Emmaline’s Story 12

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 Emmaline’s Story – On the Inside

Chapter 12

Inner Sanctum Actress

Pasithea by http://yungvermeer.tumblr.com/tagged/mypainting/

Pasithea  © http://yungvermeer.tumblr.com/tagged/mypainting/

Breakfast was fairly uneventful, for a change. I didn’t have a meltdown. I was refreshed yet exhausted. I recognized the irony of the paradox, but didn’t fully understand it.

Last night was the only time I’d ever confided in anyone and I slept better than I could recall in recent memory, yet I was profoundly tired.

I suppose, carrying everyone’s world up a mountain can have that effect after my first night of rest.

Conversely, psych guy was wide awake and ready for me, with his hair combed in place, wearing a suit without a single wrinkle, and eyes bright and alert. He greeted me with a beaming smile, “Good morning, Nyx.”

“’Morning,” I mumbled and plopped into my usual seat wondering,

Why do I always feel like I’ve been sent to the principal’s office?

“Well, it looks like sleep was not a friend to you last night,” he jabbed, tossing my own words back at me.

“On the contrary,” I quipped resuming yesterday’s calm demeanor, “Aergia dropped by for a visit and I’m still recovering from the night’s effects.

“Aergia,” he repeated, obviously rifling through his repertoire of Greek mythology.

“Yes, I said, “We enjoyed a long, lazy, girls night of chit chat. It’s so rare when our attentions are not pulled in other directions by obligations and commitments,” I prattled on, emphasizing ‘commitments.’ She is an ever present fixture, if not exactly vigilant,” I explained.

“Oh, lazy, sloth, Aergia. Got it.”

“Perhaps not entirely,” I countered, “She’s a spirit, one of several who guard my son’s domain. Aeriga is spirit and a goddess. Do you know what that means?”

Psych guy shook his head, speculating about what I would come up with next.

“Spirits, by definition, affect other souls with like qualities,” I explained, “Aergia is the spirit of laziness. She is infectious in that way. I’m just recuperating from a night of supremely indulgent laziness.”

“What sort of home does your son have? He must be very rich,” he stated petulantly, “to require that much security.”

“It’s a deep, dark, rocky, cave,” I said, with a mother’s tolerance.

“A cave,” he replied, “A cave that Aergia guards. What exactly does she guard, pray tell? Does he expect looters to steal his stash of rocks?”

“I would imagine, much the same things you do,” I shot back at him.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin, “How so?”

“She, among others, guards his home and his well-being. He resides in a dark cave next to his twin brother, Thánatos, in the underworld.”

“He does,” his voice was a mixture of appreciation and incredulity.

I didn’t even slow down. Trying out my imitation of a purely maternal voice, I continued, “He does not see the changing of days, the rising or setting sun, or even the moon,” I frowned slightly for effect, “His peace lies in tranquility, the quiet; his own and that which surrounds him. His home has not as much as gates that may awaken him with creaking.”

“Really, a deep, dark cave in the underworld, where he brought his wife to live, next door to his brother,” He challenged me, “Who is Thánatos?”

“He is god of death.”

“You must be very proud,” he smiled derisively as he shot his dig at me.

“Well, admittedly, it’s not every mother’s dream but,”

“Hypnos lives with his wife, Pasithea,” he repeated, testing my knowledge and trying to figure out how to best me, “in the underworld with his twin brother, death,” he interrupted.

“Do you expect that I am uneducated about my own family? Do you think me unfit?”

Our eyes locked in a battle of wits and wills as tense silence filled the room.

Just to annoy him further, I continued, “As I was saying, it’s actually quite lovely. The River Lethe runs through it, and Pasithea has such a sweet countenance. She’s the deity of hallucination and relaxation. She’s so good to Hypnos and good for him,” I sighed clasping my hands over my bosom and smiling like an oblivious mother, brimming with ignorant joy, then caught myself thinking,

Cripes, I just made myself want to hurl!

“And what does all this mean to you, Emmaline?”

His question startled me back to reality and I stumbled, “You asked!”

“Good! Very good, Emmaline! I did ask, Emmaline. What did I ask?”

