This short story is a sequel to one I wrote a couple of years back. called Splintered. During that time, I was struggling with a lot of things including the fact I never truly presented my whole self to others but only certain facets.
I’ve come to realise, however, that just because I don’t bring my whole self into a conversation doesn’t mean it’s a fake personality I’ve conjured. It is still me.
There is a time and place for everything.
While not everyone may appreciate Chaos Gremlin Kyndaris, maybe some others will. Then again, there is Work Kyndaris and Eager Gamer Kyndaris. Dutiful Daughter Kyndaris and Exhausted Caregiver Kyndaris.
Humans are multifaceted. In this day and age where we try and label everything, is it any wonder so many are trying to seek their ‘true selves’ only to stumble because they’ve not realised the whole of who they are is a complex contradictory mess?
So many things have been relegated to black and white, it’s become impossible to see the nuance of who people are.
With that, I hope you enjoy this first part of my short story: Whole Again.
Life as I knew it changed when I graduated from Seven Oak High. At college, there was a whole new host of challenges I needed to weave my way through and I realised the old masks I’d worn to get me through high school were no longer fit for purpose.
Gone was mean-girl queen-bee Trish. Her actions and behaviour wouldn’t have worked under the watchful eye of the sorority den mother in charge of my dormitory.
Pat, on the other hand, stepped up to fill the void. But instead of being the meek and dutiful student and daughter, she had taken on several more facets of who I was. There was a new spring to her step. A confidence that exuded from putting my hand up for several campus causes.
Suddenly, everything was all new and fresh again and I had to adapt once more.
From the remains of Pat and Trish emerged Patsy.
No longer was I a leader so much as another cog in the fight against oppression and the patriarchy. All the energy I poured into becoming Queen Bee was now put into healthier pursuits as I railed against a slew of social injustices.
And yet a part of me still missed hanging out with my friends, Naomi and Evangeline (although they both ended up going to different universities than me), I was still a version of Trish. But this time I could let my guard down a little. Show off a little bit of the real ‘me’ lurking beneath the mask I had worn.
They deserved it, after all. Especially after the pain and terror we had all endured at the hands of Amelia last year.
After all, if it hadn’t been for the Evangeline and her boyfriend, Michael Sanchez, there was every chance I might not be standing here at all.
And thus, Tricia was born to serve as a dorkier and less catty version of Trish. Tricia was about having fun, with a focus on nostalgia.
Was it what Amelia had wanted for me? No. But given that she was in a juvenile detention centre and mandated to see a court-appointed psychiatrist every week to deal with whatever was wrong with her, I doubted her opinion mattered much.
Not that she put much stock in therapy.
In her mind, she was the least crazy of us all. Rather, it was the entire world that was mad as we catered to society’s expectations of who and what we were. Better, she had told me while holding a knife, to be our truest and authentic selves. Whatever that meant.
The first time I’d visited her at the detention centre, she hadn’t seemed surprised when she came out. Rather, there had been a knowing smile on her face as she sat down. We stared at each other for a few minutes.
But as I struggled to find the words I wanted to say, Amelia motioned to her guard and whispered something into their ear. Before I could stop her, she had risen to her feet and left.
I was left sitting at the table, alone. And for the longest time, I didn’t know if I wanted to leave or stay. Hell, I didn’t know why I’d come to see her in the first place.
Maybe I wanted closure. Or maybe I wanted to see the person still haunting me in my nightmares and know she couldn’t hurt me anymore.
Whatever the reason, I was left with a roiling churning maelstrom of emotions in my gut. None of which I could decipher.
In the end, one of the guards had to escort me out.
Still, despite that, I came to visit her again. And again. And again.
Amelia was a mystery. One I wanted to solve.
From all accounts, before the incident at her old school, she had been just like me. Except, perhaps, more outstanding. She was smart, athletic and didn’t shy away from the arts either. She was a triple-threat student.
But something had happened in the summer of 2018. One that had seen her thrown out of her prestigious school and enrol at Seven Oaks High instead. The word on the street was it was an altercation with another student though the details were hazy.
What kept me up most nights was the fear I might turn into her. Or a version of her.
The fear and anger and hurt I’d repressed all throughout middle school and high school had coalesced into something frightening. I wouldn’t call it a personality exactly. Nor was it a facet of who I was. Not really.
Just an impulse. A voice in my head wishing ill on others or asking me to do something cruel and mean and demeaning.
It sometimes came out as Trish, but only if I ever felt threatened.
Trish, as a mask I wore, was created from an amalgamation of mean girls from teen movies. The stereotypical queen bee who often got their comeuppance by the end of the film. She was meant to be all bark and no bite. A harmless stereotype most people forgot because it wasn’t who I really was and nobody at Seven Oaks High really cared much for.
Except, of course, Amelia had brought out a side of me that was petty and jealous and actually hurtful because I couldn’t stand how effortlessly she made friends with any and all cliches. There was no artifice to her.
She was everything I wanted to be but couldn’t.
And that was why I hated her.
Or I would have if, by the third time I’d visited her, the façade she had of being above it all hadn’t begun to slip. Behind all the bravado she had projected during my first visit, Amelia was scared.
She knew she had done something wrong but she hadn’t quite grasped the extent of her actions.
Still, even though I could be more ‘myself’ when I was with Evangeline and Naomi, it was with Amelia I could truly be the entirety of Patricia.
“So, tell me about college. What are you studying? Doing anything fun?”
“There’s not much to tell. Just a lot of courses and assignments and projects. I’ve signed up to help protest sexual harassment on campus and I’ve joined two clubs, one’s acapella and the other is about climate change.”
“How typical of the overachiever.”
“You’re one to talk,” I scoffed. “How are things in here?”
“Same old, same old. Although, there was this other girl that was giving me the side eye last week. Said I’d taken her towel.”
“Did you?”
“Well, yes. I did. But she wouldn’t have known that. I returned it, cleaned and everything. She should have been thanking me. Her towel was filthy.”
“That’s not the point, Amelia.”
“Oh, then what is, Patricia? Should I have done the socially acceptable thing of pointing out her towel was filthy and she needed to wash it?”
“No, but—”
“Fine. Next time I’ll play nice and not say a thing. Wait until they notice how disgusting they truly are.”
“Amelia…you know what? Forget it. This isn’t why I came to visit you.”
“You sure you don’t want me to regale you all about juvie life, Patricia? You come here so often, one would think it’s the sole reason you come and see me here. Or do you relish seeing me behind bars?”
