by Dawn Brazil
“You know, right? You’ve realized the truth.” I don’t answer. Not because I don’t know, but because once I face it, it will be real. My eyes travel to the gravel on my side of the invisible wall. “Samantha.” I force my eyes up. “You know… I’m not real. Right? I only exist in your head… and in this place. In VOLT.”
I scrunch my face, knowing Joe and Ferris are here looking, listening to all of this. Knowing the lie I’ve carried all this time with me. “Yes, I did put it together, eventually. I was curious who might show up, though.” My words are whispers for us only.
He laughs. “You went through all that to get here, to see who’d meet you at the end. I didn’t think you’d continue on after some of the things that happened to you. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Remember this experience. Use it.” He steps away from the invisible wall. “You should go now. I served my purpose. I have to help someone else now.”
“Wait.” I lock eyes with him. “Are you her or him? I never quite figured that out.”
“I was what you needed when you needed it.”
“He’s not real… he was never real…” Ferris thunderously whispers behind me. A tremor of guilt and loathing washes over me. Will they be upset with me? Will they understand?
“You found your lost thing, Sam," Ryan says. "It was never me you were meant to find."
I clutch my hands to my face as terror creeps up my spine and clutches my heart. “I don’t know how to live by myself. What will I do? What’s the point of being able to talk and like people now but having no one to do it with?”
I’m sucking in air but it’s not enough. The air has been sucked out of my body and I might faint from lack of oxygen.
Ryan doesn’t answer my question; an expression that borders on pity and sorrow spreads across his face. I plop to the ground and watch as he walks back to the mansion. Once he walks through the hatch at the front, I collapse my face into my hands.
I’m scared to be alone. Afraid to live a life where no one loves me or cares for me.
I barely love myself. What if I leave VOLT and can’t recall any of this? What if I don’t find Ferris and Joe after this?
"Pea, pick yourself up. We have things to discuss.” The words startle me and I raise my head. Standing in front of me isn’t my imaginary boyfriend.
It’s not Joe or Ferris.
Standing in front of me is my real soulmate for eternity.
Chris has a smirk plastered on her same-as-me face.
Chapter 51
I can’t move, can’t speak, can’t think. Rocked with sorrow so deep, I don’t see how I can get back up. I press my body into the wall, shutting out everything else but the hollow in my chest.
My tears fall so hard, I can barely see her. She bends to look at me. I shake my head in disbelief.
“Wow, Pea. I’ve got you speechless. That’s a first,” Chris says.
I snort—laughing and crying at the same time. I pull myself up from the ground and she follows me up. “I love you so much,” I say. “So much it hurts.”
“So much you invented a boyfriend to take my place.”
The way she says it makes it sound silly. “A boyfriend made the most sense. We don’t really have that many relatives… so.” I shrug.
“Yeah, but you lost yourself when you created him. I wanted to scream at you every day. Oh, and my favorite part—the two of you were going to Ivy League schools. Right, you’re going to Harvard. What the Houston were you thinking?”
“If you’re going to invent a new reality, I say, go big or wake the Florida up,” I chuckle at my own words. She throws her head back and laughs also. She doesn’t say anything else for a couple seconds. We each stare into identical eyes, but mine carry a pain I’m sure she doesn’t recognize.
“I love you, Pea. We were something special together, huh?”
I nod through my blubbering.
“I think you’re in good hands now,” Chris says, looking past me. “We aren’t meant to do this life alone. But we can’t use others as a crutch. I think you’re ready to live with yourself and with others.” She leans around me, looking in Ferris' direction. Her face tilts into a full teeth-baring grin. She waves at him.
“I need you,” I whimper. I hate this wall separating us. The longing for her touch is unbearable. Physical torture I can endure, but this borders on insanity. It’s like having my heart ripped out repeatedly with each glance into her soft brown eyes.
“Of course you do. You better never forget it. But you can’t be consumed with it. You have to live. I’m good. Dad’s good.”
