Hidden Carmina

by Adri Sinclair

  “Clumsy Idiot,” I catch the snarling voice inside my mind. The darkness is pushing harder at every opportunity, my breathing labored.

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry! I will do better! Please don’t drop me!” I cry and beg louder. There’s a smell of cake and custard filling my nostrils making me want to throw up.

  “P-Please, don’t let me fall. “

  I force my eyes to see past the tears and darkness; the family is here.

  Laughing at me, pointing at me.

  The grip of the invisible person tightens again.

  It hurts, it hurts so much; however it is also my saving grace right now.

  “I don’t want you,” I hear it say in a soft velvety voice, and it lets go.

  I scream as I plummet down into the darkness smelling of cake and custard.

  I hold my breath avoiding the smell of my guilt, my shame.

  “I’m SORRY!” I scream, “I’m SORRRRY!!”

  I hear my own words echo back to me, nobody is listening, nobody cares.

  The darkness is mocking me with silence and the air is being pushed out of my lungs.

  I hear nothing anymore.

  I see nothing anymore. I just feel the raw vacant hole where my heart is meant to be.

  “NO!!!”

  It takes a few seconds to realize I am awake. My hand bundling the dress over my aching chest letting go as awareness seeps back into existence and my breathing stabilizes. I gather the rawness of the screaming claw marks in my throat.

  My eyes fly open and are met disturbingly close by a pair of worried golden orbs staring back at me.

  “Are you ok?” he asks me concerned. “You … I… are you alright?” He repeats.

  All I can do is stare. It is hard to think with him so close and, evidently, he is rather worried. I turn my face to get away from his haunted look, but not before I witness the intensely sad curl around his lips. This man is morbidly breathtaking.

  “I am f-“

  “Don’t say it. Don’t say you’re fine. Don’t lie to me.” His stony fingers grab my chin and force my face back to his. “Terrible liar.”

  I blink my eyes closed. I can’t bear to look at his face right now. He is beautiful and caring and miserable. Sad. I just met this man a short while ago and already he is being hurt by my ignorance.

  “No,” he whispers. “Not by you. Please look at me. Open your eyes. Please,” Stubbornly I keep them closed, my heart beating a thundering tune rolling over a desert plain.

  “You know you cannot hide from me in your mind my little Rockflower. You might as well face me.” He openly jests.

  “Rockflo-“

  “Yes. I think it suits you, don’t you?” he whispers near my ear. “Colorful, fragile looking, alluring smell and tough as nails.”

  “Fair point” and “Well Made” and “Oh, I do believe he fancies you dearie” the voices intrude. I open my eyes in order to exile them to the obscurity at the back of my mind.

  Gentle Giant.

  The angle of his head bent down to me, the tension in his body, the way his eyes search the room, the way his shoulder is half sheltering me from all things dangerous beyond him, and his slow breath … I lose my grip on any form of decency and control I tried to display. I wrap my arms around him and, even as he stiffens under my touch, and I feel the unnatural coldness of his body, there is no stopping me. I cling to him as if he is the last floating debris of a sunken ship on a rough ocean; the sobs break through my whole being.

  “I didn’t m-mean to upset a-anyone, or h-hurt anyone. I am s-sorry I am such a pain in the n-neck, and nothing special a-and I ruined e-everything. Everything!” The coolness of his skin feels good against my tear-induced fever. Liam does not move or speak until I’ve emptied out the reservoir behind my eye sockets. Eventually he pries my fingers loose and pushes me away with tender determination.

  “You should leave. Come.” I curl back against the pillows and shake my head.

  “No.”

  He throws both his hands up in the air in exasperation, then stares at me with a razor sharp look.

  “Rockflower, you have to go now. I can’t be held responsible for- Please, let me get you home now.” There is an undertone of stress control in his plea.

  “But you came back here.”

  “I live here.” He reminds me purposely.

  “You said it was-“

  “The threat of a hunt is terminated. We couldn’t… I was worried – Never mind, just get up please!” he sounds thoroughly annoyed.

