Ever, Sarah

by Hansen, C. E.

  Ever,

  Sarah

  By

  C.E. Hansen

  Copyright © 2013 by C.E. Hansen

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written consent of the Author.

  AISN: B00Q5E7K1M (Ever, Sarah)

  Cover Image File licensed by www.c-e-hansen.me

  Cover Art By Fiona Jayde

  Editing by LTE Editing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by C.E. Hansen.

  Prologue

  When I think, or should I say dream—as thinking required…thinking—of what I was like before I came to be in this state. I like to imagine myself standing in the warmth of a bright light. Surrounded in a world full of color, sound, life.

  Those were the thoughts that were the hardest for me to hold on to.

  They had a lifespan. And I was sad to realize, it was a lifespan that was disturbingly too short. I learned the more I tried to remember those thoughts, the faster they faded. Definitively more and more each time.

  I unknowingly shuffled forward, and was swallowed by an eerie darkness, that swiftly covered the earth, like a sunset in high speed, preventing me from seeing as far down as my own feet in a matter of moments.

  That is why I now find myself in a very lonely place and wonder, almost always, why I was here? Why I was alone? What had brought me to this place? What had I done?

  For as long as I can remember I’ve stumbled along, my arms stretched out in front of me, trying to feel my way, never to reach an edge, a wall, a sudden stop; always fearing falling over that imminent edge.

  I repeatedly tried to part the veil of thick curtains that blocked the warming light just to find, to my immense dissatisfaction, that there was just another set, equally as thick, behind them. It was a never ending task, with no reward.

  Emptiness.

  A hollow void.

  I was trapped inside a world I didn’t understand. A place I didn’t want to understand.

  I had my moments of clarity, but they were short-lived.

  I saw a woman. Long flowing reddish brown hair, bright green eyes, warm curved lips, smiling, taunting.

  I saw a child running in a field, her long braids flopping in the air behind her swirling, framing her beautiful young face, the sound of her laughter achingly haunting.

  I also saw a man, his description somewhat amorphous, unclear, my only certainty, was that his smile made me feel warm and protected.

  These visions faded the quickest, leaving an emptiness in my chest that would rival the crevasse of the Grand Canyon. Warm rivulets of water dripped down to my chin, but I didn’t bother to wipe them away. I savored the saltiness that touched my lips. I needed them to remind me of a time that didn’t exist. Not here. Not anymore.

  They were small fragments of a life, which I wasn’t even sure was my own and could easily be explained as a fantasy. They would come to me at odd times. Like flashes of light—bright blinding light—before the darkness would eventually take over.

  Where those strange fragmented memories melted in front of me as I reached for them, trying to hold on to a small segment of what I once was. Colors blended like watercolors slowly fading, bleeding into the night, leaving me wanting something.

  Craving something.

  A taste, a touch.

  At first I tired try to fight the darkness, fought to keep my eyes from closing. Fearing what I couldn’t see. Feeling hopeless.

  Hopeless.

  Having no hope.

  Something inside, a strength or a desire, but seemingly more like a recollection, told me I wasn’t always hopeless. But I found it increasingly harder to tell the difference between the light and the dark, the hopelessness and the hope, the fear and the reality.

  I was being controlled by an entity and I didn’t like it.

  Fought it even.

  Fought the pending darkness with all that I was.

  When all thoughts stopped.

  When I craved the elusive light.

  If I were to be truthful, I would have to admit, there is a part of me that didn’t want to open them.

  My eyes.

  But I needed to put an end to the movie that continually repeated itself on the inside of my eyelids.

  It was horrific. Terrifying.

  I stood as still as the putrid air that encircled me, appalled, watching a body roll listlessly down a spreading river, crashing against the shore. It cracked apart when it stopped, misshapen against the hard surface of the embankment. The internal fluid spread slowly outward extinguishing the life-fire, until it was no more.

  My body began to quake, tremble, and the fear spread through me like the fluid spreading over the dried surface, disappearing into the cracks of the sandy soil.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, full of dread as thick as the darkness.

  I did try to open them, or at least I told myself I did.

  I also told myself I was unable to.

  I convinced myself they were covered in glue. My eyelids pasted shut; indefinitely closed to the world around me, not letting in the tiniest speck of light.

  But I know it was me. It was all me. I didn’t want to open them.

  For some unfathomable reason, I didn’t want to let in the light that would end this nightmare.

  A strange echo reverberated inside my head and my heartbeat throbbed unmercifully in my temples.

  I constantly fought an eruption of emotions—some bad, some worse—that pushed their way in front of me, not allowing me to pass, and I was incessantly irritated; trapped in a body that wouldn’t respond.

  It was strange to me, but there were times when I had a strong urge to reach out and pull someone, anyone, I had no preference, by their hair if necessary, close enough so they could hear me clearly whisper ‘fuck you, I’m still here’.

