Forsaken dots-1

by Kristen Day

  After what felt like days, I opened my eyes, disoriented and baffled by what had just transpired. I sat up carefully, trying to find my bearings. This time I was the one in the water. I stood, just in time to miss a wave crashing over me. Bright red streaked across my peripheral vision and my eyes followed it to the beach. A couple argued in front of me, several yards away on the white sand. The flash of red was the woman’s hair. Waves of deep burgundy fell all the way down to her waist making her look more petite than she already was. A struggle began and she was thrown to the ground by her much larger attacker. I caught a glimpse of something silver in his hand. I began to run in their direction, unsure of what I intended to do once I got there. Before I could even stepped foot on the sand, I hit something. Or someone. As I regained my balance, my eyes washed over his well-defined chest, broad shoulders, and kiss-worthy lips. His dark hair swept down onto his furrowed brow, lightly ruffled by the ocean breeze. Overwhelming temptation hit me, but the threatening way his square jaw flexed as he stared down at me brought reality crashing back. Anger sparked in his deep blue eyes and I was reminded of storm clouds gathering. Dark swirling hues of blue and gray.

  “Turn around and leave,” he demanded, as my attention shifted back to the unfolding scene on the beach.

  “But I have to help her! He’s hurting her!” I tried to plead with him. I attempted to push him aside, but he grasped my shoulders and easily held me captive.

  “What do you think you can do for her? Get yourself killed?” He retorted with a slight smirk.

  “I have to at least try! Look at what he’s….!” I gestured toward the beach and realized the fight had abruptly ended. The man had vanished. Lying on her side, the woman’s body was becoming overcome by the incoming tide. A puddle of deep red had formed around her, slowly absorbing into the wet sand beneath.

  I finally charged past him and sprinted to her side. I felt for a pulse, but found only stillness.

  With agitation, my eyes flitted upward to see why he wasn’t helping me, but he was gone too. When I looked back down, the woman had disappeared, as well. All of my energy drained and I collapsed onto the sand in defeat.

  “I should have helped…. I should have helped…” I repeated uselessly, as if it would change what I had just witnessed.

  “Hannah! Hannah, look at me! Answer me Hannah!” Frantic voices shouted at me, incessantly. I was sitting right there for goodness sake; there was no need to scream. However, my own voice wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to stop the shrill ringing in my ears.

  “Wake up, Hannah! Open your eyes!” I felt myself being shaken, so I peeked out from under my droopy eyelids. A swarm of people had crowded around me. Each face reflected a mixture of panic and concern, except Dee, who was frowning down at me with indignation.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I mumbled, just as the memory of my dream slammed into me.

  “Where did she go!?” I tried my best to sit up, but someone kept my body from moving.

  “Where did who go? Who were you talking to?” I recognized Dee’s voice amidst my stupor.

  “The woman – she was killed….” I stumbled over each word, realizing how farfetched it sounded even to my own ears.

  “You’re talking nonsense, Hannah. We need to get you home.” I felt myself being carried back through the house, down the front steps, and someone placed me into the backseat of our car.

  Someone got in beside me, doors closed, and I heard the faint sounds of people talking outside. That’s when the person beside me piped up.

  “I can’t believe this. You ruined my whole night!” Laura Beth’s voice echoed in my ears. I could always count on her to make every situation about her. “Why do I have to have the sister who’s crazy?” she wailed, “You are soooo gonna pay for this!”

  She slumped down in her seat and I desperately hoped she was done with her little temper tantrum. I heard two more doors shut as Dee and Charles got in the car. More hushed conversation followed, and then we were finally on our way home.

  The next time I was awakened, I found myself back in my spacious bedroom lying under the covers of my four poster bed. At some point, my dress had been replaced with sweatpants and a tank top. I tried to sit up on my elbows, unsuccessfully. My head was two seconds away from exploding, so I laid back down and rubbed my temples.

  “You have an appointment tomorrow morning with your new therapist.” After jumping out of my skin, I painstakingly turned my head to the side. Dee was perched beside the bed in a chair from the breakfast table downstairs. She tapped her fingers on my nightstand, anger still evident in her grim tone.

  “She comes highly recommended and I’m sure she’ll get you fixed right up.” She kissed my forehead with obvious obligation, and then closed the door behind her as she left the room.

  She made it sound like I had a broken arm that simply needed to be set. I didn’t need to be

  ‘fixed up’ anymore than I needed a therapist. If I had to explain what I’d been through with my multiple foster homes one more time to someone who smiled sympathetically and patted my knee, I was going to poke my eyes out. I already knew what happened – I was there. How could I get past it if I constantly had to relive it? What I really needed was to run far away from everything and everyone who only saw me as crazy and disturbed – start anew. Where my past didn’t define me and pity wasn’t lurking around every corner. Unfortunately at seventeen, I didn’t have that luxury. What I wanted was rarely taken into consideration. I sighed and eventually fell asleep to the steady sound of my pounding head.

