Slowly, I sit up and plot my next move. Now that I am awake, the urge to flee is intense. I want to be at home in my room where no one can touch me. The memories I absorbed from the killer are like a disease, slowly poisoning me from within. The sheer horror of what he has done sickens my soul. I’ve already lost so much time. The coma has revived my fragile brain, but I can’t ignore the evil I experienced, as much as I may want to. In the past, this is the point where I would have run away and never looked back. But I can’t do that to Mary or Dejana. I can’t lose what little bit of a life I have managed to create here. No matter how dangerous it might be to stay, I can’t flee. I need to talk to Dejana and figure out what to do. She is the only one who will understand, the only one my age who knows the truth about me. But first, I need to get the hell out of here.
Quickly, I unhook the monitors, aware that alarms all over will be going off as soon as I’m done. Within seconds, I’m on my feet and hiding in the closet, waiting for the nurses to rush in. A few minutes later, an older lady with dark brown hair and wearing a pink uniform enters the room. At first, she is not in a hurry, possibly thinking that a wire must have come loose from the girl in a coma. It doesn’t take long for her to stop in her tracks when her eyes settle on the bed and see that it’s empty. She turns on her heels and runs back toward the nurses’ station, alerting everyone to search for the black-haired girl from room 204.
Wasting no time, I run to the window and open it. I peer out hopeful, but am immediately disheartened when I see such a large drop to the shrubs below. I was banking on it not being so far down. Undeterred, I grab the slippers that Mary thankfully left by the bed and head to door. Slowly, I crack it to get a better look at what the nurses are doing outside of my room. I see a bunch of them scrambling around, yelling my name, and checking all the exits and other patients’ rooms. I must decide now if I want to try to make a run for it while everyone is scrambling around or if I should wait it out in the closet until the search is done on this floor and then make a break for the stairway closest to my room.
My window of opportunity is shrinking as I see a nurse just outside turn back and head toward my room. Plan B it is then. I turn as quietly as possible and wiggle myself into a ball in the closet. Silently as possible, I sit there, afraid to move. I hear the door of my hospital room creak as it’s flung open and light pours into the room. I wonder for a second why the nurse doesn’t turn on the light, but I am grateful for the extra darkness that covers my position. I see the nurse look frantically around, under the bed, and out the window before finally realizing there is one last place in the room I could have hidden. Through the slit, I see her coming toward me. Paralyzed with fear, my mind is unable to figure out a plan. I decide to jump her the minute the door flings open and make a run for it. I just wish there was another way, some other option that doesn’t involve contact. If there is, I can’t think of it.
The second that the nurse’s hand touches the handle to the closet, a person enters the room, out of breath and screaming for help. “There you are Ms. Jenkins, thank goodness. No one is at the desk and I thought you all might want to know that I just saw a girl running down the street in a hospital gown. I assume she’s the same one you are looking for. You better hurry, she’s almost to Main Street, and once she reaches the highway who knows what will happen to her.”
With a small gasp, Ms. Jenkins runs for the door faster than any woman of advanced years should run and the room is once again empty. Grateful for contact averted, I release my breath, push my way out of the closet, and stand in front of the only other person in the world I trust with my life, with my secret.
“What took you so long Dejana?” I ask her, putting my hands on my hips for emphasis. “I’ve had to face the demons on my own for at least ten minutes,” I say, clearly put out.
Exasperated, my best friend in the world crosses her arms and puts on her best scornful face. “Keep that up, girl and I’ll make you jump out of the window instead.”
Chapter Five
~ Gotta Love a Loyal Friend ~
The air from the open window is cool and crisp against my face as I breathe in the freedom Dejana’s intervention has afforded me. It only took five minutes on the road with her, however, to make me wish that I had jumped out the window after all. That girl is hell on wheels and seems to think stop signs are only suggestions.
“You know, Dejana, if you wanted to kill me you could have just left me to the devices of the nurse. Whatever is in her head has to be better than risking my life on the road with a person who thinks they are Dale Earnhardt. Who died in a crash if I remember correctly,” I point out.
“Oh stuff it girl, I busted you out didn’t I? Where’s the love?” asks Dejana just before she lunges the car to the left to avoid hitting the curb. No matter how annoyed I get with Dejana, I could never be mad at her. She has been on my side from the beginning when we met on the first day of school two years ago.
The bus was crowded and the air thick with excitement, fear, and humidity as all of us were about to start this new adventure called high school. It was my fourth school so I was kind of used to being the new kid. As usual, I was trying to keep a low profile sitting in the back of the bus saying nothing to the other kids, wearing my usual ensemble of gloves, a long black shirt, and jeans. For a while there I thought I might actually make it, until a lanky, red-headed boy named Tripp finally noticed me. He had turned around to look at a car he liked as the bus passed it and his surprised eyes fell on me.
With a clear look of disgust on his face, he said loudly, “Hey guys, who’s the new freak back there dressed all in black?”
Immediately all heads seemed to turn to me, curiosity gleaming in their eyes. I sunk down into my seat, hoping that we would get to school soon so everyone would have something else to focus on. It wasn’t long before the laughing and jeering began. Though I was used to this, it still hurt. With tears in my eyes, I looked out the window and pretended not to hear them, which only seemed to make Tripp angrier.
