****
I flopped down on my bed like I had before, throwing my tight blue dress against the wall and putting my nightgown on once again. I was even more insanely tired than I was before, and I wondered what was wrong with me. Was I coming down with something? My body felt incredibly light and after a few minutes of laying there feeling oddly, I decided I should get up. There was defiantly something wrong. Maybe I should have went to the hospital after I had fainted the other day. Something was very wrong. I stood up, feeling kind of light headed before clasping to the floor. The bone-white ceiling shinned down upon me. I felt as if it was spinning around me, everything moving except for me. I was grounded. Maybe I had a brain tumor. Maybe I had a vein in my brain that was about to burst and I had been too stubborn to go to the hospital while there was still time to save my life.
My arms felt as if they were pinned, my legs tied to the floor with huge brass locks, the floor feeling abnormally soft and comfy, but I didn't want to sleep. I couldn't.
That was when I saw someone above me - an older woman with a baggy dress, a concerned look on her face as she grabbed my arm. "She's out." She said, her crackly voice echoing in my ears. I wanted to say 'help me,' I wanted to ask, 'what's wrong with me,' but the words caught in my dry throat. She reminded me of the woman I had seen when I passed out before. Was she the same woman? No, this woman had brown hair. Not blonde. But it was something in her demeanor. The way she spoke.
"Good." A male voice said from around the corner, "the young one is out too."
Another woman steeped out from behind the wall, she was maybe in her thirties at most and she had thin white rimmed glasses on, "I already have the parents."
It was at that moment I realized that these people had done something to me, they weren't here to help me. But who were all these people? What were they doing with my family?
The old man picked me up but I was far too weak to fight them. I wanted to scream, I wanted to tell them to put me down, but I couldn't. All I could do was lay there, feeling oddly calm in my body, but feeling incredibly frightened in my mind.
The man put me on the floor beside my mother and father who were lazily lying on the floor, their bodies presumably feeling as heavy and un-mobile as mine. Max was carried down after me by the elderly lady, "I don't like this." The man said to someone who was on the other side of me. Max was tossed onto the floor beside me, he murmured something, but I couldn't make it out.
"I know. I don't either. This is the only way." He said, and I recognized the voice. It was Mr. Jean - he had been working against us all this time. I felt like such a trusting idiot. How could we had let this happen? How could we have believed his church loving persona?
I wondered where they were keeping Sam and Brad. My eyes quickly moved around the room, but I didn't see them. What were they planning on doing to us? Why were they doing this to us? The questions kept popping into my brain. I wanted to get up. I wanted to run away. But I couldn't even will my eyes to blink! My heart was beating in my ears. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton. I couldn't breath! I couldn't see! My eyes were drying out, I could feel them hardening inside my skull, becoming raisins. I was screaming mentally at myself, but all I could so was yawn and flail my arms about. When ever I tried to pull myself to my feet I would become insanely dizzy and fall to the ground again.
There was three of them - Mr. Jean, the old woman, the old man and a woman with the glasses. All of them were walking around us talking, but my ears were beginning to feel numb and I couldn't hear much of anything.
I saw the old woman kneel down beside me, "everything is going to be OK." She stated, patting the back of my head, her voice echoed in my ears. She pulled a knife from her back. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn't. She grabbed my head, pulling me into her, her small knife held up to my ear as she began to cut. I felt the blood begin to trickle down my head as she pulled a small yellow chip from her pocket.
That was when I saw Mr. Jean fall to the ground, blood gushing out of a wound on his forehead. The old woman that had me started to yell and thrash at something above me. Soon she was on the ground with Mr. Jean, both their bodies overlapping each others. My eyes shot up, viewing whoever had saved me. Brad's face came into view; he looked at me, grabbing my shoulder and picking me up, "walk." He commanded, picking Max up with his other hand.
Once I was on my feet I saw Sam, he was standing beside Brad with mom and dad on his back, "we have to go." Brad said gruffly wrapping his arms around both me and Max and helping us to walk out.
"Ditto." Sam concluded, running out the door. The trailer was parked at the front of the house. Brad threw me and Max in, then helped Sam with mom and dad. Once we were all in Brad sat down beside me, handing the keys to Sam who took them quickly and started driving.
