by LJ Amodeo
“Elizabeth. Are you all right? What happened?” he rattled. I could only nod since I was still struggling to breathe. “Do you need water?”
The warmth of his body penetrated through me, settling my tremors. Quieting my fears. I leaned into his chest, squeezing my eyes shut, repeating the words,It’s only a dream. The pale-faced man is a hallucination. He isn’t real.I opened my eyes to look around at the buildings and the faces that walked passed me. Ordinary people. Yet, my eyes grazed toward a street light with a post underneath it that read, SIGNS ROAD. Samantha warned me to look for signs all around me. I knew they were there, but their messages were unclear. What did they want from me? Why did they haunt me? I could only conclude two things; these signs were a bad omen, a prelude to some unforeseen danger, or the reality that I had already lost my mind like my father.
“Are you sure you’re fine, Elizabeth? You look pale. Perhaps we should get you home.” He whispered gently stroking my cheek.
My heart hammered and my body trembled. But knowing Michael was beside me, tapered my growing anxiety and fear. Having him hold me closely aroused emotions that had otherwise been dormant. Settled in the car, I warmed my hands on the illuminated dashboard vents. In a series of flashbacks, the disturbing images of the pale-faced strangers pestered me. Since the start of my headaches, my struggles with what was reality and what were dreams had taken control of my life. I could no longer distinguish if the faces that haunted me were merely distorted images in my mind or something more. My thoughts were maddening, as I toiled with these paranormal experiences. Michael watched me as though he understood my anguish.
“Elizabeth?” he said, touching my shoulder to get my attention.
“Huh?” I jumped at Michael’s touch distracting me from my thoughts.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” His expression remained wary. I nodded, shaking the chills from my body. “I asked if you enjoyed yourself.” he murmured, while his mouth twisted in doubt.
“It was wonderful.” I smiled reluctantly, while the pale face continued to haunt me.
“I’m glad you agreed to come out.” He smiled.
“I’m glad you asked me out.” I forced myself to smile. I had to erase the face of evil from my mind. Michael glanced at me suspiciously again. Although my mind was absorbed with unexplainable turmoil, I owed it to Michael to give him my full attention.
“I’m sorry, if I seem distracted. It’s been a long day. I’m a bit tired.” I replied, hiding the real reason for my lack of attention.
“Are you sure that’s it? You seemed freaked out earlier.”
“I wasn’t. Why would you think that?”
“Your pale face, perhaps,” he raised his brows.
I responded with a smile, as I erased the reality of what had transpired at sunset. It didn’t matter anymore. I was far away from the creepy man and with Michael now. Being with him felt good. He gave my life a sense of renewed hope, a chance to start over.Tabula Rasa, I whispered to myself.
“Did you say something, Elizabeth.” He looks at me again.
“Yeah, thanks for today.” I felt myself smiling now. His face relaxed this time. By the way his lips parted, I knew he wanted to say something but held back. I was mentally exhausted, but if he wanted to know something more about me, I was ready to give him whatever it was that he was going to ask for.
“Elizabeth, I hope you don’t think I’m crazy. . . this is mad,” he whispered, shaking his head and laughing to himself.
“What?”What did he find so amusing? I asked myself.
“What you said earlier, about Sophie and Annie, I just want you to know that they’re superficial and shallow. You’re not. You’re unique. Today, you made me realize that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.” Was he for real? Could this be true––what he was saying to me? Choruses echoed in my head. “I know we’re young and a bit impulsive, and I don’t want to sound like I’ve completely lost my mind, but if I told you I’ve been waiting foryou a long time, would you believe me?” Michael continued.
It was difficult not to radiate at his beautiful words wrapped in his musical cadence. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me—ME!The loner, the freak, the weirdo, the loser.It was unquestionably my time to shine. To step out of the darkness and finally come to unearth myself. He needed to know how I felt about him, too.
“Yes!” I shouted foolishly. “Insanely enough, I . . . I have the strangest feeling that I may have been waiting for you, too. Does it make any sense to you because it’s absolutely absurd to me.” Michael’s amazing grin stretched across his face. I reached over to touch his dimpled cheek.
He placed a kiss on my hand and whispered, “Yes, it makes perfect sense.”
The setting sun streamed through the car window, warming my heart and heightening my state of mind. We drove southeast of Buffalo, heading back to Caneadea, and although I loved my time with Michael, I was relieved to get away from the strange city folk and back into the comforts of home.
“So where do we go from here?” He asked caressing the top of my knuckles with his fingers. His eyes peeked down at the back of my hand.
“What are all these marks on you hand?” He asked gently rubbing the bluish bruises. I immediately pulled my hand away feeling embarrassed about the markings.
“Nothing.” I replied shamefully.
“Elizabeth, don’t hide from me. Please.” He whispered.
“It’s no big deal. I . . . I get blood work done every two weeks. The doctor is just monitoring my levels, that’s all.” I said, hoping he didn’t question it further. Instead, Michael lifted my hand and kissed the bruises. I gulped as his lips brushed across my hand.
