by Jaz Johnson
She noticed, that even though the winds around the room grew more violent, that none of the flying debris seemed to be hitting her. And then she saw it. A thin layer of something that looked like a wall of some kind was surrounding her. She could see bits and pieces of rubble bang against the shield-like surface and deflect away from her. It was then that she thought of this as a possibility of what happened in the forest. Could this have protected her from the falling tree crushing her? Saphora stared wide-eyed at the enraged Tebias, who was still trying to get at Saphora. But it seemed to be that the more he attempted to reach her, the stronger the winds got.
Then, with sudden speed, the house seemed to crumble around her. The walls were knocked in, causing the roof to come down on top of them, covering everything beneath it. But Saphora remained untouched. The rubble piled up around the shield-like surface that surrounded her. Planks of wood sticking up around the sphere. Tebias was lost beneath the rummage – at least to her eye. And he was. The collapse of the home was more than enough to render Tebias immobile for the next several hours, if not days. For the wind that was released was not the only thing that was launched around the house. Vida had also sent a specific attack towards Tebias’ body. Not enough to kill him, but enough to give Saphora enough time to escape and get a reasonable distance away. It hadn’t hit him directly as she had hoped, but it had hit at a good enough angle that, combined with the collapsing of the house, did its job.
It wasn’t long after the surge had stopped, that the protective sphere around Saphora began to fade. She noticed it almost alarmingly when she could suddenly feel the crisp breeze on her face. Her body flinched at the sudden contact, and her arms cringed up against her sides. She looked around at the house with a distant bewilderment. Even though she had just witnessed what had just happened, and almost dared to comprehend it, she was still in shock at the outcome of it all. The sheer destruction made her look down at her own hands, wondering for the first time about the question she was continuously asked.
What am I?
“Now, Saphora …” the voice suddenly rang. But this time it concerned Saphora. She looked around again, wanting desperately to see the face that connected to the voice. But again, she saw no one. She kept looking though, because of the sound of exhaustion in the woman’s voice. “Leave. You must go. Take the vehicle,” she said, as if she were out of breath. Saphora’s heart seemed to ache at the sound of the pain in the woman’s voice. The only person who had been able to make her feel safe in this terrifying situation, sounded like she was injured – as if what had just taken place had taken a toll on her. Her gaze shifted uneasily around the rubble, even though she was aware that she wouldn’t be able to see the woman. Looking somehow made her feel more at ease – like she was able to do something if she could just somehow pin point what direction the voice was coming from. In vain, she tried to talk back to the voice.
“Where – who are you?” Saphora called out above the faint sound of leaking pipes and settling debris. The woman did not answer. Saphora whined, looking around, as her hands began to shake. She repeated herself, and still, there was no answer. Looking down and around, she slowly began to make her way out of what was left of the house. “Hello?” she called out. When the rubble began to shift from the wind and continuously settling onto the ground, she was suddenly aware that Tebias could pop back up from under the rubble at any given moment with even more rage than he previously held. That would make the third time she had been able to escape him. She wanted to keep the streak going. At least until she was able to get to Fran. So for now she gave up on looking for the voice, and focused on easing her body’s tension enough to get to the run down pick-up truck that was parked by the house in the driveway. Her body was trembling, and her mind was scattered about the destruction, but still she forced herself to make it to the truck. She knew she would be stealing it, even if she was using it to save her life. But she couldn’t be concerned with that right now. She had to get out of there. She didn’t know what had become of Tebias, but she couldn’t write him off as being dead. The last two times she had assumed that, he came back raging. She could only imagine that he would eventually do the same thing after recovering from this.
Finding the keys to the truck in the ignition, Saphora was able to start it up on the third try, and begin her stressed journey home to find Fran and tell her about her concerns regarding Tebias and the woman she heard.
