“Let’s go,” Violet orders as she helps me to my feet.
A gentle spring breeze tickles my face as I pace myself toward Violet’s car. We’re silent as we make the short drive from my parents’ side of Quail West to Violet’s side. Her new home is a brand-new, custom-built, ranch-style home. Not much glitz on the outside, just the usual brick and shingles, but the inside is all Violet’s style. A warm vibe of royal purples and vibrant teals soothe my worried mind.
“Oh, Violet. I adore your new home,” I exclaim as my eyes dance from one perfectly-placed decoration to the next. On a deeper inspection, I notice that there aren’t any photos of Milton; only photos of our parents and of me and Violet. I jolt my gaze at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My tone is much harsher than it should have been. Shame dims Violet’s emerald-colored eyes before she diverts her gaze away from me. She gestures for me to take a seat in her barely-used living room. My heart hurts for what’s to come. I’m silent and attentive while Violet shares that after I was admitted to DLC, Benjamin and Elizabeth had a fallout. Elizabeth had to be admitted for alcohol poisoning. Violet pauses to compose herself before she says, “Milton was supportive, but it just became too much for him. He said that my family was too demanding.” Her eyes glisten and release mascara-filled tears down her cheeks.
“So, you’ve endured all of our families’ mishaps alone?” And just like that, all my issues feel irrelevant. Violet and I have once again united due to heartache; it’s as if we’re a pitiful Lifetime special about two tragic sisters.
I apologize for my contribution to Violet’s sorrows, but she shrugs and states that it was probably for the best. I don’t pry nor press for her to elaborate. Time passes as we sit with long anguished facial expressions.
Violet chuckles then shares, “It’s as if we threw a bag of thirteen black cats through a house of mirrors.”
Sheryl Crow’s song “Change” cycles in my head. I need a change, and it would do me so good.
Violet leads me to her spare room. A soft lavender scent greets me as I make the tedious, drawn-out trip toward my new bathroom.
“Everything you need will be in there. I’ll wash the death smell out of the things I collected from your old closet,” she states before she leaves me alone.
This room reminds me of the one I owned when I met David. A cluster of amorous memories plunge my thoughts into sadness. One glance at my reflection, and I shiver in terror when for a moment I see Kate stare back at me, but I seal my eyes and remind myself that she’s not real. Not real, she’s not real.
When I open my eyes, my malnourished, disheveled reflection stares back at me. My reflection confirms that I’m just overdue for a bath and a long night’s rest. Ha. More like a year’s rest. After I fill the bathtub, I add soothing essential oils. As I usually do, I surrender to a bath slumber.
Branches and leaves scrape at my skin while I run through a moon-lit forest. Random flashlight beams penetrate the darkness. My heart halts when I hear a pack of barking dogs charge in my direction. An enormous tree that’s to my right grabs my attention. I take slow, planned steps toward the tree until the tree’s coarse bark scratches at my skin. Low, steady wheezing travels to my ear. I search the area near me, but the darkness decreases my vision.
Thunderous barks grow near, but I’m too focused on finding the origins of the wheezing. A huddled slump of a person sits helpless against a tree.
“Do you need help?” My question travels in sound waves. Besides the few dreams with Kate and Clara, I have yet to experience a dream as realistic as this one.
“Are you all right?” I whisper as I kneel down next to the person. A flashlight beam illuminates the unknown person—Benjamin’s blood-crusted face becomes visible.
“Run.” His high-pitched demand knocks me to my ass.
Another flashlight beam shines on Benjamin, and I notice that he’s burnt to a crisp until an abrupt wind steals his ashes. I’m plagued by fright when I realize that the vicious dogs are now inches from me. The first one pounces before the others leap and tear me apart.
My screams startle me awake, and my defensive movements induce the brisk tub water to splash and spill out of the tub. What are you telling me, Lord? Why do I keep seeing my dead parents?
“Why does it have to be about God?” Kate’s reflection questions from the mirror.
“I thought you were gone?” I question in a defensive stance.
