Forsaken Read online

  “Would you girls like some water or maybe a cup of coffee?” She asked politely. Her genuine personality contradicted my personal stereotype of psychologists.

  Dee instantly perked up, “I would love a cup of coffee.”

  “How about a cappuccino?”

  “That would be lovely!” With that one peace offering, Dee’s demeanor had taken a one hundred and eighty degree turn for the better.

  “And for you Hannah?”

  “Nothing for me, thank you,” I replied, anxious to get the session started and more importantly over with.

  Dr. Campbell floated over to a slight kitchenette on the right side of the room and began punching buttons on what looked to be a very impressive Cappuccino maker. I could tell Dee was beginning to like her, too, or at least her taste in coffee.

  After gingerly handing Dee a steaming cup, Dr. Campbell sat back down.

  “Mrs. Whitman, I’m sure you’re aware as to how important patient/doctor confidentiality is, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside for a little bit, while Hannah and I talk.”

  Dee seemed surprised at first, then gathered her purse, thanked her for the coffee, and walked back out into the lobby. Once she was out of sight, Dr Campbell turned her undivided attention on me.

  “So, Hannah,” she began leisurely, “tell me how old you are.”

  “Seventeen.”

  “And when did you start having nightmares and blackouts?” she asked, writing furiously on her notepad.

  “How’d you know about my nightmares?” I couldn’t help feeling paranoid.

  “Just a guess.” She smiled encouragingly at me, but I felt there was something she wasn’t telling me.

  “I used to have nightmares about normal stuff – people chasing me or falling. But then about three years ago they started changing and becoming more…um…real? And harder to forget.” I shrugged my shoulders, hoping to convince her it wasn’t a big deal.

  “And the blackouts?” she prompted.

  “I’ve never had them before last night. That was the first time. But it didn’t feel like a dream. It seemed like something more. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

  “Your answer is perfectly fine.” She covered my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Looking down, she eyed the design on my wrist.

  “How do you…?” She leaned in closer to get a better look. “I mean, how long have you had this?”

  “For as long as I can remember. It’s just always been there,” I said.

  “You don’t remember getting it? Seems like something you’d remember.” I started to feel like she was trying to catch me in a lie, so I decided she wasn’t going to get any more answers, no matter what she asked.

  Giving my hand another squeeze, she sat back in her chair in deep thought. “I’m going to step out for a minute and speak with Doris, alright?”

  “Okay…” I said with slight hesitation. The visit really wasn’t making much sense to me so far.

  She gracefully rose from her chair and disappeared to find Dee. A couple of minutes later, they walked back in and both sat down watching me with serious faces. I had a bad feeling I wasn’t going to like what she had to say next.

  “After careful consideration, Doris and I believe it would be in your best interest to be enrolled in a special boarding school for young people very much like yourself.”

  My mouth dropped open. Did she really just say what I thought she said? A boarding school? And here I was thinking it couldn’t get any worse. Boy was I wrong. And what careful consideration? She had only asked me four questions!

  I looked wide-eyed at Dee, wondering how she had been brainwashed in such a short amount of time. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing seemed to come out right. “But I….how can….I don’t….because of nightmares…the occasional fainting spell…?”

  Dee just gave me a loving smile, “You’re going to love it Hannah! It’s called the House of Lorelei and it’s on an island up in North Carolina. This is perfect timing because the new school year there starts next Monday! It’s a year round school so you won’t miss a beat!” She clapped her hands together happily as if this was a good thing. “You’ll be able to come home during the holidays and on breaks. And the best part is Dr. Campbell has made all the preparations for you to move in immediately! Isn’t that wonderful?” No. It wasn’t. And I found it hard to believe that she made all of these ‘preparations’ in the three minutes she left to talk to Dee.

  I cast an accusing glare at the doctor and stood up, ready to argue. “What do you mean people like me? You can’t just up and move me to a different state because you think it’s a good idea! You don’t even know me!” I could feel my face growing hot as my anger spilled over.

