Hollowed by hunger and sorrow, Vega drifted in a state of worry. Nothing remained in her body but dirt and blood, and she couldn’t understand how she’d stayed alive this long. Even the water couldn’t be strained enough now to keep it clean.
Still, her brave little Toby never cried for more food or asked her for things she could not provide. Even now, he’d saved that last bite of bread for her. She wouldn’t touch it, though. He’d need it for later if the man didn’t come.
Tired to the bone, Vega settled onto the doorstep with the heat and dirt pressing against her as if it were trying to smother the little spark of life she had left. Toby stayed inside, his wracking cough echoing in the small shack as he played with a wooden truck. Just listening to the little boy as his lungs struggled to breathe made Vega wish she could give her life for his.
“The man will come,” the real Vega prayed.
“The man will come,” the dream Vega prayed.
On the hill, in the midst of the dust storm clouding the horizon, the man from the state waited and watched. His long white hair seemed untouched by the filth in the air, and his upturned collar both hid and protected his face. If a stranger had passed by, they might have noticed the piercing eyes glaring out at the world from the man’s pale face, but no one came by. No one dared venture into the world when they saw the dust start to move-in.
Only that man who had come to take the boy braved the harsh land, waiting out there in the dust and heat. His visit prolonged for days by Vega’s refusal to die, he remained patient, knowing the time would come. A wicked smile curved his hidden lips, and he breathed deep despite the grit.
The smell of her death filled the air, and a sense of pride rushed through his veins. Guessing she’d kill herself by giving the boy all the food she had to give had been a calculated risk. But, it had paid off in the end.
Vega looked up to see a man in a dark coat with white hair coming down the hill. She’d waited, and he had come, but she’d done nothing to save herself. It didn’t matter because Toby would survive. Secure in the knowledge that her brother would live, she shut her eyes and passed from the world of the Great Depression.
****
“Please, please, no more. I can’t take it,” she begged into the echo of her screams. The deaths came in rolling waves, and she felt each one like a cold and violent shadow of the torment playing out in her mind. Fevers burned her brain as chills rippled up her flesh, and nausea rose and fell inside her stomach like waves in a storm. The pain afflicted upon her dream self became as real to her body in the physical world as anything she had ever experienced.
****
Vega stumbled, her uncoordinated, jerking walk more from the painful sickness than the exhaustion weighing down her muscles. Cancer. The word spun inside her head, almost sounding as forlorn as the lone train whistle echoing in the distance.
The real Vega watched and shook her head in silent horror as the tall and thin version of herself climbed a rocky embankment. She could already see what would happen, but she couldn’t turn away and couldn’t wake up. Trapped inside a version of herself she couldn’t understand and forced to experience everything the girl did, she waited for the worst to come.
Vega didn’t care when the loose rocks tumbled, causing her to fall and scrape her palms. She barely took the time to wipe the grit from her skin onto her skirt as she struggled upward. She’d come to the tracks looking for salvation, and nothing could make her turn back.
In the distance, the locomotive’s single light winked through the trees, and the steam rolling from its tall stack dotted the skyline. Vega’s body trembled from the exertion, but her mind remained steady and her will stayed strong. Death would not take her by force and break her on his wheel.
“I…choose…when. I…say…where. I am in…control,” she said, huffing painful breaths between the words.
She lifted her skirts and stepped onto the old trellis, staring down her ever-nearing end. The tracks rumbled under her feet, reminding Vega of the young doctor as he’d mumbled on about months of pain and suffering—face always concealed behind the white mask.
How careless the man had seemed as he’d warned Vega that her body would decay like a corpse until the cancer destroyed organs, flesh and bone. Even his heart-stopping blue eyes had filled with a strange detachment as he tightened the band in his white hair and asked if she’d like something for the pain.
Afterward, she’d fallen into an abyss of self-pity and denial for weeks. But, when she came out the depression, she’d found the answer. She couldn’t fight death and win. Nothing would cure the disease destroying her body. But she could control how she finished it. She could steal death’s glory away.
In a final act of defiance, Vega closed her eyes and stepped forward to meet her doom. Screeching brakes and popping car hitches erupted around her. As she’d feared the engineer tried to stop, but to her relief, he didn’t have time.
****
Vega didn’t even have the energy left to call Zane’s name or struggle to move. Sapped of all strength, she let the tears leak down her cheeks as she surrendered to madness. The nightmares flooded in, the short periods of consciousness ceased, and she was lost in a movie reel of death stuck on repeat.
****
The rope hung ready, the sea crashed against the rocks, and Vega stood alone. A year. It had been a year since her William had set sail. She’d pleaded with him not to go, but he had, leaving nothing but his promise to return and marry her behind.
Remnants of his last words played like a soft echo in the whoosh and clap of the angry water biting at the shore. “Wait at the top of the lighthouse every day in June. I’ll see you and find my way home because you are the only light I need.”
Summer had come and gone. The bleak winds of December had blown in. The ocean had turned into a tumultuous and icy pit of despair. And the only thing that had come home to Vega had been a letter, delivered by a captain with long white hair and haunting blue eyes. A captain who had survived when the ship all the other men had been lost.
