Chapter 3
Stiffness takes hold of my muscles, like I have not moved in days. Dead weights hold my eyes shut. Forcing them open, they sting from the light. I begin squinting and closing them until they become adjusted to the brightness. I finally manage to open them as dark spots blur my vision.
Inflamed dry lips crack, as my mouth opens a little. My throat is parched and sore. Soft music plays in the background, and looking round, my room stares back at me. Pain shoots through the back of my skull as I pull myself into a sitting position.
Soft teal walls, a pine dressing table, my beauty products neatly line my desk in an orderly fashion. My bedside table greets me with a glass of water.
The cool liquid soothes and eases my throat. A slight headache begins to form, bringing forth recent events, another nightmare, different, but a nightmare all the same.
The scary thing is I cannot remember getting into bed. I remember shopping with Misty. I was in the bookstore, the creepy old man…. My mind is blurry like a fog as covered my thoughts. The creepy man is the last thing I remember.
The door creaks open. Clara waltzes in, pulling me into a bear hug. Tears well in her eyes, which causes them to glitter. Why is she sad, I hope there has not been an accident? Fear grows in the pit of my stomach at the thought.
“We were so worried, are you hurt?” Pulling back, she examines me. Her eyes roam over every inch of my body.
Confusion settles in.
Why would I be hurt?
“I’m fine, Clara, why would you think that I’m hurt?”
“You don’t remember what happened yesterday?” Her eyebrows rise, concern and worry etches at her face. My stomach drops and my heart leaps into my throat, causing a lump to form. Biting my lip, I hold back the tears that threaten to spill. Red eyes flash in my mind as my nightmare comes to the forefront of my mind.
Checking my body over, there is no pain or any evidence of the attack. My heart settles and my nerves die down.
Raising my hand to wipe the sweat that has gathered on my head, I freeze. There, staring at me, are imprints of fingers, left behind by the small horrifying man. It makes no sense. There must be a simple explanation.
“You were robbed. You hit your head pretty hard.” She casts her eyes down as I catch a glimpse of sorrow and guilt lining her usually bright hazel eyes.
That makes sense, people get robbed every day. The red eyes linger in my mind. Two horrid looking men flash in front of my eyes. My mind is just turning my ordeal into a nightmare mixing reality with my terrifying dreams.
“I’m fine, I remember two men grabbing me, I must have hit my head and blacked out,” I say, trying to convince myself more than Clara. “How did I get home?” Bright blue eyes belonging to a handsome young man takes the place of the horrid men with red glowing eyes. The memory of my saviour was still vivid in my mind.
“Misty’s brother brought you home. He was a delightful young man.” Her eyes light up as she mentions Misty’s brother. Clara thinks everyone is delightful, she can see light in anyone.
I have never met any of Misty’s family, nor have I ever been to her house, her home life has always been secretive. Whenever I ask her about her family or anything personal, she is always guarded. She chooses to be at mine a lot; we have had countless sleepovers or just hung out together, and she’s like a sister and best friend all rolled into one.
I have never pushed her about her home life as I figure she must have problems at home and that she will tell me when she is ready.
To hear that her brother brought me home is a shock. I did not know of any siblings.
“I will get David. He will want to check you over.” Sighing, she stands, giving me a small smile as she leaves. Knowing Clara, she will be blaming herself for the robbery.
David comes in moments later, his dirty blond hair falling into his eyes. Walking slowly to my bed, he perches on the edge. Nothing ever happens in our small town so when something does it is kind of a big deal. The robbery is no exception.
“You gave us quiet a scare, kiddo,” he says, his voice showing the stress he has been under. David checks my vitals and tells me to let them know if I need anything.
David is kind and thoughtful, with an easy-going personality, which makes him easy to talk too. He can also be a bit of a goofball, but he is generous.
Clara and David are every bit the dutiful parents, always making sure I have what I need; they have always made me feel like their own, loving me unconditionally, even with all the problems and mystery I have brought them. They are my world; two people I know I can always count on.
The next two days I’m on bed rest, taking it easy, and although I am physically fine, my mind runs wild.
Did I dream the red eyes?
They plague my subconscious, appearing every time I close my eyes.
Quick, rotating masses of thoughts whirl around my head like a whirlpool. Words and emotions all swirl together like conflicting currents, tumbling and swirling, twisting and pulling in a downward spiral. Any chance of holding onto one thought is dragged and sucked away by the vortex, leaving behind two blood red eyes.
Nothing makes sense. I cannot think clearly. Everything about the attack lacks order, making it difficult to understand.
I have concluded that it was just a dream, a series of thoughts, images, events and sensations that my mind has made up. It is not real.
There is also the strange sensation around my scar on the palm of my hand. I don’t know how I got the scar, it has always been there, but the memory of the sensation delights me for unknown reasons.
Isolation gives my thoughts more time and room to wonder, so I decide to go back to school.
Clara and David do not think it is an innovative idea, playing the overprotective parents, both wanting me to take another day to recover from my ordeal. But I fear I will go mad.
Tuesday morning, I walk through the school doors. Disappointment quickly sets in. Misty is nowhere in sight. She always waits by my locker, every morning without fail. I can’t remember a morning Misty was not there.
Slamming my locker shut with a bang that echoes down the hall, turning the heads of fellow students, I make my way to first period.
Misty never shows, countless phone calls and texts never answered.
It is so unlike Misty.
The day goes by slowly, thoughts still plague my mind. Misty’s absence causes worry to take over my emotions. With the final bell, relief washes over me. The day has been lonely without Misty for company, making friends has never been one of my strong points, besides everyone thinks I am strange, I am just the girl with no past.
