The Half-Truth (Drowning Book 2)

by Claire Svendsen

Water drips into it. I step closer, trying to see. Half full the water is clear. It shouldn't be. It should be dirty and black with mold and mildew. Instead it's as if someone just placed in the plug and ran the tap. The leafy vines reflect green in its surface and my hollow face stares back up at me. Smiling. Only I'm not smiling. The face starts to laugh. The reflection just like the one in the mirror, the one I didn't want to see.

  "Stop it," I shout.

  "Stop it," the face mouths back at me.

  I splash the water but the only things I create are ripples and waves across her smile.

  "You can't get away from me," she says.

  "Julia?" I whisper.

  I put my hand on my belly. Since the day I drowned, I haven't seen Julia like I used to. She crawled inside my skin and took the form of my unborn baby and I've known all along that she's been controlling me and those around me. But I haven't actually seen her, until now.

  "How are you doing this?" I say.

  "Are you doing this?" she answers.

  I clutch my head and stumble back. This can't be happening. Not again. I can't deal with this right now. I just can't.

  32.

  My back is pressed against the wall. Her voice still floating up out of the water, all garbled and distorted. I have to get out of here but I can’t find the door. The vines hang in my face. I swat them away but they don't seem to do what I want. They sway gently in the breeze, then reach out to grab me. Green strings wind around my neck. As I reach up to pull them away, some of them snake around my wrists. I scream and this time I mean it.

  Laughter floats up out of the tub but I barely hear it over the panicked beating of my own heart. It races in my ears as the vines constrict around my neck. I spin around, trying to free myself and feel for the door. But my hands don't connect with a handle. Instead there is glass and the raised tile edge of a round mirror. I close my eyes. Don't want to see but the vines pull me forward.

  "Open your eyes," the voice from the tub whispers.

  "No," I scream.

  "Do it."

  "Shut up."

  But I'm choking. Gasping for air. And despite every fiber of my being not wanting to look, I open my eyes.

  "Hello Ana," the face in the mirror smiles.

  It's her. The girl from the tub. The one who is growing inside me. Julia. Only she's not like the Julia I remember. She's not the mirror image of me she once was. Twins who shared a womb and a face. Now she is different. A blend of me and someone else. Mark. I see his eyes in her face. His smile grinning back at me.

  "You can't run away from me," she says.

  "Why are you doing this to me?" I sob.

  "Why not?" she laughs.

  "You have a second chance. Why can't you just be happy about it?"

  "Well that wouldn't be any fun now would it?"

  "If you're going to kill me, you might as well just get it over with."

  Julia cocks her head and thinks for a moment. But I know she'll never kill me. She needs me. Without me she'll never be born. I hold her fate in my hands and suddenly that knowledge gives me power.

  "I could stop you," I say. "End the pregnancy. It wouldn't be that hard. There are plenty of ways."

  The smile slides off her face. "You would never do that."

  "Want to bet?" I snap.

  I think of the abortion I nearly had and know that if I had gone through with it none of this would be happening. And it's not too late.

  "I'll hurt Mark," she says.

  I lean in, the vines loser around my neck as though my words have hurt her powers.

  "I don't know who that is down there but Mark is dead. I'm a fucked up and even I know that."

  She glares at me. "I'll hurt Noah."

  "Fine. Hurt Noah. See if I care."

  She looks at me with the same face she had when I walked into the lake at Victoria College with stones in my pocket. The knowledge that I would drown myself to get away from her. That I could end it all. It took away any power she had left. She did the only thing she could to stop me from severing our connection. Pushed herself inside me like a snail slipping into an empty shell. Now I’ll do anything to get her out.

  "You do care. I know you do," she says. "And he's already in trouble, with the police."

  I think back to the bar and the construction workers. It seems like a lifetime ago that I was there looking for him.

  "Noah can take care of himself."

  "You're wrong. He can't take care of himself. Don't you realize? He's not even acting of his own free will. I'm controlling him. Making him do horrible things."