  Instead, I lay motionless, alone, useless.

  A thin layer of sweat coat my body as a myriad of stupid, nonsensical, nursery rhymes played over and over in my head like a tape stuck on repeat.

  Went to bed crushed her head, couldn’t wake up in the mornin’…

  All the tiny horses, and all the tiny men, couldn’t put the broken girl together again…

  Dying, dead, dying, dead, which one are you? Think about it too long and neither one will do…

  This strange place I didn’t understand, wasn’t comfortable occupying, and at the same time, oddly enough, was afraid to know how I came to be here.

  I rubbed the sides of my head and I smiled inwardly as a sensation—a burning—followed by a sense of peace coursed through my veins, emanating from my midsection, slowly crawling up my backbone, or lack thereof, to my brain. Releasing my soul back out into this odd universe, where it would aimlessly bump against invisible barriers, effectively stopping me from thinking coherently. Sending me back to the state of detachment; which if I were to be totally honest with myself, I welcomed.

  Welcomed the nothingness.


  I know it was what I needed to exist inside this place.

  A hard hide, and a blind eye.

  The minute moments of lucid thought becoming fewer and far between.

  The nothingness was easier than thinking.

  Easier than fighting the building anger, the resentment, the nagging thought I wasn’t supposed to be here.

  That somehow I was fading and would soon cease to exist.

  Easier than trying to remember.

  Safer than the alternative.

  Safer than trying to put a name and a face to the reason I was here.

  Someone tried to kill me.

  Or had they?

  Chapter One

  Ba bum ba bum ba bum, over and over again echoed inside my brain. It was almost musical, keeping perfect rhythm with my heart. The strains of the beating tempo lifted me higher and higher. It felt as if I was light as air drifting up and down, and over and around through the universe, like a feather lost in the wind; simultaneously twirling, flying and falling.

  As I spun aimlessly through the atmosphere, I had a thought…actually, it was more a question than a thought.

  Have I passed through the membrane that separated life and death?

  Was I trapped in another level of consciousness?

  I was clueless.

  I didn’t know.

  I did know that I was still floating, and there was something about not having to think or feel that was liberating. It left me thinking this was a good place to be.

  I physically felt someone lift my hand and hold it. The warmth of their skin surrounded mine. Their grip was firm.

  In the distance I heard a voice; the sound was like waves on the ocean, coming in and out, crashing. The rushing so masked and blurred in my ears that none of the words made sense.

  But the tone of the voice, the tenseness, the confidence, was somehow familiar. Like someone who’d told me a story so very long ago.

  I wanted nothing more than to be lifted back up, back to drifting up higher, twirling, floating and never landing. That was important somehow, to never land.

  I tried to open my eyes, but was unable to and I found it a funny thing because I didn’t care. I really didn’t care.

  My body lay motionless for so long, as my mind lifted me higher and higher, I was numb.

  I tried to move the arms, or hands, or even the fingers, but my thoughts were focused more on twirling and floating, the fingers fell to the wayside, forgotten for now.

  There was a strange sensation inside this crazy void and for a few moments, I wondered if I were dreaming. After all, aren’t I dreaming now?

  If I had to tell the truth, I was actually relieved to be disconnected. I liked not having to explain anything. Although, the entire process of remembering or forgetting was totally encompassing, overwhelming even. The only part that was not comforting was the warning, steadily blinking like some flashing sign, in the back of my brain, urging me to remain still. Telling me, I mustn’t let them know I can hear them. I mustn’t let anyone know.

  I listened to the warning.

  I felt a weight, like a warm, heavy blanket, slowly envelope me, covering me from head to foot, and I welcomed the anonymity it afforded. I wanted to disappear back inside myself. Where there was no fear, no hurt, and no confusion.

  I wanted to hide.

  I did.

  I don’t remember when I heard the voice again; I just know that it became more and more invasive. It seemingly knew me and although the warning continued to blink inside my head, even going so far as to begin screaming out loud ‘don’t answer’, ‘don’t let anyone know you can hear them!’

  I twitched.

  I think it was involuntary, but I wasn’t certain.

  When I tried to move, I didn’t have any control.

  Soft hands touched my face; fingertips were running along my cheekbone. Soothing me.

  The hand still had a hold of my hand.

  Time passed so slowly. I was certain I was not of this world. But before I could take comfort in that thought, there was a tugging feeling and I felt an annoying pain in my arm.

  Why couldn’t they just leave me alone?

  All I wanted was to be left alone in this white noise filled darkness. Blank thoughts were what I wanted. The simplicity of twirling and floating was becoming the norm and like a drug, it was all that I wanted.

  I felt something hard, not organic, not part of my body, slide out of my arm and I felt momentary relief, but it was short lived. A new pinch and something sharp and cold pierced my skin.

  I was getting frustrated; I was actually annoyed while floating.

