10. Illusion
Chelsea
The days passed by in a blur.
None of them held any sort of significance. A few times, I asked Louise again for that sleeping drug. In some small corner of my mind, it scared me how much I wanted it. It felt like I would just shrivel up into a dried up husk if she didn't give it to me.
I needed it.
Because the nightmares continued to plague me.
And none of them were any less traumatic. Only the drug could numb my mind enough to take the pain away. It seemed like every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces – Megan's twisted grin, Jack's hateful scowl, Marissa's happy, laughing face.
They haunted my every thought, settled into the deepest corners of my mind. Once when I woke up, I could have sword I saw a pair of icy blue eyes peeking out at me from behind the door. But when I blinked, they were gone. Of course they were. Louise refused me any sort of medication that might numb me.
"I can't administer unnecessary drugs, Chelsea," she kept repeating over and over.
I tried crying, beginning, yelling, but it didn't get me anywhere. I concocted elaborate fantasies of sneaking out of my room and stealing someone's medication just to get a few hours of sleep.
The world around me gradually lost its color, and the simple action of breathing seemed like a chore. My heart kept up its persistence beating, though occasionally I willed it to stop. Of course, it didn't listen to me.
Stupid heart.
And this room was starting to drive me ever more crazy than I already was. The white walls, the lumpy mattress, that freaking painting on the wall . . . I had to get out. But when I voiced this thought to Louise, she calmly explained that I was in no condition to be released.
"Chelsea, you're . . . physically, you're alright," she said.
"Then let me out," I cried, "I can't take this place anymore . . ."
"Then go out. Go for a walk. Appreciate nature. There's a little garden behind the hospital," she snapped, irritated.
She saw the pain on my face and sighed. Her tone was much gentler when she spoke again. "Honey, I don't know what's happening or what you're dealing with right now. If you want, I can get people who will listen. There must be some decent physiatrists in this city . . ."
"A shrink?" For some reason, this comment infuriated me. "I don't need a shrink. I need to leave this hospital."
"And you will," Louise said, "As soon as you're better."
I'd stalked away from her angrily. I knew that they couldn't keep me here against my will. If I so chose, I could walk away, and there was nothing they could do about it. The idea was tempting. But though this place was a cage, in a sick way, it was also a haven.
Because out there, in the real world . . . Trouble was waiting for me. I was safe here. Safe from the horrors and the treachery. Logically, I knew I'd have to go back eventually. The thing was, I wasn't exactly thinking logically.
I was acting like a paranoid, depressed freak. And though I knew it, it wasn't something that would magically disappear. Though I wanted it to. Mostly for the people around me. Julia was still in the city, though I'd told her to go home several times. Elliot was probably going mad with worry at this point.
She'd stayed much longer than she'd said.
"He's just fine. I'm not leaving you here, Chelsea. Not while you're . . . like this."
She looked at me with a mixture of pity and confusion. Of course. To her, I had no reason to be fearful or sad. She didn't know anything about Megan; because I hadn't told her.
It was somewhat easy to deal with Julia, because she wasn't pressing me for information (probably because she feared I would have a nervous breakdown), and I sort of liked having her here, watching over me. This was selfish. She should be back on Sunshine Islands, where she belonged . . .
Where you belong, a tiny voice in my head whispered, and if you stay here for the rest of your life, what then? Your farm, your Islands, your friends, your marriage . . . it was all for nothing.
I collapsed onto my bed and tried to stop my fingers from trembling.
Shut up! I screamed at the voice.
I lay staring at the ceiling for a very long time, trying to think of nothing at all.
This has to stop, I told myself firmly, after this, you're going back to the Islands. You'll have your baby. And everything will be like it was before.
Now if only I could really believe it. I heard my door click open, and my eyes lazily darted towards it. Vaughn approached my bed, settling down next to me. I let him wrap his arms around me. I bit my lip as the trembling in my fingers spread to the rest of my body.
This was who I was hurting the most with my little show of sadness and depression. Every time he looked at me now, all I saw was concern and shame. Shame for what? I didn't know. Shame for me?
