Nine
Halfway to the admissions desk, Lara stopped and turned to face the entrance of the hospital, and watched Greg’s car pull out onto Darcy Street. She wished she hadn’t lost her temper at him. Shaking her head, she turned again and walked up to the thin, dark-complected man behind the desk. He looked about thirty to Lara, had black hair and a beard, and wore light blue scrubs. A name plate in front of him read ‘Receiving Nurse’.
“Hi there,” he said kindly. “How can I help you?” Fishing out her lime green wallet from her backpack, she replied, “I hurt myself around my stomach and I was hoping to have someone look at it.”
“Sure thing. Do you have insurance?” Lara pulled out her insurance card and gave it to him. Lara’s mother had gotten insurance for all of her employees; that is, until she had to lay off the other two. He entered the information on the card into the computer.
“How did you hurt yourself, Ms. Warner?” he asked, looking at the name on the card.
“Dodgeball,” she said quickly.
“When did this happen?”
“Today.”
The thin man asked her a series of questions about her medical history, allergies, and family doctor. Eventually, he said, “Okay, we’re pretty dead right now, so why don’t you head right on in?” He gestured to a door beside him. “I’ll meet you on the other side.”
Lara walked through a set of large doors to a hallway. They walked down the corridor together and into a larger room filled with beds divided by curtains. One of these beds held a large man dressed in a hospital gown. He was still wearing his construction boots.
The man led Lara to the furthest bed in the room. A small, neatly folded gown lay on top of it.
“Please change into the gown and a doctor will see you shortly,” the man said, and pulled the curtain closed to give her privacy. His shoes squeaked as he walked away down the hall. Lara held up the gown in front of her.
“There is no way I’m wearing this!” she said aloud and hopped onto the bed. Wincing slightly, she wrapped her arm around herself and reached for her backpack, then pulled out her computing text book. She started reading, but the various chimes, beeps, and murmurs of the Emergency Room kept her half distracted.
After fifteen minutes, footsteps approached her curtain.
“Ms. Warner?” asked a deep male voice. “May I come in?”
“Sure,” she said, putting her book down. The doctor who parted the curtain was a trim, attractive man with short dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in a freshly pressed white shirt and a blue tie—which Lara thought really brought out his eyes—and wore a pristine white lab coat. Her eyes drifted down to the shining stethoscope around his neck.
Why, hello, Dr. Sexy, she thought, smiling.
He was looking at a brown folder with her name on it.
“I’m Dr. Seyfried. So, you hurt yourself playing at school?” he asked, still looking at her chart.
“Uh-huh,” she replied, looking into his eyes.
“What were you playing?”
“Dodgeball.”
He looked up at her, and then to the hospital gown on her bed.
“Did Jeff not tell you to put on the gown?”
“If you mean the guy who led me here, he did, but I’m not wearing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s ugly.”
Dr. Seyfried chuckled. “I suppose it is. Could you lie on your back, please?” he said, taking the book and gown and placing them on the bedside table. “I’m going to lift up your shirt to have a look at your abdomen. Is that alright?”
“Yeah! I mean, whatever,” she replied, her cheeks flushing. Dr. Seyfried glanced up at her, the corners of his mouth pulling upward. He pulled her shirt up to the bottom of her ribcage, and his face lost its charming smile. With furrowed brows, he placed his fingertips on her stomach and pressed gently. Lara jumped slightly and he looked up at her.
“Pain?” he asked.
“No, your hands are cold!”
He quickly rubbed his hands together, then started touching her abdomen in various places, and eventually examined the individual ribs of her ribcage.
“How exactly did you get these marks, Lara?”
“I got hit with a ball from across the gym,” she replied, shifting in the bed.
“Did someone tackle you or strike you with something large?” Dr. Seyfried crossed his arms and looked right at her. Lara pulled her shirt down and scrambled into a sitting position. She tried to meet his gaze, but her eyes defiantly refused. “Lara, why don’t you tell me what really happened?”
“I told you! I was playing a game and got hurt. That’s it!” She was almost yelling.
Soft footsteps approached them. Afraid that Greg had actually sent her mother, she looked down and let her hair cover her face.
Cybil parted the curtain to see Lara sitting on the bed, seemingly despondent, with Dr. Seyfried giving her a stern look. He looked at Cybil, and angled his head toward Lara with his eyebrows raised. Something was up.
