AB: Hi, everybody! I'm back from my backpacking trip! It was a ton of fun, and my group was amazing! Moving on, I hope last chapter wasn't too out of the ordinary for you all. In case you all haven't noticed, there have been more trigger warnings in the more recent chapters. That is because Iris is handling problems and revealing her story in ways that feel "natural" to her. For some of you, these might be triggers, and I want you to be safe. Triggers are no fun to deal with on an average day, and they are even worse when something sets them off. Please, let me know if something is a trigger for you but lacks a warning. Your mental and emotional safety is important to me. That is all I have to say-
Komodo: Does Abbey come back into the story?
AB: Yes. That's all I am going to answer. Disclaimer: The Secret Saturdays belongs to Jay Stephens and Cartoon Network. Trigger Warning: Self Harm in the first and second sections! Child Abuse mentioned briefly in the second section! Here is Chapter 24: Books, and doctors, and fire! Oh my!
Trigger Warning: Self Harm in this section!
(Iris's POV)
The book falls flat onto the floor when the door opens; the sticky note is stuck in the dead center of the front cover. It has my name on it, so I bend down to pick it up. The book is lighter than it looks, which I discover after exerting way too much force than needed to pick it up; I fall on my rear. Rolling my eyes at my gracefulness, I pick myself and the book off the ground and brush both off. Then I trot over to my bed, sit down, and open the cover.
The first page has a picture of a man holding a baby wrapped in a purple blanket with her eyes wide open in wonder. At the top of the page, there is a date written, and there is a stanza from a poem written underneath the picture. I smile because I automatically know what this is. On the backside of the page, there is an adoption certificate filled out; immediately, I bite my lip and make fists on the edges of the book to avoid crying. I am so weak, despite everything I have been through. I run my fingers over the letters. It is a good feeling.
I keep reading through the book; it is a combination of pictures, letters, notes, documents, and stanzas from the same poem. The book tells the story of my life up until the day I was taken. At the bottom of the same page, there is a note.
And then you were gone. Seven short years with my only daughter, and you were suddenly in the hands of someone else. I cried and cried because I felt I was wrong; I hated myself. I thought my daughter, my joy, was to die because someone told me a lie.
Turning the page, I see pictures of a couple's wedding day, and I smile when I see Dad as the groom and the amazing woman as the bride. There are more stanzas and notes. The following pages, I realize, are filled with memories and events that I missed. The last page is dated to the night before the war that claimed Dad's life.
My beloved daughter Iris, I swear that you will be free from that monster's hands soon. It has been six years since I saw you last, much longer than you were supposed to be there. Though unfinished, that is all I have, until you return, for this rune. When you come home, life will be a blast because life will finally be fair.
Beneath the stanza, Dad signed the poem, as did his wife. I flip through the blank pages following the last one, wondering what Dad would have written and put in there. A lump forms in my throat as I realize the book will never be finished. I slam the book closed and push it away before I start crying. I hate myself for ever leaving and having to put Dad a position where noble sacrifice was the only option. It is all my fault that he died, just as it all my fault I am this way. As I brush the tears off my face, I catch a glimpse of my wrists, and an impulse takes over. Immediately, I start shaking as I fight against the impulse, but it wins out. The cuts are there, fresh, and bleeding before I can stop myself. I place my hands over the cuts on each wrist and heal them; the scars remain, not that anyone besides myself will notice.
Komodo enters my room about the same time I step out of the bathroom. I sit down next to him on the floor, and he climbs into my lap.
"Komodo, can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"Are you willing to help me?" Komodo nods before I finish the sentence.
"I know how hard you are trying to look like everything is fine. So much has happened to you over the course of your life, Iris, and I want to get better. I am here to support you." I give Komodo a hug, and he wraps his tail around me. Perhaps, things are getting better. Or maybe, I am just imagining it all. Who knows?
Eventually Komodo says that I need to come out of the room and socialize with the others. Reluctantly, I follow him out of my room. The others are all wide awake, except Doyle, that is. Seeing him makes me regret what Zak and I did the other day. Had I known he isn't sleeping before hand, I don't think I would have let Zak mess with him; it wrong for us to mess with him even if he were sleeping. I feel the impulse returning, so I kneel down next to Komodo and pet him. The impulse is still present, but doing something with my hands help my control it better. Something tells me this isn't the last time I'm going to need Komodo to help me.
"Iris, have you seen Dr. Grey, by any chance?" Dr. Saturday asks.
"No, sir. Not since last night. Is something wrong?"
"Yes, something is wrong. She is gone, and she was telling us about the dangers of Dr. Beeman and the other Secret Scientists. If they have her and all her secrets, -"
"Dr. Saturday, I'm sure she's perfectly safe. She's not as helpless as she portrays herself to be," I reassure him. Dr. Saturday gives me blank look, so I explain that she basically saved all of us back at Dr. Beeman's lab and gave us the truce. Then Mom asks how much time is left in the truce. I do the math; there are eleven days remaining after today.