  * * *

  The next morning, warm sunlight hit the back of my eyelids, but from the pain it unleashed, it might as well have been the flash from an atomic bomb. Okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but my tender head wouldn’t have disagreed with the comparison. Squinting in agony, I rolled over and pulled the covers back over my head. I was in no hurry to get up. The only thing tempting me was the distinct smell of chocolate chip pancakes wafting up the stairs. Dee definitely did that on purpose. She knew I couldn’t resist those. My stomach gurgled loudly, reminding me I wasn’t getting any pancakes hiding under the covers, so I groaned and made myself get up.

  “Well, look at you up and at ‘em so early this morning!” Dee’s smile was a little too wide and she looked a little too cheery for 7:00am. How someone could be fully dressed with impeccable hair and makeup and full of energy that early was beyond my comprehension. I became aware of my own hair, momentarily posing as a rat’s nest, and pulled it into a messy bun on top of my head. I didn’t have to try very hard at the messy part.

  “Mornin,” I gave her my best effort at a smile and plopped down at the breakfast table.

  She set a plate full of pancakes dripping with sticky, sweet syrup down in front of me, along with two extra strength Excedrin tablets. “I expect you can get yourself to the therapist on time? I’ve left directions for you on the counter. Your appointment isn’t until 8:30, but you need to get there a little early for paperwork.”

  “Mmhmm,” I said through a mouthful. There was no time for chit-chat when there were chocolate chip pancakes to be eaten.

  “I’ve got some errands to run, then I’m meeting Suzanne for lunch and I’m due for a game of bridge with the girls at the club after that. Do me a favor and tell your sister her room better be spotless by the time I get home. That goes for you too.”

  “Mmhmm,” I replied again as I kept chewing. Like Laura Beth would listen to anything I had to say.

  Once Dee left and my stomach was completely stuffed with pancakes, I went upstairs to get ready with the urgency of a sloth. My headache had dulled slightly, but it was vehemently fighting for its life. It wasn’t going to give in that easy. By the time I threw on my favorite skinny jeans, flats, and a tank top; I had about fifteen minutes to make it to the therapist’s office. I rushed downstairs, collected the directions off of the counter, and slid into the white convertible BMW I shared with L
aura Beth. It was way too pretentious for me, but Laura Beth insisted her reputation would only survive if she drove a BMW or Lexus.

  Two wrong turns and one almost fender bender later, I pulled into the parking lot of a bland-

  looking brick office building. I took the elevator to the 3rd floor and found suite 310-A just in time.

  “Hannah?” After a brief wait in the stale smelling lobby, a petite middle-aged woman poked her head around the corner and motioned for me to follow her. I stood reluctantly and complied.

  “I’m Dr. Hansen. How are you today?” Her short, black hair bounced around as she spoke.

  “Pretty good I guess” ...for being in a therapist’s office.

  Her thin lips curved up sympathetically, and she directed me into a small office with large windows covering one entire wall. The room was painted a light blue, probably in an attempt to create a calming ambience for her patients. Black and white photographs of lighthouses decorated the walls, and an imposing oak desk sat in one corner. As she took her seat behind the desk, she motioned for me to sit as well. Looking at my options, I noticed a plush corduroy couch against one wall, two brown leather recliners, and a wooden chair facing her desk. I chose the wooden chair. No sense in getting comfortable.

  “I hear you had quite the experience last night…” she prodded me delicately and took a sip from a coffee mug that read ‘World’s Best Therapist’. Seriously?

  “It was…um…interesting.” I clasped my hands in my lap and looked out the windows trying to feign boredom.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” she questioned me further.

  “I just fainted. That’s honestly all that happened.”

  “I hear there was a little more to it than that.” Maybe she should tell me what happened since she seemed to know so much. I felt a familiar frustration bubble up in my chest.

  I pulled my eyes off of the trees outside and glanced in her direction, already planning my escape route. My eyes slid past her and landed on an oversized fish tank in the corner. Bright orange, yellow, and red fish swam lazily back and forth. I’m pretty sure one in particular was staring at me, but then it swam off with a flip of its fin. Crazy fish. I’d go nuts if I were stuck in a glass tank all day, too.

  Realizing she was still patiently waiting for me to elaborate, I figured the quicker I got this over with, the quicker I’d get out of there.

  “I was just arguing with Dee about my tattoo when I got dizzy and fell. I blacked out and had a really weird dream. Then I woke up. The end.” I finished matter-of-factly, daring her to ask me more questions.

  She just grinned back at me like we had shared an inside joke. “What kind of tattoo do you have?”

  “I’m not sure what it is, but I’ve had it forever.” I held up my wrist for her. A confused look crossed her features for an instant, and then she was calm and collected once more.

  “You were adopted, correct?” Her tone had changed from casual conversation to skeptic detective in a millisecond. She tapped her chin with her silver pen.

  “Yes.” I tried to catch up with the sudden change of topic. She shifted in her seat and scratched her head. After a minute or so, I started to get a little uncomfortable with her intrusive stare.

  “If you want, I can tell you who my last therapist was. I’m sure they can send over my records…” I offered with slight irritation.