I smiled tenderly at his touch, yet questions floated around in my head. Questions about us, the warnings, people. Were they who they seemed to be? What of my dreams, my visions, the perv, and the pale face . . . what did they mean and what did they have to do with me? Most of all, I wanted to know more about him and so I broke the silence.
“You never told me where you live.” My mind meddled for more information.
“In Angelica. That’s why I was at the library in August.”
“Have you lived there long?”
“No, not long. Two years ago, I moved to Mont Tremblant from France, now my permanent home.”
“Wait, you just said you live in Angelica. You live in two places?”
“When I enrolled in Houghton this year, I needed a place to stay. I didn’t want to dorm at school, so I rented a room in Angelica this way I don’t have to drive the long distance from Quebec to Houghton. On weekends, I head back home.”
“Wow! It must be cool having your own place, huh? I can’t wait to have one of my own someday.”
“I guess it’s cool, but it gets pretty lonely. Hopefully we can change that.” He grinned licking his lips. He illuminated my soul. The energy and the voices around Michael were different. They were calming, not the noises that normally consumed my head. Their whispers came as crystalline waves gently brushing over the golden sands. In my next journal entry, I’d write the words: I think I’m falling in lo . . .
“Boy, you sure are a great conversationalist! Where does your mind keep drifting to?” Michael teased about my wandering mind. In truth, he made it difficult for me to focus or stay focused. He completely consumed me.
“I’m not being rude. It takes me a while to ingest and it just occurred to me where you learned how to speak French.”
“Oui, ma belle dame. Having spent time in France and now Quebec is how I became fluent in French.”
“What is Mount Tramblant like?” I queried, mutilating the name of the French village.
“Mont Tremblaaant.” he corrected me. “It’s charming. It has a medieval feel to it, with cobblestone streets and narrow winding roads.”
“Sounds enchanting.”
Michael’s face enlivened with a brainstorm. I absorbed every movement he made; hanging on to every spoken word that formed
on his lips; every crease on his forehead that developed with each affliction; each smile line or sexy little twist of his lips; or this funny little brow raise he’d do when he had an idea coming through. I noticed it during lunch. It was the cutest of his habits. A habit I could really get used to.
“Hey, do you ski?” he raised his brow in that adorable way that he does.How I love that, I thought to myself.
Although, not a pro, I enjoyed skiing. Freddie and I started hitting the slopes when he moved into town. Swain was close enough to home to hitch a ride on the back of Mr. Sandusky’s pickup truck. The old man lived up the road, and his farm was on the way to the slopes, so giving us a ride to the mountain was no bother for him. Freddie and I spent hours running the trails, speeding past newcomers, swerving around the occasional visitors, and cutting through paths that were closed off to skiers. By our first year of high school, we knew how to maneuver through every trail, open or not, on Swain Mountain. “Yeah, I ski.” I replied. “Why?”
“Do you think your mom would mind if we went skiing in Tremblant for the weekend?” He drew back his lips exposing his dimpled cheeks.
“We can stay at my place. I give you my word. No funny stuff. Scout’s honor. I’ll be aperfect gentleman!”
Perfecthe was, and I, as usual, was short of words. A weekend alone with him suddenly made everything move quickly. Faster than I ever imagined. A first date, hopefully a first kiss, now a weekend. I wanted so badly to shoutyes, but fear of the unknown sealed my lips shut. I was never alone with a boy, let alone away with one. For the first time in a long time, I was scared. Really scared. Not even the voices scared me like this.But how could someone so beautiful make me so frightened? I asked myself as a kind voice called out to me in response:The fear you experience is not one for your life, but one that may take him away from it . . .
The stillness that harnessed my body as the tender voice faded was interrupted by Michael’s touch. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry. I’m moving too fast for you. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He sighed, pulling his hand away to grip the steering wheel. His eyes settling on the road ahead. We drove in silence for the next couple of miles. I did want to spend a weekend with him, and for some reason, I struggled to tell him that. I was practically eighteen and college bound. I’d be of legal voting age, legal to date guys older than me, old enough to move out and find my own way. So why was it so difficult to give him an answer? An answer I so desperately wanted to be ayes! Finally breaking the silence, I stirred up the courage to whisper, “I’d love to go with you.”
“Did you say something?” he lowered the radio.
“I’ll go with you . . . to Mont Trem . . . I’ll go.” I replied.
His velvet hand released the wheel and rested on mine. The dimple on his cheek told me he was pleased with my response. So was I.
We arrived at my doorstep at 9:45P.M. The light of the television flickered through the laced curtains. I turned to face Michael whose eyes were gazing at me for a while.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” I felt a rush of desire.
“You remind me of someone I once knew.” He whispered springing goose bumps on my skin. I smiled shyly. I wanted to thank him in a special way for the wonderful day we spent together.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked, intertwining my fingers with his, waiting for the wordyes to spill from his supple lips.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he whispered, looking down at our joined fingers. His lips only inches away from mine.