I rose to my feet. There was no sense in talking to Amelia when she was being contrary.
“It was good to see you, Amelia. I’ll see you next time, yeah?”
“Leaving so soon? Was it something I said?”
“Amelia, I don’t have time to play these games. Not today. I’ve three assignments to get through and I’m helping out at a fundraiser tomorrow.”
Something shifted in Amelia’s face.
A flash of fear or disdain or something else, I couldn’t tell. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, I felt the weight of her gaze on the back of my head as I left the correction facility.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she had known the lie on my lips.
~
It was a struggle to remain awake as the professor droned on about the basics of supply and demand. Head propped on fist, I stifled a yawn and looked over at Sonia, who seemed enraptured by the subject matter, as she scribbled down notes. Sonia and I were roommates and shared three classes. We’d become fast friends, bonding over a shared love for the online game Honkai: Star Rail.
While Sonia was an avid gamer, I’d been drawn to the space-themed fantasy role playing game because of the artwork. And the fact many of my online friends had been effusive about both Star Rail and its predecessor, Genshin Impact. It had been easy to get into. And almost impossible to get out of.
Amelia might have said I’d been trapped. But it didn’t feel like that for me.
The world of Honkai: Star Rail was one I loved. Especially when coupled with the awesome characters found therein.
It was freeing in so many ways.
In a world of pretend, I could be whoever I wanted behind the username I used.
But Honkai also had its hooks in me simply as a fan of the series. Without even meaning to, I’d bought a plushie of one of my favourites when I’d spied them in a store. It now sat on my bed, next to my pillow. A guilty pleasure I allowed myself because I knew Sonia wouldn’t tell.
“Patsy, you look like you haven’t been paying attention,” said the professor, looking right at me. I flushed and desperately looked around, hoping there was another Patsy or Patricia in class he was referring to. But the professor merely shook his head as he pointed to me. “Come, come. This isn’t anything hard. And I’m not trying to single you out. But since you were caught daydreaming, I’ll need to make an example of you. Who knows, if you did the readings I’d set last week, this shouldn’t be too hard either. So, tell me, what is the umbrella term for the various macroeconomic theories and models of how aggregate demand influences economic output and inflation?”
I scrambled for an answer; racked my brain for anything I could offer.
This was something I knew because I had read the readings from last week. Yet, being put on the spot like this, all I wanted to do was fade into the seat underneath me. Vanish into the great unknown.
Sonia leaned in. “—nesian—” she whispered to me.
What? There wasn’t an economist named Nesian to the best of my knowledge. Had I missed something?
For a moment, I blinked dumbly at Sonia then turned back to the professor.
God. Why was this so hard? Think Patricia, think!
“Um, Keynesian?”
The professor let out a sigh. “Yes. That’s right. Sonia, next time, I’d appreciate it if you let Patsy answer on her own, hm?”
Sonia sank in her seat, the tips of her ears burning red. The professor waited a moment before turning back to the blackboard and resuming his presentation.
As I listened to his speech, I wrote a quick note in the top left corner of my notebook, ripped it off and slipped it over to Sonia. She barely glanced at it, still traumatised for being caught out by her favourite professor, before pushing it back in my direction, an apologetic look in her eyes.
Shit. My brief lapse in concentration had cost Sonia everything she cared about. I’d have to make it up for her.
Right after I helped the Climate Change Committee with their placard signs, printed off posters for the ‘Sexual Harassment on Campus’ rally and a bajillion other projects Patsy had signed herself up to. Patsy, of course, was a real believer in human rights and social causes. She also kissed up hard to the professors when it came to her studies. When it came to friends, though, Patsy sometimes did let them down.
But she was the mask Sonia knew best. With a side serving of gamer chic.
Still, it was no excuse. I’d find a way to properly express my remorse before next Friday night. Which, of course, was when Tricia had scheduled a late-night karaoke session with Naomi and Evangeline to catch-up on all the hot goss around town. And to also let my hair down after a gruelling two weeks of assignments.
The queen bee of Seven Oaks High still needed to partay!
Still, all of this juggling between masks was exhausting.
There were days when I wished I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t. Or, at the very least, hide away parts of me that didn’t fit with the image people had of me.
And it made me want to explode.
Despite my attempts to quieten the voices, they seemed only to get louder and louder and louder with each passing day.
I wondered what might happen if I kept trying to shove my round self into a square hole. Wondering if it would last.
Movies and social media had forced us all into one pigeonhole or another. Popular girls were stereotyped as mean. The protagonist was always the ugly duckling who was actually beautiful once she underwent a makeover.
But the whole of who I was couldn’t be contained in one label.
Could it?
I was pulled from my thoughts as the hour ran out and the professor dismissed the class. Gathering my belongings, I was right behind Sonia when a voice called out to me.
“Patsy, could you stay behind for a minute, please? There’s something I want to discuss with you.”
I froze. Sonia looked back at me, a look of concern on her face.
“Go,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you back in the dorm.”
Frowning, Sonia gave a nod of her head before she headed down the corridor and vanished around the corner. I turned back to face the professor, steeling myself for the reprimand that was sure to come when the last of the students trickled out.
But it never came.
“Sir?”
Professor Langley heaved a heavy sigh, running a hand through his thinning brown hair. He flashed me a weary smile. “Patsy, this isn’t easy for me to say but I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”
“Is it about my studies? Because I can do extra credit or—” I started, scrambling to figure out what it was I had done wrong.
“Oh, no. Patsy. It’s nothing academic. Which is why I struggled with bringing this to your attention.”
“Okay?”
“Patsy, do you happen to know a girl called Amelia Cardum?” asked the professor, a sheepish look on his face.
A cold shiver went down my spine at the mention of Amelia’s name s I stared up at Professor Langley, wide-eyed with horror.
How much did he know? Was he somehow related to Amelia? While newspapers weren’t forbidden from printing names, the journalists had kept it lowkey. Even when it came to reporting the trial, no-one had been identified and I’d appeared only via teleconference.
The professor couldn’t have known of my connection to Amelia. Could he?
“Judging by your gaping mouth, I assume I’ve hit the nail on the head with that assumption. Listen, Pasty, you’re not in any trouble. It just so happens, though, that Amelia attended my cousin’s high school.”
What Professor Langley said next was forgotten as my mind scrambled for a way to escape. To sink into the ground. To defenestrate myself. Or combust into flames.
His next few works caught me off-guard.
