by Matthew Fish
I hear the phone ring from downstairs. With a healthy amount of hesitation, I get up to my feet and walk naked down the spiral staircase. By the time I reach the phone and pick up the old corded speaker, all I hear is the constant high pitch of the dial-tone. I replace the phone onto the cradle against the wall and allow myself to slink down to the ground as I wait. No one calls me these days unless I’ve either missed an appointment or my prescription is ready. The phone rings once more, I get to my feet and pick it up.
“Hello?” I ask.
Breathing can be heard over the line but no response is offered.
“Hello…” I impatiently repeat. “I can hear you.”
The sound of some kind of sharp feedback forces the phone away from my ear which begins to ring in response to the high pitched noise.
“Yeah fuck you asshole!” I shout into the receiver as I slam the phone down.
“Fucking people…” I mutter as I begin to ascend the staircase. As I reach the second floor I notice that the bathroom door is slightly ajar— a yellow glow from the fluorescent lights escapes past the small opening. I do not remember leaving the light on. I pause for a moment. Cautiously I creep over to the bathroom and place a hand against the rufous colored door and gently nudge it open. I take a step into the room. The shower curtain is closed. My mind starts to believe that someone is perhaps hiding behind it. I do not know whether it is paranoia, but I swear I can see something moving beneath its plastic surface. I quickly cover my nude form with a long white towel. With a trembling hand I reach out and draw the curtain back. To my horror, I see the image of my sister hanging from her neck—her face is twisted and lifeless. I stumble backwards and hit my head against the sharp edge of the sink. I can feel a sickening warmth beneath my head as everything goes black.
I Wake up against the cold wooden floor of my room. Convinced I have had some kind of dream, I slowly get up and open my weary eyes. I look to where my head lied and find my white towel covered in a haematic dried red crusty pool of blood. In shock, I reach to the back of my head and find a small wound. For a moment the light of the sun is blocked as my eyes advert to the window. I see my sister sitting against my couch. I am rendered speechless.
Alexis smiles, the light illuminates her hair and traces out her small familiar form in a faded yellow. She is wearing a white dress, one that I have never seen before. Her barefoot feet are bunched up beneath her and her bare arms are outstretched against the arm rest. She looks surprisingly content for someone who is supposed to be dead.
“Alexis…?” I mutter as I instinctively reach a hand out to her. “Is that really you…? It can’t be.” This is not happening… my mind repeats this thought as though it is a skipping record. I must be hallucinating. I must have injured myself. “Are you real?”
The glowing form of Alexis smiles as she nods once.
“Are you a ghost?” I ask as I draw in my legs close against my naked body. Despite the fact that this is my sister, I feel an odd sense of embarrassment at her seeing me nude and sunburned. “Can you… talk?”
“The sun is coming for you,” Alexis whispers in such a faint wisp that it is barely audible in the still air.
Alexis begins to approach me and in reflex I back away, crawling to avoid her touch as though she is some kind of monster. I lock eyes with her, I can feel that she means no harm—however, I still continue to back away. I wrap myself up in the blood stained towel just as her hand comes into contact with my arm. Her fingertips are warm to the touch.
“What… what do you mean the sun is coming for me?” I ask as I begin to tremble. “What do you want from me?”
“The sun is coming here,” Alexis whispers as she places her heated hand against my shoulder and with her spare she brings me to my feet. “When it comes it will burn away all life… all I wanted, is to tell you—to warn you of what is to come.”
“The sun is going to crash into the earth?” I whisper as I attempt to shake away the thought that this is all some kind of hallucination from my head injury.
“Not crash,” Alexis whispers as she begins to guide me to the hallway.
“What do you mean?” I ask as we pass the bathroom. As my eyes wander into the sea-foam colored room, I see a flash of blinding light and my head begins to throb in agony.
“It’s coming for you,” Alexis softly speaks in such a calm demeanor it is almost as though she is delivering happy news with muted tones. “But when it comes, you need to be whole again.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” I plead as I continue to be guided along the hallway. I place a hand out and attempt to stop my forward movement—only to find this action futile. It is as though there is more force than just my sister’s propelling me along. Also, I do not like where we are headed. For reasons I cannot completely comprehend, I am completely dreading it.
“We’re almost there…”
Alexis’s room lies before me. The door that has remained shut for so long, the old wood, the brass knob with a layer of dust upon the top of it—I fear it. I do not wish to enter the room. It is as though some force I do not wish to confront lies on the other side. “Please don’t make me go in. I don’t, I can’t do it.”
Alexis ignores my trepidations and places her hand over mine. She controls me as though I am nothing more than a puppet. I try to resist, I pull up whatever strength I can to stop my hand from turning the doorknob—however, this too… is a pointless act. I am powerless against her will. The door opens.
“You have seven days,” Alexis says as she pushes me into the room. “Starting tomorrow—live your life as you once did… before he died. When the time comes, don’t regret your life.”
“Can I stop it?” I ask as I turn to face Alexis.
“Why would you want to?” Alexis answers as she begins to walk away. Outside the window, the light of the sun is barely visible.
