Rewind

by Mariam Alaa

Another deafening boom breaks through the quiet atmosphere, deteriorating my health even more. Unlike all the other familiar symptoms I’m used to suffering with the presence of thunder, this symptom is one I’ve never had before- chest pain. My hands release the ceramic and my body lets go as a reflex, tumbling down to the floor. I rest my back on the nearest wall and pull my knees to my aching chest with my hands clutched tightly around them.

  As my head lays heavily on top of my knees and my chest heaves painfully with all my uncontrollable sobbing, it suddenly disturbs me that I’m not at home, even though that’s the last place I want to be at. It disturbs me knowing how my mom is the only one who knows how to calm me down; how to snap me out of my panic attack.

  The idea of calling Lexi strikes my mind, but, as soon as it hits me, I shake it off instantly. I can’t ask Lexi to come here. I can’t ask her to leave her house at 11 pm and drive her car in the darkness, the heavy rain- that I can hear so loudly from inside- and the threatening thunder. The streets are probably drowning, and the seemingly tiny droplets would’ve joined forces to create a high water level that can fit into creating a new beach.

  Oh God, what do I do?

  I have no one.

  Will I be able to not lose it until the booming ends?

  What would my mom have done?

  Whenever there’s a thunderstorm, Trevor would come up to my room running and pick me up in bridal style manner so that he can take me downstairs. He’d place me on the couch then my dad would show up with heavy blankets as an attempt to try and stop my involuntary shaking that they’d always confuse for shivering. My mom was the one who’d always be my real source of comfort though. She’d hurry up and lie next to me on the couch, pull my head on her lap and run her hands through my hair softly. When the booming came, she’d always tell me ‘eyes on the TV darling.’

  Yeah, they’d force me to watch a comedy movie.

  Then it hits me: what I can do to try and make it through the night alive and well.

  ‘Nothing beats hot chocolate,’ my mom would say whenever things turned out pretty bad, and she was right. She was always right. If there’s one thing that always managed to calm down my panicking state a bit, it was always hot chocolate, and I hope it’ll always be.

  Pulling my head from my knees and resting it against the wall, my eyes roll from the ceiling to the bathroom door as I now know what I should try doing. I now know what my new struggle is. With what little strength I have inside of me, I push myself upwards and force calculated heavy steps towards the door. My body is shaking pretty badly, and I only pray that I can make it downstairs before losing conscious, tumbling down the stairs and breaking my neck.

  It’s terrifying how we- human beings- always think we’re in control because truth to be told, we’re not. Never have been and never will be. We do not have control over ourselves, we do not have control of our bodies, we do not have control over what we feel, we do not have control of what happens in the morning, we do not have control of what happens during the day just like we do not have control of what happens during the night.

  At least, not always.

  We always think we have it all: power, money, love, wealth, beauty and even health. We learn to be grateful for what we have when we’re tested in our weakest positions- when we’re vulnerable. I’ve never thought of how much I should’ve been grateful for all those times I felt like I can really breathe, for all those times I felt like I was just ‘fine’, for all those times I wasn’t in any kind of pain until now. Whenever we feel like we’re in pain, whenever we feel like we aren’t in control, whenever we feel like we’re powerless, we take a closer look- a deeper look on life. We take notice of all the blessings showering us, and we thank God that he has put us in this position because if he hasn’t, we would’ve never really noticed because that’s just the nature of us human beings: we don’t realise the value of what we have until we lose it.

  That’s what was happening to me right now.

  This psychological attack that caged my body made me feel how much I wish I could control myself. It made me feel how much I wish I could stop the shaking, tone down my pulse, end the numbness, and kill this ache stabbing my chest. I wish I could inhale a proper breath, but I can’t. With the presence of this nightmare, my wishes are never going to be granted, but I still pray. I pray for these symptoms to leave me alone; I pray this thunderstorm ends right now, and I pray that these attacks would stop exorcising me whenever the condition of the weather is like this night’s.

