by Mira Monroe
“It was your mother’s, and I wanted to make sure you had it.”
I look over to my father, and his smile is constrained, but he nods to me.
“Thank you, Sabine.”
I take the velvet jewelry box and open it slowly. The necklace that lays within is similar to what Dr. Evan had used in our session. I’ve seen this necklace before, but this is a little different with more loops.
“A Triquetra,” I whisper.
Sabine corrects me: “It’s the pentacle of the Goddess.”
I touch the pendant and it shimmers under my touch to various colors.
“It’s a rare type of opal—”
Sabine stands up, interrupting my father, and reaches out. “Let’s try it on. Your mother wore this as a teenager. It seems fitting.”
I smile at her, thinking about my mother and how I miss her. I lightly brush my fingers over the necklace and feel the smooth stone embedded in the silver. When I looked over at my father he seems off. I get the impression he isn’t happy to be interrupted by Sabine. Sabine sits down.
The first course is brought to the table and I pick up my spoon to take a sip of the soup. Happily, it’s a simple mushroom broth. Anything too complicated would have me stressed, due to my particular food choices.
The silence is like a fog settling in for the long haul. I break the tension by asking, “So, has this dinner been planned for a while?”
“No, not really,” father says sternly. This seems to get under Sabine’s skin.
“Aiden, you can’t keep Willow hidden from us any longer.” Her voice rises, and she holds authority over my father that’s impressive, since few do.
“I don’t understand,” I say to him, looking back toward Sabine. “I thought it was your decision that you didn’t want me around, because of the accident that killed her.” My voice shakes.
“What? No. No, that’s not true at all—”
“Sabine!” my father exhales. “Willow, I have had rules about the association with your mother’s family since the accident to keep you safe. It was agreed to.”
“Why? Why would you do that? Why would you only tell me now?”
The next course is brought in, and my anger at my father is mounting. I thought that they chose not to know me because I was in part to blame for an accident I don’t remember. Another one of the scars I carry.
A vision flashes before me — my mother and me in an upside-down car. She is hanging by the seatbelt. Her hair is like a mop. I move from the back seat and start to shake her. Someone grabs me to pull me out and mother is reaching for me.
I blink several times and the flash is gone. My vision refocuses on my father. He stares back with pinched lips and waits for Mrs. Scott to exit the dining room.
“I can see you’re angry.”
“Damn right,” I snap. “You’ve been hiding things from me, lying to me!” I scoot from my chair and he rises from his.
“I need a minute.” I walk to the washroom out in the hallway and shut myself inside.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I shake my head. “Okay. You’ve been lied to. Long lost relatives now are in your life. No big deal. Control the controllable. See, Dr. Evan? I can learn.” I shrug and wash my hands. The tingle of the water sizzles and cools my hands and thoughts. When I turn off the water, I hear Sabine and my father talking.
“She needs to know. I can feel the change in the air, and her binding will not last long. The tide of change is here, Aiden regardless if either of you are ready.”
“We have time. This was not a good idea, you coming tonight. I’m not sure how she’s going to react. There are others here to protect her.”
I hear Sabine laughing sarcastically taunting my father. “She can protect herself if you allow her to. You can’t keep this tucked away and run off again. Others are coming, I can feel it. Surely you can too?”
That’s when they both see me standing in the open archway to the formal dining room. “What are you talking about? And before you say ‘nothing,’” I say, pointing my finger at my father, “Know that I’m not stupid.”
Sabine smirks while my father looks like he is ready to ground me for life.
“Willow, you are royalty,” he announces.
I feel the exact opposite of tension filled anger of the room. It’s ridiculous what just came out of his mouth. I double over and laugh, my hands shaking and static electricity running across my fingertips as a faint blue light. The tingle in my arms ignited the familiar feeling from Dr. Evan’s office.
Sabine is wide-eyed with a grin, and father looks worried.
“This is a joke, right? I mean, come on, there isn’t real royalty anymore. I’ve been going to school like any normal kid.”
Okay, normal wealthy kid. Let’s be fair, here.
“You’re descended from an ancient line of druids and Wiccans. And with Harkin’s passing — your grandfather — the crown belongs to you,” Sabine says clasping her hands together. She’s hopeful?
I sit down. I’m recapping what she just said. Pause, rewind, and play again. Is this a joke?
She’s serious and she looks a little troubled. I know that I’m angry but good grief, she doesn’t know me and she just came in and dropped a bomb.
My father sits back in his chair and observes me. I hate that, the parent tactic of sit and listen. What’s the right reaction here? The long-lost grandmother is speaking of craziness, royalty, and witches. Why is everyone calm?
“Let me get this right: you’re here because I’m the next in line for some crown that I’ve never even heard of, about witches?”
My eyebrow shoots up and I withhold my doubt out of respect for a lady who obviously believes this deep down. I look over at my father for some kind of interruption, but he looks just as serious.
I huff at them both and wiggle my fingers in the air. “So I have some kind of magick, then?” As the words leave my lips, the electric tingle runs across my fingers and a faint blue light recedes into my skin. I shut my hand and it’s gone.
WTF?
“What do you call that, then?” My grandmother gestures toward my hand, eyebrows raised.