“Lara, I don’t feel any broken ribs and I very much doubt that anything has been ruptured. If it had, you wouldn’t have been able to make it here on your own power. I’m going to leave you with Nurse Forsyth here to answer a few follow-up questions.” Whenever Dr. Seyfried used the this term, it meant there was more happening than what the patient was saying. Cybil had read about the bruising in Lara’s chart, and then she recalled the heated discussion she saw earlier between Lara and the boy in the car. She gave the doctor a quick nod. They both had the same thought: abuse.
Dr. Seyfried left the curtained area. Taking a seat on the bed, Cybil said, “Hi, Lara. Please call me Cybil.” Lara continued to avoid eye contact. “I think we both know you didn’t get those bruises from playing dodgeball.” Cybil spoke in a soft, soothing voice. Lara continued sitting there, still not saying anything. Pursing her lips together, Cybil continued, “Did that boy hurt you? The one in the car?”
Lara let out a soft chortle. “No. He’s not like that,” she said. Sniffling, Lara brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
“Then what happened? Your parents?”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
Cybil lightly placed her hand on top of Lara’s.
“Sweetie, I’m an ER nurse. You have no idea the things I’ve seen.”
“Would you believe I was attacked by a giant inkblot monster?”
Cybil considered this for a moment. “Well, that’s a new one. Where’d you get that from?”
“Just something from a dream.” Lifting her head to face Cybil, Lara brushed her messy brown hair out of her face.
Cybil looked into Lara’s puffy eyes. With a start, she stood up from the bed. Memories flooded back to Cybil: Lara in the mirror, a knife pressed to her wrist. She had screamed at her, begging her not to do it, and Lara had said, “Cut down the road, not across it...” Lost in thought, Cybil absently traced the pattern of the knife on her own wrist.
“What?” Lara asked.
“I saw you in a dream,” Cybil blurted out. She immediately regretted saying this and clapped a hand over her mouth. She had never spoken to anyone about her ‘future dreams’; she couldn’t just tell a patient.
Lara’s eyes were wide. “You can do the dream thing too?” The two women stared at each other for several seconds. “When was I in your dream?” asked Lara.
“Last night. You were in a mirror, about to commit suicide. I screamed and you saw me for a moment before the mirror exploded,” Cybil said.
Lara shook her head. “I don’t remember that.”
“Why would you remember it? It hasn’t happened yet.”
“Hasn’t happened yet? I can slip into other people’s dreams, not see the future,” Lara said.
They looked at each other again in silence before a cold realization dawned on both of them. “You can go into other people’s dreams?” Cybil asked.
“You can see the future?” Lara questioned.
“What are you?” they both asked simultaneously.
“You’re accusing me of what?!” yelled a female voice several rooms over. Both Cybil and Lara looked toward the sound.
“And that would be my mom,” Lara said, her stomach sinking. She cursed Greg under her breath while grabbing her textbook and backpack. Before Cybil could say anything, Lara hopped off the bed and flung open the curtain to see her mother storming into the ER.
“Lara, are you okay?” Linda asked, gently placing her hand on Lara’s face.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit tenderized.”
“Mrs. Warner, we’re not done,” called Dr. Seyfried from directly behind her.
Spinning on her heel to face the doctor, Linda nearly shouted, “Listen to me, you arrogant, spoiled, little man. I have never hurt my daughter. If you continue this-this witch hunt, I’m going to take your stethoscope and shove it right up your—”
“Mom!” Lara yelled, the blood rushing to her face. “My mother has never hurt me. Greg has never hurt me. No one has hurt me!” Lara dropped her backpack and stepped between her mother and the doctor, her arms outstretched. “I just want to go home.”
Dr. Seyfried looked toward Cybil. Following his gaze, Lara watched her give a reluctant nod. He gave an annoyed grunt and stepped aside. Grabbing Lara by the wrist, Linda power walked out of the ER.
“You’re lucky if I don’t press charges!” Linda said to Dr. Seyfried.
“Lara!” Cybil yelled out. Lara looked back at her. “We need to talk.”
“No,” Lara replied, shaking her head. “No, we don’t.”
