive, powerful. I shrug out of my coat, my skin suddenly burning. Sarah’s eyes are wide.
“There’s nothing wrong with me. God, what the hell is your problem? Everyone else seems to get it. People use the Vertix all day, every day, just like me. All I want to do is be able to relax and unwind, just like you, but all I get is shit from you, from Jeremy, and from my boss. What I do with it is my business. I’m not twelve, I can take care of myself,” I cry, backing Sarah out of my room and into the hallway.
For a moment Sarah stares at me from the hallway, taking in this new, aggressive Maggie. Her eyes wander down my frame and widen with horror. “What is that? Maggie your hand! You’re bleeding!” she says with a gasp, pointing a shaking finger to my left arm.
I glance down. My pale brown sweater is soaked with crimson blood and the fabric has grown stiff. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
Sarah shakes her head. “No, it’s not! What happened? That looks bad. Are those teeth marks? Did a dog attack you?”
I wave my other hand in front of my face. “No, it’s just a scratch I—”
“A scratch?” Sarah’s voice raises an octave. “Maggie are you blind? You have a gash on your wrist, and you’re dripping blood everywhere! At least let me help you wash it out.”
“Look, I told you. It’s nothing,” I say, taking a step back. The twenty minutes must almost be up. Just a few more and I can relax.
“Maggie, you can’t play this off. That cut is going to get infected. You can’t just leave it like that,” Sarah scolds.
“I’m not a child. I can take care of myself. Like I said, it’s nothing. It’s only been bleeding for a few minutes, it’ll clot soon enough,” I insist.
Sarah throws her hands up in defeat. “At least cover it up for Christ’s sake. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get all that blood out of the floor.” She goes into the bathroom and I hear her throw open the vanity cupboards, shuffling around the numerous styling irons and miscellaneous beauty products.
Taking advantage of Sarah’s absence, I duck back into my room and pull the door shut behind me. My heart soars as the little blue pad glows brightly, signaling the Vertix is near full battery. I race to the charger, lift the Vertix and swipe to activate it. Just a few more seconds. I settle on my bed and lift the device to my neck as the sensors extend. My bedroom door bangs open.
Sarah’s hands are loaded with cotton balls, gauze, and hydrogen peroxide. Her mouth is frozen in a large O as her eyes zero in on the copper device almost to my neck. “Seriously, Maggie? You’re already running back to that thing?”
I sigh, my irritation raging out of control. The itching in my ear has reached a new high, coupled with a piercing cry like that of a fire siren. My head twitches to the side as I try to clear it, re-establish my equilibrium, but the shrill sound only grows louder. I see Sarah’s lips moving but I can’t hear anything. I know she’s yelling at me to listen, but the only way I can is to connect.
I feel the bed vibrate as she stalks over to me, her face a mask of fury. All I want to do is be left alone in peace to escape the demonic images that have haunted me since Andy’s place. Sarah’s lips are moving, her arms gesturing. I strain against the blaring sound, and the itching source makes itself known. There’s a beetle in my ear, its tiny jaws clicking a mocking message deep inside my mind.
“What?” I say, trying to read Sarah’s lips, but they’re moving too fast.
“Not a word, huh? You don’t even care. Well you know what, Maggie? I’m done. I’m done trying to talk sense into that thick skull of yours. Take these or don’t. Bleed out for all I care,” she yells, tossing the supplies at me. The cotton balls and cylinder of gauze bounce off my lap and the peroxide lands with a muted thud beside my thigh, its contents sloshing around inside the brown container. My stomach flips at the sound, the nausea instant.
I know Sarah’s angry, know somewhere deep down this is a crucial point in our friendship and it’s beginning to teeter heavily on the side of no return. I watch her go, a pain blossoming sharp and poignant in my gut, but one I can’t focus on right now. Just let me fix this first. Let me get right. Then I’ll talk to her and everything will be fine. I close my eyes and lower the Vertix into place.
A moment later the sensors slide in, secure against my spinal cord as they burrow into my brain stem. Delicious surges of dopamine attach to my receptors, crafting a beautiful picture inside my occipital lobe.
Welcome Maggie. Where can I take you? the Vertix asks.
The itching, nausea, and shrill cries dissipate, leaving me alone. Although I’m never really alone. Take me anywhere. Take me far away from everything, I plead as I lay back down on the flat pillows.
Of course. That’s what I do best, the Vertix responds. I begin to fade away to a world that’s so much easier than reality.
• • • • •
“I’m going out with some friends tonight, don’t wait up for me. Not that you would anyway,” Sarah says, more to herself than to me.
The front door slams and she’s gone. I set my favorite tea mug back down on the fraying placemat I found at a little antique shop years ago and swallow. The hot liquid travels down my throat, warming my stomach like a burning ember from deep inside. My body is silent, having learned long ago to survive on nothing more than a few crackers and a little yogurt.
