by S. H. Kolee
When we entered the house, my father called for me from the living room, surprising me. He was sitting on the sofa, looking much older than I had ever seen him.
"Sit down, Caitlin," he said wearily. He glanced at Simon, his expression darkening, but he didn't comment when Simon sat down next to me, grabbing my hand.
"Dad, about earlier—"
My father cut me off. "I want to apologize for what happened. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. It's just...your mother's death is so painful for me. I can't stand to talk about it."
Shocked was putting it mildly, as to how I felt about my father's confession. I couldn't remember the last time he had spoken to me so honestly, without criticism. I felt a flare of hope ignite inside me. I felt Simon's grip tighten in warning, but I ignored it.
"It's okay, Dad. I understand. And I didn't mean to cause you any pain. I just wanted to find out what happened to Mom. I have a feeling that it'll help me answer some questions."
My father sighed heavily before speaking. "You're right. They never found Eunice's body. The asshole who crashed into her pushed her car over a bridge into the Delaware River. They found her car, but they never found her body, even after days of searching the river. I held out hope for so long that she would somehow miraculously appear, that she was still alive. But it never happened. She was finally pronounced dead."
He was confirming everything I read in the article. I knew I had to push for more information.
"My mother...did she know about the vardogers?"
My father rubbed his face tiredly. "Caitlin, that notion came from the imagination of your aunt. Did she tell you that women in our family are born to be seers? To vanquish vardogers and save the world? It's all horseshit. Brenda is very sick. She was committed for most of her life, but nothing ever got through to her. She just kept living in her imaginary world." He paused before continuing. "She's right, we do have something that runs in our family. Schizophrenia."
I shook my head in denial, not accepting my father's explanation. "No, it's not true. I saw the vardogers! They tried to kill me! I've had visions of them ever since I can remember. I just didn't realize why I was having them until recently."
My father looked at me sadly. "All those times I wished you were a boy? It wasn't because I didn't love you. The mental illness seems to run in the women in our family. I just wanted to spare you the pain."
"No!" I cried out emphatically. I turned to Simon. "Tell him! Tell him you've seen them too! For God's sake, there's one inside of you!"
Simon hesitated before speaking. "Maybe there's a way to explain all of this. It would be a lot easier to accept your father's explanation than the existence of shadows trying to take over the world."
I ripped my hand out of his grip, looking at him as if I didn't recognize him. "You know that's not true." My voice was trembling badly and I tried to steady it. "How the hell can you explain you attacking me? How can you explain Sarah's vardoger trying to enter me? You saw it!"
I was screeching but I didn't care. All I could think of was that everyone was trying to make me believe I was crazy. And I knew it wasn't true.
"Simon attacked you?" my father asked sharply, staring at him.
"He didn't attack me. His vardoger did!"
My father stretched out a pleading hand, as if he were trying to reach me beyond the insanity he thought controlled me. "Caitlin, even your mother knew how sick Brenda was. They were friends since junior high, and even back then Brenda was always talking about the spirits that would visit her in her dreams. To show her the future. Your mother tried to help her, but she was beyond help. I didn't cut ties with my sister after your mother died. Your mother and I cut ties with her after you were born. Your mother didn't want Brenda affecting you with her sickness."
"No, no, no, no, no," I moaned, gripping the sides of my head, shaking it back and forth. "It's not true, it's not true! I know what I saw. I'm not crazy!"
"Caitlin, I know I've been hard on you." My father's voice was quiet and full of anguish. "I blame myself. I was so afraid that you would turn out like my sister that I was cold and critical with you. I was just trying to make sure you didn't start becoming paranoid and imagining things like her. I thought I could ground you in reality."
Simon tried to hold my hand again, but I pushed him away, glaring at him through my tears. "Don't touch me!" I hissed, his betrayal hurting like nothing else could. I didn't know why he was doing this to me, why he was lying about what he had experienced, what he had seen with his own eyes, but I knew I would never forgive him.
"I think that's enough for today," my father said wearily. "It's starting to get dark. Why don't we get something to eat and then we can turn in early. We can talk more about this tomorrow."
I shot up from the couch, looking at my father and Simon with disgust. "Just leave me alone."
I grabbed my aunt's journal and ran up the stairs, storming into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.
Chapter Ten
A confusing mixture of emotions was roiling inside of me. I felt anger, betrayal and sadness, but also a niggling sense of doubt. Could my father be right? Could I be crazy?
I shook my head at the thought. There was no way I had imagined everything. And I wasn't the only one that had seen it. Simon, Sarah and Grant had been witness to it as well. For some reason, Simon was pretending that he believed my father.
I ripped my cell phone out of my pocket, quickly hitting the speed dial for Sarah. I knew that out of everyone, she was the one person who could calm me down.
"Is everything okay?" she immediately asked, not bothering to waste time with a greeting. As much as I didn't want her to worry, it reassured me that she knew there was cause for concern.
"Not really. My dad is trying to convince me that I'm just crazy. He says that schizophrenia runs in our family. But Simon is going along with it. He looked at me like I was crazy, even with everything he's seen!"