“—my cousin with nary but a slap on the wrist. The fact you were almost killed—”
“Sorry. What?”
Professor Langley stopped and searched my face for something. “This was a mistake. I apologise for overstepping. Forget I said—”
“No,” I said, grabbing hold of his arm. “It’s just, when you mentioned Amelia, I didn’t know what to think. I was scared you were going to judge me for something out of my control. It’s…still a touchy subject.”
“That’s understandable, Patsy,” said the professor, nodding emphatically. He leaned in towards me. “My cousin is still very much shaken after what happened to her. But I’m sure your experience was much more harrowing. It’s just…well, I’ve heard Amelia has a parole hearing later this month. And I would appreciate if you could be there, say a few words. She might have been a minor at the time but there’s something wrong with the girl. She’s evil incarnate. And she can’t simply get away with this anymore. Don’t you agree?”
It took me a moment to grasp the implications behind his words.
But while I knew where he was coming from, I couldn’t agree. There was a part of me that pitied Amelia. Who still saw a part of myself reflected in her.
She might be troubled and out of touch with reality, but she was also the person who had seen into my very soul. A dark reflection of who I could be if I made the wrong choices.
“I…can I think on it, professor? This isn’t something I can decide on right now.”
Professor Langley straightened. “Of course. This is a hard ask, I know. My cousin was also reluctant to step forward too.”
“Would it suit to give you a reply next week?”
“Yes, of course. There’s no pressure. None at all. But, Patsy, I’m glad we had this talk. Amelia is a monster who destroys everything she touches. And my family—” Professor Langley stopped, something almost like sorrow darting across his features.
“I know,” I said, flashing him a weak smile.
He returned it in kind. After a beat of silence, I headed towards the door.
As I slipped out, I glanced over my shoulder and caught a parting glimpse of Professor Langley, slumped in a chair near to the lectern, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared up at the ceiling.
Not for the first time, I wondered if I had done the right thing when it came to Amelia.
~
“What’s on your mind, Patricia? You’re unusually quiet today.”
I blinked up at Amelia, seated across from me. The only thing between us was a sheet of protective glass.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about my mother. And then all this additional work I have to do.”
Amelia was silent for a few seconds as she looked me in the eye. “Don’t bullshit me, Patsy. Spill it. What’s really going on.”
Fuck. I should have known I wouldn’t have been able to trick her.
Fine. If she wanted to play this game, I’d give it as good as I got. “Okay. You got me. Why didn’t you tell me about the parole hearing?”
The question seemed to catch Amelia by surprise as she raised her eyebrows. “Where did you hear that, Patsy? Were you sticking your nose in things that didn’t concern you again.”
“You’re evading, Amelia.”
“No,” said Amelia, slapping an open palm on the protective glass. “I just want to know the little snitch who told you I was going up for parole.”
“And lose out on my ear to the inside?” I said. “Hell no. You’re not the only one who gets to hold all the cards here.” Did she know I was lying through my teeth?
Amelia slammed the receiver down and stood to her feet. She stayed that way for a good few moments before she sat back down and picked up the receiver again. “Well, if you really want to know, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I’d get out. Fact of the matter is, I did something bad according to the unenlightened folks in charge and, if it was in their power, they’d keep me here until the day I died. Not that I’m complaining. I get free food, a bed and some people to help get through their childhood trauma and open up their eyes to the truth.”
“You’re evading again.”
“No. I’m not.”
Silence stretched between us as I plucked up the courage the one thing I’d wanted to ask ever since I’d got to the correction facility earlier in the day. “But, if given the choice, would you want to leave Amelia?”
She snorted. “Of course,” she answered with barely a pause. “None of the people in here get me. They posit theories of what’s wrong with me, never knowing that there’s nothing wrong with me. My mind is whole and I know who I am. The more pressing question is how well each of these psychiatrists know themselves or the work they do. I often wonder if even a single one of them knows what the DSM-5 is.”
“What’s a DSM-5?”
Amelia looked at me as if I’d grown a second head.
“What? I really don’t know. It’s not as if I’m studying psychology,” I said defensively.
“But you’re thinking on taking on a science major, aren’t you?” asked Amelia, arching one eyebrow.
“Yeah. Like microbiology or chemistry. Human behaviour follows certain patterns, true, but there are always exceptions. At least with hard science, you know everything will follow the rules. And if it doesn’t, there’s an explanation. A new rule to be discovered. But humans? They’re too contrary. They make up their own rules.”
“Do you really believe that, Patricia?”
I hoped my pointed stare would be enough. Out of all the people I knew, she was the one exception. I’d never seen anyone be able to belong to every single group in high school and none at all. More than that, Amelia seemed to stand above us mere mortals. As if she was another race entirely.
Her mind was a labyrinthine mystery, simple and complex in equal measure.
There were some days when I felt almost a kinship to Amelia. Where I felt I could understand the alien creature before me. Then there were days where Amelia felt completely and utterly unknowable.
Nevertheless, I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t quite understand. There was a part of me her words spoke to. A part of me that scared the living daylights out of the other personas I’d carefully curated over the years because it fed off the chaos.
And it was this part of me I swore to keep squashed down for I feared where it would lead me.
“Yes, Amelia. I do,” I said finally.
My answer was met with silence. When it became almost unbearable, I rose to my feet.
“Anyways, I’d better go. It’s been a long day and I’ve a lot on my mind.”
As I was about to put down the receiver, Amelia tapped the window to gain my attention and mimicked holding a phone. I put the receiver back against my ear. Her voice came through, sounding almost strained through the connection.
“Patsy. If you’re thinking of attending the parole hearing, let me give you some advice: Don’t.”
~
Lying on my bed at home, I stared up at the ceiling. It was easier to stay at home than go back to the dormitory when I visited Amelia at the juvenile detention centre. Besides, it was the weekend. And Sonia was off catching up with a friend from Minnesota who had come to visit.
What had Amelia meant?
Did she fear I would finally see sense and refuse to visit her? Afraid the words of others would finally sway me to see the light?
But given she had tried to kill me during our final year at Seven Oaks High, I doubted there was much that could be said to persuade me she was a danger. I already knew she was. And yet I still came back.
There was just something about Amelia that I couldn’t quite shake. No matter how many times I promised myself I would stop.
Beside me, my phone buzzed with a message. I picked it up, watching as it unlocked by scanning my face and opening to the last thing I’d been looking at. The DSM-5. Or The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Supposedly, it was the be-all and end-all when it came to diagnosing ailment a person might be suffering from when it came to mental illness.
