Eugenia part 38

Read part 37 here!

The light outside my barred window had not emerged when the doors opened on the day I couldn’t remember. Small hands found their way to my face, gently tracing the bruises on my face.

There were voices somewhere, but I couldn’t see anything. It felt as though I was submerged in Bluff’s tub. Reasonably, I assumed that was where I was. The pain had become so great that I had begun to hallucinate. I was just imagining being in my box.

Meg.

Go away.

Meg, you have to get up.

Get up from what? I have will. The Senator must take my head out of this water.

Meg, open your eyes.

In the water? No. No thank you. I think I’ll just stay here…

“MEG LAUREN CARROWAY, YOU WILL STAND UP THIS VERY INSTANT.”

Suddenly, I no longer found myself in the pool of water. “M-mom?” I whispered, my eyes still closed. I could feel the cool cement underneath me now. So I was in my box. Or maybe I was dead.

“Am I dead?” I asked aloud.

Someone sighed. “No, Meg, you are not dead. But we all will be if you don’t get a move on this instant.”

Finally, I opened my eyes. Sure enough, there she was, my still very platinum blonde neuroscientist mother. She was standing over me, holding a flashlight to her face as if to prove she was there. I closed my eyes again. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Bluff.” I muttered. “My mom stopped caring about me when I failed that stupid test. Hallucinations are supposed to make a little sense.”

Another sigh. This sigh was deeper. “Meg, honey, please come with us.”

“Dad?” With a groan, I sat up, which seemed to be a bad idea, as my head spun painfully. “Ok. What the hell is going on.”

“You rescued me, now I’m rescuing you.” Said a small voice beside me. I cracked open one swollen eye to glance at my sister. Was I hallucinating or not?

Deciding that I was dreaming instead of hallucinating, I allowed my father to help me to my feet and my mother to hand me a bottle of water. My dream self was very much satisfied with the way the water ran down my dream throat.

My dream family and I raced down the hallway, not stopping at any of the rooms along the way. I supposed this would not be a nightmare, something I was grateful for.

My dream self then lost consciousness, which was odd, it being a dream. Then my dream self woke up in a very soft bed, very much in pain. Maybe it would be a nightmare after all.

My dream self opened her eyes, looking up at a light purple ceiling. Emma’s ceiling was purple, although my dream self was in too much pain to move her neck to check if that was, in fact, where we were.

“She’s awake. Get Gina and Ray.” A voice commanded. “Meg? Can you hear me?”

“I’m not awake.” I slurred. “I’m dreaming.”

“Meg?” My mother’s voice now appeared. “Meg, honey, you’re not dreaming. You’re home. We brought you home.” Her voice broke with a sob.

This wasn’t right. My mother didn’t cry. What kind of dream was this? I wanted to comfort her, but I could move anything.

Deciding to test the preparedness of this dream, I simply said “Ow.” and waited.

“Are you in pain?” Asked the first voice.

“Ow.” I repeated.

“Get her some more morphine. She’s obviously not in a state to converse normally.” That was my father’s voice.

“D-dad?” I asked as I felt my lids go heavy again.

“Yes?” he asked gently. I still couldn’t see any of the people whom the voices belonged.

“It was the damned… math that got me. Question 17 and 34. That’s where the…” my voice got thick, but I had to tell him, even if it was a dream. “…the five points went. That’s why I failed. I…” The darkness was closing in, but I struggled against it. “I used to skimp on my math flashcards at night. I would read…books from the library…in-instead.”

My father chuckled wearily. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. Everything is going to be alright.”

My dream self drifted. It must have been a long night, because Bluff did not take me to another room. Maybe I was getting a day off.

When my dream self woke again, there was significantly less pain. My eyes opened to the same purple ceiling. Maybe this was a coping mechanism. Maybe Bluff was torturing me, but I was so far gone that I was imagining being here.

“Ow?” asked the voice from beside me that I still could not place.

“Less ow.” I admitted. “Can I…sit up?” Without waiting for an answer, I used both my hands to grab onto the comforter, dragging my upper body into a sitting position.

Two strong hands -my father’s hands- helped position me. I looked at him. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Emma’s room. You’re home.”

I shook my head, which was a bad idea. My dream self’s head pounded. “No. I’m in my box. Or maybe in one of the other boxes with bamboo shoots under my fingernails.” My dream self inspected her nails. They were red underneath, and some had even managed to turn purple and black.

“No, honey. You’re home. You’re home.” My dad’s voice shook, which was even more shocking that my mom’s earlier on in the dream.

I frowned at him. “I wouldn’t say no to dream food, though.” I tried. He smiled tiredly at me.

