Chapter 16

...

"Four weeks! Four weeks without a fucking word! What am I supposed to do?"

The voice was familiar, so achingly familiar I wanted to cry. Or scream. I was in a room, our room, listening to my parents have the same fight they had every night my father was home since I was old enough to remember.

"It's my job, Lyndsay, my job," Dad shouted back. Like it meant something. Even now I never understood why he didn't just invoke his Expiscor and allow us to live without hearing all their stupid fights. But he never bothered. I pushed down my treacherous anger and tried to get my bearings.

I wasn't me. When I glanced around the room, it wasn't with eyes. But somehow I was there, watching me and Dana sit on the floor and listen to our parents fight.

"She needs to stop yelling at him," Dana announced. If I had a body, I would have been crying. There was my big sister, all of eight years old, combing out my younger self's hair like I was a human sized Barbie. "He won't come back if she keeps yelling."

Little Gillian nodded absently. She wasn't paying attention—she was thinking about the stuffed dog Daddy had brought back from his trip and how soft it's fur was...

"I'm going to name it Spotty," she announced. Dana laughed.

"That's a silly name. He doesn't even have spots," she pointed out with big sister logic.

Little Gillian frowned and I could say the words along with her. "But Daddy bought him at far away Spot."

"Don't be a silly Jilly. That wasn't it's name."

"That's not what Mommy said."

I cringed, knowing what was coming. Dana's taunt—because big sister's always knew better—was cut off as Daddy shouted down below.

"You fucking whore!"

"If my husband was home I wouldn't have to—Randy, get back here. I didn't—get back here. Randy!"

The shouting continued, but the tiny blond girls just stared at each other in the mirror. Finally, Dana got up from the floor and closed the door. The voices were still shouting, but it was muffled. Why, it could have just been the TV...

"He won't stay if she keeps yelling," Dana pronounced.

There was no familiarity anymore. One second I was watching Dana and the next I was in a strange room, much nicer than the previous one. I was watching a dark haired girl, ear pressed up against a door, desperately trying to hear what was going on inside. Her currently angular face was rounder, but I had no trouble recognizing Savannah. Her blue eyes were unmistakable.

A sinking feeling went through me. A trip down memory lane seemed even less pleasant now. If I could see Savannah's memories, could she see mine? Panic sprang up, suffocating me. It got worse, a whole lot worse before it got better. In fact, it didn't get better...

Little Savannah scrambled away from the door and tried to hide behind a well-worn sofa as two people came through. One, I immediately recognized as Eve Levine, if only because her daughter looked so much like her now. The man with her I didn't recognize, but I knew he was a client by the way he looked at Eve, like she was some sort of tool.

The man spotted the child behind the couch. "Who the hell is that? You said there wasn't going to be anyone around?"

"You're concerned about a kid? Stop being paranoid."

The student turned away so quickly that Eve and I were both left gaping. He had his hand on Savannah's wrist, yanking her to her feet, shouting, tell her she better keep her fucking mouth shut or—

That was as long as he had until Eve's mother bear instincts took over. I don't know how she managed to get the man off her daughter so quickly, but I frankly found it terrifying.

Little Savannah rubbed her wrists and as she cried she said, "Mommy, I can't see."

Eve grinned at that and slammed her fist into the man's face. Stepping back she cast an energy bolt, catching the guy in the gut. He was out cold, but still alive—Eve checked his pulse to be sure. She kicked him once in the stomach for good measure. Something cracked, but she didn't seem at all concerned.

Hurrying to her daughter's side, Eve kissed the tiny wrists. "Savannah, why don't you go into my room and put on a movie? I'll get us ice cream. With chocolate sauce."

"Really?" Savannah gasped, tears drying instantly.

"Really," Eve promised. "But you have to promise to keep your eyes closed until you get to my room."

Savannah hesitated, but the call of ice cream was too strong. "Okay."

"Good," Eve said and watched with a smile as her daughter slowly made her way to the door. The second it closed, the smile disappeared. Something bad had happened to that man and customers quickly learned if you fucked with Eve Levine's daughter you didn't have long to live.

I knew the next scene too well to want to watch it again. Desperately, I tried to break free of this, to find Savannah, but I couldn't seem to escape my state of nothingness. Savannah had to be here, somewhere, so I cried out for her, asking her to talk back.

There was no answer as Dana entered the tiny living room where a younger me—ten years, four months, and....damn, I couldn't remember the days, though I had been much more conscientious back then—was curled up on the couch, watching music videos.

