Imposter syndrome, p.11
Imposter Syndrome, page 11
She looks up from her coloring book, and locks eyes with me before she excitedly nods, and returns my smile. I see her eyes light up before she puts her hands over her eyes and covers them. I do the same, allowing myself to fade into the darkness behind my hands, the safe place. As soon as I close my eyes behind my hands, I don’t see the blue sky with the white clouds in different shapes and the giraffe running free, and the lions with a full belly watching in content.
I don’t see any of that. I see blood, everywhere. I see a woman dragging my older brother into her bedroom, I hear his screams echoing into my ears. I see strangers eating my father, rendering him completely helpless to defend his family and protect his children. I see Hannah sitting next to my father’s dead body splashing in his puddle of muscles and flesh, splashing in the pool, and crying, screaming for someone to help her.
I see my mother standing over me with blood dripping down her chin, before she jumps towards me with her teeth ridden with blood, latching onto my neck. I see her pulling back from my throat with a chunk of my skin hanging on by a thread. She chews it in front of me before asking, “You believe that I was at the grocery store, right?” before smiling that creepy smile she wore the night before.
I jump back into my chair, startling Hannah, who moves her hand over and grabs my arm with her tiny little hand, offering the slightest emotional support her little body can comprehend to give, and I begin to sob.
-
I allow myself to sob until I physically can’t anymore, I eventually become numb, and I feel Hannah’s grip on my hand loosen as my sobs fade away, coming from wracking yelps to slight whimpers. She picks up her crayons and continues coloring a new page of a fairy. She switches her black crayon for a pink one and begins coloring in the wings.
Her resilience will never cease to amaze me, all her life she has been able to cry one second and stop the next as soon as a lollipop is handed to her, or a stuffed animal is put into her lap. I wish I could do that; I wish I could swipe everything out of my memories, or just be able to move on for the moment, and address it later, in therapy. God, I’m going to need so much therapy.
The feelings are coming to me in waves, the reality that my life has changed forever is dawning on me slowly. No matter what I tell Chief Stokes, he’s going to call people in to take Hannah and I away. I know the last twenty-four hours are not something I’m going to be able to process in the course of a day. This is going to be a lifelong traumatic experience. I need to stay vigilant, and not allow myself to get too vulnerable until Hannah and I are in a safe place, for good. I have to be careful and stay aware of our surroundings to keep us alive.
I sit at the table with my arms crossed, listening to Hannah’s crayon scribble across the page, scratching back and forth. I look at the clock above the door, just like the one my mom is probably looking at on the other side of the wall behind me. It reads “4:02,” we’ve been here for a few hours now, and the sun will be setting shortly. I listen as heavy footsteps begin pounding in the hallway once again, but instead of fading away they grow louder, until they stop just outside the door. I hear the doorknob turn over before the lock disengages, and the door creaks open.
Standing in the doorway is Chief Stokes with a tray full of objects. It looks to be a large plate and a small bowl of food with a cup, alongside a bottle of water. He smiles before saying in an inviting voice, “I hope you two like cheesy potato casserole!”
“We do, we are so hungry I think we will eat just about anything. Thank you, sir.” I say gratefully, smiling thankfully at him, and eagerly waiting for him to serve us the food that I can smell from my seat. The wave of him opening the door allowed it to carry through the room, and I knew exactly what was on that tray before he even said it. I can smell the starchy potatoes mixed with cheese, and the salt, the butter, all the good fats that are making my stomach growl even louder at the scent. I’m so hungry it’s like every ingredient that is in that meal is calling to me.
He places the plate in front of me, I’m so thankful it’s a full plate and not a tiny spoonful. I almost immediately go straight in mouth first onto the plate; like an animal, no, like those strangers eating my father.
I feel vomit start to rise in my throat at the thought. I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I open them again to be greeted by flesh, guts, and a pumping heart on the plate, replacing the casseroles. The vomit is knocking at my throat now. I frantically look around the room, and I spot a trash can just on the other side of Chief Stokes.