While it was still a hefty tome, sitting at over 900 pages, it still boggled my mind that the entirety of the human mind and experience could be distilled into it.
It just didn’t seem right. Or possible.
My phone pinged again, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced up towards the notification.
Naomi: herd u in town? Evie wants 2 go out. U good for 7?
The offer was tempting. A chance to let my hair down after that talk with Amelia?
Yes, please.
And if I could get away with a little underage drinking, why shouldn’t I? Having to deal with Amelia would give any sane person a headache at the best of times. A part of me wondered if she did it only to seem complex and above the petty concerns of us mere mortals.
In any case, it was something I didn’t want to deal with right now. Especially given what Professor Langley had said earlier in the week.
Maybe it was something I could raise with Naomi and Evangeline? Surprisingly, the two of them could be quite prescient when needed.
I clicked open my messages and sent through a confirmation. Naomi’s reply came but a second later.
Naomi: k, will come pick u up at 6. c u soon. xoxo
Smiling, I rose from my bed. I only had a few hours to get ready.
~
“Patsy, a word, if you would?”
Sonia quirked an eyebrow at me as she hovered near the exit, wondering if she ought to go ahead to her next lesson or wait up for me.
“I’ll be fine,” I mouthed at her. She nodded hesitantly before heading off. As the rest of the class petered out, I joined Professor Langley at his desk, waiting with my hands behind my back.
“So, have you given some thought to what I asked you last week?” he asked, barely looking up from the papers he was grading.
“I did.”
“And?”
“Um…I’m still not sure,” I answered. “I don’t really want to be involved in all this. And after…everything, I don’t want to relive it all at the parole hearing. The trial at the end of my year in high school was already terrible.”
At this, Professor Langley looked up sharply. Moments passed in heavy silence as he scrutinised my face with his piercing blue eyes. Finally, he put down his pen.
“I completely understand where you’re coming from, Patsy,” said Professor Langley. “My cousin, after all, was also reluctant at first.”
“Then—”
“Listen, Patsy, why don’t you take a seat.” Professor Langley gestured to the chair in front of his desk. As soon as I sat down, he continued, “The thing about Amelia is that she gets into your head. She got into my cousin’s head. Made her start wondering if any of this was real or not. And my cousin, well, she went down a very dark path until me and her parents were able to pull her back out again.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“No, Patsy. There’s nothing you need be sorry about. This is all Amelia’s doing. And take it from me, I just want to keep you safe. So, if you feel like you can’t attend the parole hearing, I completely understand. But if you could find it within yourself to maybe write a victim impact statement, I can help. It’s just…I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, you know?”
“No. Of course not. I understand.”
“Good. Good,” said Professor Langley. “Well, I suppose that’s it, then?” He rose to his feet and stuck out his hand out for me to shake.
I took it.
“See you next class, Patsy. And, um, if you ever want to talk about anything, just reach out.”
“Yes, of course.”
The silence hung between us for another awkward beat or two before I grabbed my things and hurried for the door. Thankfully, I didn’t have class immediately after or I would have been a good thirty or so minutes late.
Instead, I headed back to my dormitory, thoughts awhirl with what had just transpired with Professor Langley. As I entered my rooms, I was greeted by Sonia.
She jumped up from her bed as soon as the door creaked open.
“Patricia! I got so worried about what Langley wanted with you, I thought I’d wait for you here.”
“What about your next class?”
Sonia shrugged. “It’s not so important I can’t take some time out for a friend,” she said with a smile as she patted the bed next to her.
I sat down beside her, unsure of how much to tell her or if I should. Maybe if I came up with a lie about why Professor Langley wanted to talk to me? But what would work without it seeming like I was up to no good?
There were rumours already on campus that a few students were sleeping with their professors to get good grades. I didn’t want to be another statistic. Especially given how hard I worked to eke out my place here at college.
As I opened my mouth to speak, even as I was still figuring out what I wanted to say, Sonia cut me off. “I just want you to know that I’m here, Patrica. For anything and everything. Whenever you feel ready.”
“I…thank you, Sonia. It means a lot.”
Sonia nodded. “Well, it better.” Before I knew it, she’d caught me in an embrace.
For one brief instant, I felt completely and utterly seen. Sonia had been there for me through thick and thin since the start of college. To her, I was simply her roommate. More than that, I was a person with all the flaws and strengths such a thing entailed.
Even if it was the Patsy persona I’d carefully.
But it was enough. Right?
Patsy was enough. Right?
Before I could put a rein on my emotions, I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate.
Sonia held onto me tighter but it only served to make me feel claustrophobic. Before I could break out into tears, I pushed her away. “Sorry. I just need a moment to breathe,” I said, dabbing at the wetness at the corner of my eyes.
“Are you sure?”
I mustered up a fake smile as I rose to my feet. “Yes. Sorry. You just took me by surprise and then the whole thing with Professor Langley earlier, I guess I’m just a little bit emotional. But thank you, Sonia. For being here for me.”
Sonia smiled up at me. “Always, Patricia. Always.”
~
I was one of the last to slip into the court along with a journalist from the local paper. Thankfully, neither Professor Langley or Amelia noticed as I took in the seat in the back and whipped off my sunglasses. Professor Langley I understood as he whispered fervently to a woman about my age. His cousin, perhaps?
But Amelia? Usually, she was so sharp. Or maybe that was how she wanted others to perceive her. As the smartest person in any given room.
Here, though?
Despite her attempts to try and look strong, Amelia looked nothing more than a little lost girl who was finally out of her depth. As the judge took his seat and brought the court to order, Amelia looked only at her lawyer and her face a little wan. There was no-one else she could rely on, after all.
None of her family had chosen to attend.
Much like when the case had first gone to trial. And according to Amelia, not a single one of them had come to visit her while she was being held in juvenile detention. Not her mom. Not her dad. Not even her younger sister who Amelia said she was closest with.
The hearing dragged on as the judge made a show of going through the documents that had been submitted.
As always, Amelia’s expression was inscrutable. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking as reports of her poor behaviour whilst held in detention were read out.
One story stood out to me.
In a dispassionate voice, the judge outlined an incident where Amelia had stolen a fellow inmate’s towel. But while Amelia had blown it off as an anecdotal event, here, the full story was told.