"He's here again," Dana announced angrily.

"I know," little Gillian said. She knew too well, having caught them kissing on her way through the door. But saying that would just make Dana angrier.

"It's disgusting. She's so old and he's—I don't like him at all."

The girls were agreed on this front. Mom's boyfriend was big and hairy and always smelt like sausages. He pinched their cheeks and thought they were there to entertain him. He had none of Dad's quiet patience and he made their mom act all silly.

"At least she stopped crying," Gillian tried to point out.

Dana didn't like that. "It's like she doesn't miss Dad anymore. I can't believe she just left him. I can't wait until he comes to tell her off."

They had waited; they waited so long for him to come get them. And he never did. Not until he came to take Gillian to the funeral. But those girls didn't know that and I couldn't cry for them anymore.

The old familiar loyalty was sweeping through Gillian. It was their mother's fault for leaving, of course it was her fault, but Dad hadn't helped them either.

"We won't have to go back to the food bank any more if he's around," Gillian said, eyes still fixed to the screen.

They never talked about the food banks, but it was a source of great embarrassment. That was why Dana bit her lip and didn't answer right away. Because at least they didn't have to go back...

A giggle came from the kitchen.

"She's such a fucking embarrassment," Dana said bravely. She was twelve, swearing was no big deal to her, but she had to make Gillian see that this was very humiliating, the way their mother was carrying on.

Gillian, for her part, tried not to let it show how much it bothered her. She was used to hearing profanity—it was practically the only thing the Boyfriend knew how to say. But that didn't mean she liked hearing it used about her mother.

Dana carried on, "She better realize that soon or I'm going to have to do something."

"No, you don't have to do anything, nothing, baby, just stay," I babbled, trying to reach out, reach back, trying desperately to tell her now what I didn't know I had to say then. "It's not that bad, you have me, and I love you and you're safe, please, don't do anything."

"Gillian?"

Savannah's voice echoed and I tried to respond, as little me was slowly convinced that Dana had a good plan for getting rid of the dreaded boyfriend.

"What the fuck is going on?"

I thought the words, sending them out, "I don't know. But we have to stop it."

"I'm open to any suggestions."

I felt Savannah's horror, even before I could recognize my surroundings. Underground, a hallway, and a hell of a lot commotion.

Her panic was overwhelming and I knew then that shear power wouldn't work to get us out. If it had been at all possible, then Savannah would have done it by now. She did not want to revisit this memory.

Eve was casting a cover spell on Savannah as the elevators at the end of the hallway opened. Two men got out, talking, but not for long as Eve took them out without breaking sweat. That's when I realized what this was. Eve Levine had been placed under observation once in her life—she hadn't survived her escape attempt.

Savannah was screaming as Eve finished off the guards, pulling the younger Savannah back into the elevator, even as the girl complained about not being able to see.

"Try casting," I told Savannah. "The portal spell. Close the portal, stop the memories."

It sounded good in theory, at least. I began chanting with her, but it wasn't working. Eve was getting off the elevator and Savannah's casting came even faster, the words a massive jumble as she tried to will herself away from the scene. It didn't work.

Eve was hit a guard with a right hook, her back to the approaching danger. Savannah screamed as Eve turned just in time to see the gun pointed at her face. The younger Savannah joined the screaming as the gun went off and the bullet rushed straight at her mother.

"Mom? Mom? Mom!" I wasn't sure who was screaming only that the desperation broke my heart. There was nothing we could do. This had already happened. We were just passing through.

The screaming was from behind the door and it gave Savannah and I a chance to talk. I knew what this memory would be, had been afraid of its arrival since I saw the first one. So I tried to keep myself focused on Savannah and calming her down. It took a while, but she hated being weak and so she pretended she was fine as we tried out whatever spells we could think of.

Neither of us could see the other, but more importantly, neither of us felt our spell casting power deplete. No matter what we said, we didn't seem to be able to actually cast spells, just say the words.

I kept my mind on trying to escape ignoring the fight the twelve year old me was listening to from the top of the stairs. I could say the empty insults in my sleep. The mother/daughter fight happened every day for years. This time wasn't anything different.

That wasn't true. There were some differences. He was lying in bed, naked, his amusement having been cut short by Dana's late arrival home. Mom was desperate to get back, to keep him happy, so he wouldn't leave...he'd been eyeing that girl at the grocery store for weeks now and she couldn't lose him...