"Eleven days is not enough time to answer all these questions," Dr. Saturday sighs. "How are we supposed to keep everyone safe and answer these questions of yours? We've wasted almost two months already."
"Come on guys, we have to keep trying. Dad, where's your can-do spirit? And, Mom, you would never go down without a fight. We can finish this in eleven days; you'll see," Zak says encouragingly. I just hope he's right.
If you skipped the first section, please start reading here.
Trigger Warning: Mention of Child Abuse and Self Harm in this section!
Sunlight streams in through my window the next morning, not that it provides any clues as to the time of day, since the sun is out for seventeen hours here. Rolling onto my side, I glance at the alarm clock; it reads 10:37 in the morning. I climb out of bed and almost step on Komodo. He hisses slightly, and I apologize. He growls a little before settling down again. I slip silently into the bathroom and get ready for the day.
As I brush my hair, I notice how long it is, and I suddenly want to cut it short. However, I should let someone who knows how to cut hair do it, or else I might mess it up. I decide to just pull it back into a ponytail before heading out the door.
Zak is up and running, so I ask him if he wants to have combat practice. A scheming smile creeps across my brother's face; we race off to the gym to set up. Once we get in there, Zak and I debate for a while if we want to to specific kind of training or if we want to do things spontaneously. We choose to do a tumbling themed training session, and training commences. All goes well for a while, despite my countless fails. Suddenly, Zak calls quits in the middle of helping me with a tumble. I face plant and pop a few joints in my crash.
"ZAK!" I shout angrily.
"What, sis?" he asks innocently.
"Not. Cool," I reply coldly. Zak starts waving The Claw around, distracting me for a moment.
"I still think you need a weapon, Iris." I shake my head and adamantly tell him no. "But think about it. I have The Claw; Mom has her firesword; Dad uses the battle glove; and Doyle uses his wrist blaster and concussion grenades. You need a weapon. You could use a dagger."
"NO! I mean, maybe in the future, but not now," I compromise. Zak rolls his eyes but agrees. I'm glad because any kind of weapon and my impulses are not a good combination.
We stop training all together and head back out to the living room. Mom is there, and she is wide awake. I wonder how long she's been awake. She asks Zak to leave the room for a moment before telling me that we are going back to see Dr. Cooper. A sense of dread fills me, but I dare not show it. Zak comes back in, and Mom tells him she and I are going out. Then, we're off.
The drive to downtown Seward does not take very long, and we are soon in the waiting room. It is funny that the last time we were here, Mom was just out the hospital and in a wheelchair. The amount of dedication she puts into keeping our family healthy is amazing. I wish I had half as much dedication when it comes to getting better. Then, maybe, I might be worth helping and taking care of. I might actually be worth raising for the next five years. I might not be so worthless.
"Iris," Dr. Cooper says. I stand up, smile to Mom, and follow Dr. Cooper back to her office. Once we are in her office, I notice her hair is no longer long and dark purple it once was, but it is now short and dark red. "So, how have you been, Iris?" Dr. Cooper asks sweetly.
"I've been all right. How about you?"
"Wonderful. Thank you." Dr. Cooper pauses. "Last time you told me about your past and what happened during those six years. We discussed your mental health, and we came to the conclusion that you have PTSD, correct?" I nod. "Have you had any triggers lately?" I shake my head. "Any uncontrollable impulses?" I panic and tense up for a moment. There is no way I am letting her know about my impulses. She rolls up her sleeves and writes a note.
"Iris, have you had any impulses?" Dr. Cooper asks again. Biting my lip, I nod. "Okay. Are you all right? Did it bleed? If it bled, is there an infection?" Dr. Cooper carries more of a concerned tone than a professional one. That's when I remember her scars. "Iris, this isn't your fault. You never asked to be taken and abused, nor did you ask for your father's death. You blame and hate yourself everyday, don't you?" I nod silently. "You think you're worthless. But you're not. If you were, your mom would not be bringing you here."
Dr. Cooper and I talk a while longer, until she glances at her watch and says she has another appointment. We say goodbye as she walks me back to the waiting room. I really do want to get better, for her and for everyone else. I want to overcome all of this, to prove that I am not defined by those six years. The catch is, I am defined by those six years.
Mom and I drive back to the airship/house in silence. It's obvious she wants to say something and ask how it went, but she doesn't say a word. I can't blame her; I know I wouldn't mention my daughter's second therapy session around her. When I think about it, Mom does so much to make sure I am okay; the least I can do is try to have a conversation with her.
I start the conversation by asking if Mom has had a good day so far. She says yes and asks how I am. I reply that I'm fine. We continue the conversation for the remainder of the drive home. Once we pull up in the driveway and get out of the car, I walk over to Mom's side and give her a hug, saying I love her. She hugs back and says she loves me too. I never realized how important it is to both hear and tell people that until after I was taken, and I need to make a better effort to tell everyone that everyday.
If you skipped the last section(s), please read here.