“I don’t want to die—I don’t want the world to end,” I reply as I attempt to follow, but find that I cannot. Inside of Alexis’s room, it appears some kind of force is keeping me locked in here.
“As the sun fades away, so will I,” Alexis says as she faces me one final time. “Time is short and… I have no answers today. No more than you do.”
“Please just tell me what to do…”
“I already did.”
“I can’t live a normal life,” I say as I shake my head. I am having a hard time holding back tears as the emotion of the moment feels as though it will tear me into two. “If I only have seven days until the end how can I even begin? What is the point?”
“You wanted the sun, you called out for it. Part of you wants this.”
“I don’t want it anymore.”
“Stay in the room, you’ll feel better,” Alexis says as she raises her hand up. “You’ll understand. We will see each other again before the end—although, we might not be the same people.”
“Don’t go,” I plead as reach out a hand towards my sister.
Without another word, or gesture—she begins to tear apart and fill the air like burnt paper. Embers of glowing red fly about in the air like streaking fireflies in the darkness of the hallway. The embers sway about and turn to grey ash as they expend their energy and fall to the floor. Eventually, there is nothing left of Alexis.
Unable to hold back tears, I allow myself to cry. I turn my attention back to Alexis’s room. I jump as the door behind me slams shut. My heart beating like a rabbit’s in my chest, I take a few steps into the dimly lit room. I find an old desk-lamp and pull down on the silver chain illuminating the room in a faint yellow glow. I see Alexis’s old bed, her dresser lined with photographs, and her blank and bare walls. I take a few cautious steps towards the dresser. One picture stands out amongst all the others. I pick it up, clearing away a layer of dust with a section of my towel. In the picture Alexis stands next to a guy, it looks like some kind of dance—perhaps a prom. I find it strange that I cannot remember the moment clearly.
As I look at the guy
, he seems like he should be familiar. There is some kind of connection or fragment of a memory that my mind is having a difficult time piecing together. My head begins to hurt once more. What did Alexis mean? The sun is coming for me? None of it makes any amount of sense. Out of the corner of my eye I catch a small flash of light. I swiftly turn to face a full length mirror that hangs against the wall. I set down the picture and begin to walk towards my own reflection—something is off, something not exactly quite right.
I look at my eyes; they are clear and brilliant blue. It is not the right color, not at all. These eyes… These are my sister’s eyes. I reach my hand out and my fingertips come into contact with the mirror. Another wave of pain comes from my head, this time more fierce than before. It feels as though something is trying to break out of my head. Wave after wave of pain overtakes me as I am driven down to the floor and onto my knees. My towel falls away. In the mirror I attempt to make out my reflection—it begins to shudder and shake as though it is being shown to me by an out of focus projector during an earthquake.
My mind flashes in pain blindingly as everything grows black. I fear that I have become blind. I can feel myself shaking, trembling—I feel as though I am being ripped apart. Without warning, I suddenly remember everything.
Everything calms. The darkness remains. Like my life flashing before my eyes, I can see fragments, parts of my life that I have forgotten… well, not forgotten, perhaps, but—hidden. I see myself with the young man from the picture. We are happy. It is spring. We are running along the shoreline. He is chasing me and we are both laughing. He catches me and is rewarded with a kiss. That memory fades and in its place a new one appears. This one is dark. The young man, Aaron Chase… that was his name, he is jogging with a pair of headphones on. It is late; at least, I feel that it is late at night. A pair of blinding headlights appears from behind him belonging to a truck that is driving very erratically. It does not slow down as it strikes him and sends him flying off of the road. Everything fades to black. He reappears against the ground. His breathing is very ragged. His body is contorted in a disturbing way; blood covers the grass around him. He is not whole. As the memory fades away, Aaron chase stops breathing. I am alone in the darkness once more. I feel no sense of self, I can merely watch what unfolds—I barely even have time to react. I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. I begin to understand.
A new memory lightens up the darkness. I can see myself in bed. It is daytime. I look as though I have not slept at all. I get out of bed and walk over to the full length mirror. I place both hands against the mirror and stare vacantly at my own reflection. I then rush out of the room and head down the spiral staircase and into the basement. I search around the different rooms until I find what I was looking for—a length of cord stripped from an old lamp. In a hurry, I make my way to the upstairs bathroom and balance myself against the edge of the tub, reaching up to the metal bar above me. I tie a makeshift knot around the cord and place my neck against the cord. I allow my feet to slip. The memory fades. A new one replaces it. I awake on the floor to my mother helping me up to my feet. She gets me into the car and rushes me to the hospital. That memory fades.
It was me. It was always me.
A new memory breaks through the darkness. I sit at a funeral. It is not for my sister—but for Aaron Chase, my… love, my boyfriend. As they lower his body into the ground the darkness follows swiftly behind. I now see myself living in the attic. Time speeds up. I see myself day to day, hardly leaving. I spend most of my days lying in the sun. This memory fades as well. I then see myself at a therapist’s office. Then another, and another… a series of men, women, I have no memory of them. They all try and convince me that I did not have a sister—that my name, the name my mother keeps trying to get me to accept is Emma Alexis Corbeau. I see myself screaming at my mother, throwing things. I repeat over and over that my name is Emma Hope Corbeau. This memory fades. I find myself once again in the attic. Days pass by. People stop trying to convince me. The door to my old room remains shut. Time passes and I forget. I forced myself to forget. I slip into depression. I have no motivation. I begin to describe myself as talentless—never happy. I see no joy in life. I begin to compare myself to a sister I never had—my former self. I even trick myself into thinking my eyes are the only difference in our appearance. They appear cloudy and grey as I look into the mirror. This is false as well.