  Even though it almost caused me to lose my conscious, I made it downstairs to the front of the barrier between both floors. Thanks to my physical state and my already existing laziness, I was about to trip a couple of times on my feet, but I didn’t. With the golden key in my right hand, I push it in, twist it to unlock the door and open it. Despite there being a possibility that Adam’s in the house, I didn’t care about my appearance. Surely, I looked like hell, but neither was it my fault, nor did I have any physical strength left inside of me to fix myself up. I don’t know if I was praying that Adam’s here, or if it was bothering me that he might.

  With a leisurely pace, I take slow, unsteady steps towards the kitchen that was drowning in darkness, praying not to fall down and face the floor with my head. As I take a further step forward, a creak sounds from beneath my feet, and I curse myself, hoping not to have awoken Adam if he was asleep.

  “Evangeline?” Adam’s voice startles me as well as his appearance, that wasn’t visible due to the raven black kitchen, and I stumble back a few steps, losing my footing in the process.

  Adam hurries down to where I’m now sitting on the floor just as I let out a groan from the pain. He places his hand in mine, pulls me on my feet, and tightens a hand on my right arm as an attempt to steady me before walking me towards the couch in his living room.

  “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you. God, you’re trembling!” He asks; his tone dripping in worry as he aids me in lying down.

  I pull my knees to my chest trying to prevent the shaking but failing miserably. Tears continue leaking down from my eyes at the strong jerks of pain, hitting me one after the other, that accompany me with each boom, and I can’t even reply to him because I feel like the minute I open my mouth I might throw up the emptiness in my stomach.

  Adam, who is standing right in front of me, brushes his hand through his hair pulling on a few strands in the process, clearly distraught before telling me, “Don’t move, okay? Ju…j-just stay here. I’ll be back in a second.”

  Realising that the only person, who’s actually here, accompanying me during my tough ride is about to leave me alone, even if it is just for a few seconds, drove a new kind of panic inside of me. As an involuntary result, my unsteady hand clutches tightly onto his right one.

  His eyes soften, and his hand squeezes mine gently before he reassures me. “I’ll be back before you know it- I promise. Count to ten, and you’ll find me next to you even before you reach it, okay?”

  Not able to reply, I hesitantly nod.

  If this were any other time, I’d probably be blushing at my need for his company. My heart would’ve been rocketing to space, and my stomach would’ve been rummaging with excitedly nervous butterflies, but they’re not. When I’m living through these kind of nights, my thoughts are irrational, and I never think straight.

  Adam’s presence disappears, and I find myself counting in my head anxiously, and he’s right- he was right in front of me before I reached ten, and I’ve never been more relieved. My heart warms a little bit at what he’s holding. In one hand is a heavy soft blanket, while in the other lays a mug with smoke floating out of it. Gently, he drapes the blanket around me, making sure it’s securing everything besides my face. The instant he does, warmth throbs through my previously cold veins, and my shaking surprisingly lessens a bit.

  “Do you need me to get you another cover? It’s unusually freezing today.”

  I shake my head.

  “
Here, drink this.” He offers me the mug, and when I push my hands out from below the cover and make sure my hold on the item isn’t violently unstable, he releases it.

  The instant my lips sip the hot drink my eyes sparkles with a small inch of delight, adding an extra emotion other than my fear and pain.

  It’s hot chocolate.

  Adam lays down next to my figure, making sure to give me my space before switching his concerned gaze to a somehow playful one as he points to the TV with his head. “Eyes on the TV, Evie.”

  He switches on Legally Blond on Netflix just as the words hit my ears, and I couldn’t help but eye him in surprise. How did he know? How did he know of my associated trouble with thunder? How did he know what to do? How did he know what my mother used to tell me? How did he know that I drink hot chocolate when things turn out horrible? How did he know that ‘Legally Blond’ is the movie I’d watch in such familiar conditions?

  As if he can crystal clearly catch the question and surprise from my eyes, he raises his eyebrows, and his expression turns serious. “What? Just because you lost your memories and got engaged to Adrien means I couldn’t check up on you?” Then in a much softer tone he says, “I’d always ask about you, Evangeline, even if we’re no longer together.”