He looks at me concerned, “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He sets the tray down that he was pulling the remaining utensils off of and places his hand on my shoulder. The weight of his hand feels like it’s pushing me into the earth. I push his arm away and run around him before throwing myself to the floor and opening my mouth, allowing the vomit that was begging to be released flow into the small travel sized trash can.
“Oh boy, okay, here honey. Why don’t you try to enjoy yourself some food and I’ll get your sister taken care of.” I hear Stokes murmur, assuming to Hannah. I feel his heavy hand rest on my shoulder blades, rubbing it very gently, comfortably in small circles. It’s so soothing, it’s something my dad used to do. He said it was a trick to calm the stomach, grounding you back to your body, and hopefully keeping whatever else wants to come out, in. I feel my body begin to relax under his touch, allowing it to fall into the familiar comfortability of the tiny circles weight. I feel the shakes that accompany me after I vomit start to run its course.
I’m gasping for air, trying to catch my breath through the disgusting breath. I rub my mouth with the back of my hand to catch any loose chunks before wiping it on my shorts. I look in the trash, I’m actually surprised anything came out of my stomach, mostly just yellow bile from what I can see. I suppose there was not much in my system to present this can anyway.
“Are you okay dear?” I hear his voice, but it sounds to be like a million miles away, not just over my shoulder.
I nod in response. Allowing myself to catch my breath before I try to squeak out any words. My throat burns when I do finally speak, it feels like I swallowed a bee. “I’m fine.” I feel embarrassment flood my cheeks; I don’t want him to see me any weaker than I’ve already come across.
“If you need to go to the bathroom, I can show you where it’s at, hon. I’ll make sure the little one is looked after. Don’t you worry about her, just worry about yourself.” He whispers. He takes his hand that is not rubbing my back and pulls my hair behind my ear as it begins to fall close to my lips inevitably going to catch the hanging stream of slobber. He leaves his hand to continue lightly stroking my head. It’s so soft I think I might fall asleep. He continues gently rubbing my back in the small circles while he does it. I wish what he said about not worrying about Hannah were true, because if I really didn’t have to worry about her, I’d fall asleep right here. But I do have to worry about her, and he has no idea why.
He has no idea that I was supposed to be looking after her last night. I was the last family member to protect her and instead I ran and saved myself. I will never leave her unprotected again if I can help it, so I will stay here by this trash can, fighting my exhaustion. I’m not leaving her again, I can’t. I’m not repeating history, especially with our mother just on the other side of that wall. She’s too close, it’d be too easy.
Even though, I do feel that I can trust Chief Stokes to protect us. I had that feeling as soon as I saw him, “Protect and Serve,” that’s his job anyways. But, even with him in the room, I can’t put my guard down with Hannah. The guilt of leaving her unattended has already left me ridden, and I cannot risk doubling that feeling, but if he should offer to accompany me anywhere, I have a feeling I would take it without hesitation.
“No, no, she goes wherever I go, I’m not leaving her.” I say insistently. I try to say it as calmly as possible, but the words come out rushed, and panicked. I can feel sweat beading over my forehead, clinging my now loose curls, now more waves than coils, to my face. I run my hand over it, and I feel the bumpy grooves of all my pimples, before resting on one on the bridge of my nose, must be new, stress is not good for acne, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I have ten new ones on my chin alone.
“Of course, dear, I won’t suggest it again. Take all the time you need, and if you need a new liner in that can, you just let me know. I’m going to sit at the table and wait for when you’re ready to talk. No rush now, I have nowhere more important be than here.” He says sweetly. It doesn’t escape me that he spoke so roughly with my mother, but he’s so patient and kind to me. I appreciate it very much, and I contemplate telling him so, but decide against it. I’m sure he knows from my reaction what I’m feeling.