The darkness subsides as I find myself facing the mirror once again. I look at my own reflection. I know who I really am now. I was supposed to be the one that wanted something out of life—the one that never tried to commit suicide. This was as far from the truth as the earth to the moon. I was the girl that used to always be happy. There was never an Alexis—at least, not a sister, or a ghost—nothing more than a mere name.
I get to my feet and wrap the towel around my cold body. Was it all a hallucination? Was this my mind’s way of finally telling me the truth? About what she had said, about the sun coming for me—that couldn’t have possibly been true, right? Perhaps it was just part of some psychosis. It all felt real. Then again, I had convinced myself so much fallacy was real that I had built the last few years of my life around it. Who was I now?
I rushed downstairs to the telephone and dialed a number on a corkboard next to the old fashioned phone.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Riley?” I ask, although I suspect that it is judging by the familiar voice.
“Emma?’ The voice says in a rather confused tone. “Sorry… You’ve never actually called me, is everything alright…? I know that today is a tough day for you—have you had any issues?”
“I didn’t have a sister.”
I am answered by silence on the other end of the phone. Moments pass by. I allow some more time to pass until I add, “I am Emma Alexis Corbeau…”
“How did you come to this?” Julie Riley finally whispers as she attempts to compose herself. Her voice is audibly shaken.
“It’s a long story,” I answer as I attempt to piece together the right words.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“I think I need to.”
“If you feel like you’d be okay driving at night,” Julie says as she pauses to allow me to object—when I do not she continues, “I’d be willing to meet you at the office as soon as you can get here.”
“I would like that,” I reply. “Thank you.”
“See you soon—be safe Emma.”
Day Zero
Chapter 1: Acceptance
Emma walks into the familiar office. She sets her purse down on the mosaic stone table and rushes into Dr. Julie Riley’s open door. She has an uncertain look upon her face as she greets Emma with a handshake. Emma notices that the notepad is nowhere to be found, she is somewhat confused by this as it seems as though this would be one of those moments that Dr. Riley would want to document. Emma plops down onto the couch; she lets out a short sigh and holds her hands out before her as if to ask ‘now what?’
“So…” Dr. Riley begins as she leans forward and places a hand upon her chin. A dour look is worn upon her face like one of those unhappy masquerade masks. “What happened today? What triggered…”
“I slipped and fell in the bathroom,” Emma says a she places her hand to the spot on the back of her head.
“Are you alright?” Dr. Riley asks as she gets to feet and inspects the wound. She is no doctor—at least in the most commonly accepted vernacular.
“I think so,” Emma says as she lets out a short laugh. Julie is no doctor—at least in the most commonly accept vernacular. The irony is not lost on her that a ‘head’ doctor cannot properly tell if a head wound is something to be concerned about or not. “It doesn’t really seem to be bothering me at all, actually…”
“Maybe you should go the ER, at least to have it…”
“I don’t do hospitals,” Emma interrupts as she sits back down and shakes her head at the very idea. “You should know that.”
“Of course
,” Dr. Riley says as she nods once and takes her seat. She folds her hands in her lap and looks over Emma as though she is attempting to evaluate the situation that she has before her.
“So I slipped and fell in the bathroom,” Emma repeats as she looks away. Her eyes wander to the wood grain of a nearby bookshelf. Through the brunneous and beige patterns she discerns what looks like a slightly abstract symbol of the sun—the kind that you would have drawn as a kid, an imperfect circle with a few swathes of flame extruding from the center.
“Then you just… remembered?” Julie quietly says, breaking the uneasy silence.
“What?” Emma replies as she is brought back to reality. “Yes… I remembered. I saw myself—I went into my old room, there the memories came back. It was like watching someone else’s dream. Once it was over, I realized it wasn’t Alexis’s funeral—it was my boyfriend’s. It was not Alexis’s suicide attempt, it was my own. I realized that these were my memories.”
“This is a huge step,” Dr. Riley says as she finally allows a smile to cross her wide features. “I don’t think you realize how big this is. I mean, in terms of progress this kind of realization is amazing—and you’re taking it so well. Do you even remember that you refuse to go out at night?”
“And here I am…”
“Yes,” Dr. Riley says as she nods reassuringly. “Here you are—the real and whole you. You must feel some sense of accomplishment. It has been a very long time since you assumed this ‘older sister’ role.”
“I don’t feel very accomplished. After all, that means I was the one that tried to kill myself. I was always so proud that I was the only one in my family that had not attempted it—instead, I find out that I was just like them,” Emma says as she looks away once more. “Also I don’t know how I should feel about this. It’s like someone has forced me out of my own mind—like another personality has taken residence in an already crowded apartment. I have my own memories, and now I have these new memories and feelings.”
