by Dawn Brazil
“Mom, okay, it won’t happen again. I need to lie down. I am sick.” I stormed off to my bedroom with sourness rising from my abdomen.
I raced into my room and threw my bags to the floor. My tears were so heavy they felt like dumbbells under my eyelids. Unable to show emotion in front of my parents and brother, this was my only avenue of emotional release. But it didn’t happen often. Emotions were unwelcome nuisances in our home. The only feelings allowed, however, were disdain, resentment, and pride.
I’d lived in this emotionally illiterate family my entire life. I rarely allowed anything to break my cheerful demeanor. I’d gotten accustomed to the madness.
Even so, I was unable to shake the battle that raged within me. Had I really seen Zack dead? Or had I been mad enough to want him dead? And why? And what the hell was up with the voices? Why am I losing my mind?
Chapter 5
I gulped the air. My fingers stretched, as if I were reaching for something or someone. But they met emptiness. Then my eyes popped open. I’d had a nightmare. I couldn’t recall what I’d dreamt, but I knew it had been violent.
I pushed myself from the red coverlet I’d been stretched out on. My throat had the consistency of sandpaper. I grabbed the bottle of water on my nightstand and guzzled it down. My thoughts returned to my dream. It seemed vital I remember, but I couldn’t. Only one detail was fresh in my mind: someone watched me. The more awake I became, however, the more the dream slipped away.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at empty space. The deep burgundy of the walls made the room appear darker. And normally that was what I wanted. The room shared light from the moon sliver my opened curtains expelled. That piece of light threw shadows of bogeymen into the corners. That, of course, was not what I wanted.
I stole hasty glances into the dark to confirm no monsters lay in waiting. It didn’t ease my tension. My even breathing was the only sound in the room. Yet fear gripped me. Unable to move, it demanded my total attention. A bead of sweat caressed the side of my neck and the hair on my arms stood at attention.
It was the voices.
I threw my hands to my ears to drown them out. “Stop!” I whimpered. “Please.” They continued. Obviously, they couldn’t hear me.
They were conversing, like what happened when telephone lines were crossed and you picked up someone else’s conversation. One distinct difference: this conversation wasn’t taking place on a phone or anything electrical.
It was inside my head.
Why now? I have the SATs, my AP exams, Dad’s re-election, college applications… Argh! I have too much on my plate already to be dealing with this. I didn’t need to add losing my mind to the list. I tried to hold onto my sanity, all the while it felt like it was slipping away.
I laughed. A full on cackle that sounded like something you’d hear on a movie when a character had lost it completely. Had I lost it?
I knew I couldn’t fight them. Or whatever was happening.
They continued to talk despite my protest. I sat on the edge of my bed, on the edge of insanity, and listened. Hoping to understand why this was happening to me. My heart jumped into my throat. And my eyes darted about the room but didn’t find an object to draw my attention. I allowed my head to fall into my hands as I attempted to follow their conversation.
Perhaps, I’d hear an explanation for this…but crazy couldn’t be explained. Right?
“I don’t understand why we haven’t found Amanda,” a girl with a high-pitched voice said. She didn’t sound any older than me.
“We’ve looked everywhere,” said another girl.
“Actually…well, nothing,” a guy said. My mouth fell open at the sound of his voice. I knew him. Where I knew him from, I wasn’t sure. But I was certain I knew him.
“Amanda could get hurt if we don’t find her soon. Obviously she doesn’t know who she is or she’d come looking for us,” said the girl who had spoken first.
“Who is that you keep thinking about?” the last girl who spoke said. “Who is Chloe?”
My head jerked to the TV without warning – just as everything fell silent. I tried to pull away but I was powerless. I’d relinquished control over my body. Something inside me shattered. Splintered. My heart rate increased. I stumbled to my feet and crossed the room. I picked up the remote and pressed the on button. My body moved in uncharacteristic rhythm. Like a puppet with no strings.
