Chapter 15
That night I dreamed. I remembered . . . that night in Paris.
I left the party without telling anyone. Not Amanda. Not the guards. Not even my parents. I knew that if I stayed there any longer, I would have gone crazy. So many people in one place with bright lights and limited air space. I needed fresh air. I needed to be able to breathe again. As I walked the streets back to our hotel, I felt the weight of my parents press down heavily on my shoulders. Being as that I am their only child, it’s only natural that they would see me as the successor of my father’s company. But I’m not cut out as being the center of attention; going out and socializing with new people; being a leader. I can’t even stand in a room filled with watchful eyes without wanting to throw up.
If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my own thoughts and paid more attention to where I was walking, maybe I would have noticed. If I hadn’t been so stupid to leave without telling anyone, maybe someone would have come with me. If I hadn’t kept my eyes on the ground, maybe I could have prevented the arms from behind wrapping around my neck and the cloth from reaching my mouth. Maybe if I had fought harder, I could have screamed loud enough for someone to hear. If I hadn’t been daydreaming, maybe I would have noticed them come from the shadows, not there before. If I hadn’t been so stupid, maybe I could have saved myself.
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The monsters inside my head wouldn’t go away. I didn’t want Damien to know about Tristan. Tristan was different from the others. He was only three years older than I was but he was only kind in the in a cruel way. He was the most violent of them all. He said he had to make sure “he put on a good show for the others” so they wouldn’t see him as weak. He would apologize for hurting me. He would force his affection onto me. He was convinced we were soul mates and that he loved me. He said we would run away together like Romeo and Juliet. But I didn’t love him. I was afraid of him, and when that knife was in my hand, each time I stabbed him, I remembered how he tricked me, manipulated me, brainwashed me into thinking he was somehow different and that I could trust him when he was the biggest monster of them all. Roles were switched in those last moments before the police had finally found me. How they did it I’ll never know.
Now every time I close my eyes, I can see him jumping out at me from the shadows. I can see his two-faced personality. His kind smile while holding me gently and his devil smile as he pushes me down the stairs. I can see him now, reaching out to me. I screamed as loud as humanely possible and struggled to be from his grasp. In my dream, objects appear at random and I fling them aimlessly in an attempt to keep him far away. I’m stabbing at thin air, screaming until my throat is raw.
Someone grabs onto my shoulders and I struggle wildly. “No! Let me go!” I screamed.
“It’s just a dream, Amber! Calm down, you’re safe!” This person doesn’t want to hurt me but that doesn’t calm me. My eyes open to pitch black and I scream even louder.
New voices are mixed and my breaths come in short gasps, struggling for life support. A soothing voice reaches out to me. “Amber. You’re safe. No one can hurt you now. Not ever again.” I can see a light in the distance and as I reach out for it, my pulse slows to a steady pace.
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There’s a throbbing pain in my head. Can this be compared to a hangover? I turn my head to the side and look at the digital clock on my bedside table. With a jolt, I sit up. It’s nine o’clock? That can’t be right. From the view of my window, it’s still dark out. But I remember going to bed—.
Loud voices from downstairs interrupt my thoughts. I can hear multiple voices, one overpowering all the others.
Damien. “I want to see her!” he whisper-shouts.
Someone hisses at him to lower his voice. “She’s still sleeping you idiot!” Taylor.
I can hear someone else whisper faintly to Gustavo. Alex. I expect the rest of the Blackjacks voices to surface as well but am surprised to be met with silence. “How long has she been sleeping?”
I throw back the heavy comforter and slowly make my way to the door. “Ever since she had that nightmare and went back to sleep.” My steps are silent across the carpeted floor and I feel like a burglar in my own house as I sit on the third step, leaning my head against the wall. Even when I know I won’t be able to see them from this angle, I can hear their voices more distinctly.
“I can’t believe you guys never told us. We are her friends. We should know.
Damien’s voice is like daggers to the heart. “You think it was easy for her to tell me? You guys have no idea how much she’s hurting inside.”
“Damien’s right,” Gustavo said. “What Amber had to go through . . . you’d have to experience it first-hand to understand . . . and even then you still wouldn’t know. Nobody knows. No one understands. You guys weren’t there when the police finally found her. Everyone thought she was freaking dead! You didn’t see the look in her eyes. You know they wouldn’t let her get near her parents for a whole month? They broke her . . ."
I close my eyes as I remembered the flashing lights. Someone had wrapped me in a blanket and left me to sit in the back of the ambulance car, a cup of water in my hands, untouched. There was still blood under my fingernails from when I had stabbed Tristan again and again. From a distance, I could see my parents in tears, held back by French officers. My mother was pleading to them in French. “My baby! Let me see my baby!”
