Crazy

I don’t want to be here anymore. I just don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be alive. I don’t have any desire to have a conscious body, or find help. I had tried to find help before. The one person I had gone to, the one person I could trust my secret to had betrayed me. Locked me away in a mental institution like a crazy person. I hated my life. I just don’t want to be here anymore.

These have been my thought patterns for the last two years. I couldn’t do this anymore. I had seen it coming. I had seen myself lying lifeless on the floor, empty pill bottle in my hand. I had seen this five weeks ago. The longest that I have ever seen forward. And since then I had not been able to think of anything but. I wouldn’t eat, only sleep. I was so tired all the time. I could barely force myself out of bed long enough to use the bathroom. I took a bath, trying to wake myself up with the hot water, but the only thing I succeeded in was thinking about a new form of Suicide. I tried to drown myself in my bath. Staying under until my lungs burned. At some point everything went black and when I opened my eyes my head was out of the water and I was panting for air. This tub was too small. I’d had to lift my feet to make my head go under, and when I passed out I had slid back into the only position I could get into.

What was the point? I had already seen how I would die, hadn’t I? I didn’t know when but at some point in the near future I was going to O D on my meds. This is why I couldn’t see anymore into the future. No more dreams or visions. Not so much as a tingly “spidey sense”. I was going to die. Soon. It wasn’t long now and I would finally be free of this feeling. Free of this place. The medication hadn’t done anything to help me. It had only made me tired. What was the plan? Keep me asleep so I couldn’t kill myself? Too exhausted to even try? What was the point in that? I was missing life either way. But with the medication I was still feeling every bit of pain I had felt before. Every part of me that ached still ached but with the added sense of exhaustion.

The nurse came in carrying my pill in a little white paper cup, and a tray of food. Disgusting. Even if I wanted to eat, I wouldn’t eat that. I couldn’t even tell what it was. Something green and slimy next to what looked like something that might have been mashed potatoes in another life. I looked at the little paper cup sitting on my tray. I didn’t understand my vision of suicide. How was I going to die from an overdose of my medication? I never got to even see a pill bottle, let alone hold one or be in charge of taking my medication on my own. I knew that if I ever wanted to get out of this place it would have to be through death.

I noted that I had a new nurse. Sudden realization coursed through me and I formulated a quick plan. “Hi.” I said, startling the nurse. “Susan. Right? Your name tag.” I pointed to the name sewn onto her uniform. They couldn’t use real nametags here. Someone could use them to hurt themselves or someone else. I was going to go to hell for all of this, but it felt like I was already there anyway, so why not? “Oh don’t tell me you aren’t going to talk to me either? Is there some kind of policy against it or something? You know if I wasn’t already crazy, not being allowed to talk to anyone might just drive me there.” I stomped over to the tray and grabbed my pill cup, tossing back the pill and opening my mouth for her to inspect. Making sure that I had swallowed the pill was part of her job. Shocked, she opened her mouth and nothing came out. As if she couldn’t think of the right words, or form them. “It’s fine.” I said. “You don’t have to break the rules, I get it.” I was good at lying. Just not good enough to convince the shrinks here of anything. “Oh. No!” She said, “We can talk to the patients… it’s just they… they- I mean all the other nurses- they said you never talk.” I gave her a half smile. “They say a lot of things. They don’t really like me. They ended up firing the last nurse that spoke to me. The one you replaced. I guess she told them, and they felt the need to get rid of her. As long as you don’t say anything though, I won’t either.” I gave her my most innocent ‘please?’ look, and told her “I’m too happy to have someone to talk to besides these shrinks.” She smiled and nodded. “I suspected as much. People don’t talk if they don’t feel comfortable around you. I figured that if you don’t speak to them it’s for a reason.” I gave her a week smile and nodded.

She looked puzzled. I wished she would just ask me already. I knew she wanted to. It wasn’t one of my feelings or anything, just past experiences combined with the look on her face. It was almost pained, and I knew it was coming. “You seem pretty normal though. Would it make you go into hysterics or something if I asked you why you’re here?” told ya. I had a long conversation with her about my ability, explaining that it was just a feeling that I got sometimes, an intuition. I left out the part about the dreams and visions. And the part about them all coming true. That part is what got me in this place to begin with. I told her about how I had told my childhood best friend and how she had misunderstood and placed me here. Not long after she got there she had to go back to work but she left me with a feeling of guilt. She was a nice person. Not the same as that head shrink that saw me every week. I had a bad feeling about him.

I knew Ally hadn’t misunderstood. She just hadn’t believed in me or my ability. She thought I was having a nervous breakdown, and at the time I thought she might be right. The psychiatrists had all declared me crazy and had locked me away for further evaluation. A few months of that was all it had taken for the depression to set in.

