by M. R. Polish
“Today… you couldn’t have respect for her today? Drinking? Come on Dad. I know you guys had problems, but there had to be something you both agreed on. You must have loved her at least once. You married her.”
He fidgeted with his hands, tightening and un-tightening them into fists. “We agreed on you.”
I shifted my weight to one leg and lowered my gaze. I wasn’t sure what to say anymore.
His shoulders slumped. “Just clean it up please.”
My heart shattered into a million pieces. Raw pain filled my soul. I could feel the intense burn all the way down in my fingertips. I nodded and blinked my tears back as the glass crunched under my high-heels.
I hated this… all of it. Why did she have to leave so soon? Maybe they could’ve found happiness one day. I snatched the broom and dustpan. My mind and thoughts wandered away as I cleaned up the glass. I was numb and void of any emotion that overwhelmed me in the previous moments. It was as if I could see the mess, but couldn’t comprehend why it was there or what I’d done.
I dropped down to my knees and choked sobs back, not letting them escape my throat. Shards and slivers from the bottles still covered the floor, except for the few pieces that I managed to sweep into the dustpan. They lay scattered on the tile and glistened through my blurred, tear streaked vision. What was I doing? What was the point in cleaning it up?
“Arabeth.” I could hear my dad’s low voice. It was almost a whisper, but my own mental anguish consumed me, and it took several moments before I could react to him.
I looked up, but turned my gaze away from him. Knowing I should answer him, but feeling too empty to say anything. Avoiding his eyes was hard because I knew what I’d find. My own distress mimicked in his aqua pupils.
When I moved out into my own apartment, I thought about my mom and dad almost every day. They’d never gotten along. I worried about them, but now my mom was dead. All I had left was my dad and my best friend Ailaina, but that was it. I never made many friends in school. The other kids labeled me as the weird one. I tossed the dustpan to the floor with a sigh.
“I want to tell you something, but... What if I said… Damn it. I still can’t say it.” He clenched his fists and hit the counter.
“Just say it! Whatever it is, I’m a big girl, you can tell me.”
His jaw clenched, and he rubbed his hands over his face. “Just remember, I did it for you.”
I threw my arms up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your mom and I... Every time I argued with her there was a reason. A reason I can’t explain yet, and it’s killing me. It’s killed me for years.” He ran his hands through his hair. A small tendril fell from its perfect place. “I don’t know why I can’t say anything yet. It doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled under his breath.
“So I’m supposed to believe growing up, watching you and her yell at each other was all for me?”
“Arabeth, you don’t understand any of it, but I refuse to go any longer with you thinking I didn’t care because I do care—about you.” He left the kitchen, and I sat there on the floor, distracted by his words. I wasn’t sure what he meant by any of it. I couldn’t handle any more stress right now. Why would he try to put more on me?
The house was too quiet and I became lost in my thoughts again, staring at the empty entryway. A sharp pain in my left hand made me cry out. Without thinking, I’d pressed my hand down in the pile of shards. Ugh! Blood dripped down on the broken chunks of glass.
Without knowing the extent of my wounds, I grasped the counter as leverage to get up with my cut hand. “Ouch!” More blood trickled from my wounds. There must have been a thousand slivers sticking out from my skin. Shifting my weight, I used my other arm on the counter to help me up.
I leaned against the kitchen sink as I ran my hands under the cold water. I bit my lip to keep from crying out as the liquid stung in every cut. Grabbing the kitchen towel that hung on the fridge, I touched it to my hand carefully, and tried to inspect my palm better. It did no good. All I accomplished was to stain the rag with the crimson color. Little slits where the glass split my skin shimmered all over as blood flowed from each spot. I let out an aggravated moan and then threw the cloth in the sink.