  This time I obey mutely. I pull my shoes closer with a frown, trying hard to recall how they came off. Pulling at the leather I become acutely aware of the wrist pain. It shoots up my fore-arm along a vein, pretending to slice it wide open. I grind my teeth and coerce my focus on the task at hand. I fix my waist long red hair into a high pony and pull my jumper closed around my shoulders. It is not as snug as the cover I just gave up.

  “Ready,” I whispers into an empty room, and feel myself being scooped up into strong arms covered in cotton sleeves when I reach the door.

  “You going to carr-? “

  “Yes, unless you’ve became super-fast during your nap?” he is taunting me again.

  I don’t argue. Instead I lean my head against his chest and imagine myself floating through time and space.

  “Hmm, that’s what I thought,” are the final words I hear before I give myself over to my awake-dream. With the sweet smell on his shirt, it is not hard to relax.

  We reach the clearing all too soon.

  “Rockflower,” he whispers, inserting himself prominently into my awareness. “We’re here.”

  Fleetingly I thought: he’s brought me right to my family home. Bewildered, I wonder what Momma would say.

  “I could take you there,” he whispers.

  “N-No, this will do. I can find my own way.” I stammer again, not wanting to inconvenience him any further nor have him around amid being scrubbed down by Mother for this latest transgression.

  “It won’t be an inconvenience, I … enjoy carrying you this way. And your Mother won’t be a problem.”

  The sound of his voice stirs deep in my heart and I shuffle myself around trying to get down. He puts me down and I start walking away from him fast. Being so close to him is doing bizarre things to my heartbeat and for some reason it messes up my coordination more than usual. His hand closes firmly over my wrist as fast as I started, preventing me from tripping over my own feet but also pulling me into his body uninhabited. The moon is steeling away the shadows from his face, leaving patches of light all around us; robbing me from breath in the process too. The trees are swaying in their synchronized motion giving me an excuse for the abrupt unsteadiness overpowering me. Why is it so hard to concentrate around this man?

  He lifts my wrist to his mouth and trace his cool, marble smooth lips over the bruises. Slowly he moves my arm upwards to rest my hand on his shoulder. Sliding his fingertips light as a feather down my arm and back over my shoulder, around to my back leaving a trail of bumps as the lone evidence of his touch. Pulling me in tighter, immobilizing my movements. It is unnatural just how strong he is, how fast he is, how easily he moves his body identical to liquid pouring itself around the world. It is abnormal for me not to feel his heart beat while mine is doing an African type stomp. It is unusual for me to feel comfortable, so utterly safe and unwilling to leave him. I seriously don’t want to leave him.

  His free arm circles around and wraps itself in my hair pulling my head back as far as it would go, exposing my neck. I hear a wolf howl far off in the distance then feel his mouth on my collarbone dulling all but one of my senses, his touch is a contrast to my heated skin. My soul is soaring and the kiss over the pulsing hollow is delicate. A throaty rumbling growl mash up against my skin.

  “Why do I fight to protect you?” Raw power in his voice, “And want destroy you all the same…?”

  His arm tightens around my waist more, vaguely making me wonder if h
e’s trying to force a reaction out of me. The words I want to speak stick in my throat, unwilling to hitch a ride on the air leaving my body recklessly. My heart sprints crazily, no rhythm to be found. He laughs in complete abandonment, obviously enjoying the spontaneous answer my body provides through an orchestra of rushing blood, beating heart and ragged breaths. His laughter turns into a deep, guttural sigh against my neck.

  Rocky road... Rocky road…. It’s not working; where’s my road to Dublin?!

  Renewed intensity burns through the wrist.

  Out of nowhere, a trance consumes me. I overhear my own thoughts, I detect the darkness creeping towards me, and the cool air brush over my body while I struggle against him to get free. I am trembling and don’t know if it is the cold or the adrenaline rush causing it.

  “Please stop -I won’t let you fall, I won’t hurt you.” A deep voice beseeches me.

  I am falling into an abyss of soft bed-covering and tearstained pillows, and I stop fighting.

