by Dea Poirier
“I need you to close your eyes,” he directs and I follow his instructions. “Take slow deep breaths.”
My eyes close, and I breathe as deeply as I can. Before we start, in the moment before he speaks again, I can see myself next to her. The blood oozing from her body, the gray color of her skin.
“Count your breaths, in and out.”
One, two, deep breaths shudder through me. He keeps directing me, the darkness ebbs in.
Even beneath the shade in the stables, the afternoon heat blankets me. It hasn’t rained in days, yet it’s still so humid you could hard boil an egg on the sidewalk. Though it’s a thousand degrees out here, the horses still snort and stomp, as happy as if there were a breeze. It’s been still outside for so long, I can’t even remember the last time I felt wind. Florida’s got the kind of heat that wraps itself around you, holding you so tight you feel like you’re being smothered beneath it.
Since Olivia’s been out shopping with Eden all day, I’ve been out here, reading. I’d have gone shopping with them, but Eden flashed me a warning glare. I knew if I followed, a funeral procession wouldn’t be far behind. The smell of shit, hay, and dirt is as comforting as the escape I usually find in words. Truth is, I’m not really focused on my book. My favorite horse, Lady, is fit to foal. She’s four days late, actually—not that I’m counting. As stubborn as she is, I’m not surprised. She’s been late every single time she’s been bred.
I look up from my book when I feel her eyes on me, her breath against my hair. The only thing hotter than Florida is horse breath. She’s taking a break from pacing to stare out at me over the door. I reach up, and push her muzzle into the side of my head.
I set the book down and push off the wooden bench. She’s paces and circles around her stall. She’s got one of the largest stalls, giving her plenty of room. The hay in her stall is damp, riddled with blood. Her torso tightens, she’s pushing. This is the fourth labor I’ve been through with her. There’s a pop, a waterfall of fluid, and in two more pushes the foal falls to the floor. She turns and nuzzles the foal and moments later it tries to stand on shaky legs.
Lifting the wooden lever, I push the door in. I enter the stall to inspect the foal. He’s tiny, almost looks like he came a little too early. I slide my hand across Lady’s brown and white body. The foal’s father is gray. But this foal is solid white. It’s not often you see solid white horses, and I’m surprised she managed to make him. Every other foal of hers has been a tiny replica of her.
“Nice work,” I say as I run my hands across her mane.
As I run my hands across Lady, her belly tightens again. She starts to push, and fear wells in my stomach. The vet never guessed Lady might be carrying twins. Twin pregnancies are dangerous for horses. She has the second foal out so quickly I’m barely able to process it. It’s hard to even look over at the foal, I’m expecting it to be dead. They’re always dead.
Then I hear shuffling, and Lady shifts to look at the new foal. This one is also white, with just a touch of chocolate brown on her mane. But she looks just as healthy as her brother. It’s all I can do not to hug Lady.
I hear footsteps behind me. I expect it to be my father checking in on the horses. But the second I see the flaming red hair, I know it’s Dominic.
“Hey,” I say to him.
He nods but doesn’t say anything for a moment, finally he asks, “Where’s Olivia?”
“Out with Eden, shopping,” I explain as I watch to be sure both foals are nursing.
“Olivia is obsessed with that Howey mansion, right?” he asks.
How does he know that? She never talks to him, and she wouldn’t have told him. “Yeah, why?” I turn toward him, watching him light a cigarette.
“Old lady Howey got carted off to the hospital. Heard it was serious, she’ll probably be gone a while,” he says as he takes a slow drag.
My eyes burn when I come out of the vision. Quick breaths make my head spin. Dr. Lennox doesn’t speak right away, he waits until I sit up. My head rests on my palms, and my elbows dig into my knees. After a while, my back complains; I have to sit up and correct my posture.
It wasn’t real. Was it?
The vision was as clear as any memory I’ve ever had, clearer than the visions I know weren’t real. Was it real? Did we go to the mansion because Dominic told me about it?