Did he wish that things were different? Was he starting to regret everything? Wish that he hadn't stopped me from going to the city and marrying Will? The idea made me sick. But we weren't exactly communicating these days. I wanted to talk desperately, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what he would want to hear.
Certainly not the truth.
"Louise says that we can leave in a few days," he said eventually. His tone was casual, but it lacked emotion. Like he was talking to a stranger.
"She finally gave up on me, huh?" I didn't mean for bitterness to creep into my voice, but it did.
"I guess." Vaughn's arms slid away.
He stared down at his hands. "We'll get to the Islands as soon as we can."
"That's great." I stared at his hands, too. He had long fingers. I wished they would touch me.
"But I was thinking . . ." He broke off, and took a deep breath.
"Yeah?" I prompted.
"I thought that maybe I would stay with Mirabelle in the Shop for a while."
He didn't make eye contact with me as he said this. I was glad, because he didn't see the sob catch in my throat. I inhaled sharply, too, and asked the obvious question. I spoke it softly, almost inaudibly. I was afraid to know the answer.
"Why?"
He glanced up at me, his expression unfathomable. It reminded me of the face he wore when I was first getting to know him. It was a damn long time before any emotion started showing.
"I think that the Islands will help you get better, Chelsea. Much better than this hospital could ever do. And I don't think you need me around to . . . discourage that."
"What do you mean? You've been nothing but wonderful."
A few tears escaped without my permission. I wished he wouldn't see, but I knew that he could. Thankfully, he pretended not to notice.
He shook his head. "No. I mean, yes. But I'm supposed to be, Chelsea. You deserve it. I just . . . You're so . . ."
You're so stupid! I shouted at myself. Can't you see how much this is hurting him?
He reached over and took my hand, squeezing it as he spoke. "You're just like I was."
My brows pulled together in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Before I . . . met you . . . I acted just like you do now. I was depressed, I was haunted . . . nothing mattered . . . Every night, the nightmares would come and torture me, and there wasn't a thing to be done about it. Death didn't seem like such a bad thing . . ."
He glanced up at me, so much emotion in his voice that my tears came faster.
"This is what I was afraid of," he whispered hoarsely, "This is what I knew would happen . . . if we were together. This is why I told you no, in the beginning. You told me that we could get through anything together, but . . . It was like I was sick, Chelsea. Like I had an honest-to-God illness. And not I've given it to you."
He dropped my hand like a hot potato. I wanted to console him, tell him that he was wrong, but I couldn't find my voice. Snot and tears had collected in my eyes and nose and throat.
"I should have let you go," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have gone after you that day in the rain. I should have let you leave for the city. I should have let you marry him."
That did it. Something inside me snapped, and my sadness morphed into fury. In a sick way, it was a pleasant change from the constant sadness; I hung onto it for all I was worth. How dare he say that to my face.
When he glanced at me again, I slapped him. Not hard, but enough for him to know how much he'd offended me. He jerked back, surprised at my violence.
"Don't you say that," I said, my voice low. I meant for it to sound sure and strong, but traces of the sob clung to it.
"Don't you ever say that to me. I wouldn't change it, not for anything in the world."
I leaned forward and gripped his face tightly between my hands. "Whatever this is eating at me, it will go away. I know it. I've just got to put some big girl pants on and deal with it."
I was confident I would feel better once we were back on the Islands. It was this damn city that was clawing at my heart. As for the nightmares . . . well. There wasn't much I could do about that.
Vaughn blinked, and made a halfhearted attempt to smile. It ended up as more of an odd grimace. I leaned my forehead against his.
"I need you right now," I said, "I need you to feel confident that we can deal with this, okay? No matter what. We can handle anything together."
I leaned back and added, "And it wouldn't have worked out between Will and me. He's too happy all the time."
Vaughn smiled, and this time it was genuine. "You prefer angst-ridden, somber men?"
"Yep." I laughed.