Vega scanned the words once more, hating the page as much as she hated the worn lines and tear stains from the many times she had read the shipping company’s apologies.
William Tate would not be returning home. Instead, the captain had offered his sincere regrets and best regards.
The heavy braids, rough and abrasive, brushed against her skin as she slipped the loop over her head. Tears sprang to her eyes as Vega realized that he was still with her, even in this forbidden act. After all, William had taught her how to tie the knot, never knowing it would end her life.
Balanced on the edge of the railing, Vega stood in the beam of light for the last time. William’s name clung to her last, tearful breath, and she plummeted. Twenty feet came and went in a blink of her eye. The yank of the rope brought unbearable pain, and the sound of the sea became a fading thing as she left to join her beloved on the other side.
****
Water filled Vega’s lungs, her lost lover’s name died on her lips, and the image of the man who had taken his life danced in flashes before her eyes. He’d plunged into the river only days before, and Vega couldn’t imagine living another moment without him by her side.
So, she’d chosen to join him in the only way she knew how.
The weight on her legs pulled her down into watery darkness, and she tried not to fight. She tried to be brave. Still, instinct took over as a gulp of water filled her lungs.
Vega struggled, attempting to kick and fighting to breathe. Her heart wanted to die, but her body could not resist the desire to live. She’d done the job right, though. There’d be no escape from the heavy chains secured around her ankles.
Under the depths of the murky river, the city lights looked magical, glistening from far above. Calm stole over her as she watched them twinkle for a moment before closing her eyes.
Her last thought should’ve been of Marcus and how they would be together again, but it was not. Instead, Vega
’s mind filled with regret. She wanted to take it all back. Death couldn’t be the answer, but it was too late for that now. The last of the air in her lungs pushed past bluing lips, and her life faded away.
****
Vega cried. Her heart broken and her curls in disarray, she begged, “Just a fix, Nathaniel. I will take anything.”
His voice matched the coldness in his blue eyes as the man talked to her through a crack in the black tinted window. “Church girl, you got yourself a real problem.” Despite the admonishment, the man with long white hair slipped the pack of powder to her and took the money she offered.
“Thanks, Nate,” she mumbled as she turned away.
A spoon, a lighter, a needle, and a tourniquet—her lifeline in the crazy world she existed in. No more thinking of her mother wrapped in the arms of the boy she loved. No more thinking about anything anymore. The bliss would come, and all her troubles would fade away.
Everything ready, Vega slipped the needle into the vein like welcoming and old friend. An unbelievable rush hit her blood stream like a thousand watts of happiness before fading quickly away. The lingering joy felt like a warm blanket wrapped around her body, and she reveled in the comfort. All the pain in her life drifted away on a cloud of euphoria, making the world seem like a better place to be. With a smile on her lips, she slipped into sleep.
Vega watched her doppelgänger’s chest rise and fall. All the other versions of herself had died, but she wasn’t sure if this girl with the blonde and auburn curls would. No pain, urgency, or fear existed in the floating paradise she shared with her dream self. If anything, she felt at peace.
The needle still in her vein, dream Vega mumbled in her sleep, and then the unthinkable happened. Her breathing stopped and didn’t restart. Minutes passed, but she didn’t struggle. Even when her lips and skin began to turn blue, the girl rested as if she’d merely drifted off into a lovely dream.
****
Adjusted to watching herself die so many times, the real Vega couldn’t help but think, I died with a smile on my face. Weird.
****
The gun weighed heavy in her hand, smoke hung thick in the air, and the taste of cheap bourbon clung to her lips. Her short black hair bobbed against her chin as she swayed to Elton John’s voice on the radio, and when she laughed, it was because she didn’t have a clue what the boy next to her had said.
Vega’s dream self took another long hit from the joint in her left hand before passing it to the guy with the long white hair next to her. He nodded, face obscured by a cloud of marijuana smoke, and smiled.
“Now, how do you play this game?” the familiar stranger asked.
Vega’s laughter bubbled up once more, carefree and sounding oddly distant. “It’s a six-shooter, right?” she said as she held up the gun and pointed to the small chambers. “So, you load up five bullets, and leave one blank. Then you just give the cylinder a spin, and put the barrel to your head.” She demonstrated the act, lifting the gun to her temple. “Pull back the hammer, squeeze the trigger, and pray your ass off the bullets not in the cham—”
****
Boom! The cell door slammed behind Vega, and the white padded walls loomed on all sides, threatening to close in. Almost as soon as her eyes adjusted to the bleached confines of the room, she began to scream like an animal, trapped and afraid.
From the corners, the shadows crawled and slithered in as if rising from the depths of hell. Dream Vega backed away, pressing herself into the wall as she mumbled and struggled, too drugged to even know what she was seeing wasn’t real. The shadows crept closer, and her wails grew louder, but no one came.
The real Vega screamed as well, terrified of the swollen creatures flopping and inching their way forward with large gaping mouths and yellowed eyes. “Someone help her,” she cried despite knowing she was little more than a ghost in the dream world.
