Edge of Darkness Box Set

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “To see Tara.”

  “That’s right.”

  We get to her office, and I robotically unclick my seatbelt and head inside. Before I know it, I’m sitting on her sofa in her room. I look around me, staring at the beautiful colors. “Are you okay, Dakota?” Tara asks.

  I shake my head and close my eyes tight, then reopen them. “What am I doing here?” I ask.

  “You’ve come for your appointment.”

  “Have I?” She nods her head and jots crazily in her book. “I don’t remember how I got here.”

  “Your mom brought you.”

  “I know that. But I don’t remember actually driving here or even how I got in your office.”

  “You’ve suffered a major trauma today, Dakota. These past few days have pushed you beyond what you can handle. This is your mind’s way of protecting itself.”

  “You sound like Andrea. She said the same thing.”

  “Tell me what’s happened today? What did you have for breakfast?”

  I stare at her, not really knowing how to respond.

  Mom starts talking, running through the events of the day. I listen intently, because I can’t recall any of the events Mom’s recounting, except when she gets to Tracey and Andrea’s visit.

  Everything else is hazy, unclear and jumbled. Tara listens to Mom, her head nodding, and her hand furiously writing.

  Tara turns to me and asks, “How are you feeling about the visit from the police?” I shrug my shoulders. “About the information they gave you?” Again, I shrug. “Okay, this is what I think is happening, and in my opinion the best way to handle it. You’re in auto-pilot mode. Your mind doesn’t want to cooperate with you because it’s received information that it doesn’t know how to deal with. At some stage over the next few hours, I suspect you’re going to break down.”

  Did she say break down? As in cry? I can’t cry anymore, I don’t want to cry anymore.

  She turns to Mom and talks to her, I try to listen, but I’m struggling with comprehending everything.

  Before I know it, Mom’s leading me to our car, strapping me in, and we drive home. The roads look different, but kind of similar too. Mom pulls into the driveway, and helps me out. I feel like a zombie, walking because I’m lead to do so. Breathing because I have to.

  “Dakota, how are you, sweetheart?” Dad asks when I come into the family room.

  “Good,” I answer in a monotone.

  Dad’s eyes go to Mom, and he looks surprised by whatever she’s saying to him.

  Sam comes in and throws an arm over my shoulder. “Hey, big sis.”

  “Hey,” I respond in the same dead voice.

  Sam slowly removes her hand as she steps away from me. “Mom?” she questions. “What’s going on?”

  “Pick a movie, Sam, then come in the kitchen and help me with dinner. Dakota, here you go.” She hooks our arms together and leads me to the sofa. “We’ll put a movie on for you and Dad.”

  “Okay.” I feel nothing. Empty. Dead. Sitting on the sofa my back is rigid, my hands are in my lap and my feet firmly planted on the ground.

  “Lean back, enjoy the movie,” Dad says encouraging me to be more comfortable.

  “Okay.” I stay in the same position.

  The movie starts, and although I’m watching it, I’m not really watching it. It’s playing; I can hear music, people talking, names appearing on the screen, but I have no clue as to what’s happening. “I liked that part,” Dad says and taps me on the shoulder.

  “Okay,” I respond.

  There’s chatter going on in the house, I can hear Mom and Sam talking in the kitchen. I try to focus in on what they’re saying, but all I hear is white noise. I know they’re talking, but there’s no way I can concentrate enough for the noise to make sense.

  I keep watching the movie, trying to understand what’s happening. It’s not like I’m trying to be removed from everything and everyone, I’m simply struggling to finding an edge to hold on to.

  I’m lost.

  The screen goes black and Dad stands, turning it off.

  Did something happen? Have we had a blackout? I stare at Dad, waiting for him to tell me what’s happening. “Dinner, Dakota. Did you like that movie?”

  Crinkling my forehead I try and remember what film was even playing. “Yeah,” I answer though truthfully, I have no idea what’s happening.

  “Come on.” Dad holds his hand out to me, and I look at it, trying to figure out what his gesture means. “Dakota,” he says in a low voice.