  "Whatever. I don't care," I say.

  Deep down I do care, of course I do. I'm not sure what I feel for Noah anymore. But I don't want her to hurt him and the only way to stop her is to pretend that anything she does to Noah, has no effect on me. I'm smart enough to play her games now.

  "You'll care," she says. "When I send him to kill you."

  33.

  There is knocking at the door. The vines finally loosen their grip enough for me to get free. I pull them off, breaking the leafy strings and tossing them onto the floor. Then I stomp on them for good measure. The face in the mirror has gone. Now there is only my reflection staring back at me. And it's not that great. I look like shit.

  "Ana?"

  It's Mark, trying to bust the door down. Finally he bursts in.

  "I heard you scream," he says.

  "Forget it," I say. "I'm fine."

  I brush past him and out of the bathroom. He trails behind like a lost puppy. I wish he'd just go back to where he came from. He's starting to get annoying.

  "Where did you come from anyway?" I say. "How did you get here?"

  I lean against the banister, watching a ray of sunlight dance across his face. In so many ways he is the Mark I know, the one I fell in love with. But in so many other ways, I know deep down in my heart that he isn't.

  "I hitchhiked," he says.

  "From where?"

  "Alabama."

  "What were you doing in Alabama?"

  "Oh, just drifting around."

  I reach out and touch him. Just to be sure, I give him a little pinch.

  "Ouch," he laughs. "What did you do that for?"

  I sit on the ground and motion for him to join me. He does so, leaving just enough space between us that the electricity sparks and snaps.

  "Just checking."

  "That I'm real?"

  "Something like that," I look at him seriously. "What do you remember about the fire? About Victoria College?"

  "Nothing," he shrugs. "Do you think I have amnesia?"

  "I don't know. You seem to remember me all right."

  He lays back and puts his hands behind his head.

  "I remember bits and pieces of you. Falling in love with you and yet hating you at the same time. Feeling as if I knew you even though I’d only just met you. I felt like we were connected somehow. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I knew I had to find you."

  Guilt boils over in the pit of my stomach. After Julia pushed Mark off the balcony, we brought him back inside. Carried him on a makeshift stretcher made out of an old door and put him in the pantry. Trapped there by the hurricane, there was little else I could do than watch him die. When the fire broke out, Noah convinced me to leave him. To get ourselves out. We couldn't save a man who was already dead. But if he hadn't died, if he'd been hanging on all that time then we did the worst possible thing imaginable. We left him behind. I left him behind. And during the weeks I spent in the hospital after almost drowning, Noah had lied to me. Everyone had lied to me. No one had ever told me that Mark survived.

  "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't know."

  "I didn't know either. I thought you were dead too."

  I look at him, trying to figure out what it is he wants from me. Why he’s here.

  "Why did you want to hurt me?"

  "I don't know. It was instinct. I knew that I loved you and yet I had this horrible hatred burning inside me. I
had dreams. Visions of you pushing me to my death. Suffocating me. Hurting me. Part of me wanted to scare you. To hurt you back. And the other part of me just wanted to scoop you up in my arms and kiss you and never let go."

  "I know the feeling."

  He reaches out with a finger and gently traces the red welts the rope left when he tied me to the chair. They don’t really hurt, not anymore but they are a stark reminder that all is not what is seems. That despite his words and the way he keeps smiling at me, I can't trust him.

  "I'm sorry," he says.

  "I'm sorry too," I whisper.

  And I am. I never wanted him to get hurt. Julia targeted him because of my feelings for him and she'll do it again if I show her any part of me loves him. Just like she's hurting Noah.

  "How did you know I was pregnant?" I ask, suddenly remembering his words as he left me in that dark room.

  "I don't know," he says. "Somehow I just did."

  He doesn't ask if the child is his. Just lays his hand on my belly. I feel Julia stir, then kick.

  "She's feisty," he says.

  I don't ask how he knows it's a girl.

  "Yes," I say. "She's a pain in the ass."