"You did good lover-boy." Brad smiled, but Sam just sat there, his hands on the steering wheel.
"What were they doing?" Sam asked suddenly, driving as fast as he could down the street.
My lips still felt numb, as if I was drunk but I made an attempt to speak, "they tried to cut me." I said, obviously slurring my speech.
Sam looked back at us, "what did they drug them with?" He asked, "And why are we fine?"
Brad moved his face looking at me and then at the parents, "I don't know, but whatever it was they put it in the meat." Brad laughed, "Guess everyone puts the poison in the meat." He said, referring to himself.
"Hardy har har." Sam said, still driving forward, "we need to get them to a hospital." He said, "They could be dying!"
Brad stopped laughing, "There aren't any hospitals for miles."
"We have to do something!" Sam said, grabbing his cell phone from his pocket and pulling it out. "No signal." He remembered, putting it back into his jeans.
"Just keep driving." Brad said, his hand resting on my chest. He looked down at me, "you ok?" He asked me under his breath, "Can you hear me?" His green eye seemed brighter than it had before, I noticed. I tried to pull my body to a seating position, but failed.
"I'm OK." I said, moving my hand so it was on top of his, "thank you for saving me." I smiled.
He breathed a sigh of relief, "anytime." He smiled, trying to move his hand, but I stopped him. I wanted to keep his hand in mine; it kept me focused on what was real. Kept me grounded. "Stay with me, Sweet Cheeks, stay with me."
Trying to sit up again I clenching my stomach muscles, but to no avail. My whole body was so weak, so drained. I tighten my grip on Brad's hand.
"They are going to die." Sam said, panic in his voice, "I don't know my way around these parts."
Brad scoffed harshly, "they are not going to die!" He squeezed my hand, "they are not going to die." He said softer this time, more to himself than anyone else. I wanted to sit up, my body moving but I couldn't. Finally I gathered all my strength, my head feeling clearer. My body ached with the effort, but I sat up, my back resting on Brad who looked surprised.
"I'm fine." I said, my speech still slurred, "are mom and dad ok?" I asked, using my hands to pull myself to their aid. They looked up at me; my mother mouthed something so I raised my ear to her, "water." She said, "Water."
"Ok." I smiled, looking at Brad. "She wants water." I said, but my voice was still weak.
"I'll get it." He said, "You stay resting, ok Iris?" I nodded in response.
"Is Iris up?" Sam asked from the front, turning to face me, "are you alright?" He asked.
"I'm fine," I breathed, "just tired." I realized that I was also very thirsty.
Brad walked down the hall and came back with two bottles of water. He passed one to me, "freshen up." He said, then kneeled down beside mom and started pouring the water into her mouth.
"Enough." She said finally and then tried to sit up. I grabbed her arm, helping her. Once she was upright she was able to stay up, her arms spread out behind her.
My dad rolled over, using the wall to climb to his feet dizzily. "Stay down." I said, standing up wobbly and grabbing his arm, helping him to get seated.
"What was wrong with those people?" My mother asked, grabbing the water bottle again and holding it to her lips.
"I don't know." I shrugged, "I guess they were crazy."
Brad looked over and saw that Max was up as well, crawling towards us. I breathed a sigh of relief, whatever they had given us seemed to be wearing off.
My dad moved his arm, asking for the water, "Let's go home. I don't care about that darn farmhouse anymore." He lisped, handing the water to Max who had feebly asked for it.
"We have to sleep it off." I yawned, "When we wake up tomorrow we'll be better." I said, climbing to my feet and stumbling to the bedroom.
"I'm going to sleep here." My father yawned and my mother curled up on him. I lifted my eye brows, "Sam?"
"Yeah." He said. He still seemed panicked.
"Are you OK to drive?" I asked, watching his face change.
"Yeah, yeah." He paused, "I guess so. I have a map." He bit his lip, looking it over, "I think I can do it."
"Good." I yawned, falling onto the bed and into a deep sleep.
****
My eyes fluttered open suddenly. For a moment I thought that all that had happened was a dream, that I was asleep on my bed at home, that I was about to be late for school.
My alarm would sound a minute later, my hand reaching up smacking it so hard that it would fly to the floor, the carpet breaking its fall. Saving it so it could wake me many more mornings after.