Over the next few days I became fast friends with Nurse Susan. I felt bad for betraying her trust like I was going to. It would probably end in her being fired too. But I figured that she could do so much better than this place anyway. Go somewhere where she really could help someone. “Is there anything special I can get you today, Megan?” she asked. She was so sweet. I hoped it didn’t hurt her to much when I… well when I die. “Freedom?” I asked jokingly. “If I could give you that, I would. You’re not crazy. Even if you are, you’re not a danger to anyone, so there’s no point in keeping you here.” She was wrong. I was a danger, but only to myself, and only because I knew that I could never escape this place any other way. “I just wish I could at least feel like I was somewhat normal. I can’t even take my own medication.” This was it…. This was my shot. It would either work or it wouldn’t. Considering the vision of my lifeless body, I was pretty sure it would work. “I may be able… to work something out there… but you would have to promise not to tell anyone. I could lose my job if anyone found out I let you start taking your medication on your own.” I had already thought of this. But it would be worth it. I was just selfish enough to feel like my freedom, my death would be worth whatever loss she would suffer as a consequence. This was it. I was going to be free. No more pain. I was almost euphoric at the thought of my own suicide. Maybe I did belong here. I didn’t care if I belonged or not. If I did it was because they made me that way. “If I’m caught, I’ll tell them I swiped them from your cart.” I nodded. And this was the truth. If I got caught, I would do whatever I could to protect her. She was a good person. She didn’t deserve what I was going to do to her.

The next thing I knew I was staring down at my lifeless body. This was my vision. Only now it was reality. I watched as I took my last breath and I finally felt free. Someone came in then. I’m not sure who it was. One of the male nurses. Who was on duty to night? I was confused. Everything started happening so fast after that. There was a lot of screaming and people rushing in and out. Then everything went fuzzy and then faded into black. No sound. No light. Just Nothingness. Peace.

The beeping broke into my nothingness. It broke my peace and left only irritation. I opened my eyes to a bright room filled with all kinds of gadgets and doodads ticking and beeping away. I went to rub my eyes, still adjusting to the bright lights and found that my arm was attached to a tube. An I.V. My throat felt raw and sore. They had pumped my stomach. I had failed. Even at suicide I failed. I would never be free. Not from this place or my pain. They weren’t going to let me. I’m glad I thought of the story about swiping the pill bottle from the nurses’ cart. Turns out I needed it. I saved her job as promised, but hurt her in a way that even in this pain I could understand. I betrayed her trust.

Dr. Argyros, my weekly psychiatrist, had entered the room moments after his nurse had drawn my blood. For a split second I could have sworn that I seen him almost…blur. Not at that moment, but at some time in the future. Great. My sight was coming back but now it was blurry? I’m not sure I even wanted it back, especially if it meant that it was going to be blurry. Had my suicide attempt dented my ability? He looked down at my chart and frowned, looking almost confused. “What’s up Doc.?” I sneered sarcastically. He gave a slight shake of his head as if to clear the foggy thoughts within. “I see you’re making progress.” His accent was thick and it got on my nerves. Hungarian maybe? Or Russian? Either way it annoyed me when he said the word ‘progress’.

This time it wasn’t like our usual mind probing sessions. Instead of asking me how I was feeling or if I wanted to talk about anything today, he hit me with a game of twenty questions. “Your white blood cell count is very high. Do you know why that is?” He seemed almost angry about something. But how could anything in my blood make him angry? I just stared at him in blank confusion. “And you seem to have some kind of infection as well. The nurses and other doctors can’t seem to figure out what’s wrong.” Ugh. The way he said word ‘doctors’ got on my nerves too. “Megan. Do you know anything about your family histories?” Well that was a new one…Not. “I thought you already had all the information on my family’s medical history.” I asked in a tone that said I was both already bored with this and tired. “You misunderstand. I have your family’s medical history. I am asking you if you know anything of your family’s origins.” He said the word slowly, caressing it as if I was supposed to catch on to some underlying meaning. It gave me the creeps. I shook my head and gave the most honest answer I had. “I’m not really sure what you mean. My mother’s family has been in America all the way back to the tea party. And you already know I don’t know who my father is.” I stared at him in confusion. “Are you sure you don’t know who your father is?” What was he really asking?

The next day I was released from the hospital. I don’t know what happened. Why would they release me after attempting suicide? Did they realize that my being there was the reason behind my depression? Did they think I was cured? Maybe it had something to do with that infection I had. Maybe I was sick and they didn’t want to catch whatever disease I had. Whatever. I was free now, did it really matter why? I was up all night. I couldn’t get rid of this feeling. The last conversation I had with Dr. Argyros playing over and over in my mind. The way he was asking about my family history. And about my father. It was like he knew something…. And was making sure I didn’t. I couldn’t shake the feeling that that conversation, that whatever it was he knew that I wasn’t supposed to know, was the reason I was out.