“You asked me who I am,” I shot at him, suddenly realizing I’d let him get away with addressing me by my real name, “But I still don’t know this Emmaline you speak of,” I added, attempting to put things to rights, “Perhaps you will tell me about her one day?”

“I believe you will discover her,” he explained kindly, “and you will be a better mother to her than she has known in the past.”

I turned a confused face to him while attempting to hide startled eyes, but he imparted nothing more.

Instead, he finished with his usual, “Come again tomorrow at noon. Good day, Emmaline.”

I opened the door to leave, took a step, and found myself face-to-face with the lost girl I had noticed yesterday. Again, she looked much healthier than I had witnessed while being admitted. I couldn’t help myself. I touched her shoulder gently, smiled, and said, “Way to go, girl.”

She smiled back, quietly saying, “Thanks,” and stood waiting.

“Emmaline,” I introduced myself, extending my hand.

“Maya,” she said taking it.

We shook once and I turned away as she opened psych guy’s door.

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470

© June 14, 2015 – 04:09 AM – All Rights reserved

Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected BIUR-KDQV-KAFT-XXVG

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Emmaline’s Story 11

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Emmaline’s Story – On the Inside

Chapter 11

Confessions in the Night

Danica-Confessions in the Dark

 

Marie, Danica, and I sat in our circle after goon made rounds. The three of us added to our list of B and goons’ schedules and deviances from them. As it happened, goon was fairly regimented about sticking to her routine. Big B wasn’t quite that methodical. I expected that.

 

What woman in love does the expected things all the time? Probably not many. 

 

I asked and answered my own question in my head, not even realizing I had slipped into my own thoughts; thoughts about the staff, the girls’ respective wellness, and what I would say to Danica tonight.

 

Eventually I heard Marie and then saw her waving her hand in front of my face, “Emmaline, come baaack.”

 

“Oh. Oops. Sorry,” I said, chagrined.

 

“Where did you go,” she queried.

 

Even in the darkness, I looked away and lied, “I was visiting my happy place.”

 

“Wow,” she countered, “If that’s your happy place, I’d hate to know where your hell is.”

 

I forced a smile and replied, “We’re in it. At least my sisters are with me.”

 

Danica touched my hand and slipped her finger through mine. It was small, yet a really huge, gesture that no one but us noticed. I knew then, that she was not just my sister on the inside. She was my family for life.

 

Later, we arranged our beds backwards so we could whisper to each other after Marie fell asleep. With pillows at the foot of our beds, we reached to circle our fingers and Danica asked haltingly,

 

“You-told me to ask. Remember?”

 

“Yea, I know,” I said, “I mean, its okay, I remember.”

 

“So what happened to you, Em?”

 

I thought for a long minute and replied, “Whew, ummm, where do I start?’

 

“Anywhere, I think,” Danica replied, “I mean, for me, it’s not really about the order of when things happened. It’s that they did happen.”

 

Danica fell silent and I found myself thinking that my first summarization of her had been exact:  Astute, fearless, and sharply pointed.

 

“Okay,” I said, “But after I tell you, then you have tell me.”

 

“I will,” she assured me, loosely shaking our looped fingers, “I promise.”

 

“Well let’s see,” I began, “I used to be the white sheep. I did everything that was asked and expected of me, to the best of my ability, for all my life,” then paused, realizing I couldn’t hear Danica breathing.

 

“You still awake, sis?”

 

“Of course,” she whispered, “I’m just concentrating. Go on,” she pressed.

 

“Around my fifteenth year, I broke.”

 

Danica sighed heavy-heartedly, “That’s horrible. You were a worn out work horse at fifteen.”

 

“Yeah, no shit,” I responded, continuing, “I was a good daughter and the daughter who could never be good enough. You know?”

 

“Yes, I think so,” she said.

 

“I tried every way I knew to gain my parents approval but even when they tossed me a compliment, it was delivered with a backhanded slap.”

 

“Wow,” Danica whispered.

 

“You know,” I said, imitating my parents, “This was great, but you missed this, this, and that, and you should have done it the way I would have.”