  A Rude Awakening

  I wake up with two hands ruthlessly shaking me until my teeth threaten to fall out. I wave wildly to fend of the assault at which point my eyes open. I look straight into the freaked out expression of my sweet sister. I can hardly make out what she’s saying so I opt for grabbing her hands to stop her from shaking me.

  “Lilly stop it!”

  “Carmina? You’re real?” Lilly’s questioning look convinces me she’s lost her mind. What on earth would make her ask such an apparent thing?

  “Uh, yes,” I sit upright, hoping to find my bearings.

  “And alive!”

  “Yes again,” I confirm the obvious.

  “You’re not dead!”

  My dear sister Lilly. There are times when I wonder if she’s stepped out of a high school musical where all the blondes are fickle and shallow. Not that Lilly is any of those things – she just resembles it when she’s stressing. My temper gets hold of me. The hunger pains squeeze in my belly and the grumble loudly coming from it contributes to the annoyance I feel right now.

  “Lilly Nightshade, if you cannot start making sense this instant I am going to slap you right into tomorrow!”

  My approach shocks my sister and she stumbles backwards. Standing up, she pushes her auburn hair, behind her ear. I follow closely, starting a steady but firm pace towards our home.

  Lilly grabs the base of my arm, making me wince.

  “What is the matter now?!” I yell.

  “Carmina, we’ve been looking for you. You’ve been gone-“

  “Yes, about that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stay out all night and ruin Momma’s birthday dinner.” I glance at her over my shoulder to make sure she’s following but Lilly has stopped and her mouth is wide open.

  “Lilly,” I point at the sun “Breakfast.”

  My sister starts moving in a chaotic flurry. Her hands are pointing, tears flowing, feet stumbling towards me and there is just no sense coming from her mouth. I struggle to grasp why she is so absurdly upset.

  “We looked. There was blood and wolves. And there was no you. And you were still gone. And there’s trouble about the land. And you weren’t alive. And I came to say goodbye. You’re alive! Oh no, the Elders!”

  I grab her hand and start marching as if possessed by the long forgotten ghost of a lost, and hungry, soldier.

  “What do you mean dead? Clearly I’m not and, if I may add, I’m starving.”

  “The wolves were smelling your blood. They were so big.” I glance back at her and her green eyes are as big as saucers.

  “You could not have survived them… and then Jarrod said-“ I cut her short angrily.

  “Jarrod says too much too often.“

  When we reach the gate opening into the courtyard, I am surprised at the solemn silence greeting us. It is as if there is a gag-order and the clan is following it to the letter. All but Lilly.

  “Momma, look! She’s alive!!”

  I roll my eyes, noticing the generally light features of my family turning a lot paler for seeing us. Jarrod drops the table and rushes at us like a puppy who’s seen his owner for the first time in a year.

  “Carmina! Oh gods… You’re alright! I’m so sorry!” I wish they would all stop yelling.

  Frozen, I stand and watch the spectacle unfold around me. Momma’s billowing pink dress and orange apron descend as if floating on air. Her ashen face looking tired and her arms reaching for me like a long lost child. The remaining family piles closer like slow moving statues one step at a time, looking suspicious of what their eyes are showing them.

  “It is you! My child, oh thank the gods.”

  I brace for the impact of having Momma slam-hug into me, grabbing me in a vice grip threatening the structure of my ribcage.

  “Yes Momma, it... is...” I try speaking through gulps of air. “You’re….hurting ... me,” I manage.

  Momma lets go of me and the majority of the family creates a circle, surrounding us. I have no clue what is going on but whatever it is, I did not expect this kind of reception. Why are they all behaving as if I’m the prodigal child returning home?

  “Uhhhhh,” I stammer, looking at each face in turn.

  “Lilly, go draw your sister a bath! She stinks. Jarrod, get the tables sorted, breakfast still needs to happen. Carmina, come.”

  Finally, something feels right. Momma is back to delegating. In the brightly lit kitchen she hands me a glass of milk and a slice of fresh buttered bread.

  “This will tide you over. You look like you’ve not eaten … My child, what happened to you?”

  Greedily I grab the bread and milk. I am starving.

