by Susan Harris
The journey from the prison to my village was short, about half an hour the way Connors drove. We all sat in silence until Connors turned on the radio. Music was a welcome distraction. Between the prison and my house, there was nothing but road and green trees and fields. Every now and then, when Connors had to slow at a crossing or for another car, I spotted cattle or sheep on farms. Soon the road narrowed, the green disappeared, and I knew we had arrived.
Connors rolled down the window, and I sank down as low as possible in my seat. The guard on duty, a boy who lived up the road from me, peered through the open window and stared at me. His face went white in shock, and for a second he could not speak.
“Officer Connors and Flynn. We are here under orders from Warden Lane. I have the paperwork here for you.” Connors spoke in an authoritative voice and held the papers out for the boy to take. On hearing Connors, the boy jerked his attention from me and took the folder. As he squinted through the papers, Daniel brushed his hand against mine, and I exhaled.
“I take it you know where you are going?” the boy asked, looking back at me.
“Yeah, we do,” Connors said. Without another word, the barrier lifted, and Connors rolled the window up. I smiled when he said asshole under his breath. Our progress was much slower in the town, and I watched as we passed familiar buildings, ones I had barely looked at the last day I’d come home. Today, I studied each brick, every oddly painted house, all the gates and every person, not because I would never see this place again, but because a part of me longed for a glimpse of my parents or sister in the crowd. If that happened, maybe my nightmare would end.
We rounded the corner and turned onto my street. In Daniel’s car, we looked important, maybe like special dignitaries or something, and I could make out neighbours pulling curtains aside to gawk. Thankfully, it was early morning and most of the children were in school. None of Sophia’s friends would watch me with frightened eyes. I had enough to deal with today without the pain of that.
Connors and Megan opened their doors and got out. When the doors closed behind them, Daniel squeezed my hand, and as he exited the vehicle, I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of leather and newness. I can do this… I can do this. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head trying to reassure myself that I could, in fact, do it.
It was now or never. Twisting in my seat, I placed my feet on solid ground. I eased out of the car and tried to ignore the small crowd that had gathered. It was difficult blocking out the shocked whispers and hushed conversations, but the word murderer lingered in the air like a bad smell.
I swallowed hard, walked forward, stopping at the gate of my house. All I could do was stare at it. The house seemed the same, from its sunshine yellow paint to the wooden frame around the windows. Even the windmill in the garden turned in the wind. But even if the house appeared the same, the inside would always be tarnished, stained by bloodshed and stolen innocence.
A hand on the small of my back snapped me to attention. Daniel was standing beside me, reliant and reassuring. Connors and Megan stood at each side of the front yard gate, feet apart, shoulders squared, a soldier’s stance. Megan’s fingers touched the gun at her belt. Connors stood, arms folded across his chest.
“Are you ready?” Daniel asked in his softest voice.
“No,” I said, but my feet moved instinctively and followed the path to the front door. I waited for the guards to follow us, but they didn’t. Connors called over his shoulder. “You owe me one, Danny-boy. You have about two hours.”
Daniel bobbed his head in thanks and wrapped his hand around the door handle. I sucked in a breath and held it as he turned the knob, opening the door. He nudged me forward with gentle pressure on my back, and I stepped over the threshold, waiting until Daniel closed the door behind us before I felt safe enough to breathe.
Alone with Daniel, he slipped his fingers into mine, and we held hands. He led me towards the kitchen, bypassing the closed door that contained the stuff of my nightmares. Gone was the smell of baked goods, the sound of my mom whistling along with the radio. No more childish laughter lighting up the house. Silence. This house was silent. It smelled of chemicals and bleach and other disinfectants.
“It didn’t happen here,” I said in a small voice.
He pulled me in for a hug. “I know, I just wanted to give you time to process. We can take as long as you need.”
“You would have liked them, and I know they would have loved you.”