********
“Vida!” Artemis screeched as she reached out to aid the swaying queen. Vida placed her hands on the table before her, trying to keep herself standing as she panted from her sudden loss of stability. She had been exhausting her energy, continuously stressing about what she would do about the return of her daughter, while wondering what she could do to keep her safe in the meantime. And on top of that, each time she took the time to communicate with her and/or act through her, she spent a little more of the strength she was continuously losing. The tiny Artemis gripped her queen’s arm, and looked up at her with deep concern. She had exerted too much, and was now paying for it. Vida brought her left hand to her temple and tried to balance herself with the help of her friend.
“M’lady?” she asked again. Vida nodded and gave a wary smile down at Artemis.
“I’m alright, Artemis. I’m alright … She’s safe. For now,” she said, short of breath. Artemis’ face pinged with distress at seeing her friend in such a vulnerable state. Especially at a time like this when they needed her to be strong.
“Vida, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re not strong enough to keep up these spells. If you keep doing this as you have … We need you, Vida,” she urged, addressing her friend by her name. Carefully, she led her over to her throne, helping her sit down. Vida smiled, and placed her other and on her friend’s shoulder.
“I know. But I will not leave my daughter to fight a fight that is not hers alone.”
Artemis was silent as she looked at the exhaustion on her queen’s face.
“Besides. She has awoken some of her power. And she is now aware that she has them,” she said with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “It’s only a matter of time before she masters them.”
Artemis nodded, gripping onto her arm.
“It is how much time that concerns me.”
Vida was silent, at the comment Artemis made. Her mind pensive. And then it occurred to her, having known Artemis for so long, that she must have seen something. Otherwise she would not have said such a thing. She did not make comments of dread and worry unless she was aware of an unfortunate future. Vida looked up at Artemis, whose eyes, behind big round glasses, held dismay.
“What have you seen, Artemis?” she asked her, tightening her grip on her shoulder.
Chapter 3
With the small sting of pain coursing through her left temple, Saphora groaned as she slipped into consciousness. Slowly, her lashes fluttered until her eyes were squinting open and warily looking around. Her lungs felt dense, and heavy. And her body seemed to not want to listen to her commands to move. Her breathing was slow and strained, and it made her a bit nervous, wondering what had happened. Her eyes struggled to stay open, but were motivated by the sight of Fran sitting at the side of her bed. Her expression was grave, and her eyes were red. With some effort, Saphora was able to turn her head to look at her face to face.
“Fran?” she asked, more concerned with why she looked upset than with what was wrong with her own body.
“Hi, honey,” she said in a broken voice as she reached out to hold her hand. She wrapped her larger one around Saphora’s and squeezed. Saphora didn’t like that. She didn’t like the body language Fran was giving. What was going on? She couldn’t recall anything.
“What happened?” Saphora asked. “What’s wrong with me? I can’t … really move.”
“You’ll be able to move soon … You … You came home so strangely yesterday,” Fran tried to explain. Saphora’s brows pulled together in confusion.
“Yeste
rday?” Fran nodded.
“You came home and started talking nonsense. Something about some man trying to kill you – you were all banged up and driving someone’s truck. Honey, where did you get the truck?”
The mentioning of a man caught Saphora’s attention, and slowly began piecing things back together. Against her body’s better judgment, she tried to sit up. Fran straightened up in her seat, ready to help if she needed it.
“You should take it easy. The drugs haven’t worn off yet. Dr. Lupin said you should rest for the next 24 hours.”
Saphora’s head spun. Not from the drugs. But from being told that she had been given drugs. She had never taken any type of medical substance in her life – that she could remember. Saphora turned to look at Fran with an expression resembling anger. And then that of confusion. She didn’t remember taking drugs. Nor being given them. What were they doing to her? Were they affecting her memory? Or was her brain merely unable to recall due to its own deconstruction?
“Drugs? Fran – “. The room spun for a moment and Saphora fought to keep herself upright. Fran jerked forward to place one hand behind her back and the other under her arm that was closest to her. Saphora placed her palm against her head and closed her eyes in attempt to calm her vision, which was slightly blurred. “What happened?”