“Static electricity?” She looks at me, accusatory. “Static electricity does not equal whatever craziness this is!” I say, frustrated.
She looks at my father and grins. “See, did you see? Are you going to deny her? Unbind her at once!”
My father leans forward and unleashes that deep commanding voice. “Sabine, you have no authority here, this is my daughter and you came here to trigger an event. It’s all about you and your political power trips. Are you scared she might deny you?” He pushes back and stands from the table to continue his rant.
Mrs. Scott is walking down the hall and turns right around, upon seeing my father.
This is ludicrous. What is she talking about, unbinding me? He’s accusing her of something?
Flash. It’s blinding, I shield my eyes. The light is gone.
I’m in the dark woods with mother, she is touching my face. Her familiar dark blonde hair reaches her shoulders in waves. Her dark blue eyes sparkle, her smile is reassuring. Her hands are touching me, warm, soft and loving.
“Stay here, sweetheart. It will be okay.”
I nod.
I blink and I feel my eyes swelling with tears. I just heard my mother’s voice! I haven’t seen or heard her since that night, I had forgotten her voice.
The flash is gone. I’m back in the dining room.
I fidget in my seat, then stand, overwhelmed. It’s building, that uncontrollable part of me. I shake all over. It feels like a loud hum.
“Willow.” My father brings my attention back to him. “As strange as it sounds, everything you are doubting is true, from magick to royalty. After the accident, I used magick to take away the memories of that horrific event. I also removed your memory of our heritage and extended family as a safety precaution.”
I hear what my dad is saying. I’m his little girl, caught in his
shadow, hoping to make him proud and awaiting his grin of approval. This time, however, all I can do is gape at him, while tears escape my eyes.
“Is that what Sabine is talking about, unbinding? I’m bound?”
He’s standing in front of me. “Yes,” he replies, reaching for me.
I move away from the table, and from him. “Don’t! I don’t want to be unbound, then.”
Sabine mouth hinges open.
“I don’t want what you’re saying! Keep it. I don’t have to accept it, do I?” I’m still shaking. I clasp my hands into fists at my side to steady myself.
My father’s eyes look worried. “No, you don’t. But your magick will beat on the surface and build. Your mother and I are from particular family blood lines, and your choices will be irrelevant. Magick will come.”
Irrelevant? No choice. No choice. The words ring over and over in my head. My father and Sabine are talking to me and moving toward me but I can’t hear them. My anger builds, the static electricity moves over my body and down my arms, filling my clutched hands.
No choice. No choice. No choice.
I’m shaking more now, and the electricity is compounding shocking my arms. It hurts, but I bear the pain of stabbing needles into my skin, the pain is real in this chaos. Sabine is no longer moving toward me, but retreating. She should. She brought it. It’s her fault. No choice. Did she hear me? She looks scared.
My vision lands on my dad, my father — the man who lied to me! Protected me. Kept me the in the dark. Loved and provided for me. His hands are up and he is chanting something, his eyes filled with tears.
Not my dad. Cry? Oh, this is bad.
The detachment hurts, it rips my soul. He’s my dad. I hear my mother’s yell of my name echo in my head from far away. She isn’t here. The energy is released, and my scream echoes through the house. The dining room bows, the windows shatter all while I fall to the floor. My dad catches me. Another man — dressed like a warrior, fuzzy to my vision — is coming. Darkness engulfs me.
Chapter Five
The cold, crisp artificial air blows onto my arms. I’m struggling to wake up fully when I hear: “Okay, Sleeping Beauty, time to rise and shine before the warden makes her way in here.”
I open my eyes slowly and look at the white walls and beige tile surroundings. Emily is sitting across from me in a twin bed, dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Her short cropped hair is messy, as usual.
“Where are we?” I ask, sitting up. My eyes still refusing to completely work. I rub them and focus more on Emily.
She gives me a funny smirk. Before she can answer, there’s a knock at the door and Dr. Bauche enters the room. She tucks her long, wavy hair behind her ear. Her composure is graceful as she stands at the end of the room in front of the window. The soft light surrounds her in an ethereal effect that has me tongue-tied.
“How are you feeling today, Willow?” She asks.
Emily announces her departure and is out the door before I can exhale. I watch her leave and want to go with my friend. What am I doing here in the first place? Why would Emily be here?
As if reading my mind, Dr. Bauche says, “Willow, we’ve been through this before. You know where you are.” She taps on an iPad and scrolls. “I’m more concerned about the outburst at dinner.”
Dinner? I don’t… I shuffle back toward the headboard of the bed I’m sitting in. It suddenly floods my brain — Dinner. Sabine. Magick. Royalty.
A vision flashes before me of Sabine crying and hugging me. She is dressed in all black and she tells me how much she loves me. We are at a funeral. It’s my mother’s funeral, because I see my arm in a cast. It’s the only time I broke any bones. I’m not here, I’m somewhere else. I shake my head to clear it and I’m back in the small white room.
Dr. Bauche’s demeanor changes as she sits down on the bed next to me.
“You had an outburst that wasn’t coherent. The staff on last night had to sedate you. Instead of being in confinement, I recommended your shared quarters.”