“Ohhh…my sweet,” she hisses and then continues, “be kind to me, or I’ll have to sliver back into your brain folds.” Her diabolic, shark-like grin is as wicked as her heart. She steps out of the mirror, but she’s no longer the blood-encrusted demon that has tormented me for weeks. Instead, she’s dressed in a red-patent-leather get-up; even her damn stacked boots are red. And her golden, straw-colored hair is curled and styled to frame her face.
She sees me eyeing her outfit, and of course, she says, “If you keep staring, I might just have to put it on ya!” I ignore her and continue with my normal after-bath routine. She struts in my direction, then does a quick turn before she smacks her own ass. Smoke rises from where her hand hit.
“This isn’t real,” I mumble as I leave the bathroom. She follows and then gawks at me while I dress myself. Violet’s silk pajamas feel delicate against my skin, especially compared to the hospital gown and scrubs that I’ve had to wear for too long.
“Why are you here, Kate?” I snap then jerk my head in her direction. She’s propped on the dresser while she swings her booted feet like a child on a swing set.
“Hmm. Would you believe it if I told you that I missed you?” She twists her lips before she nibbles at her bottom lip. Her flame pupils dance in anticipation to my response. “Did you not miss me?” she whimpers in a mock-like tone as she slinks off of the dresser. She stalks toward me, tilts her head to one side, and then pants, “If I wanted to, I could have you.” She halts directly in front of me. We’re nose-to-nose and the sight of her turns my stomach.
I take a step backwards, and—for just a moment—her flame pupils flicker and hypnotize me into a trance. A devilish smirk forms on her lips.
“Don’t deny me,” she hisses.
“Kate, whatever you feel for me isn’t real. You’re not real. I’ve obviously lost my shit,” I blurt out while I turn down the bedsheets. “Just leave. Let me rebuild my life,” I say as I fluff my pillow, and then turn to shut off the bedroom light. As I brush past Kate, her leather jacket burns my arm.
“Ouch,” I bellow as I soothe my singed skin.
“I’m real, my sweet. I’m a real fucking demon, and you need to realize that if I want you, I will have you,” she shrieks before she shoves me onto the bed. My wrists and thighs ache under her attack. Her grip is powerful, and it’s unrealistic for me to even fight back.
“You’re not real,” I whimper as I seal my eyes to pray. Lord, please, not again.
In an instance, Violet knocks then barges in. Smoke lingers and replaces Kate’s position above me. Violet gapes at me and then searches the room.
“So, are you talking to yourself now?” She stares at me with concern and continues, “Why do you appear as if you were ravaged?” Her brows crease as her lips squint into a pucker.
“I just need some rest,” I reveal with hopes that Violet won’t press the issue.
Violet states, through her luminous smile, that tomorrow is Friday, March, 15th. I question what year it is, and she chuckles at my question. December 2012 was the last date I remember from my cell phone’s calendar. The thought of my once normal life, and yet mundane schedule that I once had, induces a knot to form in my chest. I choke back my emotions as I recall how simple my life once was. Now, I have frequent visits from my demonic stalker. I’m insane. Could my life ever return to its normality?
I had a plan—I studied and worked hard for my life of luxury. And now, I’m no better than the little abandoned girl from Bonita Springs.
“Did you hear me, Scarlet? It’s
2013, that’s the year. Sheesh! You weren’t hospitalized that long.” Violet pats my foot before she wishes me a restful night.
The blackout curtains make it impossible to see Kate, and even though my new bedroom is beyond comfortable, I’m scared. I fear that my remaining strands of sanity are threatened by Kate’s reappearance. As long as she stays out of me, maybe I can try to live a normal life.
David
“Call the nurse, hurry! He’s waking up,” my mom’s voice is hoarse as she orders for someone to pick up the pace.
My dick feels strange, as if someone stuck a Q-Tip inside my urethra. I shift in discomfort, but it makes my tip more uncomfortable.
“Uhh,” I groan, as I tug at the tube that’s shoved down my throat. “Uhh,” I utter with urgency.
“Wait, David. The nurse is on her way.” My mom pats my hand to settle me.