The sound was strange and foreign to me now, but at least it was real. "I gotta have my angst."
I wrapped my arms around him.
"I can't wait to go home and forget about this," I whispered. I kissed his cheeks, his nose.
"I love you."
I heard him sigh again, but this one was content and not sad. "I love you, too."
I kissed him then, long and hard. It had been too long.
"I'm hungry," I gasped when he pulled back.
He smirked. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Go get me something to munch on."
He nodded, and headed to the door. Just before leaving though, he turned.
"I went to Claire's a few days ago."
My eyes widened in surprise. "And?"
"And I told her everything."
I leaned back against my pillow, wondering what on earth would possess him to do that.
"Why?"
He smiled a little. "I thought it might make you happy."
The door clicked shut behind him.
The day I finally left the hospital, Louise gave me a big hug.
"Take care of yourself, Chelsea," she said in my ear, "and don't do anything stupid."
"I'll try." I thanked her for everything, and then we left.
Julia was thrilled to finally be leaving; she practically bounced up and down as she walked.
"So, are we finally going home?" she asked, unable to contain her excitement.
I smiled. "Yeah, finally."
"Yes! There's still so much to do. My wedding is supposed to be next week . . ."
A wave of guilt crashed over me. I had kept Julia waited and worrying during what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life. I promised myself that some way, somehow, I would make it up to her. She deserved a better friend than me.
"Still set on that, huh?" Vaughn rolled his eyes.
Julia smacked him playfully. The two of them seemed to be on better terms with each other, so that was something to celebrate. I took a deep breath and stared up at the clear blue sky. Free. I was free to go home and get on with my life, Megan be damned.
I refused to live the rest of my life in a cage of fear and depression. Damn it, I was going to go on, and be happy. I deserved that, and Vaughn deserved it, too. At that moment, I felt strong.
Invincible.
The pieces of my heart had been sewn back together, and I was determined to keep it that way. Marissa was dead. There was nothing to be done about it now. I could look back on her memory fondly, though I'd never actually met her myself.
I could move on.
We decided to have lunch before we left; we hadn't eaten anything for breakfast back at the hospital. Julia insisted that we go somewhere nice, since it would be out last meal in the city. I relished that word. Last. For all I cared, this city could disappear or turn into dust the moment I left it.
We entered a restaurant named Antonio's and ordered overly priced pasta. It was amazingly good, though. At one point, our waiter approached out table and asked us if we would like to sample their new wine.
We all agreed, and he gave us three glasses partially filled with the dark liquid. Vaughn was teasing Julia about her husband-to-be, so I could assume he was in a good mood. Halfway through my pasta bowl, I picked up the wine glass and held it to my lips.
It had a slightly bitter edge to it that was strangely good. Before I swallowed, Julia glanced at me disapprovingly. For a second, I was confused. And then it hit me. I'd seen those little square sings sticking on the mirrors of every public restroom in the world.
The letters were big, red and bold: Avoid alcohol during pregnancy. I glanced at Julia, silently willing her to keep Vaughn entertained for a moment. I turned my head and tried to inconspicuously tried to spit it out without being noticed.
When I returned my gaze to the table, they were both staring at me. Cursing inwardly to myself, I pretended to look bewildered.
"What?"
"Why'd you spit it out?" Julia asked, though I could tell she was inwardly cursing me, too.
"I, uh . . . don't like it," I lied.
"But you've had this kind of wine before at Nick's, Chelsea. How can you not like it?" Vaughn wondered.
"I just don't," I snapped, a little more sharply than I should have.
He frowned.
"It's, uh . . . bad for her," Julia muttered lamely.
Vaughn looked even more irritated now. "Why?"
"It mixes badly with the drugs."
"She hasn't had any in the past week."
Julia looked at me desperately, clearly out of excuses to make on my behalf.
I shook my head and sat down my fork. "Just drop it, Vaughn. Please."
He stared at me for a long time, and I refused to look away. Beside me, Julia was frozen. I didn't even hear her breathing. Under his intense scrutiny, I fidgeted tablecloth. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, and I suddenly felt slightly nauseous.