“My mom’s probably asleep on the couch. You can sneak up to my room,” I whispered mischievously. I inched my body closer to his, grateful that Prince was not barking at the window or waking my mom.
Michael thought about it, his eyes danced from the window, to me, back to the window. I tucked one leg underneath me to better position myself for what I was about to do. Fighting the urge was useless. I couldn’t resist. I didn’t want to hold back, anymore. I’d waited long enough. Resting my hand on his neck, I played with the back of his velvet hair. I licked my lips, preparing my mouth for what I desired to do from the first day I laid eyes on him. Our eyes remained locked, as we moved slowly toward each other. My fingers tightened around his hair, responsive to his touch as swells of air filled my lungs and fluttered through my belly. Without encumbrance, I leaned in to kiss his lips, once, twice, softly at first, then harder, impatiently like I had seen in the movies. My first kiss. Without resisting, Michael kissed me back; gentle, passionate kisses, pulling me closer to him. The energy between us was incredible. Unreal. Amazing even. My mind soared as he pulled on my lip and I lifted myself onto my knees. Leaning over him, I pulled his head back as I consumed his mouth with mine, tasting the sweetness of his lips. Abruptly, the loom of dark pain pulled us apart. My hands no longer held Michael’s silky hair, but clutched my own head that pounded violently inside my skull. Michael’s beautiful face faded as nausea began its procession from the pit of my stomach to the back of my throat. I lurched forward, holding my abdomen with one hand and my mouth with the other, hoping I wouldn’t vomit on his expensive leather seats.Please, please, don’t let this happen now! Make it stop! Make it go away, please let it stop! I begged for the pain to cease. There was no warning of an oncoming headache. It came at me full force. Its black cloud waited overhead, like the raven, anticipating an attack. I could hear Michael’s voice, but couldn’t make out his words.Again, my father cloaked in royal blue flashed in my mind. In his hands, a lifeless raven hung loosely from his bloodstained fingers. His lips moved, but the sound of chanting droned out his words. Suddenly, his mouth slowed making it possible for me to read his lips . . . “You are never alone, my sweet child. . .they cannot hurt you. . .see.” He lifted the dead raven.
My father’s face faded into the background as his voice resonated, “O Holy Prince...” before going silent.
The combustion in my skull tapered slightly, but the pressure behind my eyes continued its wrath. With each painful episode, the headaches became more severe. I fretted over Samantha’s theory of the possibility that something more serious festered in my skull. I feared the worst. I considered telling my mother of these increasing occurrences. As all these thoughts beat against my head, only one sound, the sound of his voice reigned above my fury.
“Elizabeth. Open your eyes. Don’t let it break you. We’ll fight it together. . .”
Through misty eyes, the image of angel’s wings shimmering in sheer gold emerged as I focus on his face. Clearly seeing the unimaginable, I squeezed my eyes shut. Upon opening them, Michael’s beautiful face had been replaced with the pale-faced beast who hovered over me, breathing his rancid breath on my face. Wide-eyed with horror, I turned my face away as the deranged beast mimicked my angel’s voice,We’ll do it . . . together. There’s no turning back now. You belong to me.He jeered. I pushed him away, kicking at the maniacal monster, only to find myself confined in the small space of a car with my back pressed against the window and my legs kicking at the console. Helplessly, my legs were restrained by a massive force, as Michael’s face reappeared, his worries increased by my bizarre behavior. Able to restrain my wailing legs between his strong knees, Michael held my hands to calm me down. I couldn’t concentrate, I tried, God knows I tried, but I was terrified. Horrified at what I’d seen, who I was, and what I was becoming. Again, I blinked in fear of facing what I had seen seconds ago. But there was no one. Nothing. Only Michael wiping the tears from my eyes. With his fingertips, he lifted up my face so that my teary eyes met his. “What is happening? You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It won’t stop. It’s getting worse,” I wept. Prince whimpered by the window under the shadow of a full moon.
“Michael, you shouldn’t be with me. I’m not well.” I muttered, regretfully.
“What are you saying? I will not leave you now that I’ve found you. You’ll get better. I know you will.” He whispered in desperation holding my wrists, as everything in my
life spiraled out of control.How could I matter to someone who knows nothing about me? How could I be falling in love with someone I hardly know? Is this even possible? Is he even real?
Chapter 9: Lake Rushford
And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
Sylvia Plath
I woke up with a throbbing headache. My eyes, heavy and swollen from the previous night’s attack. Mom sat quietly on the window seat, skimming through my journal with Prince sitting at her feet.
“Mom? What are you doing?” I grumbled.
“What do these pictures and words mean, Beth? Are you part of some cult?” she asked horrified by my journal entries and sketches.
“No. They don’t mean anything! They’re only drawings. That’s all,” I snapped, snatching the journal from her hands. “Why are you in my room?”
“Michael told me you had another episode last night. Have you been taking your medication like doctors Miller and Bates instructed?” She moved closer to sit on the edge of my bed.
“No. I mean yes. Not all the time. I just want to be normal, Mom. I don’t want to take the pills for the rest of my life. I just want to be like everyone else.” I frowned.