My hands relax around the mug as I lean back, tapping my nails against the paint-splattered ceramic. I flick past the third page of help wanted ads, wrinkling my nose at the description for a shipping laborer. No, thank you. I frown, closing the paper with its limited posts. This is dumb anyway. I’ve been looking for a month. There’s nothing out there.
I open Wall Art and wander. Every frame seems to depict a winter wonderland or feature green and red colors.
Choosing a large frame at random, I step into the happy scene, the beautiful snowy landscape drawing me in. Four smiling strangers materialize around me, laughing as they throw messy snowballs at one another. I recognize one of the girls from work. They’re all my age, dressed in thick coats, heavy boots, and knitted scarves and hats. It looks like a double date. I glance down at my own outfit. I’m still clad in my stained sweats and navy tee with a French bulldog wearing glasses. I’ve had it on for the past two days and the fabric clings to me like a second skin.
I pick my feet up in the ankle-deep snow and see I’m still in my socks, the big toe of my left foot exposed, and the cold sends ch
ills up my spine. I place my foot back into the snow and look at the others. All of them have chapped lips and red noses and I see the wind blowing the girls’ long hair. I wrap my arms tight around my body to fend off the wind chill, but it does little to help. In my left eye I glance down. I’m still holding my tea mug but feel none of its warmth. The Vertix has my senses hostage.
“Rowan, cut it out!” one of the girls cries, pulling my attention back to the young adults before me.
“No way! The Rowanator cannot be beaten!” the taller boy with light brown eyes jokes, heaving a huge handful of snow at both girls.
They shriek and throw up their mittens in a sorry attempt to block the snow from reaching them. I giggle as the girls retaliate, forming loose snow balls and letting them fly at the boys. I join in too, scooping the snow with my bare hands and chucking it with theirs. A bright smile crosses my features as I launch my snowball and get hit in return. I spin around as the boys start to circle us, fluffy snow hitting me in the neck, the face and the head. It’s glorious and a real laugh escapes my lips in a puff of white air. The sound is foreign to my ears.
“All right, all right, we surrender!” the girls scream, running away toward the towering pine trees.
“Aha! Victory!” Rowan yells, pounding his chest. The two boys high five as the girls turn and rejoin them. I take a few steps forward, falling in step with the girls. I’ve never talked to them before, but I feel comfortable, like we’re old friends.
“So which one should we pick?” the blonde asks before throwing back her head to catch a full flake on her tongue.
“Ah, how about that one?” the other boy says, pointing to a large pine tree several yards away. “What do you think, Krista?”
The girl from work smiles and nods, itching the skin below her soft yellow Vertix. “Yeah that one looks beautiful! Will it fit in the cabin though? It looks pretty big.”
Rowan reaches down and retrieves a large saw from a gleaming wooden toboggan and lifts his long legs through the snow. “Sure! It’s all in the trimming. The car on the other hand might be an issue. Sam, go stand on that end and prop it up in case it starts to fall,” he instructs.
The blonde beside me claps as the boys begin to cut the tree, the quiet landscape interrupted by the gnawing of the saw as it bites into the bark. “My goodness,” she says, exhaling.
Her tagged lavender eyes glisten and a few snowflakes cling to her long lashes. She looks like a snow princess.
“Can you believe Christmas is in two days?” She sighs. “This is my favorite tradition.”
“I know. I didn’t think we’d be able to get out here with your crazy work schedule and Sam’s sick sister,” Krista admits. “Although I don’t see why we couldn’t just have a tree delivered. I literally can’t feel my toes.” She laughs and picks up her foot.
The blonde groans and hits her friend lightly with her mitten. “No! Come on! This is so much better than getting it delivered. Those trees are always so dull and ugly. Here, we get to pick ours out fresh!”
Krista shakes her head. “Whatever, Maggie. I’m still not sure it’s worth losing a finger.”
I do a double take. Is she talking to me?
Maggie rolls her eyes and rewraps her scarf around her neck. Her creamy white skin peeks at me through the brightly knitted colors. “Oh, you old scrooge, you’ll be fine,” she says with a laugh. “Do you have any more shopping to do when we get back?”
Krista shrugs. “Eh, I think I have everything pretty much done, but I’ll go with you if you want.”
Shopping? Christmas? How did I miss that? I turn in the kitchen chair to check the calendar hanging above the table. There’s a large X through the twenty-third of December. Does that mean…today’s Christmas Eve?
“Oh perfect! I’ve been so bad this year. I have no idea what to get for Mark. My brother is the hardest person to shop for!” Maggie groans, rubbing her hands together. “Oh wow, look at the sun!”
All three of us turn to look. The sun is breaking away from the thick clouds, transforming the serene woods with a subtle touch, like an artist brushing the scene with a golden paintbrush. My jaw drops as the sunlight catches the sparkling snow, creating an enchanted wonderland. The sawing stops and the sound of boots crunching atop the snow alerts us that the boys have rejoined us.