He knew. I could just tell.
And all because I'd make a stupid error that should have been obvious.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and cold. "Chelsea, could we talk outside for a moment?"
"Vaughn, don't be ridicul" – He silenced Julia with an icy glare.
I inhaled sharply and looked away. There would be no reasoning with him if this went on for much longer – I knew his temper could sometimes get the best of him. Sighing, I grudgingly stood and followed him out the restaurant's door.
He leaned against a wall and stared at the cars coming and going. In the distance, a horn blared three times. A cold breeze blew through the street, and I shivered. A long silence passed. Finally, he turned his head and looked at me, eyes cautious.
"Something you want to talk to me about?"
It was a question, but it sounded much more like a demand. I mentally contemplated all the different ways this conversation could go. I hadn't wanted him to find out just yet. I searched my brain for a lie that would sound reasonable. I found none. So – just because it might work – I decided to play dumb.
"No. What's wrong?"
I stared at the cars like he did. I risked a glance toward him, and wished I hadn't. He was glowering at me.
"Chelsea, you know damn well what's wrong."
"I don't," I lied again.
He opened his mouth to yell – and then he shut it again. His face drained of all color as sudden realization dawned on him.
"This is what Louise meant," he muttered to himself, "when she said you needed to get better, and not just for your sake. Julia wouldn't tell me, either . . ."
I swallowed thickly. No, there was no getting out of this. Denying it any longer would only piss him off more that he already was. Which was a considerable amount.
"I didn't want to tell you yet," I whispered, hoping my voice wasn't lost in the noise of the street. His hand went to his forehead, and his eyes closed.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because there's so much else for us to worry about. There doesn't need to one more added to the pile. I was going to tell when things . . . settled down a bit." My voice sounded desperate, and I couldn't stop it.
"I can't believe you did this. No matter what was going on, you should have told me. I would have dealt with it. I'm mean, it's good news, isn't?"
"Yes. I just . . ."
He stepped forward and gripped both my arms, not hard, but I couldn't exactly wriggle away, either.
"Chelsea, it has to stop." His eyes bored into mine, serious and solemn. "You keep lying to me. About Claire, about this, about everything. I . . . can't take it much longer."
I nodded, and I felt traitorous tears running down my cheeks.
"I know," I said, "I know. I'm not, I mean . . . I promise. No more lies. No matter what. I swear."
I managed to pull away from him and wipe away the tears. "I'm sorry. I love you, and I'm sorry."
I was sincere. I had never been more sincere in my life. I needed him to believe me. Never again would I hurt him with lies.
He stared down at me again for a minute, and then he sighed. His hands came up to cup my face.
"I know. It's okay. I'm sorry, too." He kissed my forehead.
The tears turned into a flat-out sob, and I hated it. I never used to cry so easily. I used to have more control over my own emotions.
"It's alright, we're okay," he murmured in my ear, "Everything's okay."
I was starting to get funny looks from the few people who were passing us on the sidewalk; I wiped at my face and pulled myself together.
Vaughn kissed my forehead again. "It's okay," he repeated.
I nodded, willing myself to believe it. He hesitated for a second, quietly deliberating. And then his hand came up to rest on my stomach.
"So. We're going to have a baby, huh?"
I snorted at his casual tone, but my voice was warm.
"Yeah. We are."
We agreed to let Julia go back to the Islands before we did; we still had to go back to the rented house and collect our things. She wanted to go home and see Elliot as soon as possible. I was eager, too, but I had a lot more things here than she did.
I promised to get Julia's few possessions and bring them to her. I would accompany Julia to the docks to make sure she got on there all right, and Vaughn would go back to the house and begin packing.
Our boat left an hour and a half after Julia's did. I was so excited to see Sunshine Islands. It felt like a lifetime had passed since I'd last seen in. And, in a way, it had been. I missed the people, my farm, my house, the Meadow . . . For just a moment, it seemed like everything would be fine. The worst was over.