I flipped through the channels, scanning each program, but I didn’t find what I looked for. Though I had no idea what that was. Why won’t my body cooperate with what my brain said to do? What’s happening to me? This isn’t normal. I can’t be normal…
The evening news aired. The reporter, Melanie Clemson, reported a story about a burglary to a local business. The suspected burglar had been apprehended a short time later. I held my breath, certain that wasn’t what I was supposed to see.
The next story was presented as breaking news. “Behind me is the Whitney Young High School football field. Quiet and peaceful now, but just a short time ago it was the location of a brutal murder. Varsity football captain, Zackary Taylor, has been found dead, the apparent victim of a violent attack. No further information has been given at this time.”
My finger pressed the off button and I sat on the bed waiting for my brain to register what I’d learned. I didn’t cry. I barely blinked. I sat unable to comprehend. Zack was dead and I knew it would happen. Why hadn’t I said something? Because I didn’t believe it. Because I was too chicken shit. Fear clouded my thinking. Someone killed him. Who? Why?
Just then, a horrifying idea crossed my mind. What if I’d killed Zack? Enraged? Then came home and laid down as if I’d been asleep the entire time. “No!” I shouted to the voice in my head. I had no motive to kill him. “No! I’ve been in my room the entire time.” Despite my outburst, doubt remained.
I sprinted from the room and bolted for the stairs. I stumbled and tripped over my feet but managed to make it down the spiral staircase without disabling myself.
I checked the living room for my brother. “Matt…Matthew,” I yelled, alarmed. I didn’t want to be alone with only my madness to keep me company.
“What?” he shouted from the direction of the kitchen.
I raced to the kitchen. Matt and his girlfriend, Amber, sat at the breakfast table. They’d eaten half a pizza and were watching a reality show on the 42” plasma TV mounted on the rear-facing wall.
“Hey, Bops,” Amber said. I ignored her and that incessantly annoying nickname she and my idiot brother picked up from our father.
I scoured the table for the remote. It must have been under their piles of food and books. I tossed a slice of pepperoni pizza to the side and found more books and papers beneath. “Really. Matt, you’re disgusting. You need to be delazified.” I continued to scour the table.
“Nobody asked you to come in here. What are you looking for anyway?” he asked. Obviously he was annoyed I was in his presence for more than a fraction of a second.
We argued like normal siblings, but we used to have each other’s backs. However, with parents who idolized vanity and beauty, it was no wonder we’d grown apart. Matt fell victim to all our parents and social circles taught us. I didn’t. We were unable to communicate most of the time because of it. I caught sight of the remote. It lay between a stray slice of pepperoni pizza and Matt’s Physics book. I grabbed it and switched the channel to the news I’d been watching upstairs.
“What’re you doing? We’re watching that,” Matt yelled. He threw a slice of pepperoni pizza at my head. With a quick duck, I dodged the pizza and continued to flip through the channels. The pizza landed on the kitchen backsplash and smothered a piece of the tumbled stone with red sauce.
“I need you to watch something. Please.”
He sat back in the chair. But made a disgusted face at me then turned his attention to the TV.
I sat at one of the empty chairs for support. My fingers gripped the side of the wooden table so tight I
was certain I’d get a splinter. The news anchor didn’t cover the story about Zack. She discussed a break-in at a local church. The perpetrator had stolen bibles – all the bibles in the church.
“Uh, Bops,” Matt said, “That’s a weird story, but I couldn’t care less about –”
“No,” I yelled. I jumped to my feet and nearly tripped over the leg of the chair. What the hell’s the matter with my feet today?
“That’s not the story I was looking for.” Frantically, I changed the TV through all the news channels. Had I imagined it? Had I been asleep still? I plopped down in the chair, embarrassed once again by my rash behavior.
I didn’t want Zach dead, but I also didn’t want to go insane. Unfortunately, one of the two was happening or had happened. Regardless of my feelings. I blinked up at Matt and Amber. They stared at me with wide eyes.