“Dad. Oh God. Where is he?”
“Only one of us could come. And I’ve got to go now,” Chris says. “Love me forever, and know I’ll always be watching and cracking up at you.” She steps away from the glass. She points a slender finger at me. “Don’t invent any more boyfriends. Well, you might not have to do that anyway.”
She snickers in Joe’s direction. I don’t turn to see his face, but I imagine he’s curious about why she’s staring at him. “I have to get back to Dad. He told me to remind you how special you are. How absolutely perfect you are to him. I told him he was confused because I was the perfect one. He insisted.” I laugh. She was always the funny one. “There isn’t a day that exists on this side that I don’t think about the life we could have had together. I chose to get into that car with Dad, and I don’t blame you for what happened.” I feel like my heart might explode in my chest. “Dad doesn’t blame you, either. I know it’s hard being there without us and both the grannies and papas. It’s hard for us to be here without you and Mom.”
“Mom is sick,” I blurt out. “She has cancer. She’s dying… leaving me, too.”
“I know. Dad’s with her right now, comforting her. He’s with her a lot. We think she’ll be with us in a few weeks.”
“It’s not fair you all get to be together. I want to be with you all, too. It’s hard to be alone.”
She steps back to the glass and places her hand on it. I place my hand on hers. “Samantha, listen to me.” I quiet my tears as much as I can. My dry heaves rack over me and my body rocks with the motion. Still, I square my shoulders and give her my full attention.
“If you come here on your own, we won’t be together. Paradise isn’t reserved for those who give up. It’s meant for those who fight. Mom’s been fighting for a while. She needs peace now. You’re strong. Don’t you dare give up. Live for us. Live each day for us. Live the life we couldn’t. But also live for you. Live your best life—each day. Bring honor to our name with your life. We all love you and root for you. You can do this.” She sighs. “I have to go. Love you forever and a half, Pea. You need to promise me you won’t try to come here. You need to promise me you’ll fight.”
Where the strength to part my lips comes from, I don’t know. “I promise. I promise to fight. I promise to make you all proud of me.” Her smile is resplendent and achingly sorrowful. She steps away from the glass, turns, and bolts up the walk to the mansion.
I slump back to the ground and twist myself into a ball to give my rampant heart time to abate.
The sound of the city fades as I cleave tighter to the wall. The longer I’m on the ground, the more malleable it becomes. Her visit has left me discombobulated. I struggle to think cohesively. The nothing swaddling me in my unbalanced state crosses my mind.
I fight against the urge. In this moment, I need to feel it all. And I need them—my friends.
“Joe,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond. “Ferris.” Still, no answer.
My eyes snap open to investigate.
I’m flat on my back in a bed, staring at a white ceiling.
The space is small. It’s padded on all sides, with crisp white fabric boards. Everything is white, like I’ve been swallowed by a cloud. I slide my feet over the side of the cot I’m stretched out on.
I’m not wearing shoes, and my toenails are unpolished and too long. My upper body doesn’t move with the rest
of me. I glance down. My arms are stuck through each side of a white jacket and strapped on either side.
Straitjacket. San Diego!
Perched high above my head on the furthest wall is a slender window. The sky outside is the color of oatmeal. I pace forward one step. I turn a full circle to inspect where I am.
Everything is wrong. Realization slams into me like a ball to the head.
I’m not in VOLT anymore.
I’m in an asylum.
Chapter 52
The room is small and has only one point of exit or entry. The hatch is framed with a tiny window at the top. I squeeze my face into the crevice of the opening. I don’t see anyone. Straight ahead is another hatch, which I’m sure is identical to the one I’m in. Except, this one has green paper lilies attached to it. Eyes stare back at me from across the way. The maniacal look in those eyes frightens me.
I pace back to the cot and flop on it.