Thankfully, I don’t vomit again, but I continue staring at the pale-yellow pile sitting in the liner. It’s been fermenting in my stomach since last night so now its smell is absolutely putrid. I’m actually surprised that it took this long to make an appearance after everything I’ve seen and been through.
I can’t help but wonder what my mother’s doing now. She probably thinks I’ve already told Chief Stokes about what she did. I hope she’s looking at that door, sitting on the edge of her seat, waiting for him to barge in and yell, “You are under arrest for the murder of Liam and Jake King.”
When that does happen, I’d like to be there to see it, to see the look on her face when she realizes that she was the one that drove me here, that I was the one in control as soon as the sun rose this morning, that I had been using her for my own safety this entire time. I’ve played everything right so far. I’m here, Hannah is safe, I’m safe, but I’ve got to continue playing it right, keeping us safe. I’m the one that must make the decisions at every turn, it’s up to me solely now, and I don’t take that responsibility lightly.
I stand up from the trash can, and slowly stumble over to the chair that I have been sitting in since I came in. The one that faces the door. I feel weak after vomiting, and still a bit shaken, but I’d rather not sit at that can and take in that smell for a moment longer.
I look at the clock once again, “4:35”. Less than three hours before sunset. I wonder when my mother’s going to decide that she wants to leave. I wonder how close she’ll get to the dark before deciding that she’s had enough of waiting.
I take a sip of water that Chief Stokes had brought in with the food, swishing it in my mouth from side to side trying to clean the taste of vomit from my mouth before I begin savagely eating the casserole. I can’t look at it, I won’t look at it, I just take the fork and blindly bring it to my mouth. The first taste is magical, I taste the flakiness of the potatoes, cooked to perfection, so soft, yet still have a taste of spice and every bite is filled with cheese and creaminess. I take forkfuls to my mouth in droves, before all I hear is the fork scraping the empty plate, and I realize I’ve finished the whole meal. I look over to Hannah and by now she has finished her own plate, and her cup is a third of the way empty, and she’s resumed her position of coloring in her book.
“Would you like some more sweetie? We have plenty.” Stokes suggests, chuckling a bit at the scene of me eating as savagely as I was, and seemingly surprised that a small girl of my size could eat such a large plate. He probably doesn’t realize that I haven’t eaten in over 24 hours.
“No thank you, that was delicious though, very delicious.” I say as I rub my belly signaling that I’m too full to put another forkful into my mouth, but that’s a lie, I just can’t stomach any more food without envisioning a cannibalistic feast. The yellow cheese that melted slightly onto the plate now looks like blood with stretched skin. I feel my stomach turn, and quickly avert my gaze to Chief Stokes before the casserole can make a reappearance.
“I’ll tell my wife you said so. She’ll be so pleased to hear of the big appetite you had for her cooking.” Stokes smiles at me, before it falls to a serious expression. “Do you think you’re ready to tell me a bit about what happened to you Amelia? Or if you would feel better, I could get a female officer in here? Would you feel better talking to her? She’s at the grocery store scene now, we’re a bit shorthanded, but I can switch places with her if that means you’re the most comfortable you can be.” Although his smile has faded, I see kindness in his eyes, a kindness that only a few men that I’ve met in my life have been able to possess. A sort of patience and understanding that always makes you feel warm and at ease with them, like you can tell them your worst secret and they won’t look at you any differently.
“No, I’d rather tell you if that’s okay.” I say, and I see an endearing smile creep upon his face. I feel more comfortable with him than I imagine I would with a complete stranger. After all, he saw me vomit and instead of turning away, he comforted me. I need that nurturing energy around me while I tell this story.
“I’m ready.” I grab the edge of my chair and scoot it closer to the table before grabbing the water and taking another long sip, allowing it to hit my tongue and make its way down my throat, coating my dry mouth that was begging for just a drop all night. I keep drinking to quench my thirst, until all I’m left with is drops of water and sucking in air from the bottle. I set the empty plastic on the table and take a deep breath. I feel the water pool into my stomach and swirl with the casserole. I feel a bit heavy now, and sleepy, very sleepy.