“Luke?” He asked the other voice. “Can you get her some soft fruit? And water, I think.”

“Yes, sir.” The other voice-Luke- said.

A third voice appeared. “How is she?” It came from where I assumed the doorway was.

“She’s alright, Decklan.”

“Does she still think it’s a dream?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause before the third voice spoke again. “Meg?”

I smiled, finally turning my head. Dream Decklan was, in fact, standing in the dream doorway of Emma’s room. “Hi, Decklan.”

He smiled back at me, but his eyes were worried. “What did he do to you, Meg?”

“You mean what is he doing to me.” I corrected him. He shook his head but waited for an answer. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t care. Tell me.”

I sighed. “First there was the taser. Lots of it. Then there was the sticks under my nails,” I held up my hands as a visual aid, “and then there was the water. And the simulated drowning. And sometimes he would just hit me.”

Decklan’s eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, the first voice -Luke, his name was Luke- came in, carrying a bowl of diced fruit. He smiled at me, but I didn’t return it. Who was he?

“Here. Eat, you look starved.” He thrust the bowl at me questioningly. Wondering why I didn’t smile back. Then he turned to my father, who was also watching me carefully. “Emma is coming with the water. She insisted on it.”

I brightened, sticking a piece of pineapple in my room. I even got to see Emma in this dream! And what a wondrous dream it was.

Emma walked in then, carefully holding a large cup of water, complete with a lid and straw. “I don’t want you to accidentally spill something.” She told me seriously.

I almost reminded her that it was a dream and it wouldn’t really hurt anything, but decided instead to take a long gulp and eat more dream fruit.

“Meg.” Luke looked me straight in the eyes. “What will it take to convince you that this is not a dream?”

Finally, I recognized him. Luke. Then, Decklan… I looked at him, remembering everything. The road trip. The fight.

Sitting back, hard, on my pillows, I pouted. “Ugh. I suppose it isn’t a dream.” Everyone in the small room stared at me. “A dream wouldn’t be this dramatically complicated.” I glared at Decklan. Even he laughed with relief as the air in the room lightened.

“So what happened?” I asked them, helping myself to more fruit.

“Let me tell her!” Emma begged, tugging on our father’s pant let. He smiled indulgently, an expression that I’d never seen there before, and nodded.

“When they brought me back to mom and dad… wait, no. First I lied like you told me to, and they believed me because I was pretending to cry really hard and they didn’t want to have to deal with me.” she puffed her chest out with pride as everyone laughed again. “Then they brought me back here. And I told mom and dad the truth. They were really angry at first, but then I called Jon and made him come tell them what was going on. Then Jon called Decklan and Andy and Luke. Then they all followed Bluff around until they found the gray hallway place. Then they told mom and dad and the three of us rescued you. Dad let me punch one of the guards.” If it were possible for the little girl to puff her chest out any more, she certainly would have.

I nodded. “Wow. Thank you.” I smiled at everyone in turn, including my mother, who had appeared again. “Sorry for not believing you at first. It’s been a wearing… how long has it been?”

The boys shifted uncomfortably. “It’s been almost two weeks. We’re so sorry, Meg.” Jon popped up from behind my mother. “Bluff’s a slippery fellow. But as soon as we found you we got you out.”

Shaking my head, I helped myself to more of the fruit. “It’s not that big a deal. I bet I stopped really registering anything by the third day. It could have been months and I wouldn’t notice the difference.” Everyone in the room cringed. “Do you guys have any more solid food? Like toast or something?” Everyone raced from the room to comply. My father stayed, however, to sit by my bed.

“Meg.” He didn’t look me in the eyes, instead concentrating on holding my hand. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should have… I didn’t mean…”

I reached over to pat his hand. “It’s ok, dad. I get it. I know about Lisa.”

“Wha- who told you about Lisa?”

“Malia, the bookkeep.”

My father sighed. “She would. That doesn’t make what I put your girls through right.”

I shook my head again. “It wouldn’t have mattered, dad. I would have failed either way. I don’t have that kind of intelligence. You can’t teach for an IQ test.”

Dad didn’t say anything for a little bit. “The boys, with help from Emma, explained to us what you’ve been doing. What really happens after the test…” he trailed off, horror reflected in his tired brown eyes. “We want to help. Your mother and I. We never really got to be parents to you, we wasted so much time… but we want to make up for that.”

I was too tired to continue to be surprised about the affection my normally cold parents were showing. It wasn’t worth puzzling over; I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Continued in part 39!

(Author’s note- this was my favorite chapter to write BY FAR. For some reason writing from the perspective of someone who’s completely lost it is really easy for me. Someone call the men with straightjackets.)