I needed more than just a towel, but everything was upstairs in the medicine cabinet. I chewed on my lip as I contemplated whether I should leave the kitchen sink or not. The stinging spread through my palm and up my arm making the decision for me. Holding a big breath, I decided to run up to the bathroom, not caring if I dripped blood on the grey carpet. The door was ajar, so I kicked it with my foot, letting it hit against the wall. The vibration from the old doorstopper echoed through the upstairs.
Releasing the breath I held, the first inhale shocked me. I wasn’t prepared to smell the scent of flowers from my mom’s favorite TLC perfume. The small, half-full, purple bottle still rested on the counter. With my back against the wall, I sank to the floor. I no longer remembered my cuts. I tried to breathe, but all I got were racking sobs that shook from my chest. It was so hard to know I wouldn’t see her again. Standing up, I wiped my tears with the back of my good hand.
Turning the water on, I sucked in a sharp intake of breath and prepared myself for the pain. I centered my hands under the running water. Nothing hurt.
“What the heck?” My mouth fell open as I watched the water drain clear. The blood was gone. I flipped my hand over and examined it. No scrapes, cuts, or even sparkles of glass.
Confused, I stared at it. Nothing was wrong with my hand. I remember seeing the blood and glass. How was this possible? I braced myself against the counter with my hip, letting it help support my body. I wasn’t sure how to explain what happened.
Too much stress caused delusions. Right? Maybe I should have taken Ailaina up on her offer to go away with her and her parents to Australia for the week. The funeral and my mom’s death was too much for my mind to take. I cringed. There was no way I could miss her funeral. Besides, my dad needed me, but it didn’t keep me from wishing my friend was with me. She always made everything seem easier—guiding me in the right paths.
I shook it all off and ran my hands under the water once more, splashing my face and neck to cool my skin. A heavy feeling dropped into the pit of my stomach. I could feel time slipping away too fast. It was almost time to leave. The sun was already lower in the sky. It wouldn’t be long before the days would be dark by four in the afternoon. My dad wanted a late afternoon graveside service, but I didn’t have the strength to argue about it with him.
I rushed downstairs but stopped at the kitchen counter to look at the dustpan I left on the floor. I braced myself against the wall with my healed hand. There was still blood on the glass. The roar of the car engine and a honk outside shook me from my daze. I didn’t have a car yet, and with Ailaina gone, my dad was my ride to the cemetery.
I left the kitchen and dashed to the front door. The crisp October air blasted my flushed skin making me shiver as I shut the door behind me. It got this cold when snow was close. Maybe this year we’d get a foot or two. I wrapped my sweater around me tighter, hoping to keep the chill from freezing my body. In late fall, Northeastern Nevada was usually cold, but this afternoon seemed even more frigid than usual.
My dad waited for me in his silver BMW, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. I opened the passenger side door and sat down, closing the door in one motion.
Both of us sat in silence as he drove. I bit my cheek to keep from talking about something neither of us wanted to speak about—mom.
My eyes filled with tears again against my wishes, and I pressed my lips together. I became oblivious to the world around me as I stared at the dashboard. It disturbed me to look up and see the cemetery as we got near. It sat on a hill next to the only high school in our little town. Tall trees outlined the fence around it, giving shade and some protection from the sometimes-harsh winds.
My heart raced so fast I thought it would explode. I stifled a whimper inside my thr
oat, and my airways restricted. I held my breath, not wanting to cry in front of my dad anymore. I covered my face with my hands trying to hide the pain, but nothing could stop what I felt. I gasped for air, and the tears fell.
He parked along the side of the road, and then opened the door. Before getting out, he reached over and gave my leg a quick pat. “It’ll be okay kiddo.” He hesitated, but then got out of the car, leaving me there alone.
It was hard to believe him. Nothing was okay today. Taking another deep breath, I prepared myself for the inevitable. I lifted my head and gazed out the windshield.
