My shrink says that he grew into a predator. Maybe he was traumatized by what happened to me. Maybe it was inside him all along. But she says that what he did to me was wrong and she's helping me to understand that what I felt for Mark wasn't love. She says I don't even know what love is. I think she is right. If I could go back and change things I would but she says we can only go forward now.
Besides, Mark is dead and the priests are too. Three of them got the death penalty. One was released with only months to live thanks to prostate cancer. He went back to the only home he knew. That monastery in the woods. And now he's dead as well. She won't tell me if I killed Samuel or not. Says it would hurt my recovery. But either way she says it's not my fault. I almost believe her.
58.
At night I dream of Noah and wake crying hysterically. They don't give me drugs to calm me down here. Instead the nurse comes and sits next to me and holds my hand. It's incredibly effective, more so than any drug. Why hasn't anyone done this before?
We talk in whispers. Well, I talk and she listens. I tell her about the first time I saw Noah at the train station. How he pissed me off and how much I wanted to prove that I was better than him. Then somehow, along the way, I started to feel more for him and that scared me.
She says that happens a lot. Girls like us can't always tell if what they are feeling is real. It makes relationships harder.
I tell her how he made us a home and all the times he saved me. Then I usually cry again.
She says I shouldn't be sad. That if he is my true soul mate he will wait for me.
I tell her that he shouldn't. That he'll be happier if he's not around me. I don't want to hurt him anymore.
She usually doesn't have an answer for that. All of us here have done horrible things. Every one of us is better off keeping their distance from the rest of the world and that includes Noah.
Even though it hurts.
But then again, everything hurts anyway.
59.
There is a new girl here who is in even worse shape than I am, and that's saying something. She stepped in front of a train. It actually hit her and she didn't die. Granted, the driver threw the whole thing into reverse and practically derailed five carriages so it wasn't exactly going fast when it struck her but even so. It's freaking scary.
We've all agreed that no matter how hard we try, we won't get to die until it's our time and that's not something we get to decide for ourselves. Kind of takes the pressure off. It's been a good reminder. I've been feeling kind of down these last few weeks. I was hoping that Noah would come and see me but he hasn’t.
My shrink says I shouldn't worry about matters of the heart. I need to concentrate on getting well.
The trouble is she says I'll always have to live with this. Whatever this is. Medication will help but I have to take it. I can't decide that I'm all better and stop on my own. She's made me promise. We have a pact. All the girls do. We'll take our red pills like good little girls and we won't see the monsters anymore. Sounds like a good plan to me. I'm sick of the monsters.
Some of the girls think that the pills hide the truth but if what I see when I'm off them is the truth then I'd rather see the pretty lies.
60.
I don't know how long I've been here. We don't have calendars or televisions or phones. We're cut off from everything but our recovery. I don't mind. I never liked all that stuff anyway. The outside world was always too much for me. Too real. Here I am safe. Secure. Maybe even loved.
One of the girls tried to escape last week. They caught her halfway over the fence and dragged her back kicking and screaming. Then we didn't see her for days.
There is a rumor going around that she was in solitary. I've never been there but they say it's a room with no windows and one door. Padded so that you can fight and shout and throw yourself at the walls but nothing will happen. You can't even hurt yourself. They shove food and water in through a slot in the door and they don't even talk to you. It's supposed to make you more malleable. Quiet. Happy to be back in the group again. It works. Sometimes. Some girls come back nicer than before they went in. Some girls don’t come back at all.
Makes you wonder about places like this. From hand holding to solitary with one wrong step. But it's still the nicest place I've been and no one has tried to hurt me here. That's saying something.
61.
We're supposed to have therapy with our parents. Mine refuse to come. I’m hardly surprised. Out of sight, out of mind, has always been their motto. I'm sure they have their fingers crossed that they'll keep me in here forever. For all I know they might. But I guess that's not good enough for the shrinks here. They are persistent.
I don't know what they said to her but eventually Mom showed up and she was hammered. Yes. She has fallen off the wagon in a most spectacular fashion. I didn't see her but I definitely heard her. One of the other girls said she saw her and she was wearing a ball gown and a fur coat. I remember those days. When I was a kid I always used to think it was fun. Dress up time. I used to think it was special time for me. Obviously not. It was Mom's drunk quirk that she used a little girl's fun time to hide. Well she can't hide it anymore. That demon is out in the open for all the world to see. Just like mine.
They've offered her help. I hope she takes it. I want to tell her that these are good people and they want us all to get better. I'm not allowed to call her but I've written her a letter and they are going to let me send it.
I wrote in it that I forgive her. That's bought me a whole bunch of brownie points with the shrink team but that's not why I did it. I really do forgive her. I'm just not sure for what.
62.
Mom wrote back. She says she's sorry too. She's going to some twelve step program and says that when it gets to the one where you have to tell people how you've wronged them, she'll come back to see me.