  Slowly inching closer to me, the doctor placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and spoke softly. “But do you really belong there?” She asked cryptically. “Trust me, Hannah. I promise you won’t regret this. Please trust me.” I narrowed my eyes at her, instinctively looking for an ulterior motive, but found only genuine concern and a small gleam of excitement in her eyes. For some reason I wanted to trust her. Well, crap.

  I sat back down and tried to sort out the confusion clouding my mind. What could it hurt, really? A new school - new people who knew nothing about me or my past. A new start. Wasn’t that what I’d been wanting? A new beginning? I felt the fight go out of me and a brand new emotion took hold. It felt a lot like….hope.

  Chapter 4

  Friday. The day my life would change forever. I was embarking on a new journey, a completely different direction and I had no idea what to expect. It was as much unsettling as it was exciting. I sank into seat 12C on the plane and said a quick goodbye to Atlanta as well as the life I was leaving behind. I’d gotten pretty good at goodbyes. Maybe a little too good. I had lived with five different foster families before being adopted at the age of thirteen, and I had made sure never to allow myself to get attached to anyone or any place. I never knew when I’d be picking up and moving on to the next place. It was just easier that way. My current situation was a good example of that.

  Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at the Whitman’s home three years ago, that self-defense mechanism had stuck and no matter how hard they tried, those walls had been built too tall and too thick to break through. I had so many barriers around my heart; it would take an entire army to break them down. Until that army came, I was perfectly content with my walls. I’d gotten used to the security, albeit dysfunctional, that they had provided me through the years.

  I watched the Atlanta skyline shrink below me, as we gained altitude. I reminded myself, once again, that a person was more likely to die in a car crash, than a plane crash. I closed my eyes and tried my best to get comfortable. The sound of heavy footsteps made me open my eyes in confusion. Smoke swirled in the slanted rays of sunlight coming through the windows, and the smell of old cigarettes mixed with stale liquor filled my senses. I wasn’t on the plane anymore.

  Suddenly, I was lifted to my feet. Glaring at me through bloodshot eyes, he held me up with one hand, and shook an empty ice cube tray in the other.

  “Why’s there not any ice cubes?” he slurred. The stench of his breath in my face made me gag. “The water ain’t gonna jump out the sink and freeze it’s damn self!”

  He threw me back onto the coach and tossed the empty ice cube tray in my lap. “Go make me a drink,” he demanded through yellow teeth. I looked up at him, hoping I didn’t sound as scared as I felt.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “No!? Is that what you just said?” His oversized hand gripped my scraggly arm and dragged me into the kitchen. Before I could regain my footing, he pushed me against the cabinets. One of the blunt, metal drawer knobs pressed into my back.

  “Make. me. a. drink.” He loomed over me with blood-shot eyes.

  I crouched down to hide my face, hoping he’d just give up and leave me alone. Instead, he threw an empty beer bottle at my head. His aim was surpris
ingly good for being so drunk. It shattered against the side of my face and shards of brown glass stuck into my skin. The pain was sharp and immediate. I scrambled to my feet and ran down the short hallway, while he stumbled after me laughing. I made it to my bedroom first, shutting myself inside the small closet opposite my twin bed. My breath came quick as fear constricted my throat. I placed my hand over my mouth. I didn’t know if I was going to scream or cry, but I couldn’t afford to give away my hiding spot. The ringing of the phone in the living room stopped his black boots from breaking the threshold of my small room. He mumbled something inaudible and stumbled back down the hallway. As soon as he was gone, I let the sobs building in my throat spill out. Hot tears instantly mixed with the fresh blood running down my cheek, while my head pounded from the newly formed welt on my face.