I had no life in me. I was a body with no soul, emptiness. The medical officers had to inject me with a needle to keep me from running to my parents. They said it was to protect me from my parents, and from myself. I wanted to be rid of the emptiness.
I was brought back to reality by the thundering of Damien’s voice. “Did she say anything? When she woke up, I mean.”
“She just kept screaming.” I heard him sigh. “She thought I was someone else.” There was silence. And I took that as my cue to make myself known. With a shaky breath, I climbed down the rest of the way and threw myself into the fire. Taylor and Alex sat on one sofa, Gustavo the other, while Damien couldn’t keep off his feet. “Hey, guys,” I said.
They all turned to me in surprise, unsure what to do. All except for Damien. He didn’t hesitate before taking coming to my side in two long strides, taking my face in his hands. “Hey . . . Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I said confused.
He rubbed his thumb against my cheek. “You’re crying.”
I blinked, registering the warm saltiness of the tears. “Oh . . .”
He folded me in the warmth of his arms. “You’re safe now. No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”
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No one could understand what it had been like. People whose names are repeated over and over again in history can’t tell you what happened during the Civil War or when Abraham Lincoln was assassinated because they’re already dead. But for me, I wished I was dead.
I was sent to a mental hospital because the doctors labeled me as being “emotionally and mentally unstable.” I lived in America longer than I did and France and was more accustomed to speaking English than French so they provided me with an American psychologist to speak with that was present at the time. She was young, probably fresh out of college, in her mid-twenties. She had a round baby face with baby blue eyes, a small nose, and a full set of lips. She always kept her messy chestnut hair in a simple updo stop her head and wore simple clothes, sweater and jeans, underneath a white lab coat. All the doctors had to wear those coats, probably to distinguish themselves from others.
All of my doctors were female. Anytime a male doctor tried to get near me I would scream at the top of my lungs. The first time we met, she gave me a warm smile, introducing herself as Tris, short for Trisha. The first time we met, I tried to kill her with a chair. I thought after that, she wouldn’t come walking in the room again. But was I surprised to see her poke her head ever so slightly through the doorway. She never got tired of me, even when most of our sessions were just her talking and asking me questions, trying to get me to speak. I had refused to talk to anyone, not even Tris. But eventually, I warmed up to her.
We weren’t best friends, but we had gone past being just strangers. I had grown fond of her presence but I still wasn’t comfortable talking to her. Then one day, she asked me a question. “Is it alright if I touch your face?”
I looked at her with widened eyes, too stunned to speak. Everyone in that hospital was too afraid to get within a few feet of me, let alone be in the same room as me, and she wanted to touch my face. “Are you stupid?” The words fell from my mouth before I could stop them. After a moment of silence, she smiled a genuine smile. “Finally a response. I was getting pretty tired of speaking to myself.”
No matter how much I shot her down, Tris’s smile never faltered, and for that I was grateful.
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“This doesn’t change anything, right?”
I looked up. Taylor’s blue eyes were fierce and unblinking, determined as they met mine. “What . . .?”
Her eyes never wavered. “I mean, yeah, we know . . . what happened, but, that doesn’t change anything. Right? I mean, we’re still friends.”
“I . . . I don’t know. Do . . . Do you still want to be friends?” I asked uncertainly.
She blinked, rapidly, and her shoulders seemed to deflate. In seconds, she was up out of her chair and hugging me so tight as if afraid I might disappear. “Of course,” she whispered.
“She’s right,” Alex chimed in. I looked at him over her shoulder. “We’re won’t stop being friends because of this. You’re stuck with us no matter what.” He was trying to cheer me up and I appreciated that.
Gustavo cleared his throat. “Thank you guys, you know, for coming over to see how she was doing. But it’s getting late. There’s school tomorrow, don’t forget.”
Taylor pulled back from our hug, her eyes glossy. “How could we forget?” I laughed at the dull tone in her voice. Alex got up from his seat while Taylor went to get her coat and purse. Damien pulled me to the side. “Do you want me stay longer?” his voice was overwhelming in warmth and sincerity. But I also noticed that his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was uncombed, and when he smiled, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked so tired.
“No,” I said reluctantly. “You need some sleep.” I brought my hand to his cheek. “I hate seeing you so tired because of me.”
He turned his head, brushing his lips against my palm. “I’m fine, really. If you want me to stay, I don’t mind. You’re more important.”
I hugged him, enjoying the feel of him so close. “Go get some sleep. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
He hugged me tightly, before brushing his lips against mine. Not a kiss but a reminder that he was here. “I love you.” He whispered it for my ears only.
I nodded. “Me too,” I whispered back.