But I may not even be here. My due date is in one week. I've never been so scared in all my life. I'm worried that everything I did to myself has harmed the baby. The doctors tell me that she is fine but I'm still afraid she'll come out with two heads or eleven toes. Or something worse. But I know she isn't possessed. She's not the spirit of my imaginary sister or an evil silver light. Those were all hallucinations and madness. She's just a little baby who needs love and attention and someone to change her diaper and hold her when she cries. I want that for her too. She's going away after she's born so that she can get it. Even though I've bonded with her over these last few months, I don't mind. I want her to turn into a normal little girl and not a crazy one like me.
63.
She was beautiful and perfect and now she’s gone. But I got to hold her. I looked into her blue eyes and told her that I would always love her. Then I kissed her and let her go. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do but I did it. I made it through and out the other side.
When I got back here the girls had made me a chocolate cake. We laughed and cried a little too. But that’s okay.
64.
The days I spent getting well are a blur to me now. For so many of them I was sick. Not myself at all. But as time passed, I got to know the real me and accept her for who she really is. I think maybe I'm free.
I'm standing out in the little garden, waiting. The big old oak tree is throwing a generous amount of shade today and I'm wearing my new white sundress. I'm going home.
I suppose it's amazing that I have someone who still wants me. That I have a home to go back to. For that I'm more grateful than anything. I watch as a red cardinal lands on a bush not far from me and chips a couple of times. Then he takes off in a flutter of wings. He's been hanging around my window for a while now. I think he just came to say goodbye.
Then I see it. That truck I know so well. My heart swells and tears fill my eyes.
"Hello," I call out, waving madly.
The truck slows and then stops. The door opens. My heart jumps into my throat. He looks so much older than he was before but then so do I. But time is irrele
vant. His lips are still the same, those eyes that light up when they see me. I run to him as fast as I can, tripping over my own feet.
He sweeps me up in his arms, burying his face in my hair. I sob as I rest mine on his chest.
"I've missed you so much," I say through the sobs.
"I've missed you more," he says.
I can tell he's as choked up as I am but he tries to hide it.
"Is she here?" I say hopefully, stepping back.
"Yes," he whispers. "But she's nervous."
"So am I."
He takes my hand in his and leads me back to the shade of the tree.
"Wait here," he says.
"Okay."
He goes back to the truck and opens the door. Leans in and talks to someone inside. Then he looks back at me and nods his head. I know this is the moment I've been waiting for. My whole recovery has been for this. I can hardly breathe.
65.
She gets out of the truck with his help. He's holding her hand and I see her for the first time. Not me as a child but almost. She is her own person, shy and beautiful. Blonde hair tucked behind her ears. A yellow sundress with blue flowers. She’s biting her lip the way I used to do but she comes over anyway. She’s braver than I was.
I crouch down to her level, not wanting to scare her.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
She looks at the ground, then at me.
“Mommy?” she says softly.
EPILOGUE
I've been free for ten years. Free from the places that locked me away and the monsters that trapped me inside my own mind. I don't remember much of what happened. I suppose that is something to be grateful for. The past isn't something you can change so there doesn't seem much point in dwelling on it. Besides, I have a great life now.
"Are you ready?" Noah asks.
"Of course," I smile. "Come on Sophie."
I get into the car, the seat burning against my sticky skin. This summer is going to be a hot one but our little house sits under the tall oak trees, shaded in our own private hollow. I've spread wildflower seeds along the white picket fence and soon they'll start to bloom in an explosion of color. Wild and free. Just like Sophie. She's coming out of the house now, blonde hair still tucked behind her ears only the ends have been dyed purple. She's going through her rebellious teenage years. She thinks Noah and I are old farts. I don't blame her. I feel like an old elephant myself. I think she's happy about the pregnancy even though she tries to hide it. She’s sick of being an only child. But she's been such a blessing. A happy baby and a great kid. We didn't call her Julia. Noah and I don't speak that name any more.
"God, it's so hot out," she whines as she gets in the back seat. "How long is this thing going to take anyway?"
"How long is giving birth going to take?" I laugh. "I hope not long but you took seven hours to push out.”
"Gross," she says before putting in her headphones.
"What’s gross?" Noah asks, getting into the car.
"Oh nothing, just the miracle of childbirth," I say.
"Yes," he starts the engine. "That sounds about right."
Noah holds my hand as he drives to the hospital. I try to take it all in, this one moment where there is just the three of us. Soon there will be four. This pregnancy has been easy. It seems like this time everything is right and I know that Noah is over the moon. He's always loved Sophie as his own but he wants more than anything to have a child with me. For the two of us to create a life together.
Sophie doesn't know that Noah isn't her birth father but I think she's starting to suspect. I see so much of Mark in her. She loves art, paints and draws all the time. She's planning to go to an art college after graduation. She has more talent in her little finger than I do in my whole body. I'm so proud of her but I can't take the credit. I know she takes after her father.