“It’s so beautiful,” Maggie whispers.
I look away from the blinding sun, more interested in the happy girl beside me. We share the same name, we both have a brother, and we’re even close to the same age. Apart from the blonde hair, she could be me. I could be her. What happened? What did I do wrong? Why isn’t this me? I had lots of friends. Sarah and I used to bake holiday cookies and decorate the apartment together. We’d skate on the pond in the park and wait in line with the little kids to see Santa. Why did I lose all of that? How did I lose all that time?
It takes me a moment to realize I’m no longer in the snow-filled memory. The frame has kicked me out, leaving me standing amidst a sea of everyone else’s memories—everyone else’s joy—as they get ready to spend holidays with loved ones and transition into the new year. I look down at the table, overwhelmed with a crushing sense of loneliness. For so long I’ve been watching others, pretending to share in their happiness. I haven’t shared any memories. There are no frames with me smiling brightly. I don’t even know how to take a picture with this thing.
I glance at the digital clock on our ancient microwave. It’s only two in the afternoon. Abandoning my tea, I push back in my chair, scraping the wooden legs across the linoleum, and hurry into the bathroom. I strip off my clothes and crank the water on. Without a second thought, I disconnect the Vertix. Without the constant supply of dopamine, my loneliness magnifies exponentially and I feel the weight of staggering depression envelope me. I try to remember the past four months, remember who I used to be before my life changed. How did this happen? How did I let it? I look at myself in the steamy mirror and shudder. This isn’t real, this isn’t me.
I run my hands along my bony hips, feeling the sharp angles of my pelvis that used to be swathed in soft curves. My once athletic figure is shrunken down to brittle skin and bones. The little chest that I had is gone. I look like a pre-pubescent child. I hold up my t-shirt. The medium size I’ve always worn swallows me as if I’m wearing one of Andy’s shirts. How is this possible? Why didn’t I notice? Where have I been?
I slip the soiled shirt over my head and let it drop to the tile at my feet. I refuse to look at my anorexic body again. I climb in the shower and tilt my head back, letting the water wash away my thoughts, my fears. Too soon though, my body begins to rebel without the constant feed of the Vertix. I do my best to ignore the itching, the cravings, the echoing emptiness as my brain searches for the state of euphoria the Vertix provides. I know I only have a few minutes before my systems begin to shut down and the visionary terrors take me, but I continue to stand in the hot water. For the first time a tiny thought enters my mind.
What would my life be like if I never experienced the Vertix?
The water turns to bullets peppering my back and tiny spiders begin to crawl out of the small wounds. I’ll never know.
I plunge my hands into my coat pockets to escape the incessant wind chill. My copper device warms the back of my neck as I stand in the swirling snow outside the fragrance shop L’Amour.
There aren’t many options. There isn’t enough time to buy thoughtful gifts online. This store carries some high-end fragrances I know Sarah loves, so maybe I can choose a new one. I pull open the door and enter the fairytale land of Prada and Chanel.
Cheerful holiday music plays overhead and my spirits soar with all the festive decorations. My gaze travels upward and I marvel at the ceiling. It looks like fluffy snowflakes are drifting down from the slowly turning ceiling fan, dusting me in a fine white layer.
“Bonjour, welcome to L’Amour,” a chipper voice calls.
I glance around and see a pretty Asian girl with long black hair w
earing a Santa hat smiling at me. She’s dressed in a knee-length black dress, the scoop neck accentuating her cleavage. “Thanks.”
She leaves an intricate display and saunters over to me, a large smile on her pink lips. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Umm, I don’t really know,” I admit.
“No problem,” the girl says with a smile, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
She has a rose tattoo behind her ear, the thorny stem trailing down her neck. I also see the rounded edge of a silver Vertix and frown, looking the sales girl up and down. She looks so put together, so fresh.
“Who are you shopping for?”
“My roommate—my friend,” I reply, not sure how accurate the last part is.
The girl doesn’t notice my hesitation. “Great, guy or girl?”
“Girl.”
“Okay, follow me over here and I’ll show you all of our newest fragrances. They just came out in time for the holidays,” the salesgirl explains as she slides behind the glass counter. She starts pulling out bottle after bottle, each one fancier than the last.
“All right, let’s get started with this one,” she says, unscrewing the top off a short, plump green bottle. She bends back down and withdraws a small wipe from under the counter. “May I?”
I nod, pulling back the sleeve of my coat and extending the pale skin of my right arm. Warm pink color floods my cheeks as the evidence of an old hallucination is illustrated on the inside of my arm. Angry red lines slash and crisscross from my wrist to my forearm, a result of the infuriating itching. I don’t miss the salesgirl’s lingering gaze.
“So this is to clean your skin and allow the fragrance to really pop as it mixes with your chemistry,” she says, gently wiping the damp cloth along my arm, careful to avoid my gaze.
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