  The closet door creaked as I peeked out, cautiously, making sure he was really gone. Expecting to see my bedroom, I was shocked to find the scene before me had completely changed. As I got to my feet, it became apparent to me that I wasn’t the younger version of myself anymore, either. I lightly touched a shaky finger to my eyebrow and noticed the absence of blood. The welt on my cheek had also disappeared. As I tiptoed out into the foreign room, carpet gave way to wooden floor beneath my bare feet. Soft evening light cast long shadows across the room, but I was still taken aback by its size and opulence. I could make out the shadowy figure of a woman sitting across the room in a rocking chair, softly crying as she gazed out the window. She didn’t stir at my entrance, only continued to cry one word over and over with such pain, it broke my heart. Anastasia…. Anastasia…

  My eyes jerked open and I instantly whirled around, trying to figure out where I had been transported this time. Thankfully, I was still seated in 12C amongst the other passengers. I could feel the frenzied pumping of my heartbeat as I tried to calm my breathing. It was just a dream. Just a dream. If only it could have been a dream those many years ago. I touched my eyebrow and rubbed the tiny scar I’d carried with me since I was nine.

  ~Ӂ~

  “Hannah Whitman?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, I’m Kira. I’ll be your personal escort for the next couple of hours.” She swept her slender arm down and bowed dramatically. Wearing short white shorts, a light pink blouse that had fallen off one very tan shoulder, and Rainbow flip flops; she couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one. Her bright green eyes sparkled and a wide smile lit up her face as she straightened. She tucked a piece of sun-bleached blonde hair behind her ear and took my carry-on. “So, how was your flight?”

  Probably not the best time to bring up my nightmares. “It was pretty uneventful, I guess.”

  “That’s definitely a good thing when all you have between you and the ground is several miles of air,” she chuckled. A nervous laugh escaped my lips as we began navigating through the airport. Glancing sideways at her, I couldn’t help but think about how normal she seemed. What exactly did Dr. Campbell mean when she said ‘young people like me’? Is everyone here going to be blacking out randomly during the day and screaming through nightmares at night? That didn’t seem very likely.

  “I was thinking we’d grab something to eat and talk a little bit before getting to the island. How do you feel about pizza?” She asked with a smile. She appeared very at ease in her own body and acknowledged each person we passed with a nod or smile. She had a glow of happiness that reached out to others, making them smile with her.

  “That sounds wonderful,” I admitted. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast.” It was almost dinnertime and my stomach was growling loudly. I would be surprised if she couldn’t hear it.

  My eyebrows shot up as we stepped outside and Kira gestured towards a white Jeep Wrangler with oversized tires waiting at the curb. I didn’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a taxi? Or a van?

  “Your chariot awaits madam.” She tossed my carry-on into the back seat and I realized we hadn’t picked up the rest of my luggage. I glanced back towards the doors and turned to say something to Kira.

  “The rest of your bags are being taken care of, they’ll be waiting on you when you get to the school.” I had tried not to bring every piece of clothing I owned, but it was difficult. After stuffing four bags full of clothes and shoes, I wasn’t looking forward to carrying them all over Wilmington, so the fact that I wouldn’t have to was wonderful.

  I literally climbed up into the passenger seat while Kira put on silver aviator sunglasses and grinned at me. She started the jeep and we bounced onto the streets of Wilmington. Several minutes later, we parked in the lot of a small pizza shop. We found a vintage-looking wrought iron table outside and Kira ordered peach flavored sweet tea. I decided to give it a try too.

  Even though I couldn’t tell how close we were to the beach, I could smell the hint of salt water in the air. It was just as humid as Georgia, but much more bearable thanks to a light breeze blowing. I took a deep breath and felt myself relax for the first time in what felt like years. I could get used to the leisurely pace of the beach. Everyone who meandered by on the sidewalk was sun-kissed and smiling without a care in the world. A sizzle of excitement ran through me as I thought about the new chapter in my life I was about to begin.

  “So, what do you do at the school?” I questioned. She looked too young to be a teacher or administrator.

  “I’m considered something like a graduate student and we get credits for mentoring incoming students. I definitely got lucky with my first assignment,” she said, winking at me.