“Hi, David. I’m Lala, the nurse on shift. Give me a moment, and I’ll help you get a lil’ mo’ comfy.” Lala’s an ebony skin haze, more of a blur than a person. Whatever medication I’m on has a solid grasp on me.
Time slugs by before my breathing tube is finally extracted from my throat and replaced by a lightweight nasal tube. Thankfully, my parents left the room while Lala tugged the catheter from my tip. I had to bite a pillow for that one, because she was a yanker.
“Oops, there’s a lil’ blood…but, that’s…uhh…normal.” Her voice fails to convey her assurance of her skills.
My chest is tight and a medicated type of numb. I struggle to graze my fingertips across my now-hairless chest. A tender incision runs from my clavicle to my mid-abdomen. A gnarly chest scar forms in my mind. There’s no hiding this thing.
“Oh, honey, don’t touch your scar,” my mom reprimands me as she swats my hand away.
“Whaaat…happened?” my words stumble and stick to my tongue.
My heart monitor’s beeps escalate as my new heart begins to ache.
“David, please calm down,” my mom pleads.
The beeps from my heart monitor settle the fuck down. My parents mention that Ivy—fuckin’ bitch—shot my heart up with poison. A medically-induced coma was the only way to keep me from dying. For weeks I was in a coma, until finally a heart became available for an extensive and rigorous heart transplant.
“What’s today’s date?” My words burn along my dry throat.
“It’s December, 2013, but that doesn’t matter. You need to rest,” my mother soothes.
Silence follows her statement, and I fail to remember my last day of awareness. Kate’s grip on my arms while Ivy injected me flashes in my mind.
“Where’s Scarlet?” I rasp in a desperate question as I seek a quick response from my parents. They glance at each other and then back at me.
“Please, what happened to her?” My pleas scrape against my vocal cords as my face forms into a sneer. In a jolt, my mother rushes toward me.
“David…she… Scarlet is well.” The twitch in her eye reveals her lie.
“Mom,” I bark in disapproval.
“Sweetie, you just had a heart transplant. There’s protocol, you need to relax. Please,” she pleads. The trauma of having heart surgery singes at my chest. My skin burns and something just doesn’t seem right. An acceleration of my heart monitor’s incessant beeping induces a dim darkness to overcome me and an ache in my chest transforms into stabs.
“Ahh!” I groan as a pain I’ve only read about attacks my torso.
“David?” my mom whines as a fleet of medical staff rush to my side.
Orders to clear the room overpower the room’s atmosphere. Then someone panics that I may be rejecting my heart. Another staff member yells for everyone to maintain optimistic, “With this one.” With this one? Fuck. A dense, hot liquid passes from my IV and into my bloodstream. Within seconds, the heart stabs end, but I’m defenseless as I surrender to a cocktail of medications.
A week passes before I’m able to walk with my IV stand. My parents decide for me that I should return to their home. Anticipation of my discharge ignites excitement from my parents, but I’m apathetic due to my lack of knowledge about Scarlet.
Besides the strange dream I had with her, I haven’t seen her in a year. An entire year has just flown by. An entire year of one too many hospital visits.
As expected, my discharge is a prolonged process that should seriously be changed. It’s a slow wheelchair ride to my parents’ car, and I feel as if I’ve been released from my death sentence.
My parents carry on a conversation that I have no clue about. I’m lost in thoughts of Scarlet while Miami’s commuters continue on their trips toward their destinations. Childhood memories swarm my mind as I mindlessly stare at Miami’s oceanic-adjacent-developed landscape. From Mercy hospital to my parents’ home is a tedious drive.
Years ago, my parents relocated to a beach front lot. The thought of sand sticking to my skin makes me miss Naples and the tranquility compared to this fuck-busy traffic.
“Jackson!” my mother wails when my father suddenly slams on the brakes of his Lincoln. She continues to scold him on how their son was recently released from open heart surgery. As they bicker, I’m strongly reminded of why I refused to return to Miami.
Thirty minutes pass before we finally pull in to my parents’ beachside property. Rod-iron gates clink shut as I grab all of my worldly possessions—my mother freaks and snatches my bag from my hand.