Amelia had taken the towel the day after an altercation between the inmate in the prison cafeteria. The guards had witnessed Amelia calling the other girl several crass insults including a ‘slut-whore pig who needed to be taught manners.’ And while Amelia had returned the towel, it had been under threat of solitary confinement. The towel, in question, had been returned as torn pieces and stained with a foul-smelling liquid.
Then there were the psychiatry sessions where Amelia either proved bullish, refusing to engage with the therapist, or broke down sobbing in the room as a manipulation tactic to garner sympathy.
Listening to it all, I couldn’t help but feel sick.
When she had tried to kill me during the end of senior year, she had said the two of us were alike and that the only thing holding me back was my inability to be authentically my ‘true’ self. But I had to wonder if any of her words held any truth to it.
This woman before me: did she even know who she was or what she really wanted?
And as I watched her performance up in the dock – for it was a performance – I came to realise the complicated weave Amelia had created to hide away her true self. Everything I knew, from the talks we shared to the person she presented during her time at Seven Oaks High had all been an act.
And she, like every good liar, had even managed to convince herself that this was who she was.
For so long, she had pushed me to embrace who I really was. Yet, all the fucking time, she’d been putting up a front to pretend she was a puzzle box waiting to be solved instead of the broken and lonely girl that she truly was.
It made me angry.
But it also made me sick to my stomach.
I’d been as like a puppet to her, dancing always to the tune she played.
She had wanted to keep me confused. To always be second-guessing myself. And to see her as the only one with all the answers when instead, it had all been fucking bullshit!
What made it all the worse was the fact I’d fucking let her.
As one of her solicitors raised an objection, I sharply rose to my feet. A few heads turned in my direction but I only had eyes on Amelia as I made my way past the journalists and exited the courtroom. Fuming with indignation.
~
It was an old photo sometime between Amelia’s sixth and ninth birthday. She was hiding behind a lamppost Her hair was long and lanky, and the clothes she wore were tacky at best. In the foreground, her parents and sister were posed for the camera in Halloween costumes.
Although I had performed a cursory search online on Amelia back when she had first attended Seven Oaks High, I’d mostly been focused on why she had chosen to attend Seven Oaks High.
After the trial, I’d been tempted to uncover more of Amelia’s secrets online but had worried I would only find details of her attempt on my life. Or see my name featured in some news article.
In school, there had been several unsavoury rumours I’d overheard in the cafeteria. Back then, I’d dismissed them. Especially because I hadn’t been able to find much of anything when I did a cursory online.
But some had whispered Amelia’s expulsion had been a lover’s tryst gone wrong. Others had said I was the one who had tried to kill Amelia instead.
And if those were the rumours in school, I feared the misinformation that would have spread online.
But after scouring the internet and searching through any and all social media accounts for one Amelia Cardum, I finally stumbled upon an Instagram account for a Belinda Cardum nee Gains. Investigating further, I also uncovered her LinkedIn and Facebook profiles.
Lo and behold! A photo from the distant past with Amelia lurking in the shadows and watching on with envy.
I don’t know what it said about her as a person.
Maybe she was simply the jealous sort and hated how she wasn’t the centre of attention. Or perhaps, when the photo was taken, she had simply suffered a bad day and she was throwing a tantrum.
It was more telling that this was the only photo of Amelia I’d managed to find despite endless hours scouring social media. Despite being friends with her mother on Facebook, she was never tagged on any posts. Her profile picture, as well, was a default image from the old Microsoft Windows user account pictures.
But that was little to go on considering she kept everything private.
Clicking back to her mother’s profile, all the photos I could find were either related to food or of Rose, Amelia’s younger sister. The most recent photo, posted just last week, was of Rose. She’d won a medal from a swimming competition for under 16s.
I leaned back in my chair.
Who was Amelia really?
Despite all the time I’d spent with her, I still knew so little about who she was. There were too many contradictions. She was both charmingly naïve and a vindictive sadist. Intelligent and yet also out of her depth.
There were just so many layers.
How did one go about unravelling it all?
Or perhaps, none of it was an act. All of it is Amelia at her core. Unstable though it may be, whispered a dark voice in my head. And true, that too was also a possibility.
I had a feeling Amelia was a girl at the end of her rope. She knew she had done something terrible. But whether or not it had sunk in properly was still up in the air.
It explained why she seemed so standoffish when I asked her about the hearing. In her head, perhaps, Amelia felt she had been in the right. Most people did.
And though I was loathe to admit it, I was a bitch in high school. I’d been so utterly jealous of Amelia. So consumed with the thought of destroying the perfect image she had of being able to so smoothly navigate the various cliches with ease. It was something I wished I’d been able to do even as I clung to my status as Queen Bee with Evangeline and Naomi hanging onto me as the vapid sycophants of my posse.
Heck, I didn’t even know why I’d gravitated towards them in freshman year.
Naomi wasn’t very popular. She was pretty but could be casually cruel without meaning to. And every boy within a five-mile radius wanted to bang her.
There had been an altercation in the cafeteria where one of the other students confronted Naomi about sleeping with her boyfriend. I’d stepped in before it had come to blows. Looking at Naomi’s wide-eyed wonder, I couldn’t help taking her under my wing.
Evangeline, on the other hand, was a mess. She wanted to look like the models in Playboy magazines and was always looking up beauty gurus on Tiktok or YouTube. Unfortunately for her, she had two buck teeth and parents who couldn’t afford to have it fixed.
Over the years, though, she made it work for her.
And the three of us came to dominate Seven Oaks High during our four years there.
As I very much learned, being Queen Bee was all about projecting confidence and manifesting one’s own popularity. Anyone could do it with the right mindset.
For me, that came in the form of Trish. I’d moulded her from every single resource I could find because I couldn’t face another four years of being teased for all the things I actually liked and cared about. When I was Trish, everything else was suppressed. She was my mask. And my protector.
Without her, I doubt I would have survived.
More importantly, though, through Trish, I learned of another part that comprised me as a whole. I learned that I did like hanging out with Naomi and Evangeline even though they weren’t the brightest people around. I learned I didn’t always have to be the straight-A perfect student I thought my parents wanted me to be.
And I learned it was okay to let myself have fun.
It was something the old Patricia – the one who had become Pat – would never have allowed. Or thought possible.
Amelia, though, would have probably said it was all ‘fake’ and I needed to strip it all down until I was the raw unvarnished version of me. But what Amelia didn’t understand was that this wasn’t the entirety of who I was either. It wouldn’t be the whole me either.
My time at college had also shown how people could change.