  Not being able to form any coherent words, I try and muster gratitude on my face.

  “Don’t thank me.” He averts his gaze to the TV then back to me again then continues with a sudden profound guilt. “I’ve been waiting for you to come down or maybe hoping you would whereas I should’ve been up there to check up on you ever since it started, but I didn’t. I was afraid you’d take it as me crossing my boundaries and your privacy.”

  My eyes drown in his grey ones, and I couldn’t help myself. With the amount of guilt swimming in his eyes, that he shouldn’t be feeling after what he did to help me, I switch my hold on the mug to the other hand and place my right hand on his left one, squeezing it.

  “T-thank y-you.”

  With that said, silence drowns the conversation, and our gazes turn back to the TV. Somewhere during my nervous breakdown though, my lungs started breathing, my heart beats went back to normal, and the nausea and the pain were almost gone. Maybe it was the fact that Adam’s position next to me was a good source of distraction; maybe it was the fact that his presence was calming, or maybe it was the fact that somewhere during the silence, when my state was still terrifyingly awful, I felt my hand being placed onto a soft pillow on his lap, and even though I tried not to look away from the movie, I felt it.

  I felt the smooth hand, with its gentle fingers, softly drawing comforting circles on the back of mine.

  Chapter 19

  It’s been a week since the night of my panic attack’s trigger. Time flew by real fast, and I didn’t know if I was glad by this fact or not. Even though Adam’s presence in the house drastically belittled as he was obviously trying to avoid any discomfort between us, I didn’t feel anywhere near the same as the emptiness of this house- not at all. I felt extremely occupied. I found what kept me busy enough to distract me from the lack of warmth that came with his absence.

  Throughout this week, my mind revolved around different thoughts about certain different things. For starters, I couldn’t stop thinking about last week’s night. It was a night that was empty of sleep. During thunderstorms, I never actually could force my eyes to shut down and just relax my body. I never could succumb to the heaviness of my eyelids and just get lost in my dreams, for my fear of the night always outweighs my need to give in to the calm.

  Even though Adam’s presence next to me on the couch was surprisingly soothing to both my heart and my mind, I was swimming in a sea of guilt. Not only did he lay there next to me as he offered me comforting words from a time to the other, but he also refused my plea for him to go to sleep. Tire was evident in his drooping eyelids, yet whenever I’d tell him, “Adam, I’m all good now. Please, just go sleep; you really look tired”, any ounce of sleep that was evident in his eyes would instantly disappear as he’d eye me promisingly. “For the eleventh time, I don’t want to sleep. I won’t leave you alone, Evangeline. Lexi told me that during these nights of your panic attacks you won’t sleep unless the thunder goes away and the sun rises. I won’t sleep until you do. Just forget it.”

  When the thunder left for good, and the sun rose three hours later that night, I lied on my bed awake. Although my body kept begging me to go to sleep, I became aware of what happened, and since I was back in control of my body, I couldn’t help but recall everything that happened downstairs.

  Heat crawled up to my cheeks as the image of how I clutched onto his arm like a baby, when he was about to leave, appeared in my mind. Excited butterflies danced in my stomach at the memory of when he kept caressing my quivering hand tenderly. My heart warmed up at how much it’s evident that he cares about me, and I couldn’t help thinking how Adrien was never like that with me. We might’ve held hands, and he might’ve gently rubbed my hands before, but he’d never treated me with such tenderness like Adam did. He didn’t even know about my anxiety attacks that were related to the presence of thunder. He doesn’t know me like Adam does.

  The next day Lexi came over to check up on me. She kept constantly apologizing; her eyes filled with guilt as she explained to me how her parents literally locked her up in her room. They didn’t want her to leave the house when going outside would’ve been suicide. Reassuring her that it was okay; that I totally understand; that there’s no need to feel guilty; that I wasn’t alone and that Adam took care of me, the guilt that was so clear in her eyes was suddenly replaced by mischievousness. Needless to say, she coerced me to ‘spill the beans’ on what happened with Adam and I that night. She’d constantly ‘aw’ from a time to the other as I recapped to her what happened, which would result in an eye roll and an embarrassed smile from me as a response.