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  “Take my hand.”

  “Oh, right.”

  He pulls me up and we walk to the dining table where bowls with food have been set. I sit down and stare at the food. It’s so beige. I can’t even identify what it is. “What is it?” I ask.

  “It’s spicy chicken and rice, one of your favorites,” Mom answers.

  “Right,” I respond. I can’t see the rice or the chicken. It looks like nothing, like mush. Picking my fork up, I get some food on it and lift it to my mouth. It tastes like beige would. Bland, tasteless, dull. I go back for another bite, and experience the same lack of flavor.

  “Whoa, this is hot,” Dad complains and reaches for his glass of water.

  I keep eating, but still can’t taste anything. Nothing’s being absorbed into my mind.

  I lift my fork and my hand stills on its own. Dropping the cutlery, it bangs against the bowl. “Oh my God,” I whisper.

  And it hits me.

  Hard.

  “They have a solid lead,” I say looking at Mom, Dad and Sam.

  Dad puts his fork down, and clasps my shaking hand. “Yes, honey. They have a solid lead,” he confirms.

  “They have a solid lead,” I repeat.

  Visions of me on the witness stand, telling everyone what happened to me play on a continuous loop in my mind. Every detail being described for the world to hear. Details even I don’t know, while the perpetrator tells the world what he did to others, to me.

  “Oh my God.” My mouth falls open and my body shivers while ice creeps through my veins. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

  I look to Mom, hoping she’ll say no, but instead she’s nodding her head. “I’m afraid it will,” she confirms my nightmare.

  “But we’re all here to support you,” Dad adds.

  “All of us,” Sam says. “We’re all here.”

  The right side of my head starts pounding. It’s making the connection to everything all at once, and it’s hurting because of the overload of emotions and information. Standing I say, “I need to lie down.” I head in the direction of my room, pull back the covers and collapse into bed. I have no more tears to shed, no more fight inside me. I just need to close my eyes and sleep.

  Maybe I’ll be lucky, and never wake.

  Chapter 42

  “Dakota?” I hear someone calling me. “Dakota.” Someone puts their hand on my shoulder and gently nudges at me, waking me from my sleep.

  “Yeah?” I answer, my voice is croaky and tight.

  “Come on, you have to get up,” he says. But he doesn’t sound like Dad.

  I turn my head, looking to see who’s in my room, and it’s Reece. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I’ve come to see how you are.”

  I turn my body so I’m facing him, and bury myself further inside my blanket. I know my breath must smell, and my hair is a mess. I don’t want Reece to see me like this. He tilts his head so he’s looking at me, and slowly moves his hand to smooth my hair back. “You look comfortable, I almost feel guilty for waking you.”

  “So you should, because I’m very comfortable.”

  “I said ‘almost,’ which means I don’t feel guilty at all. Come on, you need to get up and changed.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Reece. I don’t feel like doing anything.”

  “Huh, well you’re all out of luck. Up you get.” He stands and puts his hands on his waist. “I�
��m giving you ten minutes to get up and changed, after that I can’t guarantee my actions.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, I could come in here and tickle you, or get your mom to tip water over your head. Or better yet, I could ask Sam to sit on your head.”

  “Alright, alright I’ll get up.”

  “Nine minutes and fifty-five seconds.”

  “Get out and I’ll get ready.”

  He leaves my room and closes the door, but I hear him loudly counting down. I quickly get dressed and swing the door open. He’s looking at the timer on his phone while leaning against the wall opposite my room. “Good, you’re ready. You were down to a minute.” He cheekily grins.

  “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “You have fifty-six seconds.” He looks back to his phone.

  Rolling my eyes at him, I go to the bathroom and freshen up.

  When I come out, he’s talking to Mom and Dad who are sitting at the dining table playing a board game with Sam. I look outside and notice it’s dark. “What time is it?” I wonder out loud.

  “Nearly nine,” Mom answers.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Reece. It’s dark and late and I’m tired.”