New Beginnings

From a very young age I knew that I was different. Always sensing things, knowing, almost seeing them before they happened. I knew when I was going to have a headache, when a red light would change, or when someone close by would light a cigarette. These were things that had always happened. Small things. Days, sometimes weeks into a general future, one that usually involved me in some way. Something that was not substantial and could be changed. After attempting suicide three weeks ago, these.....feelings, became even more prominent. Stronger than before. Ever since I was released from the hospital... I don't know, it’s hard to explain. It’s almost as if I can see into people. Not only their immediate futures- but months, years into their future... even their deaths, and I could see their pasts as well. Every wrong, everything that no one wants anyone to ever know that they’ve done. It was hardest around people I loved. To know things, that no one should know. Least of all me.

I had to distance myself. Create a new beginning. Get some kind of substantial hold on my gift if that’s what you would call it, and what it could now do. Right now it felt like more of a curse. I couldn’t believe what I just saw. There is nothing in the world that could have prepared me for that. Nothing that could ever make it better. I was unwanted. I was a mistake that had resulted from trying to eradicate another mistake. To find out this way…. To find out at all. It’s not right. I needed to get away from here. Learn to control this thing so I wouldn’t have to see anything like this again if I didn’t want to. But first I had to know. I had to ask her… I had to ask her why.

“Mom?” It was hard to call her that now, knowing what I now knew. I felt bile rising in my throat at just the thought of it. I was so confused. I still loved my mother, but I felt so hurt, and sickened by what she had done. Maybe if I found out why… maybe if there was a good reason… “I need to ask you a question, and this is really hard for me. But I need to know.” Even if I didn’t really want to know the details as to why she would have done that horrible thing, I still needed to know. I only saw things that would happen, things that had happened…. Not the reasons or feelings behind them. “Anything. Megan, you know you can come to me with anything…?” My mother seemed so sincere. She must have some regret, some part of her that did really love me… right? “I need to know why. You tried to kill me, Mom. I- I need to know why you tried to have me aborted.” I had stumbled though my question and it came out more as a statement than anything else.

My mother just stood there slack jawed, confused. Unsure of how I knew. Tears started streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry. I was young and I was scared. The man that…. Your father. He was so handsome and charismatic. I- I couldn’t say no. I wanted to… but it was like my mind was screaming and crying out ‘No!’ but my body wouldn’t stop, and my mouth wouldn’t do what my mind was telling it to. I wasn’t raped. Not really. But it felt like it. Emotionally I mean. He took advantage of me. I was only 16. I didn’t know what else to do. I regretted the abortion every second from the moment I walked out of the hospital. When you…. When I found out that I was still pregnant after the abortion…. I- I was so happy.” “ I thought it was a sign. You were meant to be no matter how you got here. I hoped and prayed everyday that you would be ok. That I wouldn’t have some type of complication from the abortion that caused me to miscarry or have you too soon. I was told there were no birth defects and you were a healthy baby girl and everything just fell into place for me. They told me that you were a twin. Your brother is who I had aborted. Luckily they didn’t see you. They didn’t know you were there. I cry every day missing him. Knowing that I could have had a son as well. Knowing that I killed my own child. But somehow- When I look at you it’s like being told I have a second chance. I never wanted you to find out. I’m so sorry Megan. How…..?” Whoosh. There went my air supply. I hadn’t expected this. My mother had been raped. Not physically it seemed, but in every other way that counts. I could no longer blame her for anything. I no longer felt disgusted- not with her anyway. I would have done the same thing. Only I’m not sure I would have regretted it. I no longer felt hurt. My mother did love me and I was wanted. My mother hadn’t thought me the mistake, but her choice. And I had a brother. Not living but a brother just the same. I found myself mourning his absence even though I only just learned of his short existence. “I can’t tell you how I know, Mom. I just do. I don’t even really know how I know- but… thank you. For being honest with me. I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect that.” Now we were both crying. “ I love you Megan. Please never doubt that.” My mom said, as she reached out for a hug. “I know , Mom. I know.” We said our goodbyes and I started heading for my hotel. I hadn’t gotten an appartment yet and I wasn’t sure I wanted one. It seemed like after rent and bills and all that that it pretty much evened out with the cost of a hotel. And this way I got free house keeping. I thought it was pretty clever.

Something blurred passed me in an instant so quick that if it hadn’t been for the wind it created brushing my hair back I would have thought I had imagined it. Especially since I hadn’t seen anything. It was probably just a big bug or something. Maybe an owl. As soon as I got to my room I flopped down on the bed with such enthusiasm that I almost bounced back off the side. I would get up in a minute. I promised myself a long relaxing bath. Just as soon as my legs stop screaming from the long walk home.

There was blood everywhere. I didn’t know where I was. It looked like some kind of maze. A labyrinth. Possibly underground. I was lost and starting to panic. “I don’t know where I am” I mumbled to myself. “I can’t find my way back. I can’t get out. I have to get out!” I screamed. “Where are you?!” who was I looking for? I couldn’t tell. I was afraid. I knew that much. More afraid than I remember ever having been in my life. What was going on? I couldn’t make heads or tails of this vision. I was lost somewhere in a panic looking for someone and I didn’t know who. I looked down at myself and saw that I was covered in blood. “I have to find him. I have to help him. I need to get out of here! Someone please help me!” It felt like I screamed it at the top of my lungs.