“I wish I had met them too… and had the opportunity to thank them for giving me the chance to know you.” He kissed the top of my head. If I hadn’t been so stressed, I might have swooned.
“Smooth talker.” I nudged him gently in the ribs.
The abandoned swing set in back caught my attention. This place was no longer my home. It was a fact I had to accept and understand. No matter what happened, I would not return to this place, a place that housed nothing but pain, sorrow, and nightmares.
Slipping free of Daniel’s hold, I walked across the kitchen, my hands trembling as I slid the door that separated the kitchen and living room. I took a deep breath and stepped in. The smell of bleach burned and tickled my nostrils. Nothing seemed out of place. My dad’s chair still occupied the space beside the fireplace. A discarded copy of Alice in Wonderland lay on the coffee table. I looked around, but nothing triggered my memory.
I spun to face Daniel. “It didn’t work.”
His fingers brushed my cheek. “Give it a chance, Alana. You can do it. Do you trust me?”
“Always,” I replied without skipping a beat.
“Then let me try something. Do you remember where you were standing when you found them?”
I nodded. “I came in the other door and saw my dad first.”
“Okay. We can use that. Come with me.” He held my hand and pulled me back into the kitchen and through the hall. We stopped outside the room door, and he wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Alana, I want you to close your eyes. Go back to that night but know I am here if you get scared.” When I complied, he continued, “Good, now listen to the sounds of that night. Hear the raised voices; listen to the gunshots. You have just come down the stairs and opened the door. What do you see?”
I did as he asked, jumping slightly as the gunshots echoed in my head. Remembering the fear from that night, I thought I was going to die. The weight of Daniel’s embrace left me. With eyes closed, I opened the door and stepped into the past.
A rush of images battered my fragile mind, and I gasped for air as the last piece of the puzzle fit into place. Eyes brimming with tears, my knees buckled, and I hit the floor. Darkness overcame me, and I heard my name, but the empty feeling of stillness and nothingness was far too alluring.
22
Alana
“Breathe deeply in the silence, no sudden moves
This isn’t everything you are.”
(Snow Patrol: This isn’t everything you are)
Loud pounding on the door woke me from a sound sleep. Through tired eyes, I glanced at the clock. My eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and I spotted the red light on the clock as it blinked 12:04 a.m. Who would be knocking on the door this late at night?
Sitting up in my bed, I clutched the covers to my chest, listening as my dad’s footsteps moved from his office at the back of the house to the front door. The banging continued as the key turned, unlocking the door. Then my dad’s voice drifted upstairs, angry and loud.
“Theresa, I told you not to come here. My mind is made up. I am emailing my report to Grand Master Johnson in the morning.”
“Please, Cormac. Can you just hear me out?”
My dad must have agreed because I caught the sound of the door closing, and then I could make out the voices that wafted through the ceiling into my room.
“Get on with it, Theresa.” I had never heard that tone in my dad’s voice before, and if I had been on the receiving end, I am sure that I would have shivered.
“Corma
c, all the tests prove that the ability to shape minds must be done before the subject reaches adult maturity. You’ve read the reports, listened to the scientists. What reason could you possibly have for not taking the next step with Treatment?”
“We are not God, Theresa!” He shouted at her, and I cringed. I saw a light come on as my mom stepped out onto the landing to check on Sophia. She opened the door to my room and said, “No matter what you hear, Alana, stay in this room. You hear me?” She didn’t wait for an answer but closed the door. From the lack of creaks on the staircase, I’m sure she waited at the top of the stairs, listening.
“You said it yourself, Cormac, that it was barbaric to sentence children to death for crimes that could be rectified. Why, if it is not possible to change the laws, can we not use those who would have died anyway to perfect our serum?”
“Have you listened to yourself, Theresa? I can’t believe that if you actually said, out loud, what it is that you want to do, that you wouldn’t change your own mind. You want to use children, children, Theresa, as guinea pigs for a serum that will fundamentally alter who they are. It was one thing to experiment with the vilest and most violent, but you’re talking about children. They can be redeemed.”