  Then a thick, constraining wrap weaved around my arm, pulling my skin tight and holding something to my inner elbow. I counted each circle the wrap made. Once, twice, three times; and before I knew it, I was reciting a silly chant while jumping up and down, my hair swishing around my face…a strange thought. One potato, two potato, three potato, four, spinning round and round, more and more. I was over and out. Up and down, over and around again.

  The pulsing rhythm throbbing in my core fed the arms, legs, fingers and toes with tingles that set my soul on fire. The rhythm began to increase, speeding up, running back down my arms, to the tips of my fingers. I was giddy with relief when the feeling of floating washed over me again. I was released back into the air with a puff of air, swirling and dipping once again.

  I ran.

  My heart was racing.

  My chest hurt with exertion.

  Fear.

  Fear coated my skin, and each nerve in my body tingled a warning.

  I slipped on the smooth surface and slid into something hard. The left side of my body stung. I turned to look behind me and saw a shadow. It was a shadow of a man and he was running towards me.

  He reached for me and his fingers clasped around my long hair pulling me back with a jerk, my body slammed into his and I could smell his foul breath.

  He began laughing again, and smiled strangely, evil, as he released my hair from his grip and pushed my body backwards.

  I was falling. Rolling.

  I moaned with each smash to my head.

  Every slam to my shoulder, hip and thigh caused me to cry out in agony.

  I felt my fingers snap, like little twigs, smashing against the unforgiving surface as I clutched my hands to my head in an attempt to cover my eyes, my mouth.

  The second my ankle was caught, twisted and cracked, I cried out. My voice becoming infinitely smaller, I was sure no one heard. Except the man. His laughing echoed inside my mind and I cried as the white-hot pain washed over me, blinding me. A sticky wetness spurted out with each slam of my body, covering me in warm dampness that quickly turned cold, surrounding my unmoving broken body.

  I wailed before I felt the darkness coat me in a syrupy thickness. So thick it pulled me down into the abyss, scattering the thoughts from my fragmented mind and tossing them into the wind. It was at that moment that I first began to notice I was flying.

  The sounds of a soft voice, a woman speaking, low and hushed as she held my arm and rubbed my forehead.

  “Shhhh. It’s okay now. You’re having a bad dream. No one is going to hurt you here.”

  She held my hand until I stopped twitching, until I stopped lolling my head side to side, until I stopped moving.

  What she didn’t know, and what I didn’t have the strength to tell her, is that someone already did.

  Someone did hurt me.

  I think someone tried to kill me.

  I just don’t know who, or why.

  Why would someone want to hurt me?

  I was thankful for the darkness. The long tangling fingers reached up and pulled me down again. Pulled me into the murky blackness that kept my body floating in the small space. Kept me level and lulled me back into the void…no sound…no movement…just nothingness. I welcomed it.

  I think it was death, but I wasn’t afraid. I was comforted by the soundlessness, rewarded by the quiet.

&nbs
p; Chapter Two

  “Sarah?” The man’s deep voice was calm, outwardly reassuring, but I could also sense an underlying edge to it.

  I kept my eyes closed. There was something about the voice that was… awkward.

  “Sarah, I’m here.” The voice sounded very worried. I could feel his breath, hot and humid, on the side of my face. And as much as I tried to remain still, I couldn’t help my physical response…I flinched.

  Sarah.

  It was an odd feeling not knowing who you were or where you are; I was reassured and frightened at the same time.

  I wanted to open my eyes.

  I wanted to put a face to the voice.

  “She’s getting stronger Mr. Hunter.”

  Someone else was there with him. A woman.

  “She has to.”

  His voice was strong, it wasn’t a plea. It was more of a demand.

  “Dr. Hawkins performed an EEG on her yesterday. He was confident she would be waking soon when he saw how responsive her brain was, but don’t tell him I told you.” She let out a short laugh. “Her brain activity was at a much higher level than the last time we tested her. That is a good sign.”

  “Has she said anything?” The voice was apprehensive. Its entire tone changed, and it sounded like it dropped down an octave.

  “No, she’s not spoken a word. Just a few jerky movements, which is expected.”

  “Oh.” Silence. “I just…I just hoped she was finally coming out.”

  “She is beginning to respond to stimuli. It is usually the first sign.”

  “Does the doctor think…do we know yet if she will be herself… I mean, if she will be like she was?”

  “Too early for that determination at this point. But the results from the EEG are a good sign.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “The brain is a very mysterious organ. A traumatic injury, like the one Sarah sustained, can be very tricky. I wouldn’t be able to give you an accurate prognosis.”

  “So you really don’t know…”

  “She has healed as much as she is going to at this point, we just have to wait and see. Like I said, the brain heals differently than the rest of the body. Her bones and contusions have healed for the most part, but the brain…well, the brain takes its own time. There could be memory loss. How significant we won’t know until she wakes up.”