A doctor finally came to peer through the small window, only his striking blue eyes and a shock of white hair visible.
Dream Vega begged him to help her and pleaded to be let out of the room so she could escape the demons coming to take her soul. Her fear left an acrid taste of copper on the real Vega’s tongue.
A voice came boomed form overhead, the pop and crackle of the speaker blending with the doctor’s cool tone. “You are not really seeing demons, Vega. You are ill. Your mind is telling your eyes these things exist. They are not there.”
The dream Vega raised her fingers to her face, the jagged nails the only weapon she needed to stop the fear.
The real Vega dashed forward, but could not reach the girl in time. The room seemed to grow longer as she ran across the space that had seemed so small only moments before.
Fingers digging into her eye sockets, but not feeling the pain and agony sizzling through her nerve endings, the doppelgänger pushed with all her strength. The real Vega wasn’t so lucky as she suffered the brutal attack, every ounce of pain hers to bare.
Blood trailed in rivulets down the girl’s face, and her mouth stretched into a siren’s scream. At last, a fleshy pop echoed in the room and the last membrane severed, leaving the girl blind.
Suffering in the darkness and still fearing the creeping things, Vega shuttered and moaned in agony. A fire built in the gaping holes where her eyes had once been, and shocks of nausea swept through her from the wet, rubbery feeling of something bumping against her cheeks.
She prayed for help, for death, and for the doctor to come. Half-coherent tumbled from her blood-soaked lips until his footsteps reached her ears. She thought others would come to help as well, but they did not. Only the cold and unfeeling doctor stepped into the room.
A cool hand brushed the hair from her face, and a chilled voice whispered, “This is the worst you’ve ever done, Vega. Far more creative and appetizing than the other times you’ve departed this world.”
Something in the tone, a strange wrongness in the words, drove her forward. Hands blindly flailing, she found his throat. Despite her pain, or maybe because of it, Vega found the strength to curl her hands like talons and press down on the pliable flesh beneath her fingers.
The man struggled and flailed, helplessly trying to pry her away. The coughing sound erupting from his collapsing trachea was nearly musical to Vega’s ears.
“I will die, but you will die with me,” she screamed.
****
The vision faded, and Vega expected the feeling of her nails digging into flesh would as well. When the plush object in her hand remained solid, she opened her eyes.
A shocked yelp ripped from her throat as she threw herself backward and away from the thing she’d held in her hands. She scrambled to get away as terror rolled through her mind, and her stomach lurched. Though she tried to get away, her limbs entangled with the ones beneath her, causing Vega to tumble and fall.
Unable to think or regain her footing, she scooted backward across the kitchen until her back smacked against the wall. Long minutes passed as Vega sweated and shook, biting her lip to keep from spewing more vomit onto the floor. Her eyes remained locked on the motionless lump across the room, but her mind drifted away.
Petrified the darkness would come and half-praying it would, Vega forced her vocal chords to react to her mental commands. “Mrs. Custer? Shelley…?”
Silence hung like a blanket over the room. The woman’s body lay in the floor, dead eyes staring upward, and her blonde hair spread out around her head like a halo. She looked so innocent in death.
She looks just like Mom did when I… No, that woman wasn’t my mother. She was my Aunt Diana. Still, Mrs. Custer looks just like she did after she…died.
“This isn’t a dream. I’m not asleep. Oh, God. What have I done?”
Chapter Seven
Zane watched from the other side of the void, the breach still too wide to cross. His heart ached for the girl he loved, and he wanted desperately to help her. If he could have found away, he would have crossed all the fires of hell to be at Vega’s side, but
she was too alive and too aware. He could not break through. Not until the gap lessoned or Vega stood on the edge of death.
Before, when Bill had tried to rape her, Zane had managed to send a thought to her across the void. He wasn’t even sure how he’d done it, but he had a pretty good guess. Bill would’ve killed Vega had Zane not intervened, and that impending death had allowed him to project a single sentence into her mind before she’d managed to fight back and change her destiny.
Now, when she needed him again and all his pent-up rage and angst pushed at his skull like a fist, he couldn’t reach her. Instead, the curse forced him to watch her torment through the haze of the void, unable to join her until it was too late.
After what seemed like hours, Vega finally stirred, and Zane’s heart broke a little more. Even the act of tearing her eyes away from the dead woman on the floor pained her as if she felt the need to see and recognize her victim. As if she wanted to punish herself for what she’d done.
Zane cursed the dead woman, blaming her for what he knew would come next. Stupid, nosey woman. You came when you heard Vega’s screams, hoping to find her dead so you could be on the news and feel special. How many times did you hear her screams before? Why did you never come when Diana and Bill hurt her? Stupid, selfish woman. You got what you deserved.
Unable to even look at the corpse without wanting to taste the death that had already come and gone, he turned his gaze back to Vega. Deep pain washed over Zane, erasing the beast’s hunger as it stirred inside him.
She stood, half-dragging herself to the counter. Her hands shaking as she sobbed, she grabbed for pen and paper. Zane could not read the letters through the veil, but he knew this Vega well. He’d seen the trembling, tired, and broken girl too many times before.
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