Suddenly I was lying on my bed in the hotel room looking up at the sealing. “Ohmigod! Are you OK?” I turned, confused trying to find where the voice was coming from. The maid was standing over me with a horrified look on her face. “I’m Sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in- You screamed for help. I came in and saw you…. Your eyes were open and blank white like they rolled back into your head. Are you ok? Did you have a seizure? Should I call 911?” She was starting to panic. “I’m fine.” I lied. I wasn’t fine. I was scared. I didn’t know what to make of this. I had never actually talked or screamed during one of my visions or dreams. And as for the eyes I didn’t know if that had happened before or not but it freaked me out either way. Nothing came close, though, the fear I felt that was caused by the vision it’s self.

“It was just a really vivid night mare. And I sleep with my eyes open sometimes…” I sounded as dazed and confused as I felt. I needed to get a handle on this thing. Soon. “You're lying.” The man’s voice came from the other side of the room. There, standing by the door stood a massive figure. Built and obviously menacing. Dark eyes and brown curly hair. I hadn’t even noticed anyone else in the room. “What do you mean?” I asked. It’s not like it was my best lying, but considering the fact that they didn’t know me I thought it was pretty believable. “No it’s not” he said sounding a bit bored. “I’m sorry? It’s not what?” what was he talking about? “I’m talking about you lying about your visions and then thinking it was believable. And before you ask- Yes I can hear what you’re thinking.” I was dumbfounded. I looked over and saw the maid lying knocked out on the floor. “Who are you?” I asked him. I was not afraid but there were warning signals going off in my head, and it was hard to drown them out. “I’m your father, Megan. And those warning signals are your instincts telling you that I’m dangerous.” Everything froze. Time. Air. Everything that is made up of any type of matter or idea had stilled in that moment of time. This was my father? Everything flashed forward starting time and space once again. Almost going faster now, catching up to the time it should be. “Please don’t do that again.” The menacing voice- My father, said. I was confused. Had that really happened? I thought it was just my brain adjusting to the news. Giving its self time to catch up. It had really happened? I had made it happen? What was going on? “Yes. It happened… sort of, and you made it happen. I can explain everything- and teach you how to use it. All of it- If you’ll let me.”

“All of it? What do you mean? There’s more? More than freezing time and seeing the past and the future? And- The reading minds thing- I can do that too?” My father shows up out of nowhere and I find out that my ‘gift’ is not only genetic, but vastly more complicated than I had either experienced or expected. What else was there that I didn’t know. “A lot. There’s a lot you don’t know, and a lot you don’t want to know. Yes you will be able to read minds as I do at some point when you and your ‘intuition’ are more mature and developed. We are what you would call psychic, telepathic, and time benders. You will be able to do all these things one day- and more, if you let me teach you. Megan, it's time you learned your origins.”

Origins

Origins. ‘A place where something begins. Properties attributable to your ancestry. An event that is a beginning. The source of something's existence or from which it derives or is derived. The first existence or beginning of anything; the birth.’

All these describe the definition of one word… but none better than the last. ‘The birth.’ I had looked up the word in my dictionary, hoping to find whatever hidden meaning I was unaware of. Hoping that something would grab me and trigger some form of understanding for the word aside from the one I already knew. I found what I had gone looking for. The words stuck out at me, haunting me, almost as much as the word they defined.

The way he had said it, caressing the word like it was something more meaningful than it’s definitions, reminded me of someone else that I didn’t like. He had a slight hint of the same accent as my psychiatrist from my previous life in the mental institution. He gave off the same creepy feeling. The feeling that something was not right here. The ‘warning signals’ as he called them, telling me that he was dangerous.

Why now? After years of wondering and questioning the absence of my father. Years of thinking I wasn’t good enough to stick around for. I had finally came to terms that it was him that wasn’t good enough, and now, the same night I find out what he had done to my mother… why show up now? “What do you mean? What have I done to your mother?” He sat in silence as I let my mind play for him the conversation with my mother from earlier that night. His face grew first horrified and then angry finally ending in sadness. “Oh.” He clinched his fists at his sides. So tightly I could see the white on his knuckles. “Oh? All you can say is ‘oh’?” This angered me. This man raped my mother and when confronted about it all he could say was ‘Oh.’ It disgusted me. “I never raped you mother!” He nearly screamed before regaining control. “Only in every way that counts.” I sneered at him. “No…. I loved your mother. She said she loved me. She never said no, she never stopped me.” His eyes were round orbs, unblinking and horrified. Hurt by my mother’s accusation. “She was thinking it. You read minds. Just because she didn’t say it out loud doesn’t me she didn’t say it. There’s no excuse… Not with you.” I looked at him with as much loathing as one would give to an animal who had just killed an infant. He was the same in my eyes. A beast who had attacked an innocent soul. He turned and walked away. “Yours was the first mind I read Megan.” He dropped something on the TV stand and left.