Linda and Lara walked out of the Emergency Room and into the lobby of the hospital. When he saw them, Jeff called out from the admissions desk, “Ms. Warner!” Both women turned around and looked at him. “There was an issue with your insurance card,” he said, lowering his voice. Lara looked to her mother, who had closed her eyes, an anguished look on her face.
“Right. I forgot about that,” Linda said quietly.
“Forgot about what?” Lara asked.
“Don’t worry, have a seat. We’ll get going soon,” Linda said, slinging her slipping purse back around her shoulder, and walked up to the desk. “How much do I owe?”
Lara took a seat in the waiting room, and watched as Jeff produced a piece of paper and started explaining something quietly to Linda. He pointed down the page, apparently showing her an itemized list. He finally pulled the cap off of the pen and circled something on the page. Linda placed her elbow on the admissions desk and started massaging her forehead.
“Can I pay that in installments?” Linda asked. He nodded and pointed to a large sign that read ‘Accepted Forms of Payment: MasterCard, Visa, or Check. No Cash on Premises’.
Linda reached into her purse and pulled out her check book, filling out three separate checks and handed them over to him. He smiled, stood up, and grabbed a slip of paper from the printer. Folding it neatly, Linda placed it in her purse and got up.
“Time to go, Lara,” Linda said in a flat tone.
“What was up with our insurance?” Lara asked.
“Nothing to worry about.” Linda forced a smile, but her eyes were dark. “We should get back to the store. Greg is watching it.”
“Greg is watching the store? What if someone needs a fitting?”
“I told him he was not allowed to do that.”
Lara tried to imagine Greg giving a fitting to some buxom woman. She could just picture him, eyes wide, hands trembling, and then passing out. She started giggling at this. Linda looked at her daughter with an amused expression.
In the parking lot, Lara opened the passenger door to their pre-owned Ford, quickly sat down, and fastened her seatbelt. Ever since she was a child, Lara made a game of trying to have her door closed and her seatbelt fastened before her mother had closed her door. Even now, she felt a small victory.
Linda backed the car up and they made their way toward Darcy Street. Pulling out onto the road, they started in the direction of Linda’s store.
“Greg wasn’t supposed to tell you about my visit to the hospital,” Lara said.
“Why not?” Linda asked. Lara looked silently out the window. “It was a good thing he did, or else you’d be stuck with the bill.”
“Mom, what’s up with our insurance?”
Linda’s face puckered. “I don’t want to talk about that, Lara,” she said. Lara huffed loudly, crossing her arms. “Oh, don’t act like that,” Linda said briskly.
“Like what?”
“Like a child.”
“I’m acting like a child?” Lara pointed a finger to her chest. “At least I didn’t let the insurance get suspended.”
Linda glowered at her daughter and said, “Tell me, just how did you end up in the hospital anyway?”
“Greg drove me.”
“Don’t be smart.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Why were you in the hospital?”
“I hurt myself at school.”
“Doing what?”
“Dodgeball.”
“You’re a horrible liar.” Linda gripped the steering wheel tightly, the whites of her knuckles protruding. “I already know.”
“And what do you know?” Lara asked, her heart pounding.
“Everything.”
“Greg told you?”
“Every, last, detail.” Linda replied, hoping Lara would fall for her bluff.
Lara looked down again, absently rubbing her midsection. “I was so scared, Mom,” she said, tears starting to well in her eyes. “When I was in that nightmare and that… monster had me pinned to the wall, I thought I really was going to die.”
“Monster?” Linda nearly swerved off the road. “There are monsters in there that can hurt you? David never talked about that.”
Lara looked at her mother. “David? You mean Dad?” Lara asked. “Why would Dad know about...” Lara’s face twisted as shock and disbelief, followed by anger, flowed through her. “Dad was like me?”
Linda’s shoulders sagged as they pulled up to a stoplight. She stared down the street.
“Look at me,” Lara said.
Linda looked at her daughter, tears streaming down her face. “No. I won’t talk about him.” The stoplight turned green and Linda accelerated quickly.
“That’s what we do in this family, isn’t it? Have a problem? Just don’t talk about it,” Lara said, slicing her hand through the air in front of her. “Daughter can go into other people’s dreams? Don’t talk about it. Dad can do the same thing? Don’t talk about it. Business failing? Don’t talk about it. For all I know, your store is going to close next month, and the month after that? We’ll probably lose our house.”