By trying new things and going through our lives, we grew. No longer was I insecure about who I was. I could be freer to be closer to my true self with Naomi, Evangeline and even Sonia.
But Amelia wasn’t me. And I wasn’t her.
She had thought she had found a kindred spirit, but I was more than the clone she was trying to make me into.
I shut off the browser, sicked to my stomach that I’d wasted so many hours trying to research Amelia to figure out who she was. Once more, I’d played right into her hands. This was what she wanted me to do. Professor Langley, too, could forget about asking me to provide a victim impact statement.
The last thing I wanted to do was dwell on Amelia Cardum for a moment longer.
I had a life to live.
~
“Patsy, I would like a word,” said Professor Langley as I was packing away my belongings.
“I actually have something on afterwards, sir. Could this not be an email?”
“This won’t take long,” replied Professor Langley, shutting down any further protest.
I exchanged a look with Sonia. ‘What do you think he wants?’ she mouthed at me. I shrugged. After my decision to cut Amelia Cardum out of my life, I’d tried to avoid Professor Langley as much as I could. The way he acted as soon as her name was even mentioned felt like a man obsessed.
Even though Amelia hadn’t ruined his life, or had tried to murder them at the bleachers, he seemed intent to keep her behind bars for the entirety of her sentence. It made me wonder what Amelia had done to his cousin. He’d alluded to a few things before but hadn’t exactly stated outright what had happened.
I’d seen a young girl seated next to him at the parole hearing. At the time, I’d thought it was the cousin in question but I wasn’t so sure now.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” I said, swinging my backpack over my left shoulder.
“Ah, Patsy. Yes. Why don’t you take a seat?”
“Um, no. I really do have something on later. I’d like to stand. Sir.”
Professor Langley’s brow furrowed for a brief moment, his lips thinning, before he flashed her a smile. “Why, yes. That’s fine.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. Bag over my shoulder, I waited for Professor Langley to continue. He didn’t disappoint.
With gusto, Professor Langley began. “I know you said you didn’t want to be involved but I thought I’d give you an update on the parole hearing for Amelia Cardum. You see—”
“Sir, whilst I thank you for keeping me in your thoughts, I would prefer you not mention her name in my presence. I’ve decided to move one and no longer wished to be reminded of what had proved a most harrowing time during my final year in high school.”
“Yes, that’s a very understandable sentiment. But what I wanted to tell you is that we’re going to see her locked up for a very long time. Just like she deserves.”
“Why do you care so much? She didn’t hurt you. Not directly, at least.”
Professor Langley’s cheeks flushed red. “Patsy, there’s no need to be so aggressive. Don’t you want the same thing? Amelia ruined your life, just like she did my cousin’s.”
“Maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t. I don’t want to think on it anymore. I just want to live my life and enjoy it again.”
“Don’t you think I want the same thing?” exclaimed Professor Langley, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I look at Nadine and all I can see is the broken girl Amelia left behind.”
I looked away, scratching at my upper arm. “Yeah, well…that’s not my problem.”
“Isn’t it? Did you know Nadine tried to take her own life six months after Amelia attacked her? She was hospitalised and her parents were shattered. And all Nadine would say about the event was that she ‘wasn’t living her authentic self.’ I ask you: is that fair?”
“No,” I said finally. “But what more do you want from me? According to you, she’ll be behind bars to serve out her sentence in full.”
At my question, Professor Langley looked askance. “It’s nothing important,” he said, playing with a pen on his desk. “Just, there were a few things that came to light during the parole hearing I wanted to clarify with you.”
As he looked up at me, there was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. As if he was seeing me for the first time in a new light. I didn’t like it.
Nervously, I readjusted my bag. “I’m really sorry, sir. But I really have to head off to my next class.”
“Yes, yes. I understand. But Patsy, think on what I said, yes? I’d really like to have a chat. Just you and me. Maybe over a coffee?”
~
“—freaking believe it? Like, he had no right to talk to me like that!”
“You go, Tricia! I hope you smack him upside the head next lecture,” said Naomi. She downed a second can of vodka spritz. “What a creep!”
“And he sounds like he’s super obsessed. Like, does he hate Amelia or does he want to, you know, fuck her?” asked Evangeline.
Michael Sanchez plopped down in the chair next to his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek. He put down a bowl of chips. “What’s this about fucking cause Evie and I have been getting it on like rabbits. We’re going to have a huge family. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”
“Yes, that’s right, honey drizzle.”
I fought down the urge the vomit. Sometimes Michael and Evie could be far too extra for their own good. It was like they wanted to shove their perfect relationship down everyone’s throat.
It was nauseating.
But I managed to plaster a fake smile on my face as I said, “Oh, you know, my Economics Professor and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
“Ah. Yes.” Michael nodded sagely. As he grabbed a chip and bit into it. “How is Amelia doing anyways?”
His question threw me off. I blinked stupidly up at him for several seconds, trying to compute what he had asked.
“What do you mean?” I said finally.
“You see her, don’t you?” answered Michael with a shrug. “My dad works at the juvenile detention centre she’s in. Tells me you visited her pretty often. I figured it was because you wanted to wrap your head around her actions or seek closure.”
I stared at him agog, mouth open wide, and unable to mount any type of retort.
Michael Sanchez, it seemed, was a dangerous man. And if I wasn’t careful, my whole life could unravel at the drop of a hat.
Naomi looked in my direction. “Is that true, Tricia? You’ve gone to see Amelia?”
I covered up my momentary lapse by snagging a chip and popping it into my mouth. “It’s just like Sanchez said. I wanted to understand what made Amelia tick. And what, you know, actually triggered that episode. It just seemed so extreme. You know?”
“Really?” asked Naomi, looking unconvinced.
“What else do you want me to say?” I grabbed another chip, popped it into my mouth and chewed. All the while, I stared dead at Naomi, daring her to challenge me.
Naomi was the first to look away, disgust clear on her face.
“Well,” interrupted Evie after several uncomfortable seconds, “I think we should all get something to drink, yeah? Naomi, want to come with?”
Before I could protest, my two best friends from high school hurried to the bar and I was left alone with Michael Sanchez. In the summer or so since graduating, the runt of the football team had filled out. Though his grades hadn’t been the best, he still managed to secure a spot at the local community college and was thinking of studying physiotherapy.
“So,” said Michael after the silence between us became heavy, “how are things at that special school you been going to?”
“Good. Great, actually.”
“Dating anyone?”
“No.”
“Shame. I thought you and Brad were good.”