I got up to lock the door and tripped over the maid still lying on the floor unconscious. Crap. Did she faint or something? One minute she was freaking out asking if she should call 911 and the next she was laying on the floor. I checked her breathing to make sure she was still alive, and then dragged her out my door double locking it behind me. I called management to let them know their maid had panicked and passed out in the hallway when she heard me screaming in my ‘sleep’. I hope no one saw me dragging her out of my room and called the cops thinking it was a dead body or something. That would be my luck. Get locked up in jail only three weeks after being released from hell. I slammed my door open again and double checked to make sure she was still breathing, and then I sat down in my doorway to wait for management. A full ten minutes passed and no one showed up. She was still passed out in the hallway. This can’t be normal. There had to be something wrong, no one stayed passed out this long unless they were either in a coma or drugged.

Ugh. Mental head slap. Had he drugged her? Shit. I dragged her back into my room and then called management again. “Not that you care about your employees or anything, but she’s ok now. Thanks for stopping by to check on her.” I yelled sarcastically into the phone and hung up, slamming the phone down as hard as I could. I walked over to the TV and grabbed what my father had dropped on top of it and called the number on the card.

“Hello?” he sounded upset and his voice cracked as if he had been crying. “Hi.” I said as civil as I could given the circumstances. He had raped my mother and vanished afterwards taking no responsibility for his actions or his child. He had broken into my hotel room twenty-three years later, drugged my maid and left. “What the hell did you do to the maid?” I heard him mutter something not even fit for my ears and then he said “Sorry. I forgot about that. I’ll be right there…. Don’t move her.” And then the line went dead. Crap. Should I tell him that I had already moved her? Twice? How could moving her hurt anyway? “Shit, Megan. You moved her?” He rushed over and checked her pulse, “It’s gonna be a whole hell of a lot harder to get her to come back around now.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a needle. “Put some water in the syringe.” He handed it to me, “Now, Please?” I did as I was told but I wasn’t sure how water would help her wake up. “It’s not just water…” He took the syrenge and poked it through a small glass vile that had some kind of powder in it, squeezing the water into it. He shook the vile and then repeated the process in reverse, sucking the pink liquid back in through the needle. “Oh.” I had seen them do this at the hospital, but never with tap water.

He stuck the needle strait into her heart and told me to back up. After a few min he gave her a few chest compressions and checked her pulse again. Her breathing accelerated and I backed up even farther. What did he just give her? What had he given her before? “Adrenaline. It speeds up the heart rate and will help her burn off the other drug faster. I put it straight into her heart because you moved her. She shouldn’t have been moved. It’s my fault. I forgot she was even here.” The maid started to move, moaning a bit. She was starting to come around. And then I saw him blur. Just like the vision I had of Dr. Argyros. But this was real. Not a vision. Not intuition. It was only a split second but when he stood it was so fast that the movement was actually blurry. I got chills. What was he? “You don’t wanna know.” And then he was gone.

Understanding

What was he? What was I for that matter? I didn’t know who I was anymore. What was happening around me just kept on getting more and more unreal. Things that I thought could only happen in fiction. Horror movie material derived from my real life. Everything I thought was stable was shaking beneath me, crumbling out from under me like broken glass. What had he meant when he said that mine was the first thoughts he had read? How could that be when we only just met?

I had mulled all this over in my mind nonstop for the past two weeks. I needed to find some answers- but the only way to get them was to ask the one person I didn’t want anything to do with. There had to be another way. If this thing was genetic, and not a freak accident that had happened to only me like I had thought, then there must be others out there. There must be someone, besides my father and I, that was like me. Someone that could do the same things that I could do. There had to be others, but I didn’t know how to find them.

I had called as many psychic as I could find, hoping to find someone who was real. Something tangible aside from myself that could do the things I could do, finding nothing but a large bill linked to my hotel room that I knew I couldn’t pay. My time and money were running out. My vision would come true at some point this fall. This I knew as fact. It was late August, and I didn’t have much time left until fall. I needed to find out who or what I was. I needed to know who I was looking for and why. More importantly I needed to know what I could do and how to control it. Before this fall.

Time to Google. I got out my laptop and began my search. I was going to find out whatever I could and avoid my father at all costs. I didn’t like him. There wasn’t anything that he could ever do to change that. I started my search in Google, looking under the key word psychic, getting at first only the normal every day garbage about crystal balls and magic along with a few porn sights. Getting equally as far searching the word telepathic. All the pages on the world wide web and only one word caught my attention. Twins.

I would have been a twin had my mother not had an abortion. One that resulted in only one of us living, and only accidentally at that. This was the only trigger or connection to me I could find, and most of the websites connected to twins and telepathy were still mostly mumbo jumbo theories. Theories linking twins to each others mind waves but nothing linking twins to having a generic telepathic power outside of that genetic link. Looking at pictures of psychic hands and horoscope signs wasn’t helping me. Not even close. The only thing that this was giving me was a headache. I was going to have to find something more substantial than all of this.