“You were talking about some man. And someone screaming. Or something, I don’t know. You also told me you fell out of the … you know where. How many times have I told you not to do you know what so high? You know it makes-“
“Why are you talking like that?” Saphora asked in slight annoyance, cutting her off. Fran paused, with a somewhat misplaced glance around the room. Fran only spoke like that when they were around people. Saphora looked around the room once again, thinking maybe she missed someone else’s presence.
“Talking like what?”
Saphora didn’t bother to answer the obvious question she had used to answer her own. Her eyes strained to scan the room once again, this time looking for anything out of place. Fran was a horrible liar. She always answered questions with questions when she had something to hide. Of course there could have been the possibility that she was just unaware of the context of her question. But with such a topic, Saphora knew that wasn’t the case. Not with that topic. Especially after what had just happened. And then she saw, from the corner of her eye, the door to her bedroom move. There were no windows open. The house was not on a tilt. It creaked inwards ever so slightly, and Saphora groaned.
“Why are you hiding?” she called out in the door’s direction. Fran flinched, raising her hands, as if pleading for Saphora to calm down. She’d been found out. But she wasn’t worried for herself, so much as the snooping Dr. Lupin. “Get in here,” she ordered. She was becoming angry. Not only did this man drug her without consent that she was sure she didn’t give, but he had the audacity to hide from her afterwards and have Fran attempt to cover for him.
“Saphora,” Fran said in a hard tone. She wasn’t one to condone rudeness. Even under the present circumstances. Her expression turned harsh at Saphora’s sudden movements to sit at the edge of the bed.
“Come on!” she shouted in aggravation. Not only was she fuming from the fact that she had evidently been drugged, but she was enraged that for the second time, she could not remember all the vital bits and pieces of what had previously happened.
“Saphora. You mind your man-“
“It’s alright, Fran. I suppose she has a right to be upset,” came Dr. Lupin’s voice from behind the door. The door that began to open slowly, and reveal his tall figure behind it. After pushing the door open enough to get through, he stuck his slightly balled hands in his pockets and came through the doorway, leaning against it. Saphora’s lip curled as she tried to stand up. But the swiftness of her motion made her head spin, and her diaphragm stretch towards her stomach, making her short of breath. Fran placed her hand on her arm and squeezed, helping her to keep her balance.
“Saphora, please-“
“Why was I drugged? How – When did you-“
“Yesterday, when you came home from who knows where. You were speaking gibberish and beginning to get violent when Fran couldn’t understand you,” he began, coming towards the bedside where Fran sat. He stood behind Fran, looking down at Saphora. “She called me when you weren’t settling down, for help. I gave you a shot to calm you. And you’ve been asleep since.”
“Why can’t I remember?” Saphora asked agitatedly.
Dr. Lupin shook his head nonchalantly.
“Remember what, exactly?” he asked, almost immediately after her question. Saphora’s eyes narrowed at him, a wrinkle forming on the bridge of her nose. “Fran told me you fell. You were pretty banged up when I arrived … Did you hit your head when you fell?”
Saphora’s head shook somewhat, as she tried to calm herself long enough to listen what he was saying. Hit my head? She thought back to crashing into the tree, and then falling out of another one when she had attempted to fly again. And then tripping over the uplifted root onto the ground. It was quite possible that she could have hit her head in the mists of all that.
“I … Maybe. I don’t know,” she said as she raised her hand to search her scalp for any bumps or dents. There were none that she could find, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t hit her head. It was the next day, after all. Lupin nodded, shifting his weight onto his other leg.
“Saphora, I believe that you were hallucinating.”
Saphora smiled. She didn’t know why. But she smiled as she shook her head in protest. Fran watched her carefully.
“What – no, I … I know what I-“
“You may not have been aware of it, but I believe the dreams – your memory, was putting a stress on you. You were desperate to remember. I think the hit to your head may have triggered the hallucinations. But instead of remembering the past, you created a present with the characters.”