  “I left last night and went to-” Momma cuts me short.

  “Last night? Carmina Rose Nightshade, you were missing for exactly one week.” My eyes snap from the calendar to the newspaper on the table to Momma’s face. I grab at it and reads the date.

  “Hahaha, you’re funny. I’m not buying it.”

  Momma’s hand lifts and I want tie my hair back, then realize it is tied. When Momma lifts her hand in this manner, she means business. It is custom for the woman in her company to use the wristbands on our arms to tie our hair back, showing our open faces in support of Momma and respectfully not interrupting her or anyone who’s got the floor. The woman in the kitchen does as expected and I cringe.

  “Carmina,” she starts reasonably. “You left a week ago after trashing the cake and desserts and almost breaking your brother in the process. I heard Jarrod shout at you and you ran off.” Momma takes a deep breath. “We thought you’d be back once you calmed down… but when you didn’t come back we went looking for you. Lilly told us about a glade where you usually go when you’re upset.” She wipes over the side of her face, removing strands of hair that isn’t there. “When we got there, there were four big wolves in the clearing. We hid until they took off. A team went to investigate, finding your scent and small traces of blood. We thought the wolves… it is irrelevant what we were thinking, but you were not there. We came home and started preparing for a sendoff ritual. ”

  Momma’s hand is still up, keeping the silence in the room. I hear Lilly calling from the opposite side of the house just before she rushes through the double swing doors. Immediately tying her hair back waiting with the clan’s woman.

  “The Elders of our sister clans send notice and they will be arriving momentarily to discuss matters of our land; an Ancient show up yesterday insisting on an audience.” Momma stops, unhurriedly bringing her hand down. “Where were you my daughter?”

  I look in disbelief at the faces around me. A week? I’ve been gone a week?

  “Momma, I was in the field and fell asleep. I had dreams about being carried off to somewhere but I was brought back again. Then Lilly shook me till my eyes rattled in their sockets and now I’m here. I-I’m sorry Momma, I don’t remember anything else.” I plea with her to believe me. “What or who is an Ancient?”

  It is Lilly stepping up to stroke over my hair, and
softly says: “It’s not the first time my darling sister, and it won’t be the last for you not to remember.” Looking at my mother, she continues, “Ancients are … the land-owners we answer to.”

  “I-I’m sorry to have worried you.” I stutter.

  Momma pats my hand and motions me towards Lilly. “Stay with her.”

  The look on Momma’s face is saying much more than the words do. The pattern is obvious. Momma is worried I will fall asleep. The nightmares get worse whenever I have memory lapses. I have had these black-outs since I was a little girl and they can last anything from a day to a month, happen at any time for any reason and nobody knows why. I don’t recall ever having had one away from home and this scares me. Momma usually appoints Lilly or Jarrod to stay with me for a while and fill in the gaps when and if needed.

  I take Lilly’s offered hand grateful for the firm, familiar warmth rising from it wondering why the temperature of it is something I consciously notice today.

  News spread fast and the courtyard fills up with family who come to see me well. I don’t want the attention and drop my head to watch my feet. It is so hard not to be awkward around them in general but today, said embarrassment is tenfold. Lilly ushers me out of sight fast.

  “Get to the bathroom before they get a hold of you. They can wait.” She whispers with a defiant set of her lips.

  Wedding bells.

  Momma was right; I do smell. The blanked out memory feels like an itch I can’t reach bringing me to the point of weeping again. What have I done? Where have I been for a week? Lilly pushes me through the bathroom door and an aura of peace trickles through me. Here I am, away from all the searching eyes and questioning looks; here it is just me and my sister and a tub full of warm, steamy, scented water. I inhale the smell. I cannot remember a time not being surrounded by the scent of Mother’s special blend of herbs and spices. She’s named this one after me too! “Hidden Carmina” is what she calls it. Sometimes the family would tease about how ironically wrong the name is. They can smell me from a mile around and they’re not always pleased about it! Sometime they look flat out repelled by the smell. I love it though. It has been my own personal gift from Momma and it smells like cinnamon cookies hidden under fresh cut grass after rain.