Time Benders? Is that what he called us? I Googled ‘Time Bending’ and got back a host of science and scientific research ranging from Einstein’s theories to actual successful tests with small particles and objects in time travel. Was this my source then? I went on digging deeper into the depths that was the internet searching for any link I could find that went beyond scientific theory and into what I did the other night. I switched to ‘Time freezing’ and went right back to the bunk I had found with my earlier searches on psychics and telepathy, only adding Harry Potter to the mix of crapola that’s out there. I went over my conversations with my mother and my father from that night taking apart everything I could to come up with my own answers.

Something had been bothering me for the past 2 days. A connection that I had made and almost immediately ignored. It woke me up that night. Origins. They had both said it to me. Both speaking of my family. They had both used the word, with the same accent, one heavier than the other, caressing the word with such tender affection to its underlying worth. One was speaking of my father, and the other was my father. They had both given me the creeps. Both set off my ‘warning signals’ as my father had put it, letting me know they were dangerous. I couldn’t ignore this connection. It was too strong.

I wasn’t going to go to my father. I was angry and confused and stubborn. It would take an act of God to make me go willingly to him for anything. But my curiosity at the connection and my lack of a connection anywhere else had me pointing my steps in the very direction I had run from. As much as I tried to talk myself out of this my feet kept walking in the direction of the one place I had been willing to die to escape.

It would take an act of God to get me to go to my father, but I would walk willingly into hell to get the answers I craved. I was going to walk right back into my own personal hell and ask the Devil himself.

Dr. Argyros

I stood for what must have been hours outside the driveway to the mental hospital, just outside of view from the front doors. I couldn’t make myself go any farther. I was deathly afraid that if I went back in they wouldn’t let me out again. Especially considering what I was planning on going in there for. I had waited there until it started to get dark outside and was in the middle of debating on whether or not to go in or turn tail and run back to my hotel room before it got too late, when the Devil himself walked out of the hospital and started for his car. Last chance.

“Dr. Argyros!” I yelled out, jogging over to his car to catch him before he got in and drove way. Had I startled him? He was pressing his back against his car as if I were a wild dog running up to attack him or something. “Megan….?” He greeted me with a confused furrow in his brow and his back ramrod straight against his car. Did he think I was some delusional ex-patient that was stocking him or something? “It’s good to see you.” I lied. In fact those warning signals were sounding more and more fiercely in my head by the minute. He said nothing, just stood there waiting for me to continue. “Can I ask you a few questions?” best to get straight to the point, right? “What’s this concerning?” He seemed like he was more afraid of me than I was of him…. Than I was of anything. “Quite a lot actually? Can we go someplace to talk?” His fear was doing strange things to me. I liked it. I was enjoying the face that now, with me outside of those confining hospital walls, he was the one that was afraid and not me.

Another part of my brain kicked in just then and reminded me that I needed for him to not be afraid of me. I wasn’t really some creepy stalker, and I just needed some answers. I needed him to go with me to talk, but in order for him to do that he needed to trust me. Right. Make him feel safe… “Anywhere is fine. You pick?” I said. This seemed to put him more at ease, but not by much. He nodded in agreement. All I need is answers. All I need is answers. I chanted this to myself to keep from yelling ‘BOO!’ at him and falling over in hysteric laughter. He was afraid of Me. STOP IT! I yelled at myself. Geez, maybe I am crazy. All I need is answers.

“I don’t have a car so…..” I waited for him to offer me a ride, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen tonight so I continued with: “So I guess I’ll meet you there. Where’re we going?” So much for hoping he was a gentleman. “Can we not go into my office?” Ugh. Why did I tell him to pick. I glanced nervously between him and the building and the direction of my hotel room and back again. He must have caught on to my reluctance because then he opened the car door for me gesturing me into his car and said “I understand. I’m sorry. We can go someplace else.” Wait… he was a nice guy? No. 'Trap! Trap!' my head screamed out at me. “That’s ok…. I’ll walk. Just tell me where…” I said backing away from the open car door. “There’s a gas station about two blocks down. It has a few picnic tables outside by the side of the building…?” I nodded and started to walk off in the direction he pointed me in.

About fifteen minutes later I walked up to a well lit gas station that had a decent amount of people wandering about. The tables were far enough away from everybody that we could have a private conversation, but close enough where neither one of us could do anything to the other one that wouldn’t be seen by the people walking to and from the gas pumps. I ran in and got myself a bottle of water and a bag of chips before settling down at the table he had been waiting at when I got there.