Dana's words were slurred. Alcohol was not your friend when you had no body fat to speak of and she had been partying hard the past while. She even took Gillian sometimes—twice. Gillian didn't like many of Dana's friends, but a high school party was a high school party and she went every time Dana extended the invitation.

"It's not working, Gillian," Savannah sighed. "What now?"

"Dana says she's going away and not coming back. She doesn't need her. She hates her. I swear to god you're never going to see me again you middle-aged whore. Never again." I don't think my voice broke. "Then she comes upstairs."

I watched as Dana did just that. He came out of the room to console Mom, telling her that getting him off would help distract her. Dana didn't mean that. Dana was just a fifteen year old kid...where could she possibly go? All teenagers said stuff like that...

"I need you to focus, Gillian," Savannah said. She was trying to be helpful; she couldn't stay distracted, but she knew it was better if you could block it out. I tried.

Little Gillian didn't know what to say. Dana wouldn't leave her. Dana was her hero and Gillian needed her. Dana, where are you going? You can't go, I need you. Dana, this is stupid. Mom's just in a mood...it'll be better tomorrow, just wait...please...

"You're so fucking stupid, Gillian! It's never going to get better as long as he's around and I just can't take it anymore. I don't need her..."

There was a bag on the bed and Gillian was crying and Dana didn't care, caught up in her grand plan, finally spreading the wings her mother had been trying to clip for years. Adrenaline and alcohol ran through her system, pushing her onwards. She loved Gillian, but couldn't her sister see? If she stayed there, she'd become just like that bitch, the bitch who drove Daddy away. And Dana wouldn't be like her in anyway.

"Right," I tell Savannah as Gillian grabbed onto Dana's arm, crying and begging her to stay. "Right. Maybe we should try more blood?"

"Unfortunately, I can't find my body let alone a—fuck!"

Dana slapped Gillian right across the face and Gillian finally let go. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...sorry..." Dana mumbled as she stumbled out of their room. Gillian could only hold her cheek and sob. And then Dana was running down the steps, Dana was opening the door, Dana was gone...and Dana was never coming back.

"Sorry," Savannah apologized but I wasn't listening. I was staring at Gillian as she stumbled backwards against the wall and collapsed, curling up into a tiny ball and waiting for someone to comfort her. No one came.

Sixty-two days later, Dad knocked on the door and told me Dana was dead. It took him four hours to convince me otherwise. I never forgave either of my parents. I never forgave myself. And I never saw my sister again.

Savannah informed me I was repeating myself and I tried to snap out of it. We were in a different house, yet again, and the chaos around us was overwhelming. Savannah took one look and shrugged.

"This was when Kristof tried to take custody of me and Paige and I just fucked up everything we touched. At this point I think he's killed her so I try and summon Mom to help and accidently summon every other demon on the planet before she gets there. And then I bring the house down."

Killing Kristof Nast. Whoever was picking these memories obviously didn't know Savannah very well. She didn't mind Kristof, but Eve was everything to her daughter. Kristof was inconsequential.

We tried more spells. Communication spells, first to Leech and Grant for proximity and then to Bryce because he was a fellow caster. Nothing worked.

"Maybe we just have to wait it out," I suggested. That didn't seem likely, but really, there were only so many horrible memories, even between the two of us. Savannah hated that plan, but she couldn't think of anything else.

"Wow, I can't believe I managed to summon that. Awesome," she said as the demon killed someone else. I sighed and tried not to watch the carnage, preparing myself for the next memory, knowing it wouldn't be pleasant.

The younger Savannah's pain radiated outward, but I tried to keep my pity to myself. Savannah didn't want it. She never wanted it.

Kristof was down in the basement, unaware that he was about to get beamed in the head when a house collapsed on him. There was more shouting and then I saw Paige coming down the stairs, younger and, well, chubbier than she was now. Savannah made a crack about her skirt as we waited for the memory to end.

"See, sweetheart? Paige is fine."

"You killed her! You killed her!"

Kristof tried to hug his daughter. I couldn't see why it didn't work, besides the fact Savannah liked being difficult sometimes. But then I caught a glimpse of the younger Savannah's unseeing eyes and it suddenly occurred to me that maybe Thomas has a good reason to hate his granddaughter.

Her hand went up and Kristof was flying through the air, right into the wall. He hit it, hard, and lay there like a ragdoll.

Paige was talking to the young Savannah who didn't hear her. My Savannah made no response either.

"Savannah," I repeated, fear growing inside of me.