She waits for me, but all I can do is look at my hands, remembering a blue light. Thinking about my mother’s funeral and meeting her mother, my grandmother. She continues, “Something about a grandmother and Wicca?”
I look around the room, stalling. Did she just read my mind? Oh no, it’s what I dreaded and now I’m here. I’m at a psych treatment center. How did Emily end up here, too? She wasn’t there at dinner. The hypnosis with Dr. Evan, it’s causing visions. Is this a vision?
“Is Dr. Evan here?”
She is searching me over in an evaluating way that makes me uncomfortable. She must notice.
“I don’t know a Dr. Evan. Is he your internist?”
I stammer my words confused. “No, no I started seeing him a few weeks back at your practice. He’s a new doctor there.” I need him, he needs to help explain this. The visions that keep popping up and the regressive treatment therapy. I don’t need to be in a treatment center.
“Willow, we can meet at our regular session time today. I’m not aware of any Dr. Evan.” She stands. “You can go to group, but first take your meds.” She hands me a small paper cup filled with three pills.
I look at the cup and then at her. She nods to the sink, where there is a drinking glass.
“What are these for?”
“I just need you to take them Willow, it’s part of your therapy regime while your here.”
I stand and walk toward the sink hesitantly, thinking about how not to take these pills. My therapy regime is crap. That regression therapy, last night. I’m not taking these pills. She watches me take the pills and drink the water. I have to show her my open mouth and move my tongue to show I’m not holding pills hostage.
Where’s the trust?
I grip the pills in my left hand, where I slipped them next to my water glass. Score.
Dr. Bauche quietly leaves, satisfied.
I study the pills in my hand and decide to keep them. I open a door next to Emily’s bed, and it’s a full bathroom. I go across, back to my side, and open the door to find a closet with clothes and shoes. My clothes are recognizable, especially my favorite hoodie. I put the pills in the sleeve, where there’s a hidden pocket. I get refreshed and open my room’s door to a bare white hallway. I feel like an escapee and I’m lost. I need an exit sign over a door.
I hear laughing to my left and walk to a room named Yellow Brick Road. Several teens are lounging around in beanbags, on sofa sectionals, and on floor pods. I see Emily in the far corner. The counselor acknowledges me, and I sit over by Emily.
“We need to talk,” I whisper to her.
“I know; this is some crazy.” She is distracted, looking at a guy sitting across the room in ripped jeans and a black t-shirt with a gray hoodie. His long, messy hair falls forward on his face, and his arms are folded. He almost looks asleep, until he speaks. His voice is soothing and deep.
“I’m not going to talk today, so let’s move it along.” He says.
The guy running the group looks very irritated and replies. “Theon, that’s not going to move you forward on an outpatient basis. You have to put in the work.”
He settles back in his beanbag chair, and the counselor turns his stool to me.
“So, Willow, did you find your triggering point?”
I look at Emily, who is still looking at Theon. Most in the room are looking and paying attention to other things besides me, except the counselor.
“My triggering point? I don’t really…”
“From yesterday’s activities? I observed that there is a trigger with your family. There is anger. A lot of anger.”
Him mentioning my family an accusing anger, heats up my face. I don’t know who he is and how he knows anything about me or my family.
“Sure, I think most teens will say that — it’s not unique.”
A few kids sitting to the left affirm my statement. Emily half-heartedly laughs.
“Yes, that is certainly true in the genera
l sense. However, none of you are here in the general sense. There has been acting out that either hurt yourself or others, which brought you here. The time here is to teach you with how to control those triggers and behaviors.”
I take a sharp inhale. Did I hurt someone?
Emily pushes out her chest forward. “Those actions make me, me! Are you trying to change me, Brad?” She drags out his name mockingly.
He smiles, unmoved by the outburst.
“No, not change in the sense you’re assuming, but being aware of your impact on yourself and your surroundings is necessary.”
Flipping her hand dismissively at him she says, “I’m totally aware.”
Theon stands up and looks to have a small grin under all that hair. He also looks like he has two bumps on the top of his head. His hoodie is covering it up.
“Theon, ready to share?”
“Uh, no, it’s time to go.” He says in his smooth voice.
“Ah, lunch time,” Brad confirms, looking like he’s happy it’s over, too.
Everyone stands up, and leaves the room. I walk with Emily down the hallway.
“What is going on?” I ask.
“I’m not sure — but it’s your party, so I’m just along for the ride.” She claps me on the back.
“My party?”
We turn the corner and followed the line that is entering a small cafeteria. Emily stops me and guides me to an open door on the left. It’s a storage closet.
“Listen, we can continue to play psychoanalysis rehab if you want, or you can get on with it.”
What the hell is she talking about? I’m in process of asking when she holds her hand up and cuts me off.
Her eyes determined and serious. “You’re tougher than you think, or we wouldn’t be such great friends. You need to snap out of it, Will.” She snaps her fingers. “You, me — we don’t belong here in your head.”
“My head?”
“Ask yourself why you’d have me here, besides the fact that I’m awesome. I do what?” Her eyebrow raises.
I search and say the natural response: “Tell it like it is?”
She nods.