If I’m here, where are Joe and Ferris? Are they both still in VOLT? Where are Chris, Mom, and Dad? I want to slide my hand across the scar on the side of my face. Where is Ryan?
I padlock this thought. He’s not real anymore. The scar isn’t there because he was never there, and there was no accident. Right. Yes, that’s the true story. I promised Chris.
So logically, Joe and Ferris don’t exist, either. Right? They can’t exist here and in VOLT at the same time. My stomach does somersaults at this concept. I existed here and there, though. Right? No. I glance at my leg. No cuts. No open wound on the side of my stomach. Nothing but ashy, skinny legs.
The back of my head pounds like an imprisoned gorilla is beating its way out.
I abhor the idea of VOLT not being real. When someone comes to collect me, however, I’ll have to make a decision. Do I mention it at all? If I’m here, it means I’ve had a mental break, right? I don’t need to reconfirm how insane they probably already think I am by declaring I came back from a place with driving pigs, vampire-like creatures that kill you, giant talking robots that transform into cars, life-sized dolls with human qualities, and humans that are named after a disgusting candy.
I’ll keep that information to myself for now.
I sit back on the cot and close my eyes, replaying the events of the last few days with Ferris and Joe.
A squeak of hinges blasts me from my thoughts and I stumble to my feet. The use of arms is severely underrated. I could use them now for the simple mechanics of standing without looking like a drunk person.
A petite woman dressed in brown slacks and a cream top and two guys clad in light blue scrubs enter the space. Two things are immediately apparent: she’s a doctor and they are orderlies, and I saw them all in VOLT.
The doctor holds a clipboard and as she enters, she glances at it, like she has words written on it and she’s rehearsing before she speaks to me.
The doctor is definitely gum-smacking booth lady. The orderlies are the guys who charged us with the kitchen equipment from the zombie restaurant.
I almost smile, remembering how Joe and I took them out.
The doctor lifts her head and her long, dark hair falls behind her. Each orderly flanks the entry, their hands positioned on black clubs that each hang from a loop on their waists.
They look ready for battle.
Chapter 53
I blink a few times at them, but direct my attention to the doctor.
“Samantha. Would you like to leave confinement now?” I blink again, unsure how to answer. I nod. The doctor steps forward and the orderlies mirror her movement. The doctor thrusts her hands out for the orderlies to stop.
“Are you sure?” the one on the right asks. He eyes me like he’s ready to clobber me and I have no idea why.
“Yes,” the doctor says. She reaches out and signals for me to walk ahead of her. The orderly on the right leads the way, followed by me, the doctor, and the last orderly.
The halls are empty save for the four of us making our way. Gray and white linoleum lines the floors. Too-bright fluorescent bulbs shine high above our heads. We walk past a guard station and everyone in my group shouts hello to Vic except me. I don’t know Vic, so I stare at Vic until he looks away.
We reach a colorful office and the doctor asks, “Are you okay without the straps? Do I need to lock you in?” What kind of question is that? I shake my head but don’t say anything.
Both orderlies step to me; they pull me forward and loosen the straps on the jacket I wear. The fabric falls slack and I pull my arms out. The doctor rummages through a stack of papers on her unkempt desk. Both orderlies stay in the room posted at the entry. Their eyes don’t leave me.
“You’re not my regular doctor, are you?” I have no idea why I ask the question. The doctor squints up from her pad, eyes wide.
She starts to speak then stops, tilts her head, and gazes at me before responding. “No. I’m not.”
“Where’s my regular doctor?”
She sits back in her chair and stares at me for a long few seconds, as if she’s considering how best to answer the question. “Why now?” she asks.
“Why what?”
“Talk.” Pause. “You haven’t spoken one word the entire time you’ve been under my care. What made you talk now?”
Is she serious? I shrug. “I don’t know. When can I leave this place?”
“You’re ready to go… home?” Something in her voice sounds confused and strange. Why would it be strange for me to want to go home?