“So.” I didn’t know what to ask him, or how to even start. What was I even doing? Why don’t I ever think things thought before hand? “You said you needed to talk to me?” He said taking a sip of his coffee. Who drinks coffee at this time of night anyway? “Yes. I was locked in that hospital for two years, why did you let me go? Right after trying to kill myself at that. I don’t understand.” That’s not what I had been planning to ask him. In fact that wasn’t even on my list. It’s just the first thing that came out, but now that I’ve asked it, I really wanted to know. It’s seemed like a pretty good place to start. “I didn’t let you go. Not really. Your father, he is a very influential man.” So he did know my father. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why ask me all those questions about my father, and my family origins, if you knew?” This question made him uncomfortable. He looked around like he was checking to see if we were being watched. “And what is it that you know, young one?” Young one? This was starting to creep me out. There was more to this than some family tree full of gypsies. “Is there?” Shit. I was right about the connection.

“How do you know my father?” It was getting difficult to breath. He knew. He knew something and I wanted to know. This was my life. This was my families ‘origins’ as they put it. I needed to know. I had a right to know. “You’re right. You have the right to know. But not here.” He looked around again and I couldn’t help but mimic the process. He wasn’t comfortable here, but why? He got up to walk away gesturing for me to follow him to his car. This time I went with him.

We drove for about an hour, coming to a windy road, the kind you would expect in the horror story that was quickly becoming my life. Trees zipped past becoming fewer and fewer in between. We came to a clearing that opened up into a huge magnificent old brick home. This guy must be loaded. “You may also call this place home if you like. There is plenty of space, and you ancestry is as thick here as mine.” I nodded mumbling my thanks as I looked around. At some point between the parking lot at the hospital and taking me into his home my warning signals had shut off. He no longer felt dangerous to me.

“My ancestry is as thick here as yours?” I repeated his statement as a question, not really paying attention to what I was saying or if he was answering my questions or not. This place was even more magnificent close up than it was from the road we had been on. I stood transfixed as he unlocked the door, staring up at the grandeur of this place in amazement. The only thing that could have pulled me away was the inside of his home. He opened the double doors and gestured me inside. This was a place made from dreams. The décor was a stylish mix of dark wood antiques mixed with contemporary deep blues. The place had the feel of looking at one of those beautiful old world maps. The kind that still had the drawings of sea creatures, and had angelic figures round about it tied in with Latin calligraphy. I expected to see an antique globe bar and I was not disappointed. It was placed perfectly in a corner next to floor to ceiling-wall to wall shelves covered in books. The other side of the room was adorned with a missive brick fireplace and two huge comfortable chairs. The warm glow of the fire brought me back to reality.

“Is someone else here?” I asked suddenly feeling ill at ease. “Only the house keeper and she’s already gone to bed. She had the fire going for me when I return home each night.” This brought some relief. “How are our ancestries both tied to this one place?” I asked sitting down when he gestured to the large chair by the fireplace. He took the other seat and began to ask questions of his own.

“How much do you know of your origins, Megan?” He asked. “Only what has been hinted at by you and by my father. There’s something not right.…” I trailed off thinking of the night my father had shown up. There was a sudden blur and when I looked up he was in front of me, standing wide-eyed at me. “You’ve met your father?” he asked angrily. “Not purposely. He kind of broke into my hotel room and drugged my maid.” He was kneeling by my chair now clutching my hands with his. “You must not go back there. It’s not safe. Please, promise me you won’t return there.” I nodded in agreement. His urgent tone had me afraid to go back. I would get my belongings tonight and never return. I was running out of money for the room anyway. Especially after all the phone calls to the psychic numbers I had made.

“Why? Why is it not safe?” Although the warning signals had gone off when I met him, he didn’t seem like he would ever hurt me. He didn’t seem like anything. I had not been afraid of him, but I was now. “How do you know my father?” I asked again. This time I would not be distracted, I would get my answer. I looked him in the eyes unblinking and unshakable. He didn’t want to answer my question, I could tell. He took one solitary last breath and with a whisper so quiet it was almost inaudible, “I am cursed.” I was suddenly very tired, fighting to keep my eyes open. My Speech was becoming slurred as I asked one final question before passing out. “Why do you blur?”

Prisoner

I woke in what could only be called a cell. It was exactly that, a brick room with only one small window and a small opening at the top of the door, and both had metal bars. What I guessed was hay scattered the floor and just enough moonlight was dimly seeping through so that I could see. I got up to try the door and fell immediately back to the floor at the aching pain I had just caused to my ankle. I was chained. I couldn’t reach the door but if I tried I could probably get close enough to the window to get a view of my surroundings. As I suspected, we were no longer at the massive house I had passed out in. There were trees everywhere, a small pond in the distance, and not much else. If I screamed for help I would only find his dark eyes on me through the door, I was sure of it.

I felt around my ankle looking for the part of the cuff that attached the chain. It was secure. I followed the chain to the spot it was bolted on the middle of the floor and saw that there was no chance of getting out of this shackle short of having a key or chewing through my own foot. I searched the room looking through the hay trying to find something I could pick the lock with. It was no use. The only things in this room aside from the hay was the chain that had me bolted to the floor and a small bucket in the corner that I suspected was for me to use the bathroom in if needed. The hay seemed clean and the room didn’t smell so I suspected that, although it may have been used for unruly slaves in its day, it had probably not been used recently.