Linda sobbed openly. She pulled off to the side of the road and turned toward Lara. “I put everything, everything into that business! I ran it as best as I could.”
“You ran it into the ground. Maybe I should have told the doctor you had beaten me. At least then they would have placed me with a real mother.”
Even in her rage, Lara knew she had crossed a line. Linda stopped sobbing and wiped the tears from her eyes. She took several deep breaths and faced forward in her seat.
“Get out.”
“Mom... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I—”
“I said, get out.”
Lara slowly got out and gently closed the door. Without looking at her daughter, Linda sped away, tires squealing.
Wiping at her tears, Lara zipped up her jacket and put her backpack on. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, and walked down the sidewalk in the direction of her house.
She kept reviewing the conversation in her mind, trying to make sense of what had happened.
Why did I say those things to her?
Because she deserved it.
No, she didn’t. She’s trying to keep both our heads above water.
That doesn’t excuse her for not telling me about Dad.
Lara continued arguing with herself, oblivious to her surroundings. She approached the rear of the Glenridge Mall parking lot; a bus stop was full of people who were slowly filing onto a parked bus. She looked up and saw two figures running toward it, but the bus had already started driving away. Lara looked down at the pavement again and kept walking.
“I can’t believe you don’t have your car,” a female voice said.
“Courtney, you know I had to get the transmission fixed,” replied a baritone voice.
Courtney? Lara thought.
Looking up, Lara saw Courtney Rathbone standing half a foot apart from a burly teenaged boy, who looked at her with an annoyed expression. The boy was wearing a Leaside varsity jacket, a black sweater, and heavy blue jeans. He held several plastic and paper bags in each hand. Some bags were from a sports nutrition store, containing large jugs with words like ‘Protein’ and ‘Workout Formula’ written on them. Other bags were from someplace called Lavish Lingerie, and these were much smaller, pink, and clad in polka dots. Somehow, Lara didn’t think they were for the boy.
Courtney was dressed in leggings, a blue skirt with matching purse, and an oversized sweater. She was wearing no jacket and wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to keep warm.
“Some boyfriend you are,” she said nastily to the boy with a dramatic sigh. He gave her an equally nasty expression. The two started to walk toward Lara. For a moment, she thought about turning around, but it would add an extra twenty minutes to her walk. She continued toward the feuding couple, still looking downward.
Their footsteps were drawing closer now, freshly laid salt crunching beneath their feet. Just keep walking. I don’t want to argue with you right now. Just keep wal—
“Hi, Freak!” Courtney said in a mocking tone. Lara looked up to see a self-satisfied smile on her face. Courtney shifted her weight, her arms still crossed in front of her.
Lara continued walking, looking back at the sidewalk.
“Did you hear my father is buying the strip mall where your mom’s shop is?” Courtney said. Lara slowed slightly. “I heard her lease is coming up in two months. She’ll have to renegotiate it. Something tells me that spot is going to get a lot more expensive. Shame, too. I guess it was the cheapest location in the area.”
Lara still didn’t stop walking, but she was fighting the urge to turnaround and scream at Courtney.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Word around town is that she’ll be going bankrupt soon. Bye-bye business and bye-bye house. Don’t worry, though, I guess they have shelters for people like you.”
Lara stopped, her breathing quickening. Tears stung at her eyes while a dull ache formed at the back of her throat. She stood with her back to Courtney and the boy. Their eyes were on her as they waited for a reaction. Calm down, Lara told herself, and started to walk away again.
“Not only is your mom a failure at business, but she’s a failure as a mother too.”
Lara made a sharp about-face, walked right up to Courtney, and pointed a finger at her. Courtney looked at her expectantly. Lara thought of dozens of things she would have loved to say before she slowly shook her head.
“You’re not even worth my time,” Lara said, sneering. Turning around again, she started back down the sidewalk.
“What did you say to me?” Courtney strode over to Lara. “No one, especially you, talks to me like that.” Lara looked back at Courtney and gave her a haughty grin. Courtney grabbed Lara’s shoulder, spun her around, and slapped her hard across the face. Lara was knocked backward, slid on an unsalted patch of ice, and started to fall. She caught herself with one hand, scrapping it against the sidewalk.