“Who’s Dominic?” Dr. Lennox asks.
Though I know during the regressions I tell him everything I see, the question still takes me off guard.
“He was my friend,” I say. “The best friend I had who wasn’t Olivia.” The words have a finality to them that I don’t expect. Was.
“Was,” he repeats, picking it out of my sentence. “Why, was?”
“Partly because I’m here. Partly because my sister thinks that Dominic has something to do with Olivia’s death.”
“And what do you think?” he asks as he tilts his head and crosses one of his legs over the other.
“I don’t know.” A leaden breath slips out of me. “I don’t want to think that my best friend could have killed Olivia. And I feel horrible for even thinking it.” But there’s something that’s nagging at the back of my mind. The fingers of a memory working their way into my mind.
“Had he ever hurt Olivia, or anyone else?”
I shake my head. “No, not that I know of.”
“Is there any reason you can think of that he might have hurt her?”
“He was always jealous of Olivia. He hated her. And she hated him. But I never understood why.”
His brow falls and he brings his hands together so that his fingers form a peak. “While it’s possible that someone else hurt her, you need to understand that your guilt and depression may be working together to shift blame. I think we should try regression again in a few days, or whenever you’re comfortable.”
A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes tighten.
“There was another set of footprints at the scene. Did I ever tell you that? There was someone else there that night. There was someone else who could have done it. But that doesn’t matter, does it? You think I did it. You think I killed her.” I don’t know why I’m so surprised, so disappointed. Part of me expected that if we spent all these sessions together he’d see that I’m not a killer.
I push a shuddering breath out of my nose, and some of the frustration brewing inside me slips out with it. Right now, I can’t even look at him. Part of me doesn’t want to come back.
After
A weird prickly feeling haunts me. There’s a crisp and cool fog hanging in the air this morning. Mist pools on the ground, and creeps across the lawn. A chill slithers up my arms. The campus is all but abandoned, except for a few boys that sneak off into the cornfield. I feel like my mind is giving me hints about the memories that are locked there. My mind is trying to tell me I’m a killer. That I did it.
As I wander, I avoid the dining hall, sneaking a cig in the orange trees, before heading to the stables. The smell of hay is heavy in the air. Even though the horses can’t smile, when they nuzzle into your shoulder you know they’re happy, you know they love you. I have a handful of hay when I reach my favorite. Her soft, rich, chestnut fur folds beneath my hands, she nuzzles me before she takes the hay.
“Sorry I couldn’t sneak you an apple,” I say as I rub my hand across her nose. I skipped breakfast, but the hollow feeling in my stomach isn’t because I’m hungry—I feel bad for not bringing her a treat.
A few of the other horses are not as happy to see me, they simply tolerate me. Years of mistreatment has likely made them numb to humans. Two others, black and white paint horses show me a bit of affection, but I haven’t bonded with them like I have Ginger. When I let her out of the stables, she follows me around like a puppy, nudging me when I turn away. Most of the time that I should be shoveling, or cleaning, I’m actually brushing her.
I’ve got the brush in my hand working through the knots in her mane when Sayid jogs up.
Out of
breath he says, “Hey.”
I nod at him. He’s hunched over, with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. Stray strands of hair are glued to his face with sweat. My eyebrow perks up as I watch him, he never runs anywhere. What’s the rush today?
“Your dad’s on the phone, says it’s an emergency. They sent me to get you,” he says and pauses between each word to suck in a breath.
“I thought we weren’t allowed phone calls,” I say, and glance at him, searching his face. It’s not that I don’t believe him. But I’m wondering if the news is really that bad, or if he pulled strings because he’s a judge. A bad feeling claws at the back of my mind, letting the darkest of thoughts in.
“We’re not.”
I take Ginger off the lead, and my hands tremble. She follows me into the stable, and gives me a disappointed snort as I shut the door to leave. Her head shakes from side to side. She stomps twice, and pulls her ears back.