 

Danica squeezed my finger and I continued, “There was never just ‘Wow, this was great’ or ‘What a good job.’ It was always accompanied by a list of demerits,” I huffed, in deferred pain.

 

“You okay,” Danica asked, “Do you want to take a break?”

 

I tore myself from my stream of consciousness and said, “Nah. I’m okay for now. You?”

 

“I’m good but my heart hurts for you,” she lamented.

 

“You know, for the first time, mine kind of doesn’t,” I admitted, feeling slightly confused.

 

“It sounds like you’ve been carrying everyone’s world up a mountain for a very long time,” Danica surmised, “It must be a relief to finally stop, sit down, and talk to someone about it.”

 

Again, I thought, Astute, sharply pointed, and fearless. For a girl I would have mistaken for ten or twelve, she has bewildering maturity that surprises me at every turn. I wondered at the burdens on her tiny shoulders.

 

“I think so, sis. Do you want to take turns? I could stop and you can tell me some now.”

 

I followed the trail of her eyes to the window in the door.

 

She explained, “It’s getting near to second rounds. Quick, tell me one more thing before we remake our beds right side up!”

 

“Okay,” I laughed, “I had a brother.”

 

“Is he good looking,” she snickered.

 

“Ewww, and um, ewww!  He’s married with children now.”

 

Danica clutched her heart pretending I’d just fatally wounded her. It was all I could do not to collapse into peals of laughter. She looked toward the window and I knew we had cut it close. We tucked our pillows back at the head of our beds and feigned sleep until I actually did fall asleep.

 

Unaccompanied by any ugly thoughts or troubling memories, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep for the first time I could recall. I woke at five a.m. rounds to B’s voice saying the same thing she said every morning, “Arms up.”

 

I lay there not budging with my limbs feeling weighted, as if they were too heavy to move.

 

Residual effects of carrying worlds and holding my breath forever, I decided.

 

B lifted my wrist and I fell directly back to sleep. I could only hope they thought I was being intentionally uncooperative.

 

An hour later, I woke with a start, and psych guys words ringing in my ears, “I want answers to those questions tomorrow at eleven a.m. sharp.”

 

There wasn’t enough time after breakfast. I needed to pick Danica’s brain now.

 

Why didn’t I remember to ask her last night? I kicked myself as I tiptoed to her bed and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Slowly, she turned weary eyes to me and I touched my finger to hers, mouthing “I’m sorry!”

 

She rolled toward me and scooted back, giving me the edge of the bed to sit on.

 

“I forgot about psych guy and our early meeting,” I whispered, “I need to ask you about Nyx.”

 

“Oh yea,” her whisper was barely perceptible; “You didn’t tell me what happened.”

 

“I’ll tell you everything later today. I need to know what the significance of Nyx is. What made you choose her?”

 

“Well, I was never any good at history, but I liked Nyx. She’s a Greek primordial goddess of the night. She’s only seen in glimpses. Nyx lives in shadows, which reminds me of me, and she’s really powerful and exquisitely beautiful, like I wish I was,” she confided, yawning.

 

“Okay. Why did glimpses and living in shadows remind you of you?”

 

Danica hesitated, opening her mouth as if to answer and then closing it.

 

“It’s okay, sis,” I whispered, cupping my hands around her ear, “I told you things last night and will tell you more, I promise.”

 

“Okay,” she conceded, sitting up in bed, “In my family, I am one of five children. I’m number three. I’m kind of opposite of you, Em’. Whether it’s good, bad, or indifferent, I’m unnoticed. I identify with existing in shadows, possibly powerful, but altogether powerless. Some say Nyx watched creation happen. She watched, standing on the edge. That’s me. I’m in the shadows or on the edge, but never really in the picture.”

 

My heart ached and I swallowed my tears, “Danica, you are so much more beautiful and powerful than you’ve received credit for, even from yourself, but how would you know that? You have existed in the shadows. No one ever bothered to show or tell you.”

 

I stood and she gently pulled me back down, “They say she was a shrew but I don’t buy it. Besides, if she was I think she was justified.”

 

I hugged her quickly and tucked her back into bed as Marie began to stir. I crawled back into my own bed and slept until breakfast time.

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

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