by Jaz Johnson
“No! I’m not lying. And I wasn’t hallucinating,” she argued.
She looked down in disbelief at Fran, who didn’t respond. “Fran!” she practically cried. She couldn’t believe this. The only person that she had trusted her entire life was just sitting there and letting this happen. Letting this man say these things. Accuse her of insanity. Instability. Fran’s eyes closed with pressure and she raised the hand that she had reached towards Saphora with a flat palm.
“Saphora, please. This has been a stressful two days … Will you just sit down and-“
“Do you think I’m crazy?” Saphora asked with a shaky voice, cutting Fran off. Fran looked up at Saphora, finally. Saw the despair in her eyes. And realized, just a bit, what she was doing. A ping of guilt struck her and she stood with her, reaching her arms around her.
“No. God, no, honey. I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted. I was so worried about you … And now that man is dead and-“
“Do you think I killed him?” Saphora interrupted again, pulling back to look Fran in the eyes. Fran searched her eyes for some kind of truth. And for a moment, she thought she saw some, as blurred as it was. Although she was very hyper aware of the circumstances, she knew her Saphora. Although she tended to find the worst in people, she knew that she would never hurt anyone. Not intentionally. But then she thought about the phone call. How unlike Saphora she sounded. She had never fallen flying before. What if the fall really did mess with her enough to cause hallucinations? What if she didn’t remember hurting the man? Saphora shook her head, gripping onto Fran’s arms. “Fran,” she said, voice trembling. “I didn’t kill him. Please.”
“Maybe you didn’t, Saphora,” Lupin said, chiming in and bringing their attention to him. “But maybe another persona did,” he suggested. Saphora shook her head in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“What if it was the little girl that killed him? The scared little girl from that night? She could have-”
“No!” Saphora shouted, pulling away from Fran and startling her some. Saphora moved towards the doctor and he took a step back. The shirt-like gown moved across her body as she took her angry steps. “There is no little girl. Enough, with your physiological nonsense! I didn’t kill him. And you’re not going to write me off as crazy. I know what I saw.”
A sudden gasp from Fran made Saphora stop long enough to turn around. Which caused a similar gasp from Lupin. Saphora spun around again, her head spinning from the swift movements. She wobbled a bit, which agitated her further.
“What?” she questioned them, looking back and forth. Fran now had her hand delicately over her mouth, and her other hand was placed on her chest, which was covered with the olive green turtleneck she was wearing. The hand on her mouth reached forward just slightly, drawing Saphora’s gaze to it.
“Your … Your back,” she breathed. Before Saphora could ask what she meant, Dr. Lupin added to the conversation.
“The marks have spread,” he said rather bluntly, with a strong sense of curiosity. She turned her body, foolishly trying to see her own back to no avail. Lupin stepped forward, and Saphora stepped back away from him, turning her back to Fran. She pointed her finger up at him, and he raised his hands in surrender.
“Don’t – Don’t touch me,” she said, watching him carefully, before glancing around the room. She looked back at Fran, who was slowly reaching towards her.
“Honey, please. Just let him look at it.”
“No! No,” she said, looking back at him. “Get out.”
“Saphora!” Fran said in aggravation.
“Come now. This isn’t ne-“
“I said get out! I’m not going to have someone who’s accusing me of being insane staying here and pretending like he gives a flying horse about what’s happening.”
“Saphora!” Fran shouted again. This time putting her hand on her shoulder to grab her attention, but failing. Lupin straightened his back and grumbled, putting his hands slowly back in his pockets in time with his exhaling.
“Well. If you don’t want to be treated like a mental case, maybe you should start acting more appropriately,” he said rather harshly, catching Fran off guard. Her attention shifted to him as her hand left Saphora’s shoulder.
“Doctor,” she breathed, shaking her head in disapproval. Saphora’s eyes narrowed at the remark.
“You’re fired,” she spat.
“Saphora,” Fran urged for the third time, her patience wearing thin.
But Dr. Lupin waved his hand, dismissing the problem. He would go without a fuss. Although the statement that he had just made was unprofessional, he knew all too well that it was not a good idea to provoke a deranged patient whose emotional range was expanding by the minute. Especially one that had just woken up from being sedated and could not recall their entire memory. That was a dangerous combination. One that was sure to bring out anxiety, rage, pain, and eventually violence. He was sure that things would settle down after Saphora had gotten some proper rest and had a chance to sort things out with herself and Fran.
“It’s alright, Fran. I’ll leave. We’ll talk once she’s had some time to rest.”
Saphora bit her tongue, due to the unusually strong grip Fran had on her wrist. Fran sighed, looking from Saphora to Dr. Lupin, before nodding reluctantly.
“Thank you, doctor. Let me show you to the door,” she said, releasing Saphora’s wrist and walking closely behind the doctor as he traveled back to the door of Saphora’s room. She turned back to look at her before she walked out. The look in her eyes making Saphora’s head lower ever so slightly, despite the current rage she felt. She still feared the anticipating stare of an angry mother – so to speak.