“Yeah. It was nice while it lasted,” I said taking a sip from my already empty glass. “How is he, by the way? Brad.”
“Oh, he’s doing good. He’s looking to become a personal trainer.”
“That’s nice.”
Sanchez grinned. “Isn’t it? He’s just so motivated to have a good future and expand his horizons. I kinda envy him.”
“How are you and Evie going, by the way?” I asked.
Before Sanchez could respond, Evie and Naomi returned with four drinks in hand. They plonked them down on the table, none too gently.
“What did we miss?” asked Evie with a saccharine smile. She glanced at her boyfriend and I could see Sanchez squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Despite the affection they often displayed in public, I couldn’t help but sense there was trouble between them. That the lovey-dovey couple I was often tortured with was just a performance.
Much like how Almeria had been during the parole hearing.
The thought made my gut churn.
Why did it seem like everywhere I turned, people were always pretending? Why was no-one ever as authentic as they so claimed?
I hated it. I hated it with every fibre of my being.
Were Evangeline and Naomi even my friends anymore? Or were they pretending as they secretly gossiped about me behind my back?
It became too much.
There was a loud thumping in my ear. And not too far, I could hear the belaboured heavy breaths of someone nearby. It took me far longer than I expected to realise that it was me. By then, my chest had tightened, constricting until it seemed I could barely get any air in, and my vision darkened. I tried to fight it by rising onto my unsteady feet even as I kept a tight hold of the table.
Before I could even say something or reach out to anyone, the faces of everyone around me vanished into nothingness and I knew no more.
~
I woke to the flashing of red and blue lights, and the night sky above me. When I tried to sit up, to make sense of what was happening, I couldn’t. Something was holding me down. It sat tight across my chest and my wrists.
Fuck. What was going on?
Desperate, I tried to get up again, squirming to free myself from my binds. Even as something slimy came crawling up my throat.
It took me a moment to realise it was fear. Cold and dark and oh so frightening.
I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know where my friends were. And all I wanted to do was scream and cry and plead for someone to come over and help me.
As if they had sensed my wish, I heard the rush of footsteps to my left. Dark russet entered my field of vision.
Naomi. It had to be Naomi.
I tried to say her name but I couldn’t seem to make my lips form the letters.
“She’s awake! Tricia is awake!” Naomi called over her shoulder.
There were more footsteps and then Evie and Michael Sanchez were crowded around me. Every one was talking at once and none of it made sense.
“Do you think she knows what’s happened?”
“Won’t attack me again, will she?”
“They’ve got her restrained, if that’s what has you frightened.”
“Yeah, but what if she can, I don’t know, hulk out? You know, like The Hulk?”
“Sanchez, are you still high? Evie, I know he’s your boyfriend but I’d rather you found someone with a few more braincells.”
I tried to process the cacophony of voices, taking deep breaths as I tried to centre myself. It looked like we were still near the nightclub but I was on a stretcher, presumably, to be taken to hospital. But besides the throbbing at my left temple, forewarning me of an incoming migraine, I felt fine.
“W-what’s going on?” I forced through chapped lips in a low rasp.
“Tricia…” Naomi turned back to me, some unknown expression flitting across her face. “What do you remember?”
Once more, I tried to sit up but was prevented from doing so. “I-I don’t know,” I said, licking my dry lips as I tried to recall the events of the night. “We were talking about things. How I was doing at college. And I think Amelia?”
I paused, waiting for Naomi or Evangeline to nod. They did so and I continued, drawing strength from a hidden reserve I didn’t know I had.
“You and Evie went to get drinks. Then, everything went dark. W-what happened? Why does Sanchez think I tried to attack him? And why am I being restrained?”
Naomi and Evangeline exchanged a look while Sanchez looked on, a diffident grin on his face.
“Well…” began Evangeline. “You staggered forward and Naomi caught you. And then, you started acting really strange.”
“It was like you were a completely different person,” added Naomi. “You immediately flinched away from me, started to accuse me of being a fake friend. Said you knew Evie and Sanchez were having problems with their relationship. Told us we were all pretending to be good people. It was all very hurtful, so Sanchez tried to confront you. But then you lashed out at him, almost managed to hit him with a glass.”
I listened to her recount with growing horror as a chill went down my spine.
“And then, I don’t know, you stiffened. Before anyone could stop you, you grabbed a toothpick and lunged for Sanchez. He ducked out of the way, of course, and then, I don’t know what happened exactly but you slumped down onto the ground and started twitching.”
“It was fuckin’ scary,” said Sanchez. “Thought you were goin’ rabid, you know?”
“I-is that why you t-thought I was going to ‘Hulk’ out?”
Sanchez scratched the back of his head. “Heard that, yeah? Well, I’m good to see you’re back to normal. But the paramedics say they’ll still need to run a few tests ‘fore they’re willin’ to clear you.”
“W-where’s my phone?”
“Here,” said Naomi, putting my iPhone into my right hand. “I called your mother earlier. Told her what happened.”
“Thanks.”
There was a moment’s pause before Naomi bent down over, her voice low as if she didn’t want Evangeline or Sanchez to hear. “Listen, Tricia…I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you need someone to talk to, I know a good psychiatrist. You went through some mad trauma with Amelia. I mean, I’ve been seeing a therapist recently too, you know. Just to wrap my head round high school and everything else.”
I looked away. “I’ll think on it.”
“Cool,” said Naomi before straightening up. “Well, looks like the questioning is almost all done. Paramedics will be taking you to the local hospital. Message us later, yeah?”
“Okay.”
~
For the first time since high school, I felt overwhelmed. Burdened by the masks I still juggled in order to segment my life and give it some semblance of order. There were too many things to keep in mind, though Naomi and Evie had already seen shades of who I really was.
After all, it’s not everyday that the Queen Bee also manages to snag a 3.8 GPA.
As I stared up at the ceiling of my dormitory, after being released by the hospital, I couldn’t help but go over the events of the night two days ago. Something was deeply wrong, I felt.
Yes, I’d been irritated by how Naomi and Evie had kept pressing me about Amelia but I hadn’t expected to lash out as I did.
By all accounts, I had another persona lurking underneath the surface. A violent one that was willing to drag my friends down be it verbally or physically.
And it was that very fact keeping me up despite the late hour and classes due to begin in the next three hours.
I felt terrified. Out of control.
What if it happened again?
Could I, perhaps, turn into another Amelia?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine as I shifted to my side and tried to snatch a couple hours of rest before my alarm went off. Sonia, just a few feet away, continued to snore, blissfully unaware to the inner turmoil I found myself in.