She sighed. “Cormac, they would die from execution anyway… what harm is it to make something useful of it and create a functioning member of society? Instead of sending soldiers into a war zone, we could send out our own personal troops of super soldiers, ready and willing to die for us. If we need to take out a threat, send in one unsuspecting looking girl to blow up a gang of rebel leaders. We’d have the power to save those who are deserving of our effort. These… these creatures have already killed or done horrific things. Let this be their redemption.”
“Are you listening to yourself? Who are we to choose one life over another? Theresa, I am telling you… I will not sign off on it. I am shutting it down. Dear God, what monsters have we become that we are standing here debating using children as pawns to create a better world. I cannot live in a world where children as young as Sophia are subjected to Treatment, making them mindless robots to do our bidding… all in the name of science.”
“Things would have been different, Cormac, if you had chosen me over that woman. She made you soft. Your children have made you soft. You used to be a man of worth. Look at you now.” The words came out in a hiss.
My dad and Theresa?
“That’s where you are wrong, Theresa. Sorcha does not make me soft, she makes me strong, strong enough to stand my ground and do what is right. Maybe if you weren’t stuck in the past, you would have compassion for others and not be blinded by greed and power.”
I pulled the pillow over my head not wanting to hear any more, too scared to go check on Sophia. The pillow muffled some of the sounds, and my heart pounded inside my chest. My mother entered the living room and even with the pillow, I heard her voice yelling at Theresa to leave.
The kettle whistled and cupboards clanged as my mom made as much noise as possible in the kitchen. Theresa and my dad were still shouting, and I shook as dad’s voice grew louder. Finally, I heard a yell. “Get out. Get out of my house, Theresa, or I will have you escorted out.”
“I cannot let you do this, Cormac. Everything we worked for. All that we planned. It will be for nothing if we do not proceed with Treatment. I will not let you drag me down because of your conscience.”
And then my dad’s laugh sounded cruel and vicious. “And what are you going to do with that, Theresa… shoot me with my own gun?”
“I can make it look like a murder-suicide. Pretty simple to do if you know how. I’ve wanted to put a bullet in Sorcha’s head since the first day you looked at her across the room. I lost you to her then, and now you can watch while I smear the carpet with her brains.”
“Theresa, put down the gun before you hurt yourself. I have put up with you for far too long, like a wasp buzzing around my ear with your jealousy and insecurities. Give me the gun.”
That’s when the roar of a gunshot echoed throughout the house, followed by two more pops of the gun. I cried silent tears while my mom begged for mercy for Sophia, but as my sister whimpered, a shot whistled through the air and then another.
Afraid that my heart was beating so loud that Theresa would find me, I hurried to the secret passage that connected Sophia’s room with mine.
I didn’t dare try and make a getaway or go to Sophia out in the open. So I crawled along in the pitch black, my hands feeling around the walls until I felt the familiar crack in the cupboard and let myself into Sophia’s closet.
As I opened the door, I froze at the sound of someone coming up the stairs. Peeking out through the gaps in the wood, I watched Sophia’s bedroom door open, and she screamed a high pitched, terrifying sound that caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand up.
“Come now, Sophia.” Theresa’s voice was bitter, and I tried to move my body, command it to burst free of the closet and tackle her, but it refused to move. I stifled a cry as Sophia cringed away from Theresa when she grabbed her hair.
“You could have been our Sophia, mine and Cormac’s, and then maybe things would have been different. Close your eyes now, and I will make it all better.”
She covered Sophia’s chest with a cushion and I heard the sickening sound of another shot in the dark. Scrambling back out of the closet and through the crawl space not wanting to see anymore, I stayed cramped in the dark passage while Theresa left my sister’s room. Sirens, loud and wailing in the distance, drew near. The front door slammed shut, and I was alone in the stagnate silence.
