WnW 2.11

There was a building excitement inside of my chest as I introduced myself, as if I had been trying something for years and a breakthrough just occurred. But even though I was feeling it, the emotion belonged to the woman in the chapel.

“How does this work?” I asked. The sound of my voice was muffled by the earplugs. “Can you hear me?”

She began to calm down, the excited feeling beginning to wane. There was no response to my question.

“No, huh?” I muttered. “What should I call you?” I stared at the flower, which was quivering slightly. “Flower girl?”

I stayed still, waiting to see if she could give me a response in some way.

Then the response came. A wall of emotion slammed into me and my head was wrenched back. Images flashed in my mind, sterile whites, a potted plant far away behind six panes of glass, a spot of blood on the spine of a book, furiously rubbing my thumb against it, trying to clean away the spot, rubbing until the skin felt raw and feeling like it was not enough, the stain would always be there and I was alone and I just needed to get out, I need to get out, I need to get out, I need-

I pulled myself free, staggering back and hitting my hand against the tank of the toilet. The feelings didn’t relent, they poured onto me like a powerful storm. “Stop!” I hissed.

The storm withdrew and I felt a pang of regret. Was it mine or hers? It was hard to tell and I hated that. I tasted bile and turned to spit into the toilet.

“Okay, flower girl,” I panted. “I get it. You’re trapped. So am I. So let’s help each other.”

Now came curiosity, like she was asking, what are you going to do about it?

Did the connection go both ways? I focused on the flower, trying to push my thoughts towards it. I’m trapped, I thought. Gail is trapping me. The Cathrows want to sacrifice me to some “tree”. I held Gail’s face in my head, trying to project it outward.

I was met with confusion. The message wasn’t getting across.

Okay. Then I wouldn’t try to communicate. I would just feel and see if she got it. I recalled what the past year had been like, before I met Chase. Isolation, feeling like something was wrong about me, those emotions came easily. And to my surprise, she reciprocated, not with an overwhelming force, but with a similar thread, weaving into mine. She understood how I felt.

That was progress. I felt the satisfaction ping back and forth between us.

There was a knock on the door and Gail’s voice had a different tone to it. My ears buzzed like I could feel the message almost getting through the earplugs. 

Hurriedly, I put my shirt back on and flushed the toilet.

“Just a few more minutes!” I called out to her.

The flower girl must have felt my urgency because she hit me with another wave of complex feelings. Anger, loneliness, hope. They sparked and fizzled in my body and I had to push away another pulse of nausea. Not helping, I thought angrily.

The anger. That came easily. More easily than it ever had before. There was something about this place that pulled it out of me, like wind blowing on hot coals. I remembered when I stood between Jason and Aaron. Jason’s eyes reflecting that hatred, sharing my intent to ruin this place.

The response was immediate. Commiseration, shared anger. She understood that, she might have even gotten parts of that memory. I began to feel the urgency, but it came with a sense of direction, not the hopelessness of before. She would help Jason, I felt certain of it.

I could hear Gail shouting and I pulled myself away from the strange game of emotional telephone. I took out the earplugs and immediately felt my body seize up.

“Come out right now!” Gail shouted.

I opened the door and saw Gail’s imitation of her father’s scowl, tears forming in her eyes. This kid is going to cause problems if she grows up without learning how to take no for an answer.

“Gail, I just needed to finish-”

“Follow me,” she said, and stomped back to the stairs and up to her room. Once we were back inside, she slammed the door and threw herself onto the bed, face down.

I sighed and sat down, gingerly prodding the flower under my shirt. A little help here would be nice. 

The response wasn’t immediate. She was distracted by something. Every little bit of nervous energy in my body made me think for a moment she was doing something, but eventually I relaxed. When she did respond, it was with small emotions, sparks that were felt as tiny twinges in my body rather than waves that seized my physiological responses. There was a certain helplessness to it. Controlling your emotions wasn’t easy in the best of times, especially not in such dire straits. I could only hope I wasn’t overwhelming her as I tried to think of light topics like books I’d read and meals I’d enjoyed or just playing video games at the arcade with Mac.

We passed the hours with these exchanges, not sure of how much was really getting across.

Then another vision hit me. Books were piled high around me as layered towers, words dancing on open pages. I devoured the information I gleaned from those words, savoring each one, going back to them over and over, making sure I had it right. I shook my head, taking back control. That wasn’t my memory, it was hers.

A bookworm, huh?

I wasn’t so much. To me, books meant school, and school was a bagged lunch of mixed feelings. Learning was fine, I was even good at it when I tried. But the people were complicated, and all too often I found myself observing rather than participating in the small nuances of social exchanges.

There was a strong excited response from her.

Huh? Do you like school?

A powerful urge of longing made me want to jump out of the window and run. But we were on the second floor and Gail would stop me as soon as I cracked the window. A dim orange light shone through the curtains. It was already late, Aaron would come for me soon.

I blinked and saw a rapid series of memories; books, people talking, a woman’s voice. It was incomprehensible. What did she mean? But then I thought about it a little longer and an idea popped into my head.

“Gail?” I asked.

She lifted her head from where she was squirming on the bed, pouting again.

“Do you go to school?”

She shook her head and fidgeted. “Momma teaches us.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” I said truthfully. “You can learn about so many things; science, history, movies. And there’s loads of people your age who you could talk to. Some of them probably like Jess Jance too.”

Gail went very still, paying close attention.

“It’s not all great though. People can be mean. You can get in trouble. There was this one time that Mac and I pranked a teacher. They thought they were so funny, always cracking jokes at the student’s expense. So we-” I stopped, glancing over at her. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

Gail sat up, bouncing on the bed. “Tell me! Tell me!”

“We hid a phone in the ceiling and every time she told a joke we would play cricket noises. Mac was dying trying to hold in his laughter. Everyone was giggling as she searched everywhere for it. Unfortunately, she found it eventually.”

Gail looked concerned. “Did you get in trouble?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, but it was worth it.”

“But you broke the rules.”

I looked at Gail sympathetically. “Sometimes, it’s okay to break the rules. What if you miss out on something good, or funny, or awesome because you were too scared to make someone else mad? Especially when the rules are going to get someone else hurt.”

Gail pensively chewed on her lip. I crouched down to look her in the eyes.

“Gail, I don’t want your parents to be mad at you.” My stomach twisted. “I know how it feels, not wanting to upset a parent. But if I could go back and tell myself something, it would be to go ahead, make them upset.” It felt like flower girl was listening, her emotions held back. “We can’t just stay locked in a box our parents made for us.”

Gail’s face screwed up, on the verge of tears. “I want to go to school,” she whispered. “I want to talk to friends about what I like.”

I nodded. “It’s going to hurt. Are you prepared?”

Gail nodded.

“Okay, close your eyes. I’m going to go break some rules. You should stay here. I’ll make sure someone comes to get you.”

She obeyed, covering her eyes with her hands.

I moved to the window and opened the curtains. Looking out, I realized that it was already dusk. Where the sky met the land was aglow with orange light.

I grinned grimly and opened the window, stepping out onto the thin strip of shingles before a long drop down. But it didn’t seem so scary. I wasn’t alone. The flower bushes had grown again, creeping over the edge of the roof. I bent down cautiously and felt how sturdy it was, a bunch of branches woven into an escape route. 

One newfound companion in my head and the other…

 Holy shit, Jason.

It wasn’t dusk. The sun had already set. The orange light that stretched across the horizon was fire. I could tell from the way it flickered, dark smoke curling upwards, forming alien shapes in the sky, backlit by the burning crops. The neighbours wouldn’t be happy about this.