“I don’t care if you’re almost thirty-two; I am your mother, and you will be on bed rest from here on out,” she orders. I object, but she continues. When will she see me as an adult? Just like that, she makes me feel like a damn teenaged boy. I’m itching to be free of her smothering. My father follows her order and provides my wheelchair. His grin and snickers annoy me; he never interfered with my mother’s smothering. She’s on a Momma Bear war-path, ordering that everyone follow her directions. Fuck! I need to get out of here.
“Fatima has set up your room downstairs,” my mom says. Fatima is their current housekeeper and she’s a tall picturesque form of temptation that now waits at the front door. My mom doesn’t like the maid uniform bullshit, so she lets the help wear casual but modest gear. However, Fatima’s curves would show even in a moo-moo.
“Hello, Mister David.” Fatima’s accent is timid but intrigues me. She bows her head before she moves out of our way.
My mother quickly realizes that the wheelchair will be useless due to their home’s extensive staircase, so my dad retrieves his umbrella for me to use as a cane. Fatima helps my mother with my bag while my mother aids me into my temporary room. I sit on the bed and search the room, but nothing feels familiar. It’s just another spare room within my parents’ home. Lavender and sage-like colors dress the room. How the fuck did I end up here?
“Please, Mister David, if you need me, let me know,” Fatima offers before she leaves. My mother and Dad linger to say that they’ll check on me later.
The door clicks shut, and I’m left alone in a room that’s unfamiliar to the one I grew up in. I adjust myself, but am unable to find a comfortable position. My incision tightens and aches as the life I once achieved induces a melancholic nostalgia. I’m dumbfounded as to why they would simply use liquid stitches and fucking tape.
In the front pocket of my backpack, I find my cell and charger. It’s painful, but after too much effort, I’m able to bend over and plug the fucking thing in. While I wait for my cell to come to life, I skim over my transplant paperwork.
A long list of dos and don’ts bore me, so I toss the paperwork aside. On a barely-decorated book shelf rests a scarlet-colored frame that grabs my eye; within the frame is a photo of my birthing center’s opening. Memories of my months with Scarlet pierce my mind with the scent of her skin and delicacy of her touch—my chest aches, but it’s not from my surgery. I miss my lover. I promised her that I’d wait, and yet I didn’t. Her uncertain mental health and my sexual needs weakened my judgement. I don’t deserve her forgiveness.
Scarlet
>
For weeks there was no news of my adoptive parents until the day that Violet came home an absolute emotional wreak. I questioned what had her so distraught, and through heartbroken sniffles she revealed that an email was sent to our family’s business email account.
The catastrophic revelation was that it wasn’t Ivy that had taken our parents—my parents’ captors wanted money and not just any money. These assholes wanted my parents’ shares of BDR. It was too obvious to Violet that the ransom was done by an amateur. Immediately, Violet contacted the detective assigned to our parents’ case.
With the captors’ email address, the Naples police were able to quickly locate my parents. Sorrowfully, it was too late. Benjamin and Elizabeth Belka died of dehydration. Weeks of no food or water while locked in a garage from March to April in Florida? My parents would have suffered less if they were assassinated.
My other siblings, Jade and Adrian, continued their unfair distance. Jade urged Violet to discontinue contact—they were well in Tampa and had no interest in pursuing any type of relationship with us.
“It’s what’s best for the kids,” Jade yelled at Violet when Violet attempted to bargain with her.
My parents’ funeral was absolutely heartbreaking without Jade and Adrian. “How could they not come?” Violet wept throughout the entire service.
Tim and Flora had to step in as acting leads at BDR while Violet and I mourned the loss of our parents.
At the end of April, 2013, Violet decided that working at BDR was too much heartache for her. “Everything reminds me of them. Everything,” she whimpered as she sought out my opinion of whether we should sell BDR or not.
Subsequently, without too much deliberation, we concluded that neither one of us were fit to run BDR. Nonetheless, we couldn’t just displace so many loyal BDR employees. Finally, Violet and I agreed that since Tim and Flora were running BDR with ease that they would be promoted to Co-CEOS of BDR.
Scarlet Unleashed Page 14