I picked up the ‘bathroom’ and threw it at the door as hard as I could. If there was anyone else here besides me, I was going to get their attention. And if not maybe the bucket would break giving me something to jimmy the lock on my shackle open with. Mid swing, at my fourth attempt to break the bucket, the door swung open. The bucket flew from my grasp before I could stop it and just as the massive figure was about to say something it smashed into his face, knocking him back a good three feet and on to the floor behind him. He was out cold. If I hadn’t been chain to the floor, this would have been the perfect time to escape screaming into the night. So instead I sat and waited patiently for him to come ‘round. A few minutes passed and as he started to come back around I had the sudden desire to back up as much as possible. He was gonna be pissed.

As I suspected he was not happy. He sat up swearing and touching the blood just above his top lip, wincing when his hand came into contact with his nose. “Shit! You broke my nose!” I tried hard to squint through the darkness. I needed to see the face that went to the deep voice. He was sitting where he had landed moments ago in the shadow of the door, the moonlight not touching his face. He grunted and I heard an eerie cracking noise as he adjusted his nose. This time I winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you; I was aiming for the door.” I told him, not sure why I was apologizing to the person that was obviously here to guard me as I was kept prisoner here. “I guess I should be grateful that it hadn’t been used yet” he said chuckling. Was he laughing at me? I had just broken the man’s nose and here he sat bleeding on the floor laughing at me. “Who are you?” I asked annoyed now. All thoughts of finding a face to match the voice were now gone with my irritation. “My name’s Roman.” His deep voice rumbled as he stood wiping the blood from his face with his forearm just as his face reached the moonlight, giving some depth to his features. He was incredible. His dark curly hair was just a touch too long, hanging just above his deep blue eyes. He was gorgeous. His face matched the deep sexy voice from the shadow. He ducked slightly to keep from hitting his head, his huge muscular build stretched the span of the door frame, as he walked through the door. He was the enemy, placed to keep watch over me by my kidnapper.

“Was there something I could do for you, or would you like to hit me with the bucket again?” He asked. I stared blank-faced and coated my voice with as much sarcasm as I could muster. “Oh. You’ve got jokes? How cute.” What was I doing flirting with the kidnapper’s accomplice? What’s wrong with me? “Well since you’re in such a good mood, do you mind telling me why I’m chained to the floor like some type of animal?” I had had enough of being locked away by this man. I was the sane mental patient being kidnapped and locked away by my crazy psychiatrist…. for the second time. How much since does that make? “That’s something for my uncle to explain, not me.” This had rendered me speechless. I stood there, mouth gaping open like… well like some kind of mental patient. Ugh. Mental head slap. I shook myself slightly, clearing my thoughts. He was the crazy psychiatrist’s nephew.

“Is there anything that you can explain?” I asked as nicely as I could considering the fact that my patience with his family was running pretty thin. “Not really. Is there anything I can get for you to make you more comfortable for the night?” If he wasn’t holding me hostage right now I might be tempted to tell him exactly what could make me more comfortable. He was suddenly smiling, the huge sexy grin reaching up to his eyes making them dance with the hidden humor he found. Shit. This was Dr. Argyros’ nephew. I felt my face blush, heating from the embarrassment, as the realization hit that there was a strong probability that he too could read minds, and had just heard what I was thinking. He let out a big loud laugh this time confirming my thought pattern.

“Are you cursed too?” I asked erasing all humor from his face in an instant. “Yes.” Was his only reply. He looked pained and I could tell he didn’t want to continue with this conversation. “I’m a little hungry. And I could use a blanket or two and a pillow, if that’s ok.” I said changing the subject.

An hour later he returned with a plate of food, some blankets and a box. “I brought you a sandwich. I hope you like turkey…. And there’s some chips too, and a Pepsi.” He handed me the plate and set the box and Pepsi on the floor next to me placing the folded up blankets next to it. He left the room and returned with another plate. He leaned against the wall holding his plate with one hand and his sandwich in the other and I put my plate on the box. We ate in silence, and when we were finished he took my plate and returned with a pillow and a small cot.

“I suspected this would be a bit more comfortable that the cold hard floor.” He took the cot and the pillow and set them up walking back to grab the blankets. I stood handing him the blankets just as he started to reach down for them. “Thank you.” I said. As much I wanted to hate this man, as much as I wanted to loathe him, I just couldn’t. He was helping a mad man keep me locked in the prison like cell, chained to the floor like an animal, but I could not make myself hate him. There was a connection there that I couldn’t place. Undeniable and unlike anything I had ever known. I didn’t know what it was or why it was there but hard as I tried I couldn’t ignore it. He made my bed and turned to go leaving the box in the middle of the floor as he left. He stopped with his back turned to me, doorknob in hand. “I don’t want you to hate me either” he whispered, without looking back. He closed the door gently and quietly. In that moment I realized that, despite what he was here for, I didn’t want him to leave.

Cursed

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 27.10.2011

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