"I really killed him," she said slowly.

"It was an accident," I said, echoing Paige. I knew it wouldn't make a difference, but I had to say something. "You didn't mean to."

"I killed him," she repeated. "I lifted my arm and killed him. He never said—he never told me I killed him." Her voice started to rise, filled with anger and guilt. "He didn't tell me. He should have told me. I killed him."

She didn't see the rest of the scene. Blinded by guilt, she didn't see anything for a long time.

Her pain was my life preserver and I latched onto it as the past continues to roll by. We watched my father trying to tell me Dana was dead and I ignored that and tried to tell Savannah it was okay. Her memories dissolved into fights for her life. Painful, yes, but nothing that rips your heart over burning coals. I was grateful—she'd had enough.

Kristof...she never actually thought she'd done anything. She couldn't remember, but Paige had said it wasn't her fault and Savannah believed Paige. That's what gave her the strength to look down her nose at her half-brother, because he was an idiot for thinking she had done anything wrong.

My memories just keep getting worse. There was my father disappearing and worse, there was my father being found. There were the nights I spent listening to him scream in his sleep and the day I graduated high school and came home and he asked me to help him...and I almost did. There was me going to therapy, lying as best I could, just so Paige would feel like she had done something for me, even though she never quite believed me. There was disappointing everyone I met, even as I hated them all because they weren't Dana.

And then, if possible, it got weirder.

I got old. Fast. My face was lined, my cheeks were gaunt...I must have been five to ten years older than I was now. I had no idea what this memory was. It couldn't have been real. Savannah and I had gone to plenty of graveyards together, but usually she didn't have to hold me up.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Savannah said.

"I couldn't talk to the bitch when she was alive, I should at least say something when she's dead." Gillian's voice was slurred. From grief and decay. I pratically looked homeless, my clothes were so awful, but my clothes were a hundred times better than my face. Savannah shook her head but said nothing, just pulled me along until we came to the appropriate grave.

It was my mother's.

At first, I didn't realize it was grief that I was feeling. In relation to my mother, it wasn't a felling I ever expected to have. But the pressure on my heart stunned me. I never wanted to see her again, but I didn't want her to die, either. Among the chaos and the screams, there had been some good times. And now there was...

My sorrow joined the cacophony of pain that was surrounding us. And there was still no way to escape it. The scene dissolved, my image dissolving into Sean.

Savannah was shouting at him—screaming, really. I tried to listen, pay attention, but it was a lot harder when it was her in the scene. I couldn't feel it as instinctively, didn't know the lines of the play. I could only catch flashes of what she was feeling, whenever my Savannah's rage and grief subsided.

The two siblings were fighting about something. I couldn't actually tell what as they were mostly just blaming each other—actually, Sean was blaming Savannah. For the death of their grandfather, it sounded like. Names flew back and forth, Thomas and Cain and Edmund and I didn't understand the half of it. It was ugly, especially since Savannah always seemed to portray Sean as the kind of guy who just couldn't yell at you. Well Mr Nice Guy was not only getting angry, he was getting hateful. Savannah was trying not to cry by the time the two siblings faded away.

There I was. Holding a baby.

The other me (future me?) was talking to her daughter, cooing and humming over her. If I had been corporeal, I would have thrown up.

I looked just like my mother.

Right down to the bullshit coming out of my mouth.

"I need you to know I love you, I love you so much," this Gillian said to the bundle, "I love you more than...more than you can possibly imagine. But I have to, because I love you. Even though it's hard, so hard. If your father was still—" Gillian was crying now, rocking back and forth. As if she knew who the father was. I was a very good actress—I could only hope my daughter wouldn't inherit that particular characteristic. "Your father loved you very much too...and if he was here I wouldn't be in this mess. But I can't take care of you by myself. I can barely take care of me. And this way, you get to have everything you deserve, everything you ever wanted. I want that for you. I want you to be happy. I'll be thinking about you, you know, all the time. And loving you, even if you never get to see me again. I hope they let—it doesn't matter. If I see you or not, I love you, so much, so much..."

She broke down again, clinging tighter to the precious bundle in her arms. Something inside me started to hurt, watching her. Because she loved her girl, even if she wasn't fighting for her. I could feel her love, see the old, worn face morph into something truly beautiful as she looked at the girl...what if my mother had loved me?

I think I hated her just a bit more.

A door opened and a women strode into the room. She was wearing a white nurses uniform and Gillian jumped in her seat. The woman was bad news.