"Why would he do that?" Sarah sounded aghast and it confirmed that I wasn't crazy. Relief rushed through me, because a tiny part of me had begun wondering if I really was just crazy.
"I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with his vardoger. It took control of his body again."
"Oh my God! Did he hurt you?"
"No!" Despite feeling deeply betrayed by Simon, I still felt the need to defend him. "He was able to take control before anything happened."
Sarah took a deep breath. "Caitlin, I know you care about Simon. But...maybe you should keep your distance from him. I don't think you're safe with him. You have no idea when his vardoger will take control. I mean, you slept in the same bed with him last night! How do you know he wasn't the one that locked the bedroom door? I thought I was going to lose it when I heard you screaming and I couldn't open the damn door!"
I could hear panic rising in Sarah's voice and I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes and trying not be affected by her alarm. She wasn't saying anything I hadn't already thought myself, but I knew I could never leave Simon. Even now.
"Sarah, it's my fault he's like this. It's me the vardogers want, and they're hurting the people closest to me to get to me. Simon needs me. I can't just let him fight his vardoger on his own. Besides, he can control his vardoger. The first time the vardoger took over his body, it was because he was so emotional about finding me. And today, he was upset because we were arguing." My voice became quieter. "I love him. I don't know why he's siding with my father right now and I'm angry enough to spit nails about it, but he needs me. And I need him."
Sarah was silent for a moment, and then she exhaled heavily. "I guess you know best. Just promise me you'll be careful. Don't turn a blind eye to the fact that Simon is dangerous now, just because you love him."
I promised Sarah I would be careful, and then filled her in about what I had found at the river. After I got off the phone, I laid in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, hearing my father's words in my head over and over again.
I was tempted to
ignore the knock on my bedroom door, but the second knock was more insistent, and I had a pretty good idea who it was. And he wasn't about to give up.
"Come in," I said, sounding like a surly teenager. Simon looked anxious when he stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. I sat up on the bed as he walked over, not wanting to be in a vulnerable position.
"Are you here to convince me that I'm crazy?"
Simon sat down on the bed next to me, the corners of his mouth turning down. "I didn't say you were crazy. But don't you think there could be a logical explanation for all this?"
I stared at him disbelievingly. "Are you kidding me? What could explain all this away? And if I'm crazy, does that mean you're crazy too? What about Sarah and Grant? Explain where the hell my aunt disappeared to! What about her friends that also vanished into thin air?"
I didn't care that I was getting hysterical. I had more than enough reason to be angry. Simon put a placating arm on my shoulder but I pulled back from his touch.
"Caitlin, I told you I don't think you're crazy. Maybe something really happened to your aunt. By an intruder or something. We can report it to the police now that she's been gone for over 48 hours. As for her friends, they could be anywhere. Just because you haven't seen them again doesn't mean they're missing. As for what's happened with me...I'm ashamed to admit it, but maybe the stress of everything got to me and I broke." Simon was staring at his hands in his lap. "I never in a million years thought I could lay a hand on a woman. Especially you. But you disappearing made me go a little insane. I could be experiencing blackouts when I've become violent with you because...I'm too ashamed to remember. Maybe I'm having some sort of mental breakdown."
"No," I cried, wanting to throw Simon's words back at him. "I know you, Simon. You could never hurt me." I took in a long shuddering breath. "And none of that explains what happened with Sarah's vardoger. You're not the only one who saw it attacking me. Grant and Sarah saw it too."
"It was dark, and you were screaming. Maybe we all thought we saw something because of what was discussed that night. Everyone's imagination was in overdrive, talking about shadows and possessions, and maybe we saw something because we thought we should."
"Simon, please don't do this," I whispered. "I can't do this without you."
Simon looked at me with eyes blazing. He grabbed my hands and this time I didn't pull away. "I'll never leave you. Never. I'll help you through this. God knows I need help too. I must be sick. That's the only explanation I can come up with."
I felt more dead inside than I ever had. Worse than when I had fled Maxwell to find my aunt. Simon genuinely thought I was mentally ill. And he seemed to think there was something wrong with him as well. I felt that niggling doubt again.
"So you just want to just pretend nothing happened? That's impossible! I know what I saw, what I experienced. I know I'm not insane!"
The desolate expression on Simon's face slayed me. Almost as much as his lack of belief in me. His mouth tightened. "Let's not fight about this."
I ripped my hands out of his grasp, moving away from him. I forgot about my earlier vow to never leave Simon, my fury blotting out everything else. "I'm going back to Connecticut tomorrow morning. It was a mistake to come here. My father can't help me. I have to concentrate on finding my aunt. You can come with me or not. I don't really care."
I stood, walking to the bedroom door and opening it. I didn't turn around to look at Simon, my pain threatening to swallow me whole, but I kept my voice even. "Please leave my room."
I jumped when Simon spoke, not realizing how close he was to me, he had moved so quietly. I flinched when he reached up, but he just turned my head towards him so that I was facing him. His eyes were bleak as he looked at me.
"All I know is that I love you, Caitlin. We'll figure out the rest."