A handful of people arrived early to come say their final goodbyes to my mom. Many of the faces I didn't recognize. A couple were nurses who still wore scrubs from their shifts at the hospital, and I spotted a Bishop from one of the local churches. I assumed it was out of respect that he came since we seldom attended church growing up. I could remember going with friends when I was little. His compassion toward my family always stuck with me.
The black suits and dresses blurred together. The cream-colored coffin was the only thing I could see clearly as I blinked my tears back. It sat in the middle of the small crowd. Pink roses draped over the top—her favorite.
I sat up straighter, holding my breath to stop the tears. Grabbing the handle, I forced myself to open the door. Once I was sure I could stand without the support of the car, I closed it. I spotted my dad greeting people and shaking hands with the bishop. He stopped to glance over his shoulder at me. His look pleaded for me to come and stand with him. I forced a fake smile for him, but it didn’t last long. The whole scene in front of me seemed surreal.
The grass was stiff and crunched as I walked. The scent of dry autumn leaves smelled cold—it smelled like death. My balance was not steady, and I teetered as I reached the edge of the burial plot, reaching out to touch the casket. I guess I needed to feel the hard steel under my fingers, knowing my mom was inside. I closed my eyes and remembered her smile, her laugh, her warmth.
A hand covered mine, and I opened my eyes to another set staring right back at me. I gasped. To see him here surprised me. His slicked back black hair gleamed in the setting sun. His jaw clenched, and I could see the muscles in his neck flex, but his brow line etched in worry.
I met him at the hospital after my mom’s accident. He was one of her doctors that I swore never left her side. I shivered thinking of the hospital. That whole week was still a blur. The memory of the phone call was vague. I could remember my dad telling me there was an accident, but on the rest of the conversation I blanked out.
“Dr. Walsh?”
He gave me a sympathetic smile. I recognized it because I’d gotten them all week. “Come sit down with me,” his voice was low.
I slid my hand down the casket before turning to follow him to the front row of folding chairs and sat next to him. I glanced over my shoulder. More cars pulled up next to the cemetery. Most of the people I saw arriving were my dad’s friends.
I averted my eyes from the crowd back to the casket. The roses on top looked stiff in the cold, with frost around the edges of their petals. The sight made my heart ache even more, and I wished I could make them all appear revived, as much as I wished my mom were alive.
I stared at the flowers, closing off the world. The petals filled out and lifted as the roses bloomed anew. I shook my head. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks again, like with my hands earlier.
“You shouldn’t do that in front of mortals.” A hot whisper warmed the side of my face as the doctor leaned close to me, causing me to jump. It unnerved me to be that close to him.
The flowers enthralled me so much that I hadn’t thought about anyone else seeing them. A shiver ran down the length of my back. Without saying anything more, he sat back in his seat and stared at the casket.
“What?” My breath came out in a white fog. I decided to play dumb. It was easier than trying to give an explanation I didn’t have.
He leaned forward facing the casket. “The roses, you shouldn’t do that while mortals are around.”
“Mortals? What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”
He stared at me, not breaking eye contact. “We need to leave.”
I raised my eyebrows. Just like that, he wanted me to leave with him? “Excuse me?”
“Your mom is waiting, but we need to be discrete.”
I hugged myself tighter. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Besides, my mom is right there you freak.” Fresh tears welled in my eyes. Why would he do this to me? She was his patient—he of all people should know she’d died. Maybe he couldn’t take losing a patient and refused to believe she was gone.
“Ara, it’s crucial that you come with me. It is not safe for you here. You don’t have a choice.” In his seat, he twisted to see me better, and then looked over at my dad who congregated with more of the growing crowd.
I shook my head. “Leave me alone.” He scared me. His voice held an ominous tone that seemed more than threatening.
He looked over his shoulder, and I followed his gaze to two more guys dressed in the same black pinstriped suit that he wore. They both gave a nod to the doctor and started our way. I tried to swallow the lump that formed in my throat, but my mouth went dry. I needed to move. Fast.