“Are you okay?” Amber asked. She extended her hand and rubbed the side of my arm. “No,” I mumbled. I placed my head on the table with a small thump for good measure. “I…I think I may need to go lie down.” I didn’t bother to lift my head so they could hear me. Maybe I’ll call Zack and check on him.
“Hey, turn the volume up, something happened at school,” Amber said.
My head popped up. The reporter, Melanie Clemson, talked. Recognition twisted a knife in my gut. I raised the volume and prayed the story wasn’t what I’d seen earlier. In my heart, I knew it was.
She stood at the entrance to the school with the sun beating on her back and a light wind tossing her hair into her face. She motioned behind her in the direction of the football field.
I swallowed hard and braced myself against the side of the table again for support. My nails dug into the wood of the table. I needed something to hold onto if I passed out.
The reporter announced: “His body was discovered stabbed to death on the football field behind me just a short time ago. The authorities are giving no further information as to what occurred here at this time. I’ve been told that counselors will be set up at the school tomorrow for students who need to talk.”
“Come on. Who is it? Say his name… Argh!” I screamed and threw the remote at the television. I missed and it shattered as it hit the dark travertine tile. It scattered into pieces, sending black plastic and batteries across the floor with a loud whack. I paced the floor in front of the television. The reporter announced, “Now back to Trish in the studio.”
“Who do you think it is?” Amber asked, her brow scrunched in confusion at me. I stopped pacing and searched her eyes. Could I trust her with what was happening to me? No way. I didn’t want people to think I was crazy. No way.
“What a sad story,” the news anchor said. “My nephew attends that campus in Manhattan, and I’ve frequented the games with his parents. The kid was a great quarterback with tremendous potential to go professional, like his father had.”
Disbelief, and something else, labored for emotional dominance…maybe – relief. And my head began to throb.
“Oh no, Chloe,” Amber said, “Zack, it has to be…but how? Who would…?” She shook her head, not finishing her sentence.
“Why?” I said, barely audible. I hadn’t been in love with Zack, but he was my friend. A loyal one for some time. To have his life cut short was awful. The fact that I knew, felt responsible even, didn’t help either.
Shocked and incapable of processing what I’d learned – what I already knew – I walked from the kitchen without a word. I returned to my room and lay in bed for an immeasurable amount of time, listening to the crickets chirp outside my window. Their melodic song bounced off the walls. Their hymn lulled my thoughts.
Finally, my eyelids slipped shut. I welcomed sleep.
When I woke, it was still dark inside my room. But outside, my open curtains showed a full moon. I wanted to be in mourning. I should be bawling right now.
I was scared more than anything else. How could I have a vision of him dead and then he’s found that way? But not just dead – murdered, just like I saw. I rubbed my hands across my throbbing temple.
“Chloe, Chloe…” My mother and father tapped at my door. I was certain they were here to prep me for the media blitz that would ensue. “Can we come in?” Mother asked. But she was already in the room.
I tried to stay my emotions. When they both talked to me, I always lost it. Their talks were like an unfair wrestling match where two people are wrestling, but then a third wrestler comes to help his buddy. This was an uneven fight from the jump – my parents versus me. I was about to get belted in the gut by my mother and hit over the head with a chair by my dad. I took a deep breath and turned over to gaze up at them. “Yes,” I answered. Oh God!
Chapter 6
My mother came to sit beside me on the bed. Her eyes were hard steel. Her cheekbones, set high, accented her harsh appearance, and her jaw was locked in place. I knew she didn’t want to do this anymore than I did. She drew me in for an embrace. I hadn’t felt the sting of her arms in months – maybe a year.
“I am sorry about Zack,” she said. “We could not believe it when we learned what happened. Are you holding up?” She shifted out of our awkward embrace to stare at me. As our eyes met, my spine broke and my brain rattled aimlessly in my skull. She had that effect on me.