  "How far along are you?"

  "A few months," I say.

  I don’t want to commit to a time frame of conception. If he’s smart, he’ll figure it out sooner or later. Not that I want him to. If I have to stop her once and for all, I don’t want him standing in my way. I don’t want anyone stopping me. It’s my choice.

  “You don’t seem very happy about it,” he says. “Being pregnant.”

  “Try throwing up for months on end and see how you feel about it,” I reply.

  “Right. Yeah. I suppose that would suck.”

  "So I don't know about you but I think we should get the hell out of here," I say.

  He looks around, taking in the crumbling walls and the hole in the roof. Right now fluffy white clouds race by on a gentle breeze but that’s no guarantee. Later it could rain. Pour down from the sky, flooding through the holes and making puddles on the floor. Leaving the place a cold, damp death trap.

  "I kind of like it here," he says wistfully.

  "I like it too but I can't stay here. I have people who need me."

  "I need you," he says. "Can't we stay just a little while longer?"

  The old me would have said yes in a heartbeat. I would have been happy to hibernate away here with Mark forever. Possibly even willing to give birth to Julia here and raise her in this wilderness with Mark and I her only playmates. Exorcise the demon out of her one way or another in this once hallowed place. It would have been like a dream. A fairy tale. But the new me sees how it could so easily turn into a nightmare. And I can't leave people behind. I've done that once before. I won't do it again. I'm starting afresh. Striking the bad karma from my slate.

  "I have a plan," I say.

  And Mark leans forward on one elbow to listen.

  34.

  "Give me your phone," I say.

  "I don't have a phone."

  "What do you mean you don't have a phone? What kind of person doesn't have a phone?"

  "Well where is your phone then?"

  "I don't know. I think it might have been in the car."

  "Smart."

  "Shut up."

  I'm trying to think of the best way to get out of here and hopefully find Samuel and Norma as we go. I can't leave knowing they could be trapped in one of the rooms or lost out in the gardens.

  "Fine," I say. "We're going to look through this monastery one room at a time. Every cupboard, every hidden space, we're going to search it."

  "What are we looking for?"

  "Not what. Who. My friends. I'm not going to just leave them behind."

  Mark lays back and puts his hands behind his head. "They're not here."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Well if they were, we'd have seen them by now, wouldn't we? Face facts Ana. They left you. You should be pissed at them. I know I would be."

  "You don't understand. They wouldn't just leave me. They're not like that. And what about Norma’s car? They didn't just drive away."

  "They could have if the other guy had a car. That weird priest you said lives out here. Grow up Ana, what kind of person lives out in the middle of nowhere? The guy is probably a whack job. Some pedophile who had to hide out in the wilderness because otherwise he'd land in jail."

  My stomach rolls over as I think of Samuel. How he wasn't the same man I remembered and yet parts of him were. Just like Mark. Different and yet the same.

  "You don't understand," I say. "He saved my life. He cares about me."

  "He doesn't care about you. Neither of them do. They both left you here to rot. You should just forget about them."

  "I can't," I say.

  Mark looks at me sadly, like I'm some kind of pathetic loser.

  "What do you want from me?" I snap, scrambling to my feet.

  "I don't know," he says. "A little love. Some compassion for everything I've been through."

  "Everything you’ve been through?” I laugh. “Look. I'm glad you're here and everything but this isn't about you right now."

  "No," he says, jumping up. "Nothing ever was about me was it? It was always about you. What you needed. What you wanted. I thought maybe you'd changed. That almost dying would have made you a better person but it hasn't. You're just the same old selfish Ana who only cares about herself."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I shout.

  "No. You never do."

  He storms off down the hallway.

  "Mark," I run after him. "Don't do this. Please. I need your help. Just help me look for them and then we'll go."

  "And what happens after that?" he says, still walking away from me. "Then you'll want to try and find Noah too, right?"

  He stops and grabs my arms, pushing me into the wall. The angry Mark back again.

  "Why is this never about me?" he shouts.

