ANACHRONISM, CRYWOLF
Matthew and I worked some on the magazine spread before I left for the meeting I called for earlier this morning. A much-needed meeting with my psychologist. It's funny how my father has me meet with a psychologist whenever I need it, but he won't get one himself. Double standards, I suppose, after what happened with Valentina.
Dr. Elijah Miller - the man Valentina used to talk to - was now the man I would talk to about my problems. He knew all about my family's business. After all, he worked for Vicente Villalobos with the girls that were destined for The Warehouse. Poor souls. He also had a small gym where he taught self-defense as a side job. Something I got Sarah into. Now, I would talk to him about the girl my father got from The Warehouse and ended up dead at my hands. Like a few others had in the past. Oops.
Dr. Miller diagnosed me with depression after my sister and mother died. I stopped taking my pills after I started my relationship with Matthew. Matthew made me happy. He gave me the peace I got from those pills but in greater amounts. This weekend away from him sabotaged everything I had done to get myself to that place. I would have to admit my wrongs.
Boy, I was not wrong.
"Genesis," he pinched his nose in obvious annoyance. He sits on a black leather love chair. His back faces the large bookshelf filled with psychology textbooks and patient files. "How many times have I told you to consult with me first when making a drastic move like that? Do you not remember all the times that this has happened when you've gone off your pills?"
I wince. "I'm sorry."
"It's done. I will have you go back on them, effective immediately. I am not joking," he says, firmly.
"Aye, aye Captain," I mock salute him. Elijah rolls his eyes at me. I grin, pushing through my sadness and guilt.
He smiles back. "It's good to see you haven't lost your smile despite everything."
"Yes," I nod. "Thank you for meeting me. I needed it after the weekend I've had."
"I understand. The Warehouse is a place you've always hated. Killing that girl also took its toll on you."
I nod in agreement.
"Genesis, remember that Matthew is not the sun. You are your own help. You need to care for yourself. Start your medication again."
I get up from the black leather couch I've been sitting on. I go around his glossy wooden desk. Everything is neatly in its place. What I'm interested in is the corner behind it. On a table sits a cage. In the said cage is a gray bunny with the largest dark eyes. She's previously adorable.
"Has Sarah met Millie yet?" I ask.
"No," he says. I see the sparkle in his blue eyes at the mention of my sister.
"I think she shall." I smile at the bunny.
***
After my appointment with Miller, I headed home. I'm working in our chem lab, a room my father prepared in the house for my mother to work at - when I realize that it's her fault. My father wouldn't know how to make this paralytic if it weren't for her. I wouldn't know how to make it. I wouldn't be making it. She was the pharmaceutical expert in this family. She had inherited the family business from her father. When she died, my father started using her formulas for his own vices. He had created an abomination with my mother's genius. We were all paying the price. Emily and Sarah were clueless about all of it. At least I hope they are.
As I look for the paralytic's formula, I notice the formula for some drug called Mist, the drug that Katherine was on the last time I saw her. I pull it out and skim through it. What I see is something I didn't expect. The notes list my sister, Valentina, as a test subject. What makes it worse is the dates; they don't coordinate with her death. A month ago is the most recent date. The notes mention her reaction to the drug in explicit detail with a photo of a small heart-shaped pill. It says they made Mist enhance the feelings of lust itself. I grip the papers and barge out of the lab. I walk quickly and I enter my father's office.
"Do you want to explain something to me?" I snap. I slam the papers on his desk in front of him.
"Genesis, I don't appreciate your attitude right now. Why don't you try again?" my father says, calmly.
"I don't need to do anything. Que le hiciste a mi hermana?" I ask.
Dad looks up at me. "Your sister is dead. Unless you're talking about Sarah, I'm pretty sure she's at school."
"Why is Valentina listed as a test subject for Mist? Those dates go well beyond her supposed death, so what the hell happened to my sister?" I press on.
"This can be a different Valentina for all you know," Dad replies as he looks through the pages of notes.
"Is it? Those dates start after her death," I say.
"These dates mean nothing, Genesis."
"Dad...," I close my eyes, trying to keep my temper in check. "Stop lying to me. For the first time in my life, care about someone else other than yourself."
"De acuerdo. Your sister is alive," Dad says in the most casual way. Like it's nothing. An everyday occurrence.
"I sent her to Samoa, to a convent, after she tried to commit suicide. Christopher St. John, who has a sex business on an island there, took notice and married her once she was eighteen. Now, he's dead. His son, Alexander, has taken over Paradise Island in Samoa. She better hope and pray for a miracle that he doesn't kill her because she's suspected of killing Christopher. Now you know what happened to Valentina," Dad shortens the tale.