My friends would laugh at me when I told them. They would say how un-logical it sounded, they would call me a "dreamer" and that would be the last I would hear of it.
The last my mind would play over the fabricated memory. This dream wouldn't be the biggest thing that had happened in my life.
But I knew it wasn't at all true as my eyes examined the room. The blue walls looked so barren compared to my bedrooms. The blue contrasted so harshly with the oak bed and the stain red sheets.
My head lifted; I felt better, I realized. I felt slightly groggy, but other than that I was the picture of health. Letting my head fall onto the pillow below me, I expected a soft stain like the sheets around my body, but it wasn't. It was rough. My hand lifted from my side, touching the thing that laid beneath my head. It was rough, like denim. "Don't be touching that, sweet cheeks." Brad voiced from above me. Turning over onto my back I looked up into his face, his thick eye brows looking down at me. "Morning." He grinned as I lifted my head, pulling my body into a seating position.
I had been laying on his lap, using it as a pillow, "what happened?" I asked, "why are you here?" I didn't mean to sound harsh, but it was the first thought that popped into my head and my brain wasn't let censoring my words as well as it usually did.
He half frowned, "I wanted to make sure you didn't stop breathing during the night." He said, standing up, "let's not make a big deal out of it shall we." He said harshly, turning and walking out of the room. "The parents are ok too, and Max is playing his video game like nothing happened. I think everyone is in denial." He said, stopping in the door.
His voice had no emotion in it, it was as if a computer program was relaying the message to me. Biting my lip, I started to think - he had stayed with me all through the night, watching me breath. Making sure it didn't cease. He must care for me, right?
I pulled a random tank and pants, not really caring what I looked like. My hands wrinkled my nightgown into a ball and throwing it at the wall. I never wanted to see it again, It reminded me of the night before and I never wanted to think about that night again. Not ever.
Once I was dressed I walked out of the bedroom, seeing Max and Sam sitting beside one another playing DS games. Sam had never been one for video games, and I guessed it was a pass-time he had picked up as recently as a few hours ago. He was trying to keep his mind occupied so it didn't wonder into darker territories and I knew how he felt.
"How do you make him jump? He won't jump!" Sam said, his hands frantically moving over the buttons on the small key-board. The different colored buttons contrasting harshly with the black DS case.
Max laughed, leaning over and pushing with a single finger, "there."
My dad was in the driver seat and my mother was in the kitchen making breakfast. The fumes were flowing from the room and filling up the rest of the trailer, causing me to feel insanely hungry. Taking a long whiff of the air I smelled the bacon and eggs and it smelt good. Walking behind her I swiftly stole a piece of bacon off the plate, my diet completely forgotten. "These are so good, mommy." I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Her eyes were watering and red, I could tell she had recently been crying, but I tried to ignore this.
She touched my cheek, "I love you, baby." She said, suddenly hugging me. It was so strange, I couldn't remember a time before this that she had hugged me with such passion and it felt so good. After a moment, the surprised subsiding and then I hugged her back, lifting her off her feet. She chuckled softly before turning around and cracking an egg on the frying pan.
After walked away I took the seat beside Brad who was watching the TV closely, his eyes watching each character with such intent you would have thought it was his favorite program. It was so strange. Before this trip I barely said a word to anyone in my family. I had no idea what Max's personality was like or Brads, or even my own mothers. They were strangers that lived under the same roof as me, and that was all. Now, I could really call them my family. I knew there was a lot of work still ahead, but now I saw what the therapist hadn't. Sticking us in a trailer for a week wasn't going to solve anything, what had changed everything was what we had been through. It had made us closer, given us all something we could relate to each other about. It had almost killed us, but maybe it had saved us.
****
My mother put the eggs and bacon strips onto individual plates, "here you go." She smiled as she sat them down in front of us. Her hands pulled back, revealing the meal proudly. She had never been a good cook, she rarely even chose to do the chore. Always handing down the responsibility to our maid, Nora. Now things had changed, I saw it in her eyes as she looked down at the plates, then to our lips, "tell me how it tastes." She said, urging us to take our first bites.
Brad took the first bite, looking slightly disgusted as he poked at the Bacon, "not crispy enough." He said, sticking his nose up at it.