"Please," Gillian said, begging already, "Please."

"They're here. They want the child now."

"Five more minutes. Please," Gillian licked her lips, keeping her daughter close to her chest as the nurse stepped closer. "Please, please, five more minutes. Just five more minutes. It's our goodbye, please, please, just five more minutes with him, please. I'll do anything, just please..."

Her cries rose, blending with Savannah's uncontrollable pain, the whole mess of emotion threatening to pull me under. I couldn't handled it. If I could tolerate pain, I never would have gotten into half the messes I did. But I hated playing the victim, yet again, so I fought back, struggling to stay afloat admits all the heartbreak. It was easier when it was Savannah in the next part.

She was lying in bed, half-dressed, beside the one and only Adam Vasic. It was her dream come true. Only I didn't think she had been dreaming about being upset as Adam lay there, unsure of how to comfort her.

"I have to go. She doesn't have anyone else."

"Maybe you shouldn't this time. She's always...it's not your responsibility to take care of her."

"Then who's is it? My brother's? You think I should just let him...how many times has he promised her he was going to fix this mess? And yet it just keeps getting worse and worse. She's getting worse, Adam, and I need to go."

"You've done everything you can—"

"But I didn't. This is my fault, Adam. My fault. I have to fix it."

"You can't blame—"

"Fucking watch me. God, Adam, just ask Paige. I got her husband killed. Ask her if it's not my—" Adam sat up, tried to touch her, but she shot across the bed like he had burned her. "I've got to go."

My Savannah quieted down a little. "I don't like this at all," she announced.

I agreed as the scene shifted yet again, so that a different me was sitting on a beautifully decorated bathroom floor, much nicer than any I had ever seen. She was wearing a fluffy white robe, hair wet, back against a tub, razor dancing across her arm. She looked ancient. I was guessing a combination of drugs and pain, but I couldn't make out much of what she was feeling, besides hopeless.

My life had been a horror show of dark times, but I had never felt like that before. I had never wanted to give up. I might not have had anything to live for, but I had never not wanted to before. But Gillian in the bathroom didn't even flinch when the razor slipped and bit into her skin.

It dropped to the floor, the sound of metal echoing throughout the room. A tiny drop of blood dripped down, staining the white marble tiles. She didn't even seem to notice, just licked her cracked lips and rubbed her arm.

For the first time since the scene began, life came into her eyes. The tiniest from came over her face and then finally a slow smile. The pain in her arm became known to me, a burning sensation that spread as I felt my heart break. Gillian was calmer now, though her hand had snaked to her chest, rubbing absentmindedly at the source of her pain. But the physical stuff had never been the problem. It was much better than the alternative.

The pain increased, her heart slowed, her heart stopped. She was too thin and too broken.

I could only feel her peace.

"This is fucking twisted," Savannah decided. "This—fuck. I'm not watching myself die."

"You really don't have much of a choice," I answered. It hadn't been that bad. I took one last look at my corpse and shook myself out of it. I hadn't I liked it. I knew I was too skinny, knew I wasn't very nice to my body—that didn't mean I liked watching it just give up on me. Even if it looked like I had given up on me a long time before.

"Fucking bullshit," Savannah muttered.

But Savannah seemed well enough when it shifted away from me and onto her. She was entering a house, calling out as she went, "Anybody home? I know you're here, Leech, I saw your damn car. So get your ass out here."

Leech's hallway was immaculate, no longer the renovation hell that I knew so well. Savannah peered into the kitchen, trying to call him out. She looked a little more tired, but nowhere near the complete wreck that I had looked.

"Stop pouting. I didn't mean what I said—it's just hard for me to listen to Bryce. I know I shouldn't have said...it's just...you didn't give me enough time. I still...I miss her." Savannah collected herself in front of the living room door, wiping her eyes until she looked normal. The impatient edge entered her voice as she said, "You're not a useless human. I take it back. Though I still think my brother's an idiot. Now get out here."

There was no answer and so Savannah pushed her way through the last door, rolling her eyes impatiently. Leech was home. But there was a good reason he wasn't answering.

"No. Not—no."

Savannah scrambled towards Leech, but I could tell it was already too late. The body hanging from the rope had long lost its colour. Savannah seemed to realized that too, stopping before she touched him, hesitating and then pulling out her phone.

"I hate you," she spit, suddenly. "I hate—"

She swallowed and began talking to the voice that asked her what kind of emergency response she needed.