“Of course home, where else would I go?”
“First, we need to make sure you’re not a danger to yourself or others.”
I laugh. The doctor doesn’t laugh, doesn’t blink, or do anything. She stares at me like she’s watching something enigmatic. I am bewildering. I’m the part of a TV show where you have to determine who did it, and the evidence doesn’t add up to the person you suspect.
“I wouldn’t hurt anyone.” One of the orderlies makes a noise like he’s clearing his throat, then crosses his muscular arms across his chest. I grimace at him and back at the doctor. “I’ve hurt people?”
The doctor takes a deep breath.
My breathe catches. “I—I wouldn’t. I’m not a violent person.”
“Do you remember why you’re here?”
“No. I don’t even remember coming here. When did I get here?”
“You said a few minutes ago you remembered your other doctor.”
“I do. But I don’t. I don’t know how, or why, or even her name. I know she was a woman with long chestnut hair, and a soft voice. A calming voice. I hear it in my head now, but I can’t make her out. Does she not work here anymore?”
“Do you want to talk about why you’re here?” The doctor has once again ignored a question of mine in favor of one of her own. It’s super annoying.
“Denver. Can you answer one of my questions first?” I sit forward a fraction in the chair. Her brow creases and she glances at the orderlies, as if I attacked her. They step forward but don’t move further. I glance at their stony faces. They each have their beefy hands on their clubs and hold my glare, as if daring me to move.
The doctor sighs softly. “She died in a car accident a year and a half ago.”
Chapter 54
I take slow, even breaths to calm my sprinting heart. Sweat licks at my hands and I wipe them on the white cotton pants I wear. Maybe I don’t understand what she’s saying. “A year and a half ago.”
“Yes,” the doctor responds.
“You’ve been my doctor ever since her.”
“Yes,” the doctor answers. The way her head is angled and her mouth puckers slightly to the right, tells me she’s examining my reaction to her words again. I weigh my response so I don’t sound as crazy as I’m sure they think I am.
“Why don’t I remember you?” That isn’t the question I need to ask, but it’s a start in the right direction.
“Maybe, subconsciously, you weren’t ready to give up your other doctor. It was a surprise to us all.” She
clears her throat and crosses her legs. Her evasive movement makes me feel like she’s not telling me something. I’m an expert at elusive maneuvers.
“Can you tell me what happened? Is that allowed?”
The doctor glances toward the hatch, as if the orderlies might have left. “I think you have the right to know.” Her shoulders slump forward a hair and her eyes are luminous when she glances back at me. “She was on her way to the hospital, to see about you. You’d had…” she stammers, “…an episode. She wanted to ensure you were okay. Her son was driving and a drunk driver hit them.”
“That’s awful.”
“It was unfortunate. She had five children.”
I’m quiet, but in the back of my mind there’s something I need to remember. I can’t. I squeeze my eyes closed and place my head between my legs. Remember, Sam. Remember.
The story. I know it. I know this story. I want to tell the doctor, but something else she said gives me pause.
I peek my head up. “What do you mean, I had an episode?”
“You were violent toward an orderly and another patient.”
“What? Why?”
“Why?” She pushes herself back in her seat more. “Sometimes when a situation is too taxing, we push at it. We don’t want to face it. You pushed. Your push hurt someone else. But you weren’t yourself. That’s why you’re here to get help… to get you back to how you used to be. Back to your normal.”
Her words echo in my head, Back to how I used to be. I shake my head to free it of the treacherous thoughts taunting and vying for my attention.
I knew no one at my school was trying to kill me. Except, every time I saw this one group of girls, they seemed to be whispering about me. They knew what I had done. They knew it was my fault my partner Shelly had died, and Dad and Chris, and the grannies and papas. These girls were plotting an attack on me. I know I won’t kill someone by becoming their friend, except everyone I love is either dead or dying. The one common denominator in the equation of these people’s lives is me. Was me.