"I think it tastes amazing." I smiled brightly and then dug in, "it's perfect." I looked at Brad, my eyes narrowing. She was clearly trying so hard.
My mother frowned quickly, then turned back into a bright smile taking the plate back from him, "I'll make them more crispy." She said, walking back to the Kitchen.
I set my plate on the table, whipping my lips, "why are you so mean?" I asked honestly.
Brad gave me a strange look, "I like my bacon crispy." He said seriously.
"Me too!" Max hollered from the next room over, his mouth obviously full of food. Ignoring him I got up, my plate in hand and walked into the bedroom.
Turning to face Brad I said, "I just can't be around you," my hands cupping my head. How could he be so nice one minute and then turn back into such a jerk? It made no sense, and my brain wouldn't take it anymore at the moment.
Closing the door behind me I sat on the bed, my feet up. My fork lifted to my mouth, a small piece of egg on the end. Feeling like an idiot for being so polite when there was no one to impress, I ate the small bite and then stuffed the entire thing in my mouth at once. Chewing it slowly, tasting the entire egg I swallowed, eating the three bacon strips in one mouthful.
That was when Brad knocked on the door of my bedroom, cracking it open and looking in to see me with a mouth full of meat. I put my hand to my lips, whipping the food away and swallowing hard and dryly, "what do you want?" I said, my voice came out harsher than I had meant it.
He walked in without a word, sitting at the foot of my bed with his eyes pointed straight ahead. I repeated my question, but there was still no answer. His eyes met mine. His beautiful strange eyes. They seemed to have something hidden behind them, locked in a safe deep place behind those eyes. "I know I'm not the person you want me to be." He paused, looking between his knees at the hardwood floor, "I know I can't ever be that person." He went to stand up, "and I'm sorry about that." I grabbed his arm, pulling him back down beside me. He froze, looking at me.
"You are the person I want you to be. I don't want you to change. You are what you are, but I have seen two conflicting sides of you and all I want is for you to be my brother." I made eye contact, which seemed to be a hard thing for him to do, "please."
He sat down and I scotched my butt over so we were side by side, "tell me what's wrong." I said, my hand grabbing his leg. Keeping me grounded, I thought. Keeping me sane in all this mess.
"I cant." He said, "I'm sorry, but I just can't."
"Why?" I retorted, holding his leg tighter, stopping him from standing up, stopping him from moving a muscle to get away from me.
"Because if I told you, you would never speak to me again. You would run away. We would lose any of the relationship that we had." His eyes went wide, his lips perched, his voice raised slightly, his hands moving as he spoke, trying to mime out some secrete underlying message. "I don't want that. I don't want you to hate me." His voice went soft, "not anymore at least." His voice went even softer then before, almost an inaudible whisper.
My eye brows lifted, surprise overtaking me. He thought I hated him? "Brad." I started, my voice trailing off as I thought of an answer that would fix everything he had said.
He bit his lip, trying to stand up again. "You don't have to answer." He said.
"I could never hate you." I said, quoting him. "You're my brother, we're family. Anything you said wouldn't change that."
He sighed, "that's what I'm afraid of."
I stood up, my mind perplexed with questions. What could he possibly mean? It was at that moment that my dad stopped the trailer, all of us flying forward again. Me and Brad climbed to our feet, walking from the bedroom to see what had happened.
"Get out of the trailer!" A rough man's voice sailed from the drivers seat. I heard a gun cock as my father put his hands over his head.
"Whoa!" He said, opening the door slowly and climbing out, "take anything you want, just let us go."
Suddenly the trailers sliding door opened and another man with a gun walked on, "put them up!" He hollered and automatically my hands shot up. Brad was in front of me slightly and put his hands up too. Max was by the front of the car, a tear sliding down his face as his DS dropped from his trembling hand onto the hard floor, making a smacking sound that for a second I thought was a gun shot.
The man had light brown hair and bright green eyes. He seemed to be in his early twenties with a skinny build and loose fitting, hipster clothes. His gun was shaking as he held it to us, his arm outstretched, "keep um up." He hollered as the other man boarded the trailer, gun pressed into the back of my fathers plaid button-up.
"We're all going on a little trip."
****