Like every good friend, she had asked how I was when I returned late yesterday to our dormitory. Had said I looked haggard and tired. And because I didn’t want to acknowledge what the last 36 hours had been like, I’d lied. Had told her I was feeling stressed about the upcoming exams and had a bad panic attack while I was out.
Sonia had nodded, though the concern on her face remained.
“If you need anything, Patsy, just let me know,” she had said before returning back to her desk and putting her headphones back on as she watched a film on Netflix. It wasn’t one I knew though I caught a glimpse of Ryan Reynolds and Gal Godot on the screen.
Guilt had churned in my stomach. A part of me wanted to tell her everything. And yet I tamped down on the words on the tip of my tongue.
In the end, we had both gone to bed, pretending everything was fine.
But I knew Sonia didn’t believe me. And the thought weighed on me as I showered and put on my PJs. I turned our conversation over and over as I pulled the covers up to my chin.
And as I stared at the wall, it gnawed at my insides and leading me to spiral down old familiar paths.
Maybe there was something to be said about going to therapy. If it could cure me of the heavy anxiety weighing down on my chest, perhaps my life would be a lot better.
Yet, doing so would leave me exposed. Vulnerable.
It meant admitting something was wrong with me.
And that was untenable.
I’d prided myself for picking myself up by the bootstraps and reinventing myself while in high school to become the popular girl. All the while, juggling the expectations of my parents and the teachers. I couldn’t simply throw in the towel right now and mentally break down.
I was stronger than this.
After all, I’d survived an attack by a madwoman.
By that token, I was wonderfully sane in comparison. Yes, I was struggling to find my own authentic voice, but I was thriving member of society, able to converse with ease to just about anyone.
It didn’t matter that it was usually inane small talk and I couldn’t divulge many of my actual interests. Nobody truly cared about what Patricia wanted or thought about. And that was fine with me. I could be a chameleon. A jack-of-all-trades as it were.
And that meant I didn’t need medication. Nor did I need to talk to someone about non-existent traumas.
What I needed was a walk to clear my head and to refocus on the things important to me. And squash down on any stray musings as fast as possible.
Everything was going to be okay.
If I believed it hard enough, surely it would come true.
~
Things went from bad to worse as the semester dragged on.
Professor Langley continued to hound me about my relationship with Amelia. He wanted to know every little detail about my interactions with her during my time in high school and the details of her attack on me in the two weeks leading up to prom.
I hadn’t wanted to tell him anything until he started to threaten to fail me for being difficult.
Fear had crept up my throat then.
In school, I was Patsy. I was meant to be smart and get good grades and be involved in extracurricular school activities like protesting climate change. But Professor Langley was threatening to upend all of that.
Finding it difficult to find the words I wanted to say to the professor, I’d exited the lecture hall, making sure to slam the door behind me, before hurrying to the nearest toilet. Inside a stall, I’d tried to calm myself from the impending panic attack threatening to seize me in its grip.
That was when I had my second blackout.
When I came to, I was out in the quadrangle near the library. People were staring down at me, none of whom I knew. One of them, a girl with short brown hair, took me to the health centre. She sat with me as I was looked over by a nurse before being declared I was fit and healthy.
It was only later in the week I learned someone had trashed Professor Langley’s car by puncturing the tyres and scrawling the word: Pedo Groomer on the windshield with black paint.
I knew then what had happened.
Despite Sonia’s best efforts to calm me down, I closed myself off. Even playing Honkai: Star Rail was unable to help get my mind of things.
My grades began to slip, feeding into my ever-growing desperation to maintain the façade I wore at college.
I was at my wit’s end.
As the weeks rolled on, I knew what I needed most were answers.
To figure out what was happening to me.
And the only person I could turn to was Amelia.
Although I’d sworn to disavow her, Amelia Cardum was now my only lifeline. Last I’d heard, she had been transferred to a woman’s prison after her application for parole had been rejected.
I would visit her during the weekend. Maybe confront her over the lies she’d told me over the intervening months to garner my sympathy. And discover, once and for all, who Amelia Cardum truly was behind the persona she projected, thinking it was the one I wanted to see.
~
Amelia sauntered into the room looking like she had all the time in the world as she approached the tempered glass screen separating the prisoners from the visitors. Gone was the demure frightened girl from the hearing. Instead, Amelia looked like she was in her element, if the smirk on her face as she reached for the receiver was anything to go by.
“Hello Patricia.” Her voice came through the receiver strong. “It’s been a while. But I always knew you’d come back.”
I frowned at her. “Don’t act like you know me.”
“Oh, Patricia, but I do.” Amelia smiled sweetly at me despite her gaunt frame and dark circles under her eyes. “So, how many blackouts has it been now?”
Fear spiked down my spine.
How did she know? Trapped inside a prison, Amelia shouldn’t have been privy to that information. Unless…
I schooled my expression, not wanting to let slip my real thoughts. But perhaps I was too late because Amelia continued, “You’re surprised. Probably questioning how I know. Rest assured Patrica, nobody has told me anything. I just know. Because you and I, we’re the same.”
“When did they start happening for you? The blackouts, I mean.”
“Middle-school. It became worse in high school. But when I was transferred to Seven Oaks, I learned how to control it. Want to know how?”
I stared at the woman before me, trying to spot a hint of madness in Amelia’s eyes, but I couldn’t find it. AlthoughI still remembered what Professor Langley had told me, I was desperate to seek any help I could get. And I knew Amelia held the answers I sought. “Tell me,” I said, finally.
Amelia leaned back in her chair. “I learned to accept who I was,” she said with a shrug. “No longer would I be beholden to the expectations society had thrust upon me. My first act, of course, was to take down all my social media accounts. I hated all the past photos I’d put up to play pretend at being the happy perfect girl I had been. I would finally live my truth. Just like you should yours, Patricia.”
“And what is my truth?” I demanded.
The knowing smirk on Amelia’s face stretched wider.
It was only then I realised I had fallen into her trap.
Instead of answering, Amelia hung her receiver back on its hook. She motioned to one of the guards and they came to escort her out and back to her cell.
“You can’t leave me like this! Amelia! I need answers! I need your help!” I slammed against the glass separating us with the palm of my hands, loathing boiling up inside me as my vision tunnelled until all I could see was her orange jumpsuit vanishing behind the cold steel door leading further into the prison.
The Writing Corner 