  "It was always about you," I cry.

  Before I realize what I'm about to do, I reach up and slap his face. He doesn't think twice before hitting me back. There is blood in my mouth. I spit it onto the floor. Wrench away from him.

  "Leave me the fuck alone," I say.

  I storm off, leaving him with that stupid hurt look on his face. I don't know what his problem is or what he wants from me but I have to get out of here. I have to get away from him.

  But I'll stick to my plan. One last sweep through the house. I have to be sure Norma and Samuel aren't here. For all I know this new, weird Mark could have done something to them. I know I'm crazy but he's not exactly playing with a full deck either. The guy is a ticking time bomb.

  I dash from room to room. Opening closets, looking under beds. I find nothing but mice and spiders. But now that I have a plan things seem easier. Each room I check, I'm closer to getting out of here. Now every room on the top floor is done. I run down the stairs. The hallway looms ahead of me. The one with Samuel's room and the other one. That dark place where Mark kept me prisoner all night. I never should have trusted him, believed his lies. After he pulled me from the burning car I should have run as fast as I could until I reached a road. Got to civilization. I shouldn't have given him a chance to explain.

  I open the door to Samuel’s room and breath catches in my throat. Everything has changed.

  35.

  Someone's been in here, in this room. Someone has been living here.

  "Samuel?" I whisper. "Norma?"

  I step inside. The bed has been made. Fresh white sheets tucked in at the corners and a brown blanket over the top. There is a black cat curled up at the bottom of the bed. It lifts its head and lets out a little cry before lazily licking a paw. There is no dust in this room. No decaying clothes. Instead the robes are pressed neatly and arranged on hangers. The fabric is sharp and new.

  "This can't be happening," I say.

  But it is. The desk is clean. The bible open and pens lay beside it
. A ray of sunlight shines through the stained glass window where before there was just a hole in the wall. It casts red and yellow light that dances across the room like a butterfly. I sink onto the bed.

  "It's not real," I say. "It can't be."

  The cat gets up and stretches, then rubs against my arm. I reach out and pet it, feel the warm fur that is soft and silky beneath my fingers. It starts to purr. Pushes its head harder against me. I scoop it up and hold it. Hold onto the one thing that seems to be real.

  "What's happening to me?"

  The cat doesn't seem to know or care. It wiggles free from my arms and pounces on the blanket. Then it starts scratching and digging.

  "Stop that," I say.

  The cat doesn't listen. It continues to pull at the bedding until it's made a mess of the bed. Then it looks at me and cries. Not the cute little meow it gave earlier but the sort of howl that makes your blood run cold. I reach out and pull back the blanket, not sure I want to see what is under there. Horrible images run through my head. A million awful things that could be hidden beneath the blanket but instead all I find is a silver cross on a chain. The ends flared out like the petals of a flower.

  The cat starts to purr again, pushing the cross towards me with its paw. I pick it up. Hold the metal and rub it between my fingers. I don't really have any faith to speak of. My parents never took us to church. Perhaps putting my faith in something other than myself wouldn't be such a bad thing right now. After all I don't really have anything left to lose. My faith will be the thing that frees me from my demons. I unfasten the chain and put it around my neck. The cross hangs like a weight on the end, the silver almost buzzing against my skin. The cat, now seemingly satisfied, has settled in my lap.

  "I can't stay in here with you," I say. "I have to get out."

  The cat rolls over and lets me tickle its belly.

  Part of me wants to stay in the room with the cat but the other part wants to run screaming from the place. I push it off gently. It lets out a little growl and swats at my hand. Sharp claws scratch my skin.

  "Hey," I say. "Don’t take it out on me."

  I leave the room and the cat behind and check the others. They are all the same as they were before. Rusted beds pushed into the corners and dust over everything. There is no rhyme or reason why Samuel's room should be so different and yet it is. I think back to the nursery. How the trees that Noah painted became real beneath my fingers and wonder if it isn't Julia who is working her magic here.