“I’m fine,” I lied. The outline of tears ready to spill alerted her to the truth. But she ignored them. My dad cleared his throat. My mother dropped her arms and allowed him to take her place.
“Hey, Bops. I know this is hard for you. Do you want to talk about it?” His eyes were an endless ocean of blue. He sat on the bed and pulled me to his side. His large arms cocooned me in a warm embrace. He hadn’t done this in years. More than Mother or Matt, he tried to understand me. He made his attempts, although they were fewer the past couple of years. But this – in spite of the situation – felt good.
Once his current position with the Senate began, our long talks, at least once a week, had dissipated. Those talks had been replaced by a, “How’s it going, kid?” as he marched out the front door. I guess he felt he’d performed his fatherly duty. I tried not to take it personally. But it was my life. Everything in it was personal.
“I’m fine, Dad.” I swallowed hard to choke back my tears.
“Bops, your mother and I have been busy, but we do love you. We want you to come to us if you’re hurting or need to talk – no matter where we are.” He held my face in his hands and peered down at me. The little girl in me broke. The floodgates opened and showed no signs of stopping.
I grabbed him and buried my face in his crisp white linen shirt. I sobbed for the longest time before I heard him chuckle. My head snapped up. Really? What could be funny at this precise moment?
My mother sat next to him and leafed through a family album I had on my desk. It contained photos of the four of us on a family vacation to Lake Tahoe. Many years ago. I loved photographs because they were the only story available, other than our memories, that corroborated what we had once been: a loving family. Plus, a photo was tangible, real. It couldn’t lie to you. For that reason, I had countless.
I forced a strangled smile, remembering how much fun it had been. That had been our last family vacation. Everyone and everything changed after that trip. Mother had made partner at the firm and Dad had begun his first term with the Senate. No one had time anymore for family outings or bonding. We each did our own thing.
I pushed myself from his embrace. “I’m okay now, Dad. I think I need to rest a little longer.” I stretched and heaved myself to the opposite end of the bed, pulling my large red coverlet up over my body.
“Bops, remember, we’re here if you need to talk,” Dad added.
“Chloe, maybe you should stay home for the duration of the week. I will call the school and inform them,” Mom said in her most official manner. “Also, be careful about what you say to others about this. I’m sure your peers and teachers will be watching you closely.”
“Yes, Mother.” I’d be a fool to argue with her
. But on this particular subject, we were on the same page. I couldn’t face my classmates and their questions yet. The questions would be inevitable no matter how long I stayed away. But before I could answer their questions, I needed it to make sense to me.
My mother flipped the light switch by the door off on her way out. Turning my back to my parents as they exited, I faced the window overlooking the garden out back.
I glanced at the clock on my mahogany nightstand. It read nine o’clock.
I pressed myself into the comfort of my king-sized bed. My eyelids shut as if they’d been on a timer and my time had run out. Out of the darkness, behind my closed eyelids, a face emerged. I didn’t recognize the person, but soon the features grew in clarity. It was the new guy from earlier. My heartbeat quickened at his close proximity.
His name eluded me. Did I know his name? He smiled and his lips moved upward slightly. Sculpted lips. Delicious temptations. His lips. Parted. Moving… Distracted by the handsomeness of his face, I hadn’t realized he was trying to tell me something.
Frustratingly, he continued to whisper. I fixed my gaze to his full lips. They moved faster. It seemed of paramount importance that I understand what he said. I pushed myself forward and the scene around us changed.
We stood beside one another in a field, surrounded by trees of every persuasion imaginable. A thick forest. The air was humid and filled with the scent of mint, pine, and musk. The moon shone through a lattice patch of leaves above our heads. And I discovered dozens of glowing eyes staring back through massive tree trunks that towered above us. Looking below, a blanket of fog hid my feet. I breathed in the aroma of the evergreens, while he pointed behind me. But I was too caught up. I’d never been in a forest before. Mother wasn’t exactly the nature type.
If this were a dream, which it clearly was, it was a good one.