Once Fran left with the doctor, Saphora plopped back down on her bed and buried her face in her hands. Just what was happening here? She took a moment to breathe. Her lungs still feeling somewhat heavy. Her temple throbbed, making her shut her eyes in attempts to lessen the pain. There was far too much going on for her to begin to comprehend. She tried to think back, to what she had been told was yesterday. But all she got were quick glimpses. Fragments of images. Tebias’ face. His gun. The man in the house. His gun. Violence. And then, the ringing of a calm, familiar voice. The voice of the woman that had helped her. The voice of the woman she could not find. Saphora sighed, shaking her head in her hands. That poor man was dead. Would she be to blame for it?
She knew that once Fran came back up the stairs that not only would she be yelled at for how she spoke to the doctor. But she would be hounded, and questioned continuously about what happened at the house, and in the woods, and why she was flying so high, which she wasn’t. She wasn’t going to let her rest, like the doctor had suggested. And she didn’t want to go through that right now. She wanted to be left alone. She was still in shock at how Fran was reacting to the whole thing. She didn’t know if she could face her right then without getting “inappropriate” with her as well. Fran didn’t believe her. Not fully, anyway. There was doubt – she could tell when she looked into her eyes. Of course, she knew she had good reason to doubt her story. But she thought that maybe, just maybe, their relationship was strong enough to withstand at least a fraction of the doubt. And now, even her relationship with Fran was being questioned in her mind. She cringed at the thought of not being able to trust her. Or worse – being abandoned by her when she needed her most.
Hearing the front door close, she decided that she couldn’t handle the predicted fallout of events. She looked at her window across the room which was shut, and thought maybe she should have some time to think alone. Away from the house. Away from Fran.
Chapter 4
The café only had a hand full of people. The calm, peach walls and mocha brown tiles helped to sooth Saphora’s mind as she entered the corner café. The somewhat dim lights helped to ease the pounding in her temple. It was nearly the afternoon when she reached the café. She had escaped the house, with Fran yelling from the window. But by the time she had reached
the window to see where Saphora had gone, she was already down the street and around the corner, running to get to town as quick as she could. All she wanted to do was think things through. She needed to get her head back on straight.
People stared at her as she walked into the quiet café. She looked a bit of a mess, after all. Her hair, already drawing attention to its mint colour, was tossed about, free to fly in her face despite her efforts to keep it tame. She was in nothing but a teal shirt-like night gown that came just above the knees. There was a single, relatively small pocket on the left side of her chest, where she kept her cellphone. That was all she wore. That, and a pair of black high-top converse. It was the first time she had gone out with so little clothing. But she had to get out of that house. She couldn’t stand to talk to Fran right now. Literally. And she couldn’t go to the abandoned house either, regardless of how much she wanted to. That would be the first place Fran went looking for her. Because that’s where she always went under large amounts of stress or pressure. She wanted to go there; it calmed her. Of all places. Being at the house where the nightmare began, gave her the most serenity. She didn’t know why, nor did she question it. But for the time being, she couldn’t go to any place Fran knew she visited. That meant no house, no zoo, and no woods.
Saphora averted the digging eyes of the few people that were in the café, and made her way to a booth in the far corner of the room. There was a faint mumbling going about the room, and a couple of people even went so far as to get up and leave. Saphora didn’t care though. Why would she? With so many other things to think about.
A few moments after people had made the decision to stay or go, a woman walked over to the booth and placed a menu down in front of Saphora. She looked up, having been lost in her thoughts, at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman that approached her. She held the clipboard she carried close to her chest, as if to protect herself from the oddly dressed woman before her.
“Hi …” the woman said, her voice hinting at what sounded like a country twang. “Can I get you anything? Some water. Coffee … Tylenol?” she said, looking at Saphora as a whole. And taking in the nature of her appearance. Saphora shook her head, giving a faint smile to be polite.
“Not right now, thank you.”
She nodded, her curls swinging against the sides of her face.
“Alright. Well … Your waiter will be over in a minute. Let us know if you need anything,” she said, tucking her hair behind her right ear, revealing the gleam of a diamond stud earring, before briskly walking away.
Saphora had only been left alone for about ten minutes before a young man made his way over to her. He had a look of eagerness on his face that caught her off guard when she lifted her head to look at him. His face was that of a man. But a man with childish qualities, presented in the carefree grin he displayed to her. The grin caused his cheeks to rise, and pushed against his light brown eyes.
“Hello,” he greeted, bending over slightly to be at more of an eyelevel with her. But she was taken aback by the bluntness of his greeting, and sat back against the back of the booth. She didn’t say anything, as she stared. Here she was looking as she did, and she was looking at this man like he was the one out of place. “Can I get you something?” Saphora shook her head, averting her eyes.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” she answered, giving the same grin.
“Need a little more time, then?” he asked, folding his hands in front of him against his stance. She looked up at him once again. At the carefree smile. She felt rude for some reason, sending him away so dismissively. Hesitantly, she nodded, looking down and away from his face again.