  “Do I have to get your parents to push you out the door? Because I’m positive they will.”

  “Go, sweetheart,” Dad encourages me.

  Mom’s smiling and nodding slightly, she’s clearly supporting this expedition Reece wants to take.

  “Ugh,” I grumble to myself. Seems they’re all ganging up against me. “Fine, I’ll go. But under protest.” I know I won’t make good company. There’s no way I’ll be able to focus on anything other than the words Andrea and Tracey hit me with earlier. ‘We have a solid lead.’ And I can’t tell Reece, not because I don’t want to, but because I literally can’t.

  “Duly noted, and disregarded,” Reece sarcastically replies.

  “Ugh,” I moan again. “I’ll go put a pair of shoes on.”

  “Sport shoes!” he yells at me as I head into my room.

  “Okay, let’s go.” I drag my feet, trying to take my time and make Reece regret his plans.

  As we head out, Reece turns to my parents and calls, “We won’t be long, maybe an hour or so.”

  He closes the door and we walk down the path toward his awaiting car. “If you’re taking me to a party, I’m going to sit in the car.”

  “We’re not taking my car.” He swings the small gate open and waits for me to go first before closing it.

  I look around for any other mode of transportation, but I don’t see anything. “If you tell me you’re Superman and can fly, I’m going to be impressed.”

  Reece throws his head back and laughs. “I’m not Superman, but I could be Batman. Ever seen us in the same room together?”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” I emphasize the fake laugh.

  “Well, have you?”

  “Where are we going, Reece? And how are we getting there?” I stand and put a hand to my hip, frustrated with the lack of information.

  “Come on. We’re going for a walk.”

  “A walk?”

  “Yeah, you know. Put one leg in front of the other, it’s called walking. Hang on, I’ll spell it for you.”

  “Stop trying to be funny.” Although, to be fair, he’s managed to put a smile on my face.

  “Aw, are you saying I’m funny?”

  “No. But in case you thought you were, you should quit while you’re ahead.”

  “Come on.” He laughs again. We turn to the right and start walking down the street. I live in a really quiet area, where everyone is friendly but keeps to themselves. There are never any loud parties, and when there is one, all the neighbors are usually invited. We all know each other, and wave when we see someone. “It’s such a quiet street, there’s no one yelling at their kids.” He chuckles. “You can always hear Mom yelling at either Luke or me. Mostly it used to be Miles, but now that he’s gone to the army, she yells at us.”

  “What does she yell at you for?”

  “Usually it’s to clean our room. Put the toilet seat down.” He smiles broadly. “You know, guy stuff.”

  “Mrs. Nelson lives in that house.” I point to a grand, double-storey house we’re slowly approaching. “Her husband died years ago. She’s pretty old, but she still comes out every day and gardens. She spends hours out here and that’s why her garden is so beautiful. But we all keep an eye out for her. She’s out here every day, and she’s always here when Sam and I get home from school. One day she wasn’t, and when Sam told Mom, Mom came over and found she’d fallen in the shower and couldn’t get up. She’s really independent and hates people helping her, but the neighborhood does.”

  “And she lives on her own?”

  “Yes she does. Her oldest daughter, Irene, tried to get her to move in with her family, but Mrs. Nelson is as stubborn as she is independent.” Reece chuckles again. “Are we headed in any particular direction?” I look around noticing we’re nearing the park.

  “Wherever the road leads us.” He gently grabs my hand and links our fingers together. I freeze momentarily, and he stops walking. I look down to where our hands are joined together. “Is this okay?” He lifts our hands.

  Everything inside me is yelling yes. It is okay; it feels right. My heartbeat takes off at crazy fast speeds, and my pulse quickens. Marveling at the effect he has on my body, I lean up and rake my hand through his hair. “It’s okay,” I answer.

  Reece’s eyes widen in surprise, because other than hugging him, I’ve never touched him in any other way without having a small meltdown first.