  “No, no that’s not necessary,” she replied, quickly. “Tell me more about this dream you had when you blacked out”. I explained the dream to her in detail and waited for her to prescribe me Prozac. Instead, she sat back and stared at me again.

  “Hannah, I’m going to refer you to one of my colleagues.” She smiled and sat up straighter in her chair, proud of herself. “I think she’d like to talk to you.” Wonderful. Just wonderful.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make a quick phone call.” She stood and walked out of the office, closing the door behind her. While she was gone, I watched the exotic fish swim laps within their rectangular prison. I got the urge to feed them or maybe release them back into the ocean where I was sure they had been stolen from. Seeing a jar of fish food under the tank, I tentatively ambled over and peered through the thick glass.

  “Anybody hungry?” I questioned them in a ridiculous baby voice usually reserved for puppies.

  They immediately stopped doing laps and darted up toward the surface. “I guess that’s a yes.” I lifted the lid and shook some of the multi-colored flakes into the water.

  “What are you doing?” I dropped the lid with a loud bang and raced back to my chair. Dr.

  Hansen watched me curiously.

  “I’m sorry, I thought they might be hungry, so….” I trailed off, feeling foolish.

  “From the looks of it, I’d say you were right.” Her smile was full of understanding. I glanced back at the tank to see that the flakes had already been gobbled up. The fish followed my every movement, hoping for more.

  “They would probably eat all day long if I’d let them.” She gazed at the fish with tenderness, as she sat back down. “Well I just spoke to Dr. Campbell and I’m happy to tell you she has an opening later this afternoon!”

  I wasn’t sure if she was expecting me to celebrate with her, so I just replied, “Okay.”

  “You’ll need to tell Dee right away because it will take 4 hours to get down there, and I can’t imagine she wants you to drive that far by yourself.”

  “Four hours?” Why couldn’t she have a colleague in Atlanta?

  “Dr. Campbell’s office is located down in Savannah. Have you ever been there? It’s a beautiful city.”

  She was probably still talking but I had already stopped listening. She was sending me all the way to Savannah? Today? To talk to another doctor? This couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  Chapter 3

  “Savannah?! Today?!” I moved my cell phone back from my ear several inches so Dee’s voice wouldn’t break my ear drum.

  “That’s what she said.” I read over Dr. Hansen’s messy handwriting again, “My appointment is scheduled for 4:00pm.”

  She sighed and took a deep breath. I could tell her blood pressure had increased in the five minutes we’d been talking. “Okay, I’ll cancel my plans and be home as soon as I can.”

  “Thanks Dee, I’ll see you soon.” I didn’t want to go to Savannah any more than she did, but it didn’t look like we had a choice. Apparently, my issues were that severe. The dream was odd, sure, but I didn’t expect them to slap me with a psych ward bracelet just yet. Or maybe that’s where she was sending me. Maybe ‘Dr. Campbell’ was code for a straight jacket and padded walls. It might not be too bad. Instead of pity and sympathetic looks, they would just give me a shot of something strong to knock me out for a few hours. I could live with that.

  Five hours later, we finally pulled into Savannah. I’d only been there twice before. Once when I was fourteen for a St. Patrick’s Day family trip, and once before that when I was too young to remember. From what I’d been told, I was left on the porch of the Police Station on Skidaway Island, which was located several miles southeast of Savannah. Unfortunately, they didn’t know where I had been born or who had dropped me off; just that I was discovered when I was approximately 8 months old. I tried not to think about what could drive a person to abandon their own flesh and blood.

  Thankfully, the Sheriff found me when he came into work that morning. I was turned over to the state, put into foster care, and the rest was history. Anytime I thought about it, I was overcome with so many emotions; I had no choice but to push those thoughts out of my mind. Even if I had wanted to find my real parents, it would have been impossible. There were no records of my birth, so there was no way to track them down. Even my birthday, April 17th, was a guesstimate based on how old I appeared to be when they found me.

  “Looks like we made it!” Dee wove through the already heavy traffic towards downtown Savannah. On the outskirts of the city, it could have been any other place
in America with gas stations, McDonalds, and a Starbucks on every corner. But once we entered the city in earnest, the history and beauty were hard to ignore. As we passed beneath the canopies of the mangled live oak trees, I gawked at the 19th century buildings and cobblestone streets of the historic district. Finding somewhere to park near the River Walk was no simple task, however. We found a small spot between a massive truck and even larger SUV and finally found the door to Dr Campbell’s office on River Street.

  “Go have a seat and I’ll take care of everything,” Dee assured me. The receptionist area had a simplistic beach theme with wooden pelicans and bright seashells adorning the white wicker tables, while potted palm trees stood watch in the corners of the room. I took a seat on one of the wicker chairs and picked up a magazine to read. I got no further than the first page, when a swinging door opened, and a young woman with golden skin and jet black hair came out to greet us. She appeared to glide across the floor in her long flowing cream-colored dress. I caught a glimpse of purple toenail polish, several toe rings, and realized she was barefoot. Her arms and hands were covered with silver bangles and rings of turquoise. Nothing about her resembled my vision of straight jackets and padded rooms which was instantly reassuring.