And now we could go on.
Vaughn
I meant to hurry back to the house, but I was somehow sidetracked by the display in a small shop's window. A baby shop. The shock of realization in the restaurant still hadn't worn off, and my mind still hadn't fully grasped the news. It seemed like a strange, foggy dream. In what strange, alternate universe was I a father?
And I'd been angry at first; how could she have kept something like that from me? Obviously, I would have found out eventually. It wasn't like it was something you could easily hide. It hurt even more, knowing that she'd told Julia and not me.
Had Chelsea and I really drifted so far apart?
The thought was like tiny pinpricks of ice in my heart. Sighing, I shook my head and examined the tiny articles of clothing. How could there be a person small enough to fit in them? The idea of someone so tiny and fragile made me afraid, though I'd never admit it.
The whole idea was more than frightening; it was terrifying. But I was determined not to let Chelsea know I felt that way. Maybe I should feel guilty for that. But, considering how much she herself has been keeping things, my conscious wasn't exactly bothered.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and forced myself to continue down the sidewalk. I needed to stop thinking like that. I'd told her that everything was alright, and that I forgave her for all the lies. After all, she must have had her reasons.
But I was a grudge-holder by nature, and I could never let go of things easily, even for Chelsea. Still, I needed to try harder. Once we were finally back on Sunshine Islands, we could forget any of this had ever happened.
I walked slower than I should have on my way to the house; Chelsea was probably on her way back in a taxi by now. I hurried up the driveway and wrenched open the door.
From the moment I stepped inside, it felt like something was wrong.
Warily, my eyes darted around the living room. I saw nothing. Trying to convince myself it was nothing, I moved into the kitchen for a drink of water. By the time I was finished, I still couldn't shake off the feeling of eeriness crawling around me like a fog.
I looked out the little window above the sink and took a few deep breaths. And then I turned, ready to head upstairs and start packing our things. And, honest to God, time stopped. Because, suddenly, the reason for my cautiousness became clear.
Suddenly, I was staring into a pair of eyes that I had grown to despise.
Megan smiled lazily at me from the doorway, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Just seeing her brought on a white hot feeling of rage. Hundreds of violent thoughts whipped through my mind.
"Good afternoon, Vaughn. How are you doing?" Megan asked. Her voice was casual and polite, as if we were old friends.
I glared at her, and viciously spat, "Get out."
She snickered, and took a step toward me. She really needed to get out, and now. My fingers were twitching, and I eyed the long row of knives lined up next to the refrigerator.
"Why would I do that? We haven't spoken in so long." She glanced at the coffee machine, which was on and spurring. "Let's have some coffee and chat, shall we? I made some while you were gone."
I stalked forward until we were mere feet apart, glaring with murderous intent.
Megan frowned. "Don't try anything stupid, Vaughn. Really, it wouldn't be good for you, trust me. Not good for Chelsea, either."
I froze. "What about her?"
Megan shrugged and toyed with one of the buttons on her blouse. "I'm just saying, if we didn't talk like dignified people, it might have a negative effect on your wife. Is that what you what?"
I got in her face, gripped her arms as hard as I knew how and slammed her back against the wall.
"Where is she?" I hissed.
She glared at me, eyeing my hands with distaste. "You're upsetting me, Vaughn, which is also not good for you."
"Tell me where she is right now."
"I won't."
"I'll kill you if you don't." I meant it.
She shrugged, like that didn't matter. "If you do, then you'll never find her. And she'll die, just like me. Now, let go of me so we can speak, and then I'll see what I can do about getting her back to you safely."
I paused, deliberating. There was nothing in this world I wanted to do more than slit her throat with one of the kitchen knives. She might be lying about Chelsea. But what if she wasn't? I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled, and I pried my hands off her arms and stepped back.
Megan smiled. "Good," she crooned, like I was a dog that had just obeyed a command from its master.
She gestured to the table. "Sit, while I pour the coffee."
Glowering, I took a seat without taking my eyes off her.
