Living Violet (25 page)
The last thing I remembered was a piercing white light before everything went black.
And even after the curtain fell, I still saw Nadine's face, inert and forsaken as she stared off to some other plane never perceived by sight.
Neither fear nor remorse played a role on this stage. But every truth, every inch and ounce of life assembled in that final glint in her eyes.
Those glowing green eyes.
29
A
gunshot wrenched me out of my dreamless state.
gunshot wrenched me out of my dreamless state.
My eyes met the ceiling, and I could almost see the struggle taking place upstairs. Sirens wailed in the distance, increasing in volume and urgency. But none of that seemed to matter now. I no longer owned the responsibility to care. I stretched out my hand, my fingers spread wide, but it didn't feel like they belonged to me anymore.
I knew my body stood upright, but I couldn't feel the floor beneath me. Something obviously took place when I moved my eyes, but I couldn't quite associate it with sight. The clock on the mantel indicated one-fifteen, but it felt like years had passed.
I looked to my left and saw Nadine's lifeless body sprawled across the floor. I touched her face, which was not yet cold, but rigid and hollow, lacking that gentle hum of animation. All brilliance and strength expelled, evicted from its home to find refuge elsewhere. This violent exit had come too quickly for me to prepare, leaving me raw and chafed from the friction. Realization hit me hard and stole the air out of my lungs. The hows and whys remained hazy, but the finer points of my predicament became crystal clear. From that moment on, I became truly and mercifully numb.
I had always wondered about out-of-body experiences, but had never known how to put it into practice, until now. My inner being, my soul, or whatever fell under the jurisdiction of conscious thought, relinquished all authority and watched the events play out without my participation. No longer able to function by my own strength, I let go of the leash and allowed the beast within to take the reins.
I made it to the foyer, where sirens blared like an air raid attacking the house. Shattering glass, cracking wood, and pounding fists against flesh led me to the second floor.
Leaping three steps at a time, my body moved at a natural pace, but the world slowed to a crawl. Time didn't seem to be a factor in this crucial moment of consciousness, neither did the act of mercy. The frenzy supplied me with adrenaline and one tunnel-vision objective.
My mom was weak, Nadine was dead, and Caleb was in the clutches of a psycho. Mr. Ross had gone too far. And it was high time he learned that messing with me and mine was detrimental to his health.
I entered Mom's bedroom and landed in the throes of chaos. The bed and dresser had been knocked over, the mattress leaned against the wall, and clothing was scattered around the room. Mr. Ross, in his true form, knelt on the floor, clutching his bleeding arm.
I simply watched with amazement, not truly feeling anything within my physical confinement; only simmering rage.
All movement ceased when Mr. Ross caught sight of the gun barrel pointed to his head.
“I can't kill you. That doesn't mean I can't hurt you,” Caleb warned with his finger firm on the trigger, his eyes runny and glowing with fury.
Mr. Ross stared up at his youngest son in defiance. “You know this won't end. Not until I have my wife. Adriane is mine. She's always mine.”
“Adriane is dead, Dad,” Caleb said, his voice wavering slightly. “She's not coming back.”
With eyes swimming in tears, Mr. Ross charged at his son.
His shoulder slammed into Caleb's chest, sending them both careening against the wall, and knocking the gun out of Caleb's hand. Once the pistol hit the floor, several things occurred in a rapid string of calamity.
Caleb stepped from the wall, leaving a crater of crumbling plaster. He pushed back, hurling Mr. Ross to the opposite side of the room. Purple eyes clashed in the darkness, father against son, demon versus demon.
Before Mr. Ross could recover, another onslaught came his way in the form of a body slam to the floor. The impact cracked the wood, carving zigzags over the surface. Mr. Ross reached behind him and grabbed Caleb's collar. With one swift tug, Caleb flew over his father's shoulder and lay facedown on the floor. Mr. Ross loomed over his son with a hand on his throat.