I stood up, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. “Let me go!” I struggled to release my hand from his grip, tugging until his fingers painfully dug into my wrist. “Help!” I shouted louder and glanced over my shoulder, but no one even looked my way. Why don’t they hear me?
I spotted my dad’s car as I twisted my arm again. I needed to get there. A soft glow emanated from my hands. My eyes widened, but I didn’t have time to register what was happening.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I placed a ward around us so no one will even notice us. No one here can even see you right now.”
That’s not possible. How could my dad not see this happening to me? I glanced back down at my restrained wrist. Thankfully, no light came from it. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t good.
I didn’t know what he was talking about. What was a ward? What did he mean no one could hear me? I glanced around at the mingling grievers. “Help!” He was right—nobody even looked my way. I slapped him with my other hand across the face, but then he grabbed it too.
I focused on keeping myself from shaking so he couldn’t see how scared I was. “What do you want with me?”
“You can’t guess?”
From behind me, hands grabbed around my waist, and the doctor let go of my wrists. I swiveled, throwing my weight into breaking the hold, but the man held me tight and lifted me from the ground. I screamed and another hand clamped my mouth shut. Another man came from the side and received one of my wild kicks in the gut.
The doctor chuckled, making anger boil in my veins. I struggled harder, only to have the hold on me tighten to the point where all the air squeezed out of my lungs. Stupid! Why did I let the doctor distract me from the two goons? They were kidnapping me from my mom's funeral. My mind whirled with everything ranging from torture to death. Would my dad find my body chopped up in little pieces left in the desert? He lost my mom. Was he now losing me too?
My adrenaline went into overdrive as I tried to protect myself. I fought with everything I could muster, kicking out and twisting my arms, but the men who held me were strong, and it was like trying to move a mountain. Quickly, I scanned the cemetery, looking for anyone to become aware of what was happening—nothing. Even with a small crowd, there were too many people not to notice. I couldn’t comprehend how is was possible they were dragging me across the cemetery kicking and screaming, but no one saw a thing?
The two men continued to drag me toward a running car that sat idle in the high school parking lot while Dr. Walsh opened the door to the backseat ahead of us. The hand moved off my mouth enough for me to bite down hard. “HELP! Somebody help!” I screamed again, still hoping for anyone to hear me before it was too
late.
Dr. Walsh glanced at one of his goons. “Joe, get her in the car,” he said before he slid into the backseat on the other side.
No! This couldn’t be happening. Not to me, not right now. The two men held me from the sides as they tried shoving me into the car. I kicked out at one of the men again, this time my toes met his shin, causing him to briefly let go of me. But it wasn’t hard enough because he had his hands wrapped around my arms again before I could fight off the other guy. I stomped on his foot as hard as I could with my heel.
“Ouch! Would you stop it?” the man grumbled.
I twisted enough to spit in his face and struggled against them both again. The two men who restrained me were unmovable and even though I resisted, they pushed me into the car next to the doctor. After slamming my door as soon as my limbs were clear, they both climbed in the front, and we drove off, away from the cemetery.
Chapter Two
Arabeth
My breathing became sporadic as I panicked. I needed a calm mind to find a way to escape, but it was hard to think through the fuzzy thoughts that raced through my head.
Familiar streets went by in a blur as we sped through the backside of town. Dr. Walsh pulled at the tails of his coat to straighten it as he settled into his seat better. “I think a new introduction is in order. My name is Victor, and I am not a doctor.”
“What? Then why did you act like one? Did you kill her?” The questions came out fast, but I needed to know.
“Whoa, settle down. What if I could prove to you that your mom’s alive?”
I glared at him and muttered through clenched teeth, “She’s dead.” I focused on my breathing, trying to calm myself.
He settled back into his seat. “What if she is still alive?”
I threw my arms up in the air. “Then where is she at?” Great, a serial-killer psychopath kidnapped me.
He didn’t say anything but remained relaxed with his hands folded together in his lap.