  That day Lexi swung by is the same exact day Adam taught me something new about myself. Apparently, the reason why I get those attacks during such nights is that they match the night of the accident. As Adam demonstrated, there were strong rain, lightning and thunder on the day of the incident itself. I always thought I was just born with astraphobia, but I never thought my mind mentally related such nights to that dreadful one I lived through. Even though I don’t remember the actual accident, I came up with the conclusion that- subconsciously- my mind is well aware of the damage it did to me.

  Secondly, I couldn’t help stop the hurt and fury from rippling through my heart at the knowledge that neither my parents nor my brother called in order to check up on me. Knowing the fact that they are absolutely aware of the amount of torture and physical pain I’m forced to endure in such nights, I couldn’t stop thinking that they did it on purpose. They didn’t call me on purpose. They didn’t send me a voice note on purpose. They didn’t even text me on purpose. Why would they do that? Don’t they care about me? Am I nothing to them? Am I not their daughter anymore? Why couldn’t they swing by this night or even the day after just to show me that they care enough about me? Why couldn’t they knock on Adam’s front door and just pose a simple question such as ‘are you okay’? I mean it’s not like they don’t know where I’m currently at, and my dad’s dreadful car-wrecking mission he set forward is the epitome evidence for that matter.

  Lastly, I started creating a tiny plan. Scratch that because it certainly isn’t tiny, and it isn’t literally a plan yet more of a mental mind preparation. When I’m completely positive that I’m done with my mental mind preparation, I can then start looking forward to my mission. This mission is one of the most difficult ones I’ll ever be forced to end. It’s one of those missions that I cannot not do, I cannot back out from, I cannot abort and I cannot, under any circumstances, label it as incomplete. Like any other mission, I gave mine a name.

  CONFRONTATION.

  That’s what I am planning to do: confront my parents. Although it may be the last thing I want to do; the one thing I cannot willingly look for
ward to, and the one thing that will either knit back the ripped shreds of fabric- our family bond- or rip it even more, I have to. I have to do this for closure. Maybe I’ll be better off living my life far away, pretending that this knowledge- this dark, twisted game my parents dragged me into- isn’t in the palm of my hands. Maybe I’ll be better off cutting every sort of attachment to them, and maybe I’ll be better off living my life as I’d like to without any further confrontations, but if I do this then it’ll be like an open case and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that without any closure, we will never truly find peace.

  We can never truly start over.

  We can never truly move on.

  Moving on is a great deal for me, and I plan on acing it as I do, even though it’ll be a tough ride. Easier said than done right? With the right approach, though, I believe that I can find closure, and only with closure will I be able to really move on. Now this isn’t like moving on from a bad breakup or moving on from a sinful sin I committed but moving on from something much worse. What tiny yet existent amount of trust I used to hold somewhere inside for my parents, ever since Adam and Lexi came clean to me about my memory loss, is no longer there. When I learnt about Evelyn, the girl they left behind, the trust I had for my parents grandly diminished, but I reassured myself that they surely had a perfect reason as to why they did what they did- as to why they hid from me who I really am was.

  Understanding their whole dark truth, millions of emotions swirled inside of me. There was disbelief at first because I couldn’t wrap up my mind around the fact that the same parents who used to care about me so much; the same parents who raised me, and the same parents who made me who I am today are exactly the same ones who destroyed me and snatched my fate away from me. Then there was a pinch of sadness, thinking of how even before I was born, I was and always will be, just a part of their plan- an asset to their business. Lastly there were anger and betrayal, knowing that this isn’t the first time they tried to take advantage of my birth. Hasn’t losing Evelyn taught them anything? Wasn’t it bad enough to lose their daughter one time? Will I forever remain their punching bag- a bag they’ll keep pushing each time at their own will just so I can do whatever the hell they want me to do?