The sirens and flashing lights told me the cavalry had arrived. The police weren't equipped to handle this sort of domestic dispute, so I stepped in.
“Stop!” I yelled.
Both men looked up at me.
“Sam, runâ” Caleb's words were cut off, as he lacked the air to push them out. Not from nearly choking to death, but from sheer terror. His eyes widened, his lips parted as if to warn me of danger only he could see, a truth that he didn't know how to tell.
Mr. Ross smiled and climbed off his son. He stumbled closer, his movements jerky and week from massive blood loss.
I drew deeper into the room, meeting him halfway. My eyes locked on his, not blinking, and applying the teaching that now felt second nature.
“Adriane?” he asked, his teary eyes fevered and unfocused.
“Yes.” I smiled.
“Sam, run!” Caleb struggled to his feet and slipped.
Men entered the house, radios and commands bounced off the walls. Revolving lights turned the bedroom into a kaleidoscope. But everything faded away, and in its place stood me, Mr. Ross, and the draw. I reached for him and encircled his neck. He looked down at me, his eyes glowing with surrender and need. I could only imagine what he saw in my eyes.
We deceive our prey. We don't need beauty,
Nadine had said.
With one look, we become who they desire most. The body responds, becomes a slave
.
Nadine had said.
With one look, we become who they desire most. The body responds, becomes a slave
.
Footsteps climbed the stairs, and time was running out. If there was a chance for second thoughts, I didn't take it. Swallowing a deep breath, I leaned in and opened my mouth wide.
Yells and flashlights faded into the background. Violence, rage, and despair compiled into a mind-blowing exhibit of pure chaos. Caleb had told me that the pull made sex pale in comparison. Though ignorant of that truth, nothing shot my soul to orbit like the taste of life.
Hands tried to pull me away, voices screamed my name, but nothing on earth could steal my glory. The hunger consumed us both, and I wouldn't be satisfied until I had claimed it all. The loss of blood made Mr. Ross weak and uncoordinated, and I took the opportunity for what it was. Somehow, he knew how this would end, and that thread of humanity, that tortured man who missed his wife, wanted the madness to stop.
His cheeks sunk inward, tiny veins rose in bas-relief under his skin. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as the violet light retreated into the cornea. Too much of everything came at me at once, drowning me in an ocean of lifetimes, folding and overlapping in waves of electricity and power. My knees buckled, the foundation of my legs collapsed. Sound, movement, my breathing, and even my heart had stopped. Forever intertwined, gravity plunged us into a free fall into the abyss. If this was how I was going to go, I would take my hostage with me.
I owed that much to Caleb, to my mother, and to Nadine.
30
T
here once lived a girl with hair the color of sunlight.
here once lived a girl with hair the color of sunlight.
She was meek, but determined to see the world outside
of books and television. Though her parents worried, they nurtured her need to explore. Despite its cruel indifference, the world held her captivated. Every answer created another question, granting an infinite source of wonder for her young mind. Her imagination knew no limits, propelling her journey to distant shores. The sights and sounds of this new land left her spellbound with the promise of hope.
I became her companion in the voyage, sharing her curiosity as the dawn unveiled its intent. To her, the world transformed every day, and one rediscovered its terrain to solve its mystery. We braved this frontier together, adhering to each other's strength to press forward, to seek the reward behind the horizon. Me and my guide. Me and my friend.
When consciousness returned, soft linen and warm sunshine engulfed me. The room looked familiar, the home furnishings and beige wallpaper, like a hotel suite with medical equipment.
Turning my head to the door, I saw Mom sitting in a chair by the bed, watching me. Her milk-white skin showed not a whisper of makeup. The dark shadows under her eyes marked her frailty and fatigue. The rosy fullness of her face melted into hollow cavities of stress. Her silk blouse hung on her body in a formless heap, proving that hospitalization was the best diet in the world. Her body curled inward, shielding itself from any further violation.
“Mom?” I called, not sure if it was the same woman.
Her smile was the only thing familiar. “How are you, baby?”
