After she died, p.15
After She Died, page 15
part #1 of Girl Broken Series
“Hey, keep your voice down,” I whispered while pointing a finger to the bedrooms upstairs. “She might hear us.”
“I hope she does.”
Up until then, Scott had been the voice of reason every time I complained about my sister’s attitude or behavior. The day wasting away before him was changing his opinion. Scott’s true thoughts about Faith might soon emerge. It meant I had to be the one giving Faith the benefit of the doubt.
Faith finally woke up around lunchtime. She walked outside and found us in the hot tub, interrupting a make-out session. When I laid eyes on her, I was expecting a hungover mess, but she was the complete opposite.
“Hey, guys,” Faith said, her voice bubbly.
Scott and I both greeted her.
“Sorry I slept in for so long. I hope I haven’t ruined any plans you had.”
“That’s okay,” I replied. “We’ve been having a nice time.”
“I can see that,” Faith said with a grin. “Maybe I should go back to bed and leave you two alone for a few hours.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said. “We’re all awake now. We should figure out something fun to do together.”
Scott drifted away from me in the water and spread his arms over the back edge of the hot tub. I could see in his eyes how badly he wanted Faith to give us some time alone. But no matter how annoyed he got, he wouldn’t say a word about it.
“I have an idea,” Faith said.
“What is it?” I asked.
“We could take the chair lift up to Bear Summit and hike back down.”
Scott splashed forward. “Are you serious? After last night, that’s what you want to do?”
There was an edge to Scott’s voice I hoped Faith didn’t notice. She smiled at him and said, “Why not? It beats hanging around here. We’ve done the jet ski thing. Why not go up the mountain?”
“Why not,” Scott said with more than a hint of skepticism in his voice.
“What do you think, Kay?” Faith asked me.
I glanced between my boyfriend and my sister and felt like I was the deciding vote, despite Scott already saying yes. “Okay. Sounds fun.”
Over the next thirty minutes we got ready and pre-purchased some lift tickets. Being a long weekend would guarantee the chair lift would be busy, but most people would have been heading back home already after checking out of their accommodation. Staying in a cabin that was family owned meant we didn’t need to start the journey back home until the evening.
Once we packed everything needed for the day, I drove us over to the Bear Summit resort. During winter, it was the place to visit for skiing, snowboarding, and anything else snow-related. During summer, it had amazing bike and hiking trails that vacationers loved to take advantage of.
As a kid, I’d been up the mountain more times than I could remember in both summer and winter. Winters were my favorite way to enjoy the mountain if I had to choose. Mom and Dad would pack us some lunch and use their season pass to transport us to the top of the mountain. We’d spend an entire day skiing and playing in the snow with rolling, tree-covered ranges in all directions.
When we’d come back down to the lake, Faith and I would be so high on the day that we’d make snowmen with whatever we could find outside the cabin. Dad would help us lift the head up to the body while Mom stayed inside and made us all hot dogs for dinner. I could still remember the smell of the bacon she’d add to the buns.
Bear Summit was like a whole other world during summer. Seeing the exposed ground not covered in snow was surreal. As Scott and I rode the chair lift alone, each with a backpack, I took the opportunity to see where his head was at.
“How are you feeling?”
“What do you mean?”
“With Faith. You seemed annoyed at her earlier.”
“Oh, that. I guess everything she’s done this weekend is getting to me. I thought I could be the one to help you through it all, but now I’m wondering why I should bother to let her justify her actions.”
“I understand. I do. She’s wrecked our vacation.”
“Especially when it comes to, you know, being alone together, if you catch my drift.”
“I’m sorry about that. Maybe later when we head back, I’ll tell Faith that we are tired and need a nap. She might get the hint.”
“I hope so. I don’t know how much longer I can wait,” Scott said as he leaned in and grabbed me around my waist. I could feel the heat from his words on my earlobe. Instantly, my eyes closed as a rush of electricity shot through my core.
“Stop it,” I said, pretending to push him away.
Our chair reached the apex of the next pylon and dipped down a touch, sending a jolt of excitement along my spine. I opened my eyes and saw that we were almost at the top of the lift. With a quick glance over my shoulder to the chair behind, I smiled at Faith. She rode up alone despite the chair being able to fit up to four people. She didn’t return my expression and acted as if she hadn’t seen me by turning her head away.
“Get ready, babe,” Scott said as we reached the top.
Clumsy on my feet, I stumbled off the chair to solid ground. Scott and I moved in and away from the flow of the chair lift to wait for Faith to arrive a moment later. I tracked her as she climbed off with a sour look on her face. What the hell was her problem? I could have told her that Scott and I wanted a day to ourselves, but I didn’t. Yet she still had the nerve to treat me like crap.
Deciding I couldn’t win no matter what I did for my sister, I ignored the latest brewing tantrum that was threatening to ruin the day. Instead, I focused on Scott. There was still enough daylight to claw back a good time. I wasn’t about to let Faith continue to drive a wedge between my boyfriend and me.
31
After
Elsie and Stone spend another thirty minutes going over the process involved with the video EEG. From what they tell me, I will be confined not only to a room filled with cameras and medical equipment, but I will also need to stay as still as possible on an uncomfortable hospital bed.
