Page 10 of Sinful Embers

I glance around the room. “If you’re listening. This is not cool. You seem to have done your homework on the foods I like but your data is out of date about what I like to drink. Sure, I love coffee, but I gave it up a week ago as I l realized I liked it a bit too much and my father’s an addict, so I reasoned I’d also have addiction tendency’s, so I gave up coffee.” I push the cup aside. “I’ve replaced it with low to no-caffeine herbal teas. They’re also better for the stress headaches I get and help me sleep better.”

I feel like a complete nut job talking to the room, but I know they’re there somewhere watching and listening to me. I’m like a goldfish in a fucking glass bowl. When I finish eating, I place everything except the water back on the trolley. My movements are mechanical, my mind racing. I wheel the trolley to the marked spot, careful to align it exactly as instructed. If I am pregnant, I won’t risk doing anything that could harm the baby.

I won’t be like my mother, I’ll be better!That thought hits me like a slap, and a sudden ache blooms in my skull. I clutch my head as a sharp pain radiates through it.

“What the fuck!” I exclaim through gritted teeth. “My mother was a good mother…” Fragmented pieces of memory feel like someone flipped a box filled with broken images and scattered them across my brain. Nausea rises and I start to feel giddy. I stagger over to the edge of the cot and sit. “Wasn’t she?”

Rubbing my temples I try to piece the images together. My memory of her in the warm, sunny studio begins to morph, andthe room I remember slips away as if it were never there. A mirage covering something darker.

Where are they, you fucking little bitch?A sharp sting blisters the skin on my cheek and my hand flies to it the memory is so real.I would never have had you if it hadn’t been stipulated in that fucking marriage contract. All you are, is my golden key to ensuring I stay living in this life of luxury!

Something warm trickles from my nose. I push myself up and grab some toilet tissue dabbing at it as my nose starts to sting. I look at the tissue—blood.

“Great. A fucking nosebleed.” I grab some more toilet tissue and press it to my nostrils. As I sit back on the cot, trying to stop the bleeding, my mind churns.Just who the hell was my mother really?My brow creases as I try to remember more but the shards of memories pop and disappear just giving me more pain in the head and nose.

Closing my eyes I do some more breathing exercises to try and relax—clear all thought from my mind. But as I begin to relax I feel a twinge behind my eyes right before my memories of mother crack open, splintering like an eggshell. Only the center is rotten—putrid. I see her face—she’s beautiful but I know it masks the ugliness within her.

I can hear her voice—low, seductive, sultry and she sings like an angel only her mouth is venomous as a snake. She loves to slap me in the face delighting at the redness and then basking in any bruising it may have caused—Vivienne wasn’t the warm, happy, loving mother of my broken mind—she’s more evil than the queen in Snow White. Only Vivienne didn’t have poison apples she had poison crossbow bolts.

My eyes shoot open and shoot upright, ignoring the pain slicing through my head. I push the sleeve of the scrubs up to unveil my arm—“It was a bolt that went through the top of your arm. It poisoned your system, sweetheart.”

I run my fingers over the smooth mushroomed flesh of the scar and turn my arm to see where it had gone right through.Fuck, it was a poison arrow that went through my arm.Realization makes my stomach churn as I try to remember who shot me with the arrow. I close my eyes trying to recall what happened, but I’m met with darkness this time.

Frustration coils through me and my hands ball into fists, my nails biting into the soft flesh of my palms. Why is it when I don’t want to remember—bam! They slap me in the face and then when I try it just nothing. A black screen systems failure.

I rub my temples, trying to make sense of the chaos that is my mind. The door slides open, jolting me out of my spiraling thoughts. The masked person enters, their movements quick and purposeful. They place an ice pack and a bottle of aspirin on the table without a word.

“For the headaches and nosebleeds,” they say, their modulated voice reminiscent of the robotic tones from old sci-fi movies.

They check the trolley, ensuring everything is as it was, then wheel it out. The door slams shut, the bolts sliding into place with a metallic clang.

Frustration and confusion swirl within me, merging into a tidal wave of anger. “Fuck, why all the security?” I snap, glaring at the walls. “You’ve got me chained so I can’t reach the fucking door anyway. Not just chained—chained with a shock shackle. Who do you think I am? Fucking Houdini?”

“Come now, Leigh.” The distorted voice makes me jump. “You must’ve realized by now that we’ve been watching you for a very long time.”

My spine stiffens as their words sink in. “You’ve been watching me?” I demand, my voice rising. “Why?”

“You’re very important to us,” the voice replies calmly.

“Why am I important?” Alarm bells ring in my head, competing with the pounding headache.

“You’re the key to getting us everything we want.”

The voice fades, but their words linger in the air, casting a dark shadow over the room. As silence fills the space, another memory crashes into me.All you are, is my golden key to ensuring I stay living in this life of luxury!

And just like that I’m nearly bowled over by the tsunami of memories that flood my mind:

Images of me screaming at Vivienne:“I hate you, Vivienne. You’re nothing more than a fucking psycho whore!”The memory hits me with the force of a train.Vivienne.I didn’t call her mom. I called her Vivienne.

“Oh, my God! I didn’t love her at all. I hated her!” I whisper to the empty room. My voice trembles, barely audible as I feel the resentment for the woman that birthed me fill my veins.

More memories flood in, disjointed and cruel. Mark’s face appears, kind and patient. I’m younger, laughing as he pushes me on a swing.Push me higher, Uncle Mark!

“Uncle Mark?” I murmur, my voice breaking. “What the fuck?”

My eyes spring open. I stagger over to the table, grab a bottled water, swallow the aspirin, and take the ice back with me back to the cot. Lying back I pull the tissue from my nose and put the ice pack on my head as I will the aspirin to work quickly to dull the now pounding ache in my head.

Before I know it I’m drifting off into my disjointed memories of my past.

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