I slammed the door after he left the room, quivering with anger and hurt. How could I have been so wrong about Simon? Yet, how could I still love him?
I debated leaving for Connecticut tonight, but I was too mentally tired. I felt like I was going to become unglued at any moment. And I knew deep down that I would never leave Simon behind. I debated calling Sarah to tell her about Simon's latest slap in the face, but I decided no good would come of it. It would just make her worry even more.
I didn't know how long I lay in bed, wrestling with everything that was happening, when I heard murmurings downstairs. I went to my bedroom door and opened it a crack, straining to hear. My father and Simon were talking, but their voices were too quiet to make out what they were saying.
I slowly opened the door wider, stealthily making my way to the stairs. I crept halfway down the stairs, holding my breath and praying that they wouldn't creak and give me away. I crouched on the stairs, hidden from view, but I could hear the conversation they were having, even though their voices were low.
"I'm worried about her."
My father grunted in response. So much for his earlier fatherly concern.
"I don't think it's a good idea for her to be here. Learning the details about her mother's death has upset her too much."
"It's her own fault for digging where she shouldn't be. That's in the past."
"She wants to go back to Connecticut to look for her aunt."
My father snorted, and I felt myself flush from anger. How could he care so little about his own sister?
"Brenda has always caused trouble. Caitlin doesn't want to meet the same fate as Brenda."
"What does that mean?" Simon sounded angry. Their conversation was confusing, hinting at a familiarity that I didn't understand. They were speaking so frankly, which was odd for two people who had just met today. Simon had threatened physical violence on my father just a few hours earlier.
"It means she needs to watch herself, that's all."
There was a long silence, so long that I contemplated slinking back to my room. I didn't want their conversation to be over and have one of them walk out and catch me eavesdropping. Simon's voice stopped me.
"I'm going to Connecticut with her. Don't do anything to upset her."
I heard footsteps, so I raced as quietly as I could back to my room, my heart thudding against my ribcage. I quickly shut the door, wincing when it creaked.
I paced my room, my thoughts racing a mile a minute. The authoritative tone of Simon's last statement bewildered me. It's not that I was surprised that they were talking about me. After all, they both thought I belonged in an insane asylum. But the dynamics of their exchange didn't make sense. It was as if my father was deferring to him.
I froze when I heard footsteps approach my bedroom door and stop in front of it. I don't know what possessed me, but I scrambled as quietly as I could to the door and locked it. There was an audible click and I cringed at the noise, sure that whoever was on the other side of the door heard it too.
I didn't release my breath until the footsteps started up again, fading away.
A part of me wanted to storm out and demand that they tell me what was going on. But I doubted they would tell me the truth. They would just humor me until the men in the straitjackets arrived, carting me off to the mental institution.
I needed to figure out the truth on my own. The best way was to not let on that I had heard anything. I would never get anything out of my father, but Simon was a different story. Regardless of what was going on, I knew his feelings for me were his weakness. Because I couldn't believe his feelings were fabricated. No one could act that well.
We would go to Connecticut tomorrow, away from my father, and I would get the truth from Simon, either by guile or force.
It took me a while to fall asleep, but for the first time I welcomed it. As terrifying as my visions were, there was a chance that I would have a dream that would shed some light on what was happening. I was willing to risk everything for the truth.
Chapter Eleven
"Is blood thicker than water?"
I whipped my head around, towards the voice, but I couldn't m
ake out anything in the dark.
"Who's there?" My voice sounded weak and frightened to my own ears.
There was silence and then the voice again. "Which bonds are stronger? Which gives you life?"
It was so hot. I felt like I was burning, but there was nothing but darkness. I didn't recognize the voice, but it was getting closer and closer. It was frightening not being able to see.
"I'm...I'm not sure," I faltered. "Isn't blood thicker than water? Doesn't blood give you life?"
"A bond unbroken can be a curse. A watery grave can be a blessing."
I whirled around, the voice a whisper right against my neck. I reached out in the darkness, but my hands grasped nothing but air.
"What does that mean?" I begged. "I don't understand!"
"You will." The voice was receding, becoming fainter. "You'll understand when it's your time."
I gasped when I woke up, automatically throwing my arm over my eyes as the bright sunshine streaming through my window made me squint. I sat up slowly, surprised that it was morning. I hadn't expected to sleep through the night, but my exhaustion had won out.
I wondered at my dream, trying to make sense of the message. It seemed like a warning, but I didn't understand the meaning. Was the line about blood being thicker than water telling me to trust my father? Or did it mean the opposite? I shuddered at the thought of a watery grave, which seemed to point to my mother.
These dreams seemed to be replacing my visions, which I wasn't complaining about since the latter were usually so violent. On the other hand, I wanted to know who the vardogers would be attacking next, and I needed my visions for that.
I wanted to change my clothes, but my bag was still in the trunk of Simon's car. I decided that wearing the same outfit was the least of my problems, but I definitely needed to wash my face and brush my teeth. Despite everything, I heard my stomach grumble. The last time I had eaten anything was yesterday while we were on the road.