"What the hell do you want to talk about?" I snarled.
Megan smiled a little, and poured coffee into two cups.
"How do you like it?" she asked, ignoring my question.
"Goddamn it, I don't care."
"I see."
She pulled two packets of sugar from her purse and poured them into each cup. Then she set a cup in front of me and moved to sit across from me at the table. She held the cup between both of her hands.
"So, tell me, Vaughn. Were you upset when your sister died?"
I gathered up a mouthful of spit and blood and literally spat in her face. She jerked backward in surprise, glaring at me as she wiped it away from her face.
"That," she hissed, "was a mistake. She'll pay for it later, I promise you."
"No, she won't. You will not touch her."
"Answer the question," Megan snapped.
"Yes," I sneered, "Of course I was. What do you know about her?"
She waved my words away. "She was murdered, right? By your stepfather?"
My face drained of all color. "How do you know about that?"
"That's not your concern. To tell her the truth, her death inconvenienced me." She winced, annoyed.
"Really? So sorry you were inconvenienced."
"He shouldn't have done it." Megan sighed. "He should have had better control. He wouldn't be where he is today if he could have held it together. He shouldn't have married her . . ."
"How did you know Jack? My mother? Marissa? Me? How is any of this connected to you?"
She shook her head. "You might have known, had you paid better attention when you were growing up. But, no, you were far too busy with all your new toys. Marissa, though . . . she wasn't like that. She was a stubborn little brat. And, in the end, it killed her."
Something inside of me snapped. My hand shot out across the table and wrapped around her throat. How dare she say that about my sister. Megan made a choking sound, and she clawed at my hand, which was squeezing.
"Chelsea," she reminded me, her voice distorted.
I hesitated. God, all I would have to do was squeeze a little harder . . . But no. No. I couldn't do that to Chelsea. The image of her, lying dead somewhere, was too much to bear. Life would cease to have meaning, and I'd surely follow in her footsteps soon after.
I wrenched my hand away from her and gripped the edge of the table. Megan started coughing and gasping for air, and I relished the sight.
When she finally regained her composure, she spat, "Another mark against you, Vaughn. You're not a very careful man. Perhaps that had something to do with her death as well."
I saw red, but I forced myself to remain still. Barely. Megan lifted her mug to her lips, and gestured for me to do the same. I swallowed two mouthfuls of the bitter stuff before shoving it away.
"I won't talk about Marissa," I growled, "She's dead."
"So she is," Megan murmured, "And so is Vivian."
"Yes. My mother is dead, too. So?"
"So. That pleases me." She smiled a little, but then her eyes darkened. "But he's dead, too. Or, he might as well be."
"Yeah." I grinned maliciously.
Her eyes narrowed. I leaned back in the chair, suddenly feeling very relaxed . . . which was strange. I shouldn't be relaxed.
"I know how stressful this little trip to the city must have been for the both of you," Megan said, her voice oddly quiet, "But, I can promise you that it will all be over shortly."
A short silence passed as we stared each other down. It occurred to me that I was almost sleepy now. In fact, my eyelids were starting to droop. Why . . . . ?
"Yes," Megan whispered, "Sleep, Vaughn. I have to go deal with your lovely wife. When you wake up, though, we'll finish this for good. And I can move on with my life."
I was fighting the sleepiness so hard. But I . . . couldn't . . . for much . . . longer . . . What was doing this? Realization suddenly dawned on me, and my eyes slid to the coffee.
Damn it.
She said that I'd wake up, though, so maybe it was only a sleeping drug. With the last of my energy, I leaned forward, and punched her dead in the face. Just because I could.
She fell out of the chair, and I saw through blurry vision that blood was gushing from her nose, and her eyes were watering. She glared at me, and I heard just one more thing before I passed out.
"He should have finished you, too."
A/N: So. Hi! I've officially come out of my long hibernation, I swear it. Really. I fully intend on finishing what I started. No more insanely long breaks.
I meant to get this up a LONG time ago, but was I was having major issues with my FF account. Ugh!