Courtney laughed scornfully. Lara’s hand and cheek stung and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut as a molten rage filled her. For a moment, she tried to stop it, but… Why? Lara let go of any restraint and allowed the rage to fill her to the brim; her anger toward her mother, her fear about the business, and Courtney—they all fuelled the hate that burned inside her.
She would make Courtney suffer. She would make them all suffer.
“That was a mistake,” Lara whispered.
“What was that, Freak?” Courtney asked, still laughing.
“Court, let’s go,” the boy said.
Lara opened her eyes. Courtney’s mask of triumph broke into one of terror. She took several steps backward as Lara stood. She felt powerful and free. There was no good or bad, no doubt. Only revenge. Courtney would pay for all the wrongs she had ever committed, and Lara would be the instrument of her punishment.
Courtney continued to walk backward. “Court, what’s wrong?” the boy asked, seeing the look on her face. “What the hell is wrong with your eyes?” he asked, his voice cracking in fear as he looked back at Lara. No light reflected from Lara’s eyes; they were pools of pure black hatred.
The boy dropped the bags on the cold cement and stood in front of Courtney, holding both fists upright. Lara watched, amused, as his hands trembled.
“Leave,” Lara said simply. A multitude of voices echoed in the couple’s minds. The sound was so terrifying that Courtney’s whole body started to tremble, while her feet stayed paralyzed.
“Somebody help us!” Courtney called out, frantically looking around the street, but the closest people were over by the mall entrance. They gave no indication that they had heard.
The boy continued to stand in front of Courtney, shielding her body with his. Lara basked in their fear. Courtney dropped to her knees, clutching at her chest, her breathing growing ragged and hoarse. Lara felt intoxicated, powerful. The rage was addictive; she wanted more. She encouraged it, allowing it to fill every atom of her being. Staring at the boy, Lara delved into the deep recesses of his mind, the place where only the most horrific of fears and memories lay, and felt for his worst fear. She grabbed it and pulled it out for him to see.
“You’re going to die,” Lara said in her sickly choir of voices.
He watched in horror as the skin started to melt from his hands. He screamed and grabbed at his sweater, ripping it apart, as his once-muscled body disintegrated in front of his eyes.
Courtney watched her boyfriend stare at his hands, and then rip open his shirt. He looked down at his muscular torso and started screaming. Was he seeing something she wasn’t? He started running along the street, until he tripped on a curb and fell down, hard. Quickly, he got up again and continued running.
Lara looked down at Courtney.
“Please, I... I’m sorry!” Courtney looked up at her.
“Yes, you will be.” Lara delved into Courtney’s mind. She looked for a suitable nightmare to inflict on her. A deep memory was rooted deep in the corner of her mind and Lara pulled hard to bring it to the surface.
At Lara’s command, Courtney relived a memory of her mother and father leaving for the evening when she was just a toddler. The babysitter, who was sixteen, was filing her nails when the doorbell rang. A young man entered and passionately kissed the sitter, and then they both looked at Courtney. The sitter started yelling at Courtney and pointing upstairs. Both Lara and Courtney watched as the younger version of Courtney shook her head in defiance.
The sitter grabbed Courtney by the shoulder and shoved her into a small closet. Courtney reached for the handle, but it was too tall. There was barely enough space in the there for her to turn around in. It was dark, and she started to get hot. It became difficult to breathe, and Courtney violently hammered her fists against the door, but it was solid and refused to budge. An old doll with yellow-rimmed eyes fell from a shelf, knocked down by Courtney’s pounding on the door. A drawstring started receding inside of it, making a creepy warbling sound that at one time could have been laughter.
Lara lifted both of her hands, pushing the memory into Courtney’s conscious mind. The closet grew smaller as the walls slowly moved inward. The ceiling pressed downward until Courtney could no longer lift her hands up and was forced into a squatting position. The walls pushed at her from all sides. The ceiling continued its downward descent, pushing her head and neck into a cramped position.
Courtney was now taking short gulps of air, and beating her hands against her chest. Lara watched as she lay on the sidewalk in a fetal position, her body quivering. Fear poured off of Courtney, and to Lara, it was delicious.
Lara knew that if she pushed the memory just a little harder, then it would become the only reality Courtney would ever know. She would be trapped in a perpetual nightmare, a closet that would become a coffin, buried in the depths of her mind.
Courtney’s face was turning blue, and the fear ebbed. Her gasps for breath grew further apart.
Courtney was dying.
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