“Okay, I’ll stay. Take your time, I have all night if you need it. Just let me know if you need more water as well.” I nod my head, accepting his offer, but not taking him up on it. His patience is very apparent in the way he talks. I appreciate that he has yet to push me to speak about what happened, allowing me to approach him when I feel the most comfortable, something I’m sure was in his police academy training, but still, it means a lot to me. I don’t usually get this treatment at home. It’s usually pressure to fess up to whatever happened or be punished because my parents “don’t have time for games.”
I take a deep breath and ponder redacting everything I want to say and simply saying “Nothing, we just had a bad family vacation is all.” Something in me still wants to protect my mother and protect the life that we have. But I don’t say that, and I don’t do that, instead I betray the trust of my own blood.
“My mother murdered my father and brother. I saw it right in front of my eyes.” I say quickly, catching my breath at the end. Chief Stokes’ ocean eyes widen, and his mouth drops open. I can tell that this was not the confession he was expecting, and that he is going to have a longer night than he had anticipated.
His reaction cements my fears, and why I hesitated to tell the truth. I realize that what I’ve done will now alter my life path, and Hannah’s as well. We are going to be taken away from our mom, but she deserves it. In my heart, I know she deserves it. She ruined everything, she ruined our lives, and I’ll never know why. She took our chance of having a happy family and growing up in an in-tact family. She did that, I’m simply making her face her consequences. I didn’t make her do any of that, she did it. I have to keep telling myself this.
I didn’t think about it, but when I left her in that room, it was possibly the last time that I will ever see her, and I didn’t even properly say goodbye. That is the thing that sickens me the most about everything. No matter what happened, no matter what I saw her do, something in me still loves her, and still sees her as my mother. I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t want to tell people the monster that’s inside her, but I now know that I’m not safe with her, and my drive to protect Hannah is fiercer than my love and devotion to my role as a daughter.
“Yo- you said that your mother killed your father and brother?” Stokes asks shakily, I can see shock reflecting over his face. He knew my mother was a bit unstable, but I don’t think he had any idea of the extent of the person he was dealing with.
I nod my head slowly, before I continue. “She wasn’t the one that actually did the killing, I suppose. She had three strangers that I’ve never seen with her, and they were the ones that murdered them, and then,” I hesitate, I can’t even bring myself to say it, “ate them.” I feel tears welling in my eyes once again, my eyes are feeling heavy from all the wear on them.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but did you say they, ate them?” There’s a hint of disbelief in his tone, and that makes me nervous. I can hear the shakiness in his voice. I realize I have to stay calm, and not become hysterical to make sure that she listens to what I’m saying and doesn’t write me off as a teenager with a large imagination.
“Yes, sir. They attacked them, and then ate them.” I say as calmly as I can, I keep repeating to myself in my head, just breathe, stay calm.
“Did you watch that happen?” He is moving his chair closer to the table. I can tell his interest is peaked, but so is his concern. I see his eyes grow big and he is practically hanging on the edge of his seat, waiting for my story to unfold.
“The beginning of it. One of the strangers, a woman, took my brother into his room at the cabin and closed the door, I didn’t see what happened to him until this morning with my eyes, but-” I pause, the flashes of my brothers screaming ring into my ears like pulses, I take a deep breath, and whisper, “but, I could hear him.”
His expression makes me feel like there’s somebody behind me holding a knife above my head, waiting to bring it down. I hesitate to continue, but I charge forward. “My mother had two of the strangers restrain my father against the wall. She ripped a piece out of his neck, before turning her attention to me. I watched the other two strangers begin to take bites of him, and then they started to eat him, before I ran.” I muster to finish the last sentence. They started to eat him, they pulled his stomach out and ate his guts until there was nothing left.