"You sent my sister to the sex slave island in the Pacific Ocean!" I explode in fury.
"I sent your sister to a convent," he sneers. "That was her punishment for trying to take her life! For trying to leave us."
"No!" I slam my hand on the wooden desk. "You don't get to decide crap like that. Not with a thirteen-year-old girl. You know, I have her suicide note. She said she didn't want to live knowing who you were. A killer. That she was sorry for leaving me, mom, and Marcos to deal with you. She said she was sorry for not trying better. You ruined my sister just like you have ruined me."
"I made you better," Dad says. Rage is showing in his eyes. "You forget, there's a dead girl in that basement that screamed out to you as she died. That is your legacy, living in my shadow forever. Now get yourself back in line before I send you off, too."
I look at my father in disbelief as a tear cascades down my face.
"I hate you," I tell him before I leave his office.
***
I stare off onto the wall across from me, wrapped in my bed sheets when Emily walks into my bedroom. She stands at the door and frowns.
"Hi, sweetheart. I just wanted to remind you about our dinner plans at the restaurant," she says. "Are you okay?"
"Not really," I mumble. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry but I don't feel well. I've been nauseous all day."
"Honey, we can stay and have dinner here," she expresses her concern. "I don't mind going downstairs to tell everyone else."
"No! Please go. You guys already have your reservation. Don't miss it because of me. Go. I'll stay in my room and watch some Netflix or something. I don't want to eat it, anyway." I sit up, giving her a tight smile.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Emily. I will be fine," I reply. "I promise."
Do I? I feel like I'm in turmoil. Do I want them to leave or stay?
"Ok, hon. Call us if you need anything. Okay?" Emily says.
"Yes, ma'am."
Emily smiles before closing the door, leaving me alone in this hideous bedroom. I hear the front door shut minutes later and go to stand by the window. They get into the car. My father looks up to my window, locking eyes with me before he climbs into the driver's seat. Tears come again. I hate him. I hate Valentina. I hate my mother. I hate myself. I hate everyone. Pulling myself from the window, walking back towards my bed, feeling like the stuffed animals aligned on the wall shelves are staring, judging me. That makes me feel worse. In a fit of rage, I advance as I cry. I take a big swipe at them and they fall to the floor. I lean onto the chair of my vanity as I look at myself in the mirror.
I'm disgusting.
I grab my makeup brush holder and chuck it at the mirror. The glass shatters as brushes fall onto the vanity top. I don't stop there, making my way around the room, throwing everything on the top. I don't care what breaks.
I am done.
The bedroom is completely trashed when I decide it's time for me to leave the house. I grab my purse and take my shoes in my hand. Something pierces my foot as I walk out of the door. Ow. My pain doesn't bother me in my haze. I make it all the way to the front, without noticing the trail of bloody footprints I was leaving behind. I made it all the way to the garage, where I grabbed someone and threw it into my backseat.
I don't know how I made it all in one piece when I found myself in the cemetery, in front of my sister's tombstone. I hope I didn't kill anyone along the way. As I hold the sledgehammer in my hand, I think hard. Do I want to do this?
My father lied.
It needs to be done.
I position myself and hammer. I bring it down. The stone chips. Breaking something is making me feel better. I take another swing and another and another until it's completely gone. Rumbles at my feet. I sink to the ground. I let the tears come again. Breaking her tombstone made it all real. My sister was alive. She was being drugged and used as a sex slave. I laid beside the spot where she had been buried. Where, in the light of truth, an empty coffin had been buried. Where meaningless tears were shed. My brain questions my mother's death. Memories flooded me as I struggled to keep myself from breaking further. I had seen her in the coffin. She was dead. I curled up on the spot.
Perhaps Valentina had the right idea all along. I want to die.
Hours pass, or at least it feels like it. I heard the crunching of the leaves on the ground as someone stepped on them. I was too weak to look up and see who it was. Suddenly, I'm being lifted from the spot. My brother's scent engulfs me as he carries me to God knows where. I'm settled into the familiarity of my car. Marcos settles himself into the driver's seat. I see Dad go around and enter his own car.
"Are Emily and Sarah here?" I whisper.
"No," Marcos replies.
Good, I try to say as my eyes close.
Somewhere from afar, I feel the voices of people talking amongst each other. I can hear him. My father as he talks to Marcos. I feel their hands on me as I'm helped out of the car. I'm awake. My eyes are open but I cannot hear them. I sigh. Someone sits me down on something. I feel myself being wheeled into a building I've been to before.
Hi, I'd like to check my daughter in. Yes, she's been here before is the last thing my brain registers as it shuts down. Her name is Genesis V. Ferreira Kennedy.