  “How long do you mentor me?”

  “For as long as you need me,” she answered simply, “So, how much do you know about the House of Lorelei?”

  “Honestly, not a whole lot. All I know is that it’s year round, on an island, and the kids there are….like me?” I was hoping she could shed some light on that last part. A part of me sighed in relief knowing Kira would be my mentor. Feeling a little vulnerable for some reason, I absently looked down at my hands…and gasped. My ‘tattoo’ was…shimmering? I twisted my wrist back and forth; squinting to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Yep, it was definitely doing something weird. Just then, the waitress came back with our drinks. Instinctively, I placed my other hand over it to hide it momentarily. The waitress gave me a weird look, but kept walking to the next table.

  “Can I see?” Kira’s eyes danced with excitement.

  “Uh…it usually doesn’t…do…that.” I held out my arm for her to see my tri-spiral ‘tattoo’.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful! Mine only does that when I’m in the ocean,” she said, nonchalantly.

  “Yours?” There’s no way she had the same tattoo. She must just be trying to make me feel better about hallucinating.

  “Yep, but my trace is on the back of my neck.” She swiveled in her chair and lifted her hair to show me. “See?”

  I stood with wobbly legs and walked around the table. Sure enough, right there on the back of her neck were two birds mid-flight. I leaned in to get a better look. It did look like mine – not a tattoo, but more like a part of her body.

  “What kind of birds are they?” I couldn’t hide my amazement.

  “Seagulls. Unfortunately, they have a bad reputation for stealing your Cheetos when you’re laying out at the beach or for hanging out in grocery store parking lots, but they’re so much more. Seagulls represent freedom and vitality. They spend their lives riding the energy above the waves,” she explained with pride.

  “It’s amazing.” I took one last glance, and then remembered what she’d called it. “You said it’s a…trace?”

  “That’s right, we all have one,” she replied breezily, as if that cleared everything up. “Although, I’ve never seen a design like yours.” She looked like she wanted to say something more, but just then a large, steaming pizza was set down in front of us, overflowing with ooey, gooey cheese.

  “So, do you surf?” she asked between bites. I noticed she ate her pizza backwards, starting with the crust first. I made a
mental note to try that out next time.

  “I took swimming lessons back in Atlanta and swam at the club pool all the time, but I’ve never been in the ocean,” I explained through bites. She almost choked. Once she was done coughing, she stared at me wide-eyed.

  “Seriously? Not at all? Not even your feet?” She eventually picked her chin up off the ground.

  “Nope, not one toe.”

  She smiled wickedly, “That’s definitely going to change.”

  Chapter 5

  After devouring an entire twelve-inch pizza, we jumped back into the Jeep and continued the journey to the House of Lorelei. Bald Head Island was south of Wilmington, but there were no bridges or roads leading to the island. When I read that in the pamphlet Dr Campbell had given us, a picture of Alcatraz popped in my head and had remained there ever since. Something seemed a little too final about a place you couldn’t drive away from.

  About thirty miles later, we arrived in the small town of Southport. Small boutiques and coffee shops lined the main road; tourists wove in and out of the stores. I tried to reign in my hair that was smacking me in the face, as Kira took the right turn toward the Deep Point Marina. The ferry that would be taking us to the island ran every hour during the day and even at night. From what the pamphlet had said, it was about two miles from Southport to Bald Head Island, which amounted to a twenty minute ferry ride. We parked the jeep, bought our tickets and got in line. Waiting with us were families weighed down with beach toys and luggage, couples standing close or holding hands, and several younger girls wearing matching t-shirts with Ebb & Flo’s Oyster Bar and Restaurant written on the back. A bar for just oysters? If my memory served me right, oysters were slimy, salty little aliens that came in their original shells. I remembered trying one when we went to Savannah for St. Patrick’s Day. It only lasted about two seconds in my mouth before I spit it out in my napkin. From then on, I vowed to stick to fish and shrimp.