The hospital is only ten minutes away. Noah makes me wait in the car and comes back with a wheelchair.
"Are you serious?" I laugh.
"Deadly. I'm sick of seeing you waddle about. It's time you rode in style."
"Fine," I kiss him before wedging myself in the wheelchair.
"You guys are so gross," Sophie says. "I'm going to the cafeteria."
"Don't be long," Noah calls after her. "Your mother might need you to hold her hand."
"For seven hours?" she shouts back over her shoulder. "That's your job."
"She's right you know," I say.
Noah just grins. I know he's been looking forward to this day for nine months. But he might not look so happy when I'm squeezing the shit out of his hand and screaming that I hate him. I may not remember much about my past but I do know that giving birth hurt like hell.
We're shuffled through to a room where I'm set up with a bed and gown.
"This is so sexy," Noah says, parading the gown around like it's a person.
"You wear it then," I grumble.
"I'd wear it for you if I could," he says, kissing me again.
"Will you still love me when I'm not fat?" I sigh.
Noah’s attraction towards me has somehow been magnified with each pound I've put on. We've had to be incredibly creative when it's come to sexual positions. Seems he can't get enough of my wide load.
"It's just, you’re so beautiful carrying our child," he says, kissing me harder. "I love you so much."
The nurse comes into the room with some blankets and my chart.
"That's so sweet," she says. "Usually couples are screaming at each other by now."
Noah and I just smile. We've been through too much to let a little thing like hours of pain come between us.
"I'm Ellen and I'm going to be your nurse for the day so if there is anything you need, just ask."
"Thanks," I say. "This is my husband Noah and I have a daughter down in the cafeteria, texting her friends and telling them that we're ruining her life."
"She really is happy about the baby though," Noah adds with a frown.
"I'm sure she is," Ellen says.
She looks at me and then runs fingers through her gray hair as she flips through the chart.
"You look so familiar. Have you been here before?"
I look at Noah, concerned. "No. I don't think so."
"Do you mind if I ask what your maiden name is?"
I start to panic. Is she someone from my past? Someone who thinks that people like me shouldn't be allowed to raise one child, let alone two. I look at Noah, scared.
"Is there a problem," he asks.
"No," she says. "You're sure you haven't given birth here before?"
"No," I say. "I haven't."
"Do you have a sister?"
My heart stops. I can't do this. Can't handle this. Not now.
"No," I say firmly. "I don't have a sister."
"Strange," she says, then shrugs and leaves the room.
"What the hell was that?" Noah says, looking at me with his worried face.
"I don't know," I say. "Let's just forget it, okay?"
"Alright," he says. "But if she starts any funny business, I'm going to request a new nurse."
"Agreed."
I lay in the bed in my stupid gown, rubbing my belly. The baby is moving around a lot. I guess it knows it's almost time. We don't know if it's a boy or a girl. We want to be surprised.
"Don't worry baby," I whisper. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."
Doctors come and go. Checking my cervix, the baby's heart rate, my heart rate, which of course is elevated thanks to that stupid nurse.
"You have to calm down," Noah says after one doctor leaves the room shaking his head.
"I'm trying," I say.
He holds my hand and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. I'm almost feeling peaceful when I hear the door open.
"Shit," Noah whispers. "She's back."
"How are we doing in here?" she asks cheerfully.
"Fine," I say through gritted teeth.
"You know, I'm sorry about before but you just loo
ked so familiar and you know, I finally remembered why."
I grip Noah's hand tightly, thinking she may have seen my face on the news back when I was a crazy killer. I open my mouth to defend myself but Noah shakes his head gently so I bite my tongue. She comes around and fiddles with my IV.
"You're so pretty," she says. "Just like your mother. Your mother is Nancy Turner, right?"
"Yes," I say, letting out a little of the breath I've been holding.
"Well honey," she says, touching my arm gently. "I was your mothers nurse when you were born."
"You’re shitting me," Noah says.
"I most certainly am not," she says. "I have a folder see, a baby folder. All the babies I helped deliver and their mothers. You know, I've helped deliver over five hundred babies."
"Wow," I say. "That's incredible."
I'm not afraid anymore. This woman doesn't know who I was or what I did. She's no threat to me after all. She pulls out a folder and flips through the pages until she finds what she is looking for.
"Here you are dear."
She points to a photograph of my mother, looking as young as Sophie is now, holding a tiny baby.
"That's incredible," I say.
Printed underneath the picture is my mother’s name, Nancy Mary Tuner and underneath that it says, baby girl Ana 7lbs 3oz.
"What does that mean?"
I point to the little mark, a minus one next to my name.
"Minus one," she nods, straightening my blanket. "It means your mother had her pregnancy reduced. She originally conceived twins."
THE END
The Half-Truth (Drowning Book 2) Page 13