“Thirsty.”
Mom reached to the end table for a bottle and poured water into a glass.
Sitting up, I asked, “Where am I?”
She handed me the glass. “You're at the hospital, in one of the private rooms.”
“Why?”
She nodded. “We agreed that this was the best place for you now.” The look in her eyes was an odd one to define. Several emotions dueled with shattered logic. “How are you feeling?”
That was a damn good question. I couldn't understand what I felt. Pieces cluttered in my head and mixed with others that weren't there before.
“I'm not in pain,” I offered, hoping that was enough for her. “How did I get here? What happened?”
Mom lowered her head. Worry lines appeared around her forehead in strain to find an explanation. “What do you remember?”
“I remember being at home and Nadine ...” My breath caught, my hand covered my mouth. I stared out to the far end of the room, numb to everything but the brutal arrest of knowledge. “Nadine,” I whispered.
“Baby, I'm so sorry.” Ignoring her own pain, Mom rushed to the bed and pulled me into her arms. She felt brittle against me, thinly spun glass that would leave a million paper cuts if shattered. She hadn't held me like this in years and the gesture felt like home. Her nearness restored one of my first memories: the vanilla of her hair and the spearmint of her breath. Warm fingers threaded through my hair, massaging the scalp and untangling the ends.
The crying continued when Mom whipped out the big guns, and the song of songs caressed my ears. She would always sing it to me when I was a little girl, the only thing that would end my tantrums and dry my tears, that “Baby of Mine” song from
Dumbo
.
Dumbo
.
I lay still against Mom's chest, clinging to her warmth and comfort, needing more than anything to have something alive next to me. I demanded proof that such a thing existed.
I didn't know how long I cried, but Mom's blouse was a sopping rag of tears and spittle by the time we pulled apart. Wiping my eyes, I said, “Tell me what happened.”
She kept silent for so long, I didn't think she heard me. When I was about to repeat it, she spoke. “A great deal. I don't know where to begin.”
Despite her shaky state, Mom got it all out. I listened with a sedate disbelief, not interrupting until she finished.
I remained unconscious for four days, and in that span of time, all hell broke loose. I had encountered severe psychogenic shock. Though my blood pressure had plummeted, I'd had a fever of a hundred and six degrees and climbing, which made no sense. The doctors had been able to revive me before enough oxygen left the brain. Mom had little memory of what happened between then and the night she met Mr. Ross, but the threat of losing her child had shattered her trance instantly.
Dad had gone ballistic when he returned, threatening to sue the entire city of Williamsburg. It had taken three security guards to hold Dad back from killing Caleb. By that time, Caleb was ushered away in handcuffs for shooting his father in the shoulder. He was released hours later due to his claims of self-defense.
Grandpa got wind of the fallout and unleashed his wrath on everyone, from the hospital to the police. Grandpa got into another scuffle with Dad, blaming him for interference. After all was said and done, and the entire city of Williamsburg had the fear of God put in them, Mom and I were placed in the penthouse.
“I didn't know that Caleb was Nathan's son,” Mom said.
“It caught me off guard too.”
“There are so many holes in the past week.”
I nodded. “What happened to Nadine's body?”
“Her parents arrived yesterday. They're taking her body back to Poland for the funeral. Oh, Samara, I'm so sorry. The look on her mother's face. I pray I never wear that look.” She held me tighter. “Caleb's brothers are talking with them. Apparently their families know each other.”
“Yeah.” I buried my face in her arm.
“Samara, I know you're still weak, but there are a few things I need to know. Is there any way you can explain it to me?”
My body stiffened. “I don't wanna lie to you.”
“Then don't. I just wanna know the truth. Something happened that night, something that neither I, your father, nor the police can explain.” She swallowed thickly. “But I have a feeling you can piece it together for me.”
“I don't know if I can.”
“Try. I'll believe anything you tell me. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, but you're gonna think I'm crazy.”