“I’ll be back later.” I promise. Each breath I take in is sharper than the last.
In a blur, I run to the office. Sayid follows, keeping pace with me. I burst into the office, the metal door quakes as it slams behind me. I grab the phone, laying on a desk, as soon as I see it.
“Dad?”
“Asher?” His voice is flat. Though he’s speaking directly into the phone, his words seem far off, hollow.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Something must be wrong, he hasn’t spoken to me since he sent me here. There has to be some reason for him to call, and it can’t be good news. He never wanted to talk to me even when I was home.
“Your Mom... Eden...” He pauses to suck a drag off his cigarette, and I hear ice clink in a glass in the background. “They’re missing.”
I feel for my pocket automatically, her necklace is still there. I should have tried to call her when I had the chance. Guilt pummels me. What if I never see her again? My eyes burn, my throat tightens, dry as a bleached bone.
“What do you mean, missing?” The words are rejected by my mind. They’re so impossible, I can’t process them. A pit forms in my stomach, weighing me down. It spreads, my limbs turn to lead. I might never be able to move from this spot. I know it’s been a while since Sayid heard from her, and her necklace...but she can’t be missing, she can’t.
“Eden’s been gone six weeks, your mom disappeared last night.” His voice cracks.
Six weeks? She’s been gone six weeks and no one told me? No one wrote me?
A rush of anger flares up inside me. But it’s crushed beneath the weight of sadness a few moments later. The thoughts twist in my mind. I have to find her. I’m no use to her in here.
Did Dominic do this?
I’ve never heard my dad upset before, I’ve never even seen him cry. But I can’t pity him now. I hate him for this. I hate him for not telling me.
She’s really gone. I didn’t imagine it. I had a chance to save her, and I didn’t.
“Did you call the police?” I ask, because I’m not really sure what to say, what to ask. Fear coils inside me, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Eden can’t be missing. My Mom can’t be missing. This can’t be real.
“Of course I called the police. They’re working on it.” His voice falls and he sighs. It’s clear he has no faith in them, but I knew that already.
I don’t want to ask the next question, but it slips from my mouth anyway. “Do you think they’re dead?” My voice is barely a whisper. I’m aware of Sayid’s eyes on me, the stricken look on his face. I turn, and face the wall.
There’s a long pause, a rustling, like he’s moving the phone. I hear the clink again of ice cubes in a glass, followed by a slow sip.
When he doesn’t speak I say, “Dad?” I pause. “Please,” I beg, my voice cracks.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I mean, it doesn’t look good. I know how it turns out for most missing persons cases. Especially since they both disappeared separately. Asher, I don’t think they’re coming back.” He blows his nose.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask. I’m not sure why I ask, I’m not even sure I care. But if they’re gone, he’s really the only family I have left. The only family in this state anyway.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice is distant. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you soon?” I know he doesn’t mean it, it’s just something he says.
“Yeah, bye, Dad.” I hang up the phone, and turn to leave the office. As I walk away, it feels like part of me is still stuck in the office next to the phone, like I’m leaving part of myself behind. My eyes burn, and I wipe my nose on my shirt.
Sayid follows me outside, but I can’t look at him. My eyes fall to the ground. There’s a gaping hole inside me, so raw it burns. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I stand on the sidewalk and stare at him for a moment. Every word is weighted to the bottom of my mind, and I can’t pick them up. I can’t find a single thing to say.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks as he nudges me. “Everything alright?”
I shake my head. “My mom and sister are missing. My dad thinks they’re dead.” I take a deep breath as I try not to break down. I sniffle, avoiding eye contact. Each burst of air shudders through me, I cross my arms hard across my chest, and try to keep myself from hyperventilating.
Eden is gone. She’s gone. This can’t be real.
“You want to talk about it?” he offers as he squeezes my forearm.