Entering my home, tension lays heavy in the air, like a dark cloud hovering over the sun, blocking out its warm rays. There is something not right I can feel it, the smell of vanilla and lavender invade my senses. David hates the smell of lavender. I take small steps and peak into the living room.
An elderly lady in her late fifties to early sixties sits on the worn beige couch, her legs neatly crossed at her ankles, her back straight and her posture graceful. She looks like someone of importance. She has light blond hair, with glints of white piled at the top of her head in a bun, cream trousers and crisp white blouse topped off with a beige suit jacket that matches her trousers, her face perfectly made up. Striking blue eyes bore into me. I begin to fidget.
My first thought is that she is another police officer, wanting to ask more questions. Nothing could prepare me for the shock of the words Clara spoke.
“This is your grandmother.” Clara looks at the floor, and a single tear slides down her face. David sits beside her, gently patting her back, his face devoid of emotion.
My heart speeds up and then sinks. Excitement, confusion, curiosity, and then finally sadness all rush over me.
The woman stands gracefully, taking a step towards me. Instinct tells me to step back.
“Kayla Crystal Grace, it is so good to finally meet you,” she holds out her perfectly manicured hand, her voice steady with a hint of authority.
How can this be? The police could not find any information about me. They joked and called me the girl with no past. How can this woman be my grandmother?
Shaking my head, I take another step back. The situation is too much. My head spins with so many questions and doubts, my mind suddenly on overdrive, ready to explode.
“NO!” I yell through gritted teeth.
She is a stranger and nothing more.
The years of wanting to know about family, about my past momentarily forgotten, my mind scrambles to make sense of the situation.
The sad and helpless look on Clara’s face rips me apart. They are my family, the people who have raised me, loved me through everything, had patience and understanding, soothed my tears. They have guided and nurtured me into the girl I am today. All these years of wanting to know my past now feels wrong, like I’m betraying them, inflicting pain on them.
“My name is Kayla Wilson,” I spit.
This woman has done nothing to me, she does not deserve the way I am treating her.
The gasp and shocked looks on David and Clara’s faces makes me bow my head in embarrassment and shame, I have never spoken to anyone this way.
Clara’s words of wisdom echoes inside me.
“Always treat people with a kind and loving nature no matter how horrible that person is. Be strong and overcome the anger and hatred. Treat people how you would like to be treated.”
“I am sorry; this must be very confusing for you. Mr. and Ms Wilson have informed me that you know nothing of your past and your memories have been lost, so I would like to have a chat with you. If you will, please join me?” Her words are spoken clearly and formal. Not a hint of emotion.
The guilt from my behaviour, and curiosity taking over, I nod my head in agreement. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I slowly make my way into the living room, perching on the edge of the armchair, across from the lady.
Clara and David leave the room, giving us some privacy. We stare at each other for several moments. Her face is a blank canvas, her eyes not revealing anything.
“As I said, I am your grandmother, your mother, Hope, was my daughter. I would like you to come live with me. I would like to have the chance to know my Granddaughter.”
This woman must have lost her mind if she thinks that I am going to leave my home, my family and friends, my life.
“No thank you. I am happy here.”
“I don’t think you understand, my dear. It is not an option or up for negotiation. I have already signed all the relevant paperwork. Someone will be here in three days, to pick you up and escort you to your new home. I presume that is enough time to say your goodbyes and gather any belonging you wish to bring. I look forward to getting to know you.” She stands, looks at me with her blank eyes, and leaves. The sound of the door closing vibrates through my body.
Who does this woman think she is? She cannot just waltz into my life, no explanation, no nothing, and demand that I live with her. But she strikes me as someone who gets what she wants at all costs and unfortunately that is me.
Hot tears stream down my face, sobs rake my body. I don’t want to leave, and the unknown scares me. I have a strange unwanted feeling spiralling from the pit of my stomach. I fear this is goodbye.
Clara wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer and holding me tight, her tears mix with my own. David joins us, whispering words of comfort to us both. This time his words do nothing to settle my nerves and ease my sadness. I don’t know how long we sit like this, hours maybe. None of us have an appetite. We all retire early, all choosing to suffer alone.
The sun hangs low in the sky, shining its last rays from heaven, creating a beautiful memorizing canvas of reds, oranges and yellows, dazzling colours filtering the sky.
Clothes cling to my body from the days blistering heat. A cool light breeze sweeps by, lifting the humidity, cooling and relieving my burning skin.
The sweet smell of cotton candy and the salty, greasy smell of burgers and hot dogs linger from the afternoon’s events.
My hair whips into my face, tickling and caressing my skin, blocking my sight as I come propelling downward to be thrust back into the air with rapid speed. Backwards and forwards I soar through the sky and wave after wave of excitement washes over me. The motion of flying, a feeling of great enthusiasm and eagerness, my cheeks flush with the thrill.
Abruptly I stop. A woman with raven black hair and violet eyes pulls me out of the swing, holding me tightly against her body. Night has descended quickly, casting shadows all around. Her eyes dart in every direction. Panic is clear on her angelic features.
My body trembles with fear, my mouth dry. My chest aches. My hands slightly tremble.
Blood red eyes stare at us, ten pairs, peering through the trees, floating in the air, no bodies visible.
Everything begins turning, the speed picks up.
Blood red eyes merge as one, creating a red line as the world spins before me. The ground starts to move under my feet, shaking with force.
Dizziness forces me to my knees, wobbling as I fall. Everything spins out of control. I close my eyes to block out the nausea. The spinning stays.
Suddenly everything stops, the red eyes no longer in sight. The beautiful woman pulls me to my feet.
“Forget,” she whispers before the ground opens and I’m swallowed up by darkness.