My eyes opened and I was lying in Daniel’s arms, eyes drenched in tears and my entire body shaking. When I opened my mouth to speak, all that came out was a squeak. I was lost.
I had known for a few days that I had not killed my parents, but thinking back to what Jayson had said, it might have been better not knowing. He was right. I could have helped Sophia. Instead, I froze, and now she was dead. I could have saved her or possibly died that night alongside them. At the moment, either option would be better than the ache in my chest.
Daniel pulled me closer, kissing my forehead and whispering reassuring words to me as I let the warm floods of tears come. I finally began to grieve for my family. That woman had killed them all for no good reason. Jealousy? Power? Because my dad had said no to her experiment?
Anger flooded in. I would kill her for this. Before I followed them to the grave, I would avenge my family. I had to make sure that someone knew what she did and what she planned to do for those like me who were convicted and sentenced to die. I had forgotten who I was once before—I would never allow her to take that away from me again.
As I rose to my knees, Daniel cupped my face with his hands. Worry creased his brow, and I let him wipe my tears with his thumb.
“Are you okay? Did you remember?”
I nodded slowly but had to swallow hard before I could speak. My mouth was dry, and the words cut like a knife against my throat. When I stared into his sparkling eyes, I knew I was safe.
“It was Theresa…” My voice squeaked the words.
He looked at me, puzzled. “What was Theresa, Alana?”
Swallowing hard again, I cleared my throat. “Theresa Lane murdered my family. I saw it all happen. She came to argue with my dad about him shutting Treatment down. They had worked on a serum to use against violent offenders, but she wanted to use it on young death row inmates to see if it worked. Dad refused and was putting it in a report the next day.”
Daniel knelt there in front of me open-mouthed, so I continued, afraid that if I stopped I wouldn’t get the whole story out. “She used my dad’s gun on him when he refused to change his mind, and then she shot my mom. I watched her shoot Sophia and couldn’t move. She must have carried her downstairs and positioned them.”
“And how come she didn’t see you.”
“I hid in the crawl space. She… she didn’t know I was home… never looked in my room, just Sop
hia’s… when she walked back in after the crime, she had the perfect person to pin it on.”
Anger danced in his eyes and he swore, “We will get her, Alana. She won’t get away with it.”
“I deserve to die. It’s my fault Sophia’s dead.” I was numb. Guilt overtook me as the image of Theresa shooting my sister replayed in my mind.
“Alana. Theresa Lane killed your sister. None of this is your fault. You know that, right?”
Shaking myself free of his hands, I bowed my head. “I froze. I did nothing. I am a coward who couldn’t even move and stayed hidden like a frightened little girl in the shadows. Sophia’s death is on me, and I will accept my fate for that. I know the truth now. I could have saved her.”
My stomach churned and the bile that had threatened to creep up my throat all day finally did. Rising to my feet, I turned quickly. Taking the stairs two at a time, before I emptied my stomach on the floor, I left a speechless Daniel behind me.
23
Daniel
“I think I’ve already lost you, I think you’re already gone.”
(Matchbox Twenty: If you’re gone)
As soon as Alana hit the ground I knew something was wrong. I wasn’t quick enough to catch her but had to make do with cradling her in my lap. She twitched and muttered, and all I could do was hold her. The last time I felt this helpless was the day I realized she had forgotten me. I could do nothing but watch her eyes moving behind closed lids and whisper words of reassurance, whether she could hear me or not.
Words became more audible, her breathing and pulse quickened. Tears trickled down her cheek. I resisted the urge to wake her. The conflict in me was obvious—the boy who loved her and the doctor—wanting to pull her from whatever nightmare had its tendrils wrapped around her. She had been plunged into memories so dark and twisted that her mind had let her forget.
“Sophia, please wake up… please don’t leave me.” Alana whimpered and I hugged her closer. I would have to wait for her to ride the emotional rollercoaster on her own, but I’d be ready to catch her if she fell.