“Uh, yeah … Yeah, thanks.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face, before he too walked away. Leaving Saphora to dive back into her thoughts. She went to work at trying to remember everything clearly once again, knowing that a clear memory would be vital in defending herself. She couldn’t leave anything to uncertainty if she was to present a valid defense. She forced her mind to reach back, gripping at any fragments that were related to yesterday’s events. And it started with the encounter with Tebias – under the fallen tree. She remembered the tree moving. And for a brief moment, she remembered how it moved. She had moved it, somehow. She didn’t know how. Or maybe she did. She had some very vague idea that there was something she had been doing, or thinking that had gotten it to move. But she was having trouble pin pointing what they may have been.
That subject was the basis of her thought for the next several hours. She had sat in that booth, raking her brain for the answer to her question with no luck. It was nearly four in the afternoon when the waiter walked over for the second time. She had been sitting there for nearly five hours since she had come in. And quite frankly, people, mainly the staff, were beginning to express their concern. Maverick, the man who was assigned to wait the booth, insisted that he would take care of the problem if there proved to be one. He approached slowly. Cautiously, as advised by his supervisor. They thought that maybe she was drunk. Or maybe on drugs, which wasn’t technically false. She was recovering from sedatives, but that, if anything, made her calmer than the average junkie. But the staff knew nothing of what had been going on with her, so they had to take precautions. Maverick, however slowly he may have been moving, did not seem at all put off by her appearance, as her behavior was nothing but polite.
“Hi again,” he greeted, standing beside the table of the booth. Saphora, who had been staring at her phone, jumped in her seat, and looked up at the somewhat familiar face. Being startled annoyed her, and her expression twisted into that of frustration. Maverick responded quickly.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She knew he didn’t, and she dismissed it with a shake of her head, and the momentary closing of her eyes.
“Right. Well … You’ve been sitting here for quite a while now, and-“
“Do you want me to leave?” she asked, cutting him off as she placed her hands on the table, gesturing that she was about to get up. But Maverick’s hands shot out to distract her, waving a little frantically at her sudden motions.
“No, no. You don’t have to leave. We were just wondering if you were all right …” he explained, relieved to see her body relaxing and her hands returning to her lap. Saphora shook her head.
“No you’re not.”
Maverick’s brows scrunched.
“What?”
“You’re wondering if I’m crazy, because I look crazy. You couldn’t care if I was “all right” or not. You all just want to know if you should be prepared to call the police,” she said. Her lips in a hard line.
Maverick stood stunned, brows raised in response to what seemed like a sudden attack. Almost immediately after Saphora had seen the look on her face, she felt horrible. She was beginning to take her frustrations out on her surroundings. That included the people. Her stress and frustration was pent up, and she could do the things she normally did to get rid of it. So she was a little bit on edge, not knowing what to do. And doing the only thing she could do – be angry. Guilt could be read on her face as she sighed, looking away from the man.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just … I’m sorry,” she said, sheepishly looking back up at him. She didn’t know what to expect as a reaction. The sudden change in emotions probably only verified that she wasn’t mentally well. He was silent as he stared at her. It was a lingering silence that made Saphora’s nerves stand on edge. And then he walked away. Leaving Saphora to watch him in fearful suspense. What if they really did call the police? They were already looking for her. What if they thought she was running from the crime? It would only make her look guiltier. And the fact that she wanted to run away now didn’t make things any better. Her heart rate started to pick up and she thought about calling out to the man to apologize again. But she knew how it would turn out. He would be alarmed as she pleaded to him, making her look even more unstable. They would think that she was trying to hurt hi
m. Or that maybe she was a crazy ex-girlfriend of his. She didn’t want to make herself look like she was in need of assistance.
She looked back at her phone. Should she call Fran to come get her before things turned hectic? No. She still didn’t want to talk to Fran. Maybe she should just leave the café. But where would she go? The woods? Tebias may have still been there. The house? She was almost certain that Fran would be looking there repeatedly to see if she was hiding out there. Maybe she could find somewhere else to hide. There were plenty of stores along this road, and the streets surrounding it. She could find somewhere else to sit until she felt well enough to journey home – or at least talk to Fran on the phone.
But just as she was standing up, she was surprised – startled really, to hear the man’s voice again.
“Are you leaving?” he asked, sounding a bit closer than he should have been. Saphora turned on her heel, and backed into the booth’s table due the small distance between them. One hand gripped the edge of the table, while the other squeezed her cell phone, holding it against her chest instinctively. Maverick noticed her reaction and frowned, taking a slight step back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you again,” he said, shaking his head. Saphora looked down as he stepped back, and noticed that he was carrying two glasses of water, most likely carrying them to a table he was waiting.
“Yeah, I mean - I just thought I should.”
“Why?” he asked, somewhat bluntly. Saphora hesitated to answer. Mostly because she wasn’t expecting to be questioned for leaving. She had thought that just about everyone that had noticed her there, wanted her to leave. But here she was being asked to explain just that. Her mouth fell agape, as she struggled with how to say that explanation in a polite way. Instead, she leaned on their last conversation as a crutch.