“Do you think you’re heading to a funeral or something? And what’s up with your hair?” he spat out viciously. It was clear he was at a loss as to why someone would dye their hair such an obviously unnatural hue. Addressing the others on the bus he yells, “What’s up with freaks like her coming to our school? Why can’t they just stay in Freakville where they belong?”
In all four schools, it was always the same. The clean cut kids had no idea what to do with someone like me so they just put me in the ‘freak’ category. All I could think of was how unoriginal that was. Can’t they come up with a better name than ‘freak’? Bullies are all alike and all unoriginal. Apparently, this bully wasn’t finished with me yet.
“So, freak,” he begins again, “what’s up with the long sleeves and pants? Don’t you know this is Georgia? It’s seven a.m. and it is already hot as hell. And here you are, acting like it’s winter.” He smirked, proud of his wit. Turning to address the ever-growing crowd of turned heads, Tripp continued. “Hey everyone, let’s show the new girl how we welcome new students.”
Just like that, an invisible switch was thrown and everyone on the bus started chanting ‘freak’. The effect was exactly how Tripp intended it to be, devastating.
Embarrassed and alone I slunk back into my seat, tears welling up my eyes. I could no longer block them out. A quick look outside showed trees passing by which meant we had not yet reached the city. The bus was still pretty far from the school. I was just about to hurl some choice words of my own at Tripp and the other participants in the freak show to shut them down when a girl who was sitting in the very front stood up and addressed the crowd.
In a voice dripping with honey the girl silenced the mob by simply saying, “Tripp, do you mind coming up here and sitting with me? We’re about to arrive at school and I would think that is much more important than bugging the new girl. Besides, your brother already goes here and I could use someone to help me find my way around.”
As if pulled by an invisible thread, Tripp immediately stopped bothering me, grabbed his book bag, and headed off toward the obviously very popular girl strutting like a rooster.
Though I was thankful a crisis had been averted, my anger at the bully still seethed inside me making my blood boil. I was still considering hurling a few of my notebooks at Tripp’s retreating back when the girl caught my eye and winked. I was so thrown off that whatever was on the tip of my tongue vanished. Just like that, I felt the first stirring of hope that I might have a friend. Had she done all that on purpose? Could she really want to help me? Who would have thought a popular girl like Dejana would want to know me? But I’m thankful every day that she did.
As the days progressed at school, I calculated my responses and behavior so that students avoided me. I ignored the ugly looks and went about my school day soaking up as much knowledge as I could; anything to shut down the parts of my brain that continually buzzed with unwanted ferocity. Every morning I sat in the same corner far away from the big crowds. And every morning Dejana would come by and try to entice me into a conversation. Every time I chose not to respond, hoping she would just pass me by. But still she persisted, talking as if I had answered her questions and by pretending that I was completely riveted by the conversation. My lack of responses never seemed to bother her.
Most of the conversations revolved around boys; one in particular named Jonathan who was very popular but just not that into her. Dejana is the type of person who would not be swayed. She persisted and persisted until one windy day in October, I decided to finally answer her. As usual, she came to my corner at seven a.m. on the dot and immediately began a tirade about Jonathan without so even as much as a ‘hello.’ Why bother with niceties anyway when I never so much had spoken a word to her in all that time? However, she had finally broken down my wall to the outside world that I had constructed so many years ago.
“I see him looking at me in world geography class,” Dejana sputtered. “He could have sat anywhere but he chose the seat next to me. That has to mean something! And I mentioned to him the other day that my favorite color was blue. And guess what?! The next day he wore a blue shirt! I know he’s into me; he just doesn’t want to act like it in front of his football friends.”
Smiling I looked up at Dejana, crossed my arms over my chest and simply said, “Or he was just wearing his football jersey that they all have to wear on game day which just happens to be blue. Maybe it was just a huge coincidence.”
After a momentary shock that lasted all of five seconds, Dejana gathered herself, smiled brightly back at me and said, “I don’t believe in coincidences. He loves me; he just doesn’t know it yet,” before turning and walking to her first period class with a spring in her step. Just like that, I had a friend.
The car swerving violently to the right and a loud horn honking brought me back to the present. Apparently, the car in front of us was going too slow for Dejana’s purposes and she has no qualms about telling the person behind the wheel how she felt about it.
“Please for the love of all that is good and holy, slow down!” I yell, my hands grasping firmly to the handle above the door.
“Would you please man up, girl? The police could be chasing us as we speak and you want me to drive like all the other idiots on the road. Well, no thank you. I’m going to get you home ASAP. So sit tight, we’re almost to your house.”
After what seemed like an eternity, my house came into view. I have never been so happy to see it in my life. Out of respect for Mary, Dejana slowly pulls into my driveway and shuts off the engine before running around the car to help me out the other side. Very gently and careful not to let my bare hands touch her, Dejana slides her arms under me and helps me out of the car. The effects of the coma have rendered me weak, but I am still able to walk slowly to the house.