Saphora’s temple pinged in denial. Created? No, what? She shook her head, lowering it and staring at her bare feet. Trying to remember clearly what had happened in the woods, her eyes squinted. She couldn’t. Not clearly, anyway.
“No – But … What about the truck? The house?” Saphora looked up at them both. Panic in her voice. “The house was destroyed! I was …”
Lupin tilted his head to the side, taking one hand out of his pocket to push his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.
“You were what?” he asked curiously. The memory of the wall crashing down on that poor man flooded her mind, along with the house’s ultimate undoing. She shook her head, her body feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion. She was fighting with what her brain was telling her, and what she was presently being told. Was she hallucinating? All of it? She looked down at her arms. Her legs. At the scratches and bruises that covered them. Could all that have been from falling?
“I … was there. I saw that man die. The house,” she shook her head. “It was destroyed. What about the house?” she questioned, not yet looking back up at them. Lupin sighed, putting his hand back into his pocket.
“Yes. The owner of the truck. A Mr. Gary Jones. He’s dead.” Lupin agreed.
Fran swung her head up in Lupin’s direction. Her eyes wide and her lips parted. She had been fearing the worst. And there it was – spoken. The owner of the mystery truck was dead. She had hoped that he was still alive.
“What? He’s dead?” she asked, even after hearing the answer. Lupin nodded, and she lowered her head to look back at Saphora. This led to even more haunting questions. “How did he die?” she asked, a bit short of breath as she squeezed on her hand, which had lowered to Saphora’s hand. With the condition that Saphora was currently in, who was to say that Saphora didn’t harm the man enough to lead to his death in her distraught state of mind? Dr. Lupin had told Fran that with her hallucinating about this man, she could have seen his face, instead of Gary Jones. And with her thinking that the man was trying to kill her, it would have been only natural to try and defe
nd herself against him – by any means necessary.
“They didn’t tell me. But they want to speak to Saphora as soon as possible.”
“Who?” Saphora asked. There was a lingering silence in the room that made her stomach churn. Her eyes shot to Fran’s but they averted their gaze. “Fran?” She didn’t answer her. Her heart began to race. What was going on? What happened while she was asleep? The man was dead. Who had told them? Oh god, she thought, having a thought click into place. They think I killed him.
“The police.” Lupin finally spoke up. Her heart jumped against her ribs, seemingly jolting her forward a bit. The police? Every murder-based crime show skid through her mind like the breeze on an open book. The pages stopping on the topic of imprisonment. She swallowed hard. “Since,” Lupin exhaled. “You took off with the victim’s truck immediately after the time of death, they’d like to talk to you about what happened,” he explained. Fran nodded solemnly, imagining all that would go on in the conversation between her and the police. “But don’t worry. Once we explain your mental condition, I’m sure-“
“Mental condition?” Saphora repeated, drawing her gaze to Lupin. That caught her attention, and suddenly made her highly defensive of her sketchy memory. She looked to Fran, waiting for her to protest against the phrase alongside her, but she was silent. Saphora stared for a while longer, until the slight turn of Fran’s head sent a pain to her heart, and a jolt through her legs. She stood up, not caring if she wobbled or not, and kept her eyes on the silent Fran.
“I’m not crazy,” she argued with somewhat of a nervous laugh. Fran stayed quiet, in comparison to the rather loud sigh from Dr. Lupin. Saphora shook her head, balling her fists. “Look – I know what I saw, okay? I may not be able to remember all of it. But I know-“
“Saphora,” Fran said with a tone of disapproval and a soft sigh.
This entire situation was already weighing on her as it was. What with the frantic phone call from Saphora, to leaving work early in search of her. And then to have her come home hysterical, and having to drug her. And now learning of the death of the owner of the truck that she had stolen. The last thing she wanted to do right now was argue. Especially about something that could potentially keep her from going to prison. Fran reached out to take Saphora’s hand, but she snatched it away in frustration.