“No. I just want to be alone right now.” I start to walk away and he grabs my arm. My eyes water. I’ve never felt so lost, so alone in my life. Eden was the other half of me. Who am I without her?
“Wait, before you go.” He holds out his hand and gives me a pack of cigarettes.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He gives me a half smile, shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, and turns toward the laundry. He looks back for a second to say, “If you need to talk...”
After
After everyone is asleep I sneak down the stairs. Though fears that the guard may be downstairs are fresh in my mind, something is propelling me. When I reach the bottom, I listen carefully, not wanting to run into the guard and his toy again. Greeted by silence, I continue to the bathroom on the first floor. Thoughts weigh me down, I’m shrinking beneath them. Olivia is dead because of me. Eden and my mom are probably dead, and I wasn’t there to save them. Why do I get to live? I don’t deserve to be alive. I don’t want to be alive. Every day is slightly more painful than the last.
The door squeaks when I open it. The smell of mold, and crappy shampoo heavy in the air. Beige tile lines the floors, the walls, dirty grout sticks out between them. Six shower stalls line the right hand side of the room. On the left side, three urinals stand with three stalls holding toilets beside them. Along the back wall that I face, there is a trough-like sink with four large mirrors above it.
Surrounding me, consuming me, the thoughts dig at me. I push the bathroom door shut and lock it. For a long time I stare at myself in the mirror. My features are dark, I don’t recognize myself. The face staring back at me is so foreign I don’t even see Eden in it anymore. Everyone is gone, everyone that mattered. I’m completely alone.
It’s your fault they’re gone. You’ll end up killing Sayid too. You’ll kill anyone you get close to.
Without understanding what I’m doing, I pick up a plunger, but I’m not sure why; my body seems to move on its own. The wooden end slams into the mirror, it shatters. The shining shards shower around me. The air burns my skin as several of the mirrored daggers pierce my flesh. The sound cuts through the silent night. But I don’t care anymore. By the time anyone could burst through the door, I’ll be gone.
There’s a drip, drip, drip of blood on the floor. The shards crackle beneath my feet as I shift, and stare at them. One large piece in particular calls out to me. When I hold it, look at it, it’s not pain and a rush of blood I see. It’s a way out. My way out. My way back to Olivia, Eden, and my mom.
I should feel panic, I shou
ld be scared. But all I feel is how much I miss them. How much I miss me, and my old life. There’s no going back. That life is gone, and this new life isn’t one I can stand to live in anymore. If I live, more people will be in danger. It’s only a matter of time before I kill someone else.
It’s like I’m standing outside myself, watching. My body moves a few feet away, on auto pilot. I feel nothing as the shard drags across my wrist over and over. Blood starts as a trickle then turns to a stream, a pool forms around my feet.
My breaths become shallow as darkness ebbs into the corner of my vision; then it engulfs me. Olivia and Eden are the last things to cross my mind, I feel words drift across my lips.
“I’m sorry.”
Before
Date Unknown
A sly smile creeps across Dominic’s face as he looks at me. He takes a long drag from a cigarette, and his eyes sweep the street. He plays it as though he’s not quite interested. The truth of it is, he probably hasn’t stopped looking for me since I escaped from him in the cemetery. My stomach twists as I watch him. He never lets it go on this long. He’s so quick to act, to get it over with. His eyes narrow on the house.
What’s changed?
“Really, here? You two should be able to do much better than this,” he says as he shakes his head.
We do much better than this. I know he’s trying to get information out of me, to get a clue. He’s been able to find me just fine, but it’s killing him that he can’t find her.
“It’s not the two of us, anymore,” I say. There’s no way it will ever be true. We’d never split up, we’d never be apart for long. But I need to lie, to convince him that he’ll have to start looking elsewhere. It’s our only chance for next time.
He cocks his head and his lips purse. The way his eyes tighten, I can tell that he doesn’t believe me. He’s searching my face for the truth. But I don’t look away, I don’t shift, I hold steady.