  A hot flood of emotions overtakes me. My throat closes and my eyes blur when I realize exactly how intimate the touch I gave him was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you.” I curse myself for my own stupidity. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “You’re not teasing me, Dakota. And I’d never see it as anything other than a gentle, loving touch.” He leans forward, and places a sweet, slow kiss on my cheek, lifting his hand to delicately brush it down my cheek.

  My shoulders stiffen, but I still close my eyes to enjoy his light touch. Just as quickly, the tension eases and I lean into his caress.

  Reece’s face is close to mine and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. I open my eyes, look up into his tender brown eyes and give him a genuine smile.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

  And for the first time since that night, I feel beautiful, thanks to Reece. A playful grin pulls at his lips, but the secrets behind his eyes hint at so much more. “Come on.” He steps back putting space between us, breaking the connection we had.

  We start back in the direction of the park and after a few steps Reece takes hold of my hand again. The feeling between us is gentle and easy. There’s no pressure, nothing spoken. We walk slowly, more like a lazy stroll, taking in the darkness and enjoying each other’s company.

  “What happened today?” Reece asks as if he knows more than he’s letting on.

  “I had a bad day.”

  “How so?”

  “I kinda had a meltdown.”

  “Because of Tara?” He knows everything about the counselor, and has even offered to take me when I need to go.

  “No, she’s good. She explains things to me as simply as she can. You ever hear doctors talking and they’re using words so huge you need a dictionary to understand them?”

  “Yeah, it’s not only doctors who talk like that. Some people are like that, thinking if they use big words, they’re smarter than you. I sometimes wonder if they know they sound like idiots.” He laughs.

  “Yeah, well she’s nothing like them. I have no doubt in my mind she could be like them, but to me, she’s really good. Anyway, my bad day has nothing to do with her.”

  “Then what is it?”

  We reach the park and head over to the swing set. I sit in one seat, Reece in the other. Pushing my legs on the ground, the swing starts moving back
and forth ever so lightly. “It was just a bad day.”

  “But why, what happened for it to be a bad day?”

  “I’m not sure I know how to explain it.”

  “You’ve got a voice, use it.”

  Looking down at the dirt slightly flicking up, I try and concentrate on what I can say about my day without revealing anything about the police. “I think I had an anxiety attack today. That’s how it was explained to me. My mind hasn’t been ready to deal with the fallout of this, so it turned off. But when it decided to comprehend it all, I went into a meltdown, and I couldn’t deal with it.”

  “But you’re dealing with it now. Aren’t you?”

  “How? I’m a mess, Reece. Today people were talking to me and I had no idea what they were saying. I was eating without even knowing what I was eating. Everything looked like it was one color. I couldn’t see anything.” I look everywhere but at Reece, because I know my words aren’t making sense. It’s almost like I’m talking for the hell of it. “I lost it today. I lost myself, and I didn’t know how to move forward.”

  “You think moving forward will be as easy as a few sessions with your counselor, a couple of hugs and a ‘there, there’? ‘Cause it won’t be. There’ll come a time in your future where you’ll notice you’ve gone an hour without being consumed by thoughts or images of what happened. And then it’ll be two hours, and three hours until one day, you’ve learned to live it and you won’t let it stop you from moving forward.”

  “Are you saying I can’t move forward because I’m stopping it?” Suddenly, I’m pissed off.

  “No, I’m saying it’s natural to feel like that now, it’s raw and you’re still trying to find your bearings. But one day, you’ll be able to live with it, and to say ‘this happened, but I won’t let it rule my life.’ That day won’t come easily. Hell, there’ll be a lot of days in between where you’ll break down and want to hide away from everyone.”

  “That’s how I feel now. I want to lock myself away in my safe haven, and never come back out again.”

  “That’s normal, Dakota. I see my aunt and how she is. She’s old and she still has days where she struggles. There are days she can barely get out of bed, she’ll call my Mom all weepy and crying, and Mom goes to her. But at the same time, she knows she may have those days, but she manages to work through them and the next day she’s okay.”