They haven’t told me exactly how long I’ll be in the room. Until another seizure strikes or too much time passes by, I could be stuck in the confined space like a prisoner. Multiple cameras will record my every move while someone watches a live feed, all on the off chance I convulse uncontrollably on the bed.
Elsie describes the bed for me, detailing the finer features, like its special guard rails that house foam protectors on the hardened corners. The very thought of the bed makes me feel like a toddler being sent into an overly childproofed room.
“Do I have to be locked up like that?” I ask Elsie.
“You won’t be locked up. You will, however, be closely monitored and reminded to stay as still as possible. The equipment is sensitive and can fall off in your sleep or with too much movement. Ironically, the skullcap often comes off when patients seize, but we will strap it on tight to avoid having to restrain you to the bed.”
“Restraining me to the bed? Like with straps?”
“Yes,” Elsie confirms, glancing away from me. “It’s not ideal, but the outcome can be worth the effort.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why is this diagnosis so important?”
And that’s where the answers dry up. Elsie doesn’t want to go into any further detail about psychogenic nonepileptic seizures with me, other than what she’s already said.
As I finish dinner alone, unsure where Lily might be, I stare at the walls. I have no idea how bad this video EEG will be, but I can say one thing with absolute certainty. I’ve become one of these people. I’ve transitioned from the person I used to be to a broken soul who holds their focus on the walls ahead as if they are gazing out to the universe.
How am I going to get through this? I don’t want someone watching me through a monitor hoping my brain snaps and makes me lose control of my body. But there’s no way out of it. Sure, I could go to Elsie at any moment and tell her no, that I’m not ready for such an intense task, but then what happens? The powers that be regard me as an uncooperative patient who’s unwilling to find out what is wrong with my brain. I can’t imagine it would be long before Elsie and Stone give up on me and move on to someone they can help.
The daylight outside is fading, inviting the night to take over. I don’t know how I’ll sleep. Tomorrow night, I’ll be starting the video EEG test. I have one more day to find a solution to avoid this examination. I doubt I’ll be able to think of anything. How can I? I’m the patient. Not the psychotherapist. And besides, would Elsie and Stone even listen to me?
After I finish eating, I find a spot in the corner. It’s too early to go to my room. I sit down and lean my head on a wall. Suddenly, the fatigue of the day sets in.
With closed eyes, my thoughts fall to the cuts on my arms I only recently discovered. Why can’t I remember doing this to myself? I know it happened during the seventy-two-hour hold, but still, how can I forget something as painful as slashing my wrists with surgical scissors?
I can barely recall a thing about the hold. They had me on so many drugs, I’m positive the powerful blend erased the time from my mind. Trying to think back to any day before the hospital is like trying to remember a dream I had when I was a kid. If I can remember anything, I then need to determine how true the memory might be. It could be something my brain has conjured.
I know who I am. It’s not like I’ve woken up in here with no idea what my name is. I guess whatever happened between Faith and me has forced my mind to protect itself from the truth. But I can’t hide forever. The people here want to dig down and uncover the past, and the first step is to work out why I’m having seizures.
These psychogenic nonepileptic seizures must be at the core of Elsie and Stone’s thinking in terms of my recovery. I don’t fully understand what the difference is between them. It’s not like I can jump on a cell phone and search for a definition of the condition. Whatever they are, Elsie and Stone seem to believe a confirmed diagnosis will be a step in the right direction.
The past comes for me in my sleep when I drift off in the corner of the common room. Thoughts of my sister and the lake generate a dream I can’t pull myself from. I’m in the cabin as a raging fire surrounds me. Faith calls out for help, but I don’t know where she is yelling from.
I’m in the living room of the cabin. Flames lick at me from every angle, boiling my skin. I can hear the wooden surfaces fueling the fire, giving it life, and feeding it power.
“Please. Help me!” Faith yells.
“I’m coming,” I scream. She’s upstairs. I know it.
I rush for the stairs across the living room, but the world stretches out and makes the distance I need to cover ten times longer than is possible. The harder I run, the farther away it seems to crawl, until I slow down to a gentle stroll.
When I reach the stairs, Faith calls out to me again. “Help me!”
“I’m coming,” I repeat. I won’t let the fire claim her. I can’t. But as I place my foot on the first step up, a massive hole opens in the middle of the stairs as if the gates of hell are just below. A flame bursts through, blasting me with heat until it dies down.
“Help!”
My head snaps up to the sound of Faith’s voice. She’s desperate. She’s dying. Who has done this to her?
With newfound courage filling me, I rush up the stairs and climb around the gaping hole in the middle. As I pass it, I find an endless void below that glows like lava. It’s so deep, I swear if I fall in, I’d never come out again.
I reach the top of the stairs and hear Faith cry out from her room in the cabin. My head spins to her door. She’s behind it, desperate for me to save her from death.
My legs launch me at the door and throw the full weight of my body into it as I try the handle. It’s locked and doesn’t budge.
“Faith. I’m here. Open the door.”
She doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she screams with an intensity I’ve never heard from a person before. A guttural moan combines with a high-pitched shriek as if Faith has just caught fire.
I bash against the door again and again, each time feeling the pain stab into my shoulder. The door is like an impenetrable surface and won’t move.
Faith cries out again. But this time, her voice sounds like it’s filled with fire. All I hear is the sound of pure suffering. Absolute hell engulfed in terror. I fall back to the floor.
The crying stops. The flames die down until there are nothing but embers all around me. I pull myself up and limp to the door. This time, when I try the handle, it opens.
A slow creak grinds out from the tired hinges of the old cabin door as I open it all the way. Inside, Faith’s room is pitch-black except for a dull light that points down to a lone figure.
Taking a step into the room, I find a mess of blonde hair covering the person’s face. She’s sitting on the floor in the fetal position, rocking back and forth with her head buried in her knees.
“Faith? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
No answer. Just more rocking. No sound. No yelling. Only dead silence fills the room.
I move closer. One step at a time, I walk toward Faith, knowing I have to see if she is all right. She’s my responsibility. My sister. I let her down and did something that cannot be undone. Maybe she can tell me what happened.
I continue forward and stop when I’m only two feet away from Faith. I drop to my knees and reach out a hand to her shoulder. With as gentle a grip as possible, I shake her. A moment later, her head rolls up as if she finally recognizes my presence. The flow of hair still covers her face, falling over her knees.
“Faith? Are you okay?”
She turns toward me and brings a hand up to my face. That’s when I notice the blood. It’s everywhere. Down her arms, across the dress she’s wearing, and even on the floor. Why couldn’t I see it before? It’s crusted and half dry, but the smell of it overpowers the smoke I could sense only a second ago.
“You did this,” a guttural voice moans.
“I didn’t. I swear it. I don’t know what happened. Faith, you have to believe me, I—”
“You’re a killer!” she spits out through yellow teeth. But her face is still hidden, compelling me to part her hair and see exactly what I’ve done to my sister.
My hand jitters as I stretch it out. But it never reaches its destination.
“Kay?” Lily says. She shakes me awake with two firm hands on my shoulders.
Faith disappears. Her face vanishes and is replaced by a bewildered Lily, who is squatting down over me. “Were you asleep?”
“Where did she go?” I ask as I rush to my feet.
“What? Where did who go?”
“Faith. My sister. I was about to learn what happened to her. I was about to find out what I did.”
“No, you were having a dream. Maybe a nightmare. But it’s over now.”
“No, no,” I say, both hands clutching my skull. “I saw her. I need to know . . .” I let my words trail off. What I’m saying sounds insane, so I stop before a nurse thinks I’m freaking out. Fortunately, there’s enough going on for me to hide what just happened.
“Are you okay?” Lily asks.
I stare into her eyes and am subjected to the same judgment I always receive from the nurses. She thinks I’m just like the rest of the broken, pain-ridden minds in this hellhole. Maybe I am. Maybe this is what I’ve become. Maybe it’s what I deserve.
I don’t answer. There’s nothing more for me to say that Lily hasn’t worked out on her own.
32
Before
The view from the top of the chairlift always got to me, no matter how many times I saw it. Seeing the tree-filled mountains rise and fall around the lake made me forget about my small world and its pathetic problems the second I laid eyes upon it.
We’d been treated to another perfect day. No clouds filled the sky, and the temperature wasn’t too hot or too cold. I stood with Scott for a moment as we squinted down at the lake in the distance. It was an entirely different experience coming up here when there was no snow blanketing the ground.
“Squeeze in tight, babe,” Scott said as he held his cell up to take a selfie of us. I smiled as our cheeks pressed together, enjoying the skin-on-skin contact. Scott took almost a dozen snaps before he was happy. Normally, I’d be the one taking photos, but I was so drained and stressed thinking about everything with Faith. I guess I didn’t want to remember this vacation.
When Scott and I finished taking selfies, I noticed Faith watching us with a slight glower overlapping her face. The second Scott turned around, her demeanor changed.
“That’ll be a good one to share,” Faith said to no one in particular.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied with a chuckle that sounded forced. “I guess.”
Faith sighed. “It’s times like this that I wish things had worked out better with Dan. Then I’d have someone to enjoy this view with.”
“You can enjoy it with us,” I said. Faith’s guilt washed over me like a disease. She was a master at making me feel bad when I’d done nothing wrong.
Having packed our own lunch, we found a decent spot to sit in that had shade. Scott had made us all some California chicken sandwiches. They were my favorite. He’d made them a few times for me now and had improved his portions with each new try.
“These are incredible,” Faith said with her mouth full.
“Just like Mom used to make, huh?” I said to Faith, nodding.
“Maybe better. Damn, I’d forgotten all about these. She doesn’t make me food anymore.” Faith placed the second half of her sandwich down on one of the plastic plates we brought with us.
“Seriously?” I asked. “But you live at home.”
Faith smiled, but her eyes didn’t match her mouth. “She hasn’t for a few years. And I get it. I shouldn’t be living there. With Dad gone, I’m pretty much a burden in her life.”