Fisk knocking on my door wakes me up. I throw back the covers, covering Komodo in the process, and fling the door open. Fisk looks at me and says that I have mail. I stare at him in total disbelief. Did he seriously just wake me up to let me know I have mail?! I thank Fisk and crawl back into bed. Komodo snuggles up next to me after several minutes of removing the covers from on top of himself. Wrapping my arm around him, I fall back asleep.
Two hours later, I wake up and get ready for the day. No one is around, but they left a note saying Zak has a dentist appointment. I decide to wander around the airship aimlessly. As I pass by the computer room, the research I have left to do crosses my mind. I walk into the room, turn on the computer, and start searching.
My research, thus far, has revealed the name of the Greek goddess of rainbows: Iris. The research I did with Mom's memories made a connection between the Kur Stone, Kur, and a date tree, but I don't understand their link to Iris. Since Dr. Saturday probably won't let me go digging into his mind, I start looking through old pictures and files on the computer, hoping they make some connections.
My jaw hits the floor as a picture and document pull up. The picture is Dr. Saturday and Mom with two babies, and the document looks like some kind of medical test results. I knew about the alleged second child, but why the document pulled up with the picture is beyond me. Then I take a closer look at the words on the document. Shock courses through my body; these results have my name on them. This is starting to become too complicated for me. How on Earth am I going to sort all of this out in one week?
I expand the image and zoom in on the babies. Both are bald, but it is easy to tell one is definitely Zak, and the other looks strangely familiar, as if I've known the person the baby grew up to be. If my theory is correct, then the other baby would now be thirteen and half. There are three people I know who could remotely be the other child. They are Lindsey, my childhood neighbor Danny, and myself. It couldn't be Danny because his parents were too proud to adopt. It might be Lindsey, but she takes after her parents too much, and her accent would be different. That leaves me. But how do I fit in?
Minimizing the image and expanding the document, I read over the foreign terms. I keep scrolling until I find an everyday English translation of the data. There is no way it's right, though. It doesn't make any sense. Everything contradicts everything, and it's far too complex. But if it's true, am I the key? I print out the document and fold it before sliding it into my pocket. I will ask about it later.
It is in my best interest that I leave the computer room, so I do. I step outside and start messing around with my powers. It's odd that they haven't been such a huge part of my life considering they were what Argost wanted most. Knowing my elemental powers are the weakest, I start with them. Water is the easiest to control, so I begin messing around with the water in the cup I brought. After what feels like an hour, I am pretty sure I have gained better control over water, so I move on. Earth is the second easiest, but it encompasses a lot of aspects, such as the ground, plants, and certain geographical features. I start small by making little hills and walls of dirt. Once I have that down, I move on to larger tasks; when I feel confident about those, I move on to plants. Those are, in my opinion, easier to control than the ground, but they require a lot of energy to control.
After a while, my abilities with the element of earth have improved, though they're not perfect. The next element is air, and, though not as difficult as fire, it is still tricky. I can't let my mind wander, or else I will lose control all together and be unable to stop whatever havoc I will wreak. Just like before, I start small with a slight breeze and gradually work my way up the scale. It is a good thing the construction workers are not here today because I do not think they would ever come back if they knew I could do this. My first tornado is very small and weak; it dies out quickly. I dare not try to make a larger one, but I keep attempting to create smaller ones. Finally, I get the hang of controlling air without too much effort. I decide to keep working it just to be sure I have control.
When I finish with air, I move on to fire. This will be difficult because losing control could mean losing the airship, the start of the house, the woods surrounding the house, and potentially my life. Another possibility is a neighbor might see the fire or the smoke and call the fire department. That would be a disaster on all levels. But I determine that I need to get control, so I run inside and grab a candle and a some matches. Back outside, I make a tiny ring of stones and dirt, just in case this gets out of hand, and light the candle.
The flame springs to life and begins dancing on the wick. Its heat is small and insignificant, yet it still dances as if it makes a huge impact on the world. I smile at the little flame before starting to focus. Just like with the other elements, I start small. Only, nothing happens. I was only trying to make the flame larger, but the flame did not change. I shrug it off and try again. I fail plenty of more times before getting mad and yelling at the little flame. It goes out instantly, and I feel bad for losing my temper. I relight the candle and keep trying.
By the time the others finally return home, I still have no control over the little flame. This annoys me so much because I have the feeling that fire is going to be the end this whole situation, and I want to be able to stop it before that happens. I give up, put everything back, and confront Dr. Saturday on the document.
"Is this why you hate me?" I demand as I show him the document. He gives no response.
AB: So you all finally get to see Iris play with her powers. So tell me, my Butterflies (as I am now going to call you all), do you think Iris is going to get control over fire? What about the document? Can she and the Saturdays unravel the mystery before the week is up? That's all I've got for this week, but the next chapter will be out next week. I love you all so much, my Butterflies, and I hope you've enjoyed Kur Unfurled so far! Don't forget to follow, review, and favorite! Bye!