Once inside, we see Mary asleep on the couch. Too many nights sleeping at the hospital have exhausted her. I tell Dejana to put a blanket over her to ward off the chill in the air while I wait for her at the bottom of the stairs, holding onto the banister for support. Once Dejana returns, we move slowly up the stairs to my room, careful not to make too much noise and wake Mary. After a bit of arguing, Dejana concedes that she will stay with Mary downstairs after I’m tucked in for the night. Dejana wanted to stay with me upstairs, but if Mary wakes up, I want her to know that I am here and safe.
After the grueling hike up a measly seventeen steps, I am eternally grateful to see my bedroom. With Dejana’s help, I crawl into my bed, comforted by the feel of my own sheet and my head on my own pillow. My exhausted body is reeling from the abuse it has taken since the bombing, but my mind just won’t stop buzzing. I cover my eyes with hands in a pathetic attempt to ward off the unwanted thoughts. I am just about to thank Dejana for helping me when I am engulfed by vertigo. I yell, “No!” and see Dejana’s very concerned face hover above me seconds before everything goes dark and I free fall into the abyss of memories.
Chapter Six
~ The Emergence of a Killer ~
The images flooding my already fragile brain are difficult to process, but they finally break through the haze and the vertigo passes. I am sitting alone on a cold floor in the middle of a dark room. I’m waiting for someone with a fierce anticipation, but I have no idea who. In my grasp is a six-inch blade, its handle worn and comfortable in my hand. I spin it around in anticipation, unable to simply sit and wait patiently for what’s coming next. After a few minutes, I stand up and pace, wondering for the thousandth time if I should turn on the flashlight I had brought so I could see my watch. But in the end, I always decide against it. The flashlight is my victory; my reward if everything goes as planned.
The creaking of the door interrupts my thoughts. A sliver of light breaks the darkness that engulfs me, but I shy away from it in fear that I will be seen. Two people walk down the old, creaky stairs laughing. I realize instantly that the girl is blindfolded and this is a game. She has no idea where he is leading her. I can see the silhouette of the boy with her, but his head is always turned away toward the girl. Luckily, all is going as planned. The moment they reach the center of the room, they stop. The boy whispers something in the girl’s ear that makes her giggle. I approach her slowly, sleek and silent as a tiger stalking its prey. Once I am in position, the boy releases her and slinks back into the darkness, never allowing me to see his face.
I take her hand, hoping she doesn’t notice that this hand is different from the one that brought her here. I kiss her hand, playing along with the game that had begun hours before with my cohort. Though I know time is short, I don’t care. I pull her into an embrace and revel in the softness of her skin, the smell of her hair. A sigh escapes her lips as she pulls me closer, the mystery clearly exciting for her. I kiss her neck softly, distracting her as I lead her to the final phase of the game. She arches her neck to give me full access as she allows me to move her closer to the bed. Since I have every inch of this room committed to memory, I have no need for light to show me the way. The darkness is my refuge, the place where I am king.
I carefully push her down onto the mattress; she giggles as expected, clearly elated by the recent turn of events. Her laugh intoxicates me. She’s warm and willing but it’s not enough; I want more. Instantly and savagely, I take the hand I am holding and ram it into the handcuff attached to the bed. She screams out in pain and fear; it’s music to my ears. I try to make quick work of confining her legs before she comes to her senses and tries to fight me, but sadly, I’m not swift enough.
The fear has finally broken through and she begins fighting. The nails from her free hand claw down my face and her feet kick furiously. I’m prepared for this, but it is still difficult to get her strapped down to the confines on the bed. At last, her hands and feet are locked tight in the shackles welded to the bed. She resists, but there is no way she can escape now. Quickly, I grab the flashlight dropped in the scuffle, flip it on, and point it directly in her face. There within the small circl
e of light I find my salvation, my reward for all of my efforts. I take off her blindfold and soak in the look of pure terror on her face. I let it fill me as I relish in the power it invokes. The old saying is true: good things come to those who wait.
Chapter Seven
~ Is That a Zombie? Nope, It’s Just Me ~
The world previously cloaked in darkness regains light and I am once again in my bedroom. Dejana is sitting in a chair next to my bed, her face blanketed in fear. She is wringing her hands together in agitation. Despite my fragile state, I want to comfort her.
“Please tell me I didn’t look like one of those zombies on The Walking Dead while I was in the memory,” I tease hoping to get her mind off what she just experienced.
I’m fairly sure Dejana is in shock. Mary once told me that I go limp, almost death like when I’m enveloped by someone’s memory. It scared her so much the first time it happened that she was on the phone calling an ambulance when I came back to my reality. She said my lying there limp was scary enough, but nothing compared to what happened with my eyes. The core was so clouded over she could see nothing, no pupils or irises, only swirls of white. She compared it to the sky coming down from the heavens to take up residence in my once blue orbs. She admitted it was eerily beautiful. Leave it to Mary to take something completely wrong and make it seem angelic. Thankfully, it does not happen that often since it still scares Mary.
I see that Dejana isn’t taking the bait.
The Haunting of Secrets Page 3