“If you are, you've got plenty of people bunking next to you in the nuthouse, namely the police officers who found you.”
Mom had a right to know. I knew she needed the closure. Taking a deep breath, I unloaded my burden on Mom, from the woman in the BB parking lot, to Garrett, to Nadine, to Mr. Ross, to Caleb and his brothers. Mom stayed quiet for several moments after I finished. I waited for the scream of horror or the insistence on medication, but none came.
She simply held me and sighed. “Interesting story, Samara.”
I blinked. “It's not a story. It's true, all of it.”
“I never said you were lying. I just said it was interesting. Honestly, I don't know what to say.” She climbed off the bed and moved to the dresser. “As outrageous as it all is, I can't see any other explanation for your ... condition.”
“What condition?”
Mom returned to the bed with a small mirror in her hand. “I think you should see for yourself.”
That statement alone brought a chill to my spine. Taking the mirror from her hands, I looked at my reflection, then screamed. Mom seemed to have expected this. She continued to rub my back and shush me quiet, when Grandpa rushed into the room, ready to swing.
Ever since I was little, he had looked like that oatmeal guy on television. Though plump with white hair and beard, there was nothing jolly about Mr. Marshall. The man had a frigid disposition that numbed the fingers. His gruff appearance was better suited for a life of solace in a log cabin than a boardroom.
He stood by the door, searching around for the ax murderer in the room. “What happened?”
Mom looked up at him with weary eyes. “She saw her reflection.”
Grandpa's shoulders relaxed and he stroked his beard. “The doctors still have no idea how it happened. They want to analyze her, put her as a special case study.”
“They are not making a lab rat out of my baby! She's fine.” Mom's voice cracked with anger.
“That girl is far from fine, Julie. Look at her. She wasn't like that before.” He stared at me in accusation.
“And how would you know? You haven't been around to make that assessment.”
“I've been around more than you realize, and I know what my grandchild looked like. And that”âhe pointed to meâ“is not normal.”
Too caught up in my shock to join the argument, I scurried to the edge of the bed and curled into a ball.
“Daddy, I appreciate your help, but I need you to leave. I need a moment alone with my daughter.” Before he could reply, Mom crossed the room and shut the door in his face.
Shuffling to the bed, she cupped my face in her hands. “Samara, honey, look at me.”
Slowly, our eyes locked.
“This doesn't change anything. You are still you, no matter what this means. I love you no matter what. Remember that.”
I nodded. What
did
this mean? I knew there was something off, but I didn't know to what degree. Only one person could shed some light on this.
did
this mean? I knew there was something off, but I didn't know to what degree. Only one person could shed some light on this.
“I need to see Caleb. Where is he?” I asked.
“He came by a few times, but Grandpa sent him away and placed a restraining order on him. We couldn't risk him going after you.”
I shot upright. “What!”
“I didn't know what to think, Samara. All I knew was that his father tried to hurt me, and I didn't know what the rest of his family was capable of.”
“Caleb was trying to help.”
“Samara, calm down. When you're feeling better, I'll invite him over.” She eased me back down. “This is a lot to take in and you need to sleep on it. We don't need to solve this now. Get your strength back.” Mom tucked me in and kissed my forehead.
When she left the room, I climbed out of the covers and went to the adjoining bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror for a half hour, examining the subtle nuances of the change, the odd flecks of color that rebounded light. No wonder Mom had freaked out. This was a hard thing to dismiss and an even harder thing to explain to people I knew. If anyone looked long enough they could tell it was natural.
My thoughts shot straight to Nadine. The girl sure knew how to leave an impression. I would like to think that she had given me this as something to remember her by. This little souvenir wasn't an easy thing to forget. I had constantly joked that I would kill to have her eyes. She must have taken the statement seriously. It was my favorite color after all. Jade green and tiny flecks of gold shimmered inside swollen, bloodshot eyes.
Caleb told me that his spirit used the eyes to show itself. Well, mine had no problems making its presence known.
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