Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I hated being sick.

I hated the chills, the aches, the fatigue, the coughing, and I still do; it fucking sucks.

It sucked even more for me because Colleen and Delta are my sisters. Now don’t get me wrong; I love my siblings, sort of. But Colleen and Delta are Mama Bears by nature. So whenever we got sick, they were always the first to volunteer to take care of us. That’s not a bad thing in of itself. But when I got sick, they became mama dragons. They badgered me into naps. They nagged me into letting them feed me. And when was the last time you drank water, Mystic? You need to to get better! Plus I could hardly get so much as five seconds of alone time because they insisted on making sure I didn’t collapse of a fever. And as an introvert, that’s hell.

Was there anything worse that being sick?

Well, at age four, I found out that there actually was.

More accurately Cyrille, Delta, and I found that out.

The hard way.

October 31st, 1997

“But I gotta make sure they get better, mommy!”

I remember that the second Colleen found out that the three of us were sick, she was willing to trade in trick-or-treating for taking care of us. Even at the age of four, she made her place as one of the mama bears of the group.

“They’ll be fine, Colleen,” Mom assured her as she helped Colleen back into her costume. “You need to focus on getting some candy for yourself.”

I, meanwhile, was acting a bit like a brat. Understandably so because I was missing the one night of the year where I got free candy.

“I don’t care if I’m sick!” I stomped my foot angrily. “I. Want. Candy!”

“Stop being such a baby,” Nikita snapped. “You and Delta both. The only thing she’s done all day is cry. No wonder you two got sick. Only crybabies get sick.”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll bite you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and Nikita stumbled back about a foot away from where she was standing. At the time, I didn't really think much of it, but looking back on it I realize that should've raised some questions.

“That’s enough!” mom said firmly as she helped Nikita up, checking her for any damage.

“She started it!” we both exclaimed pointing at each other.

“I don’t care who started it. I’m going to end it. Mystic, go sit on the stairs. Nikita, go sit on the stool in the kitchen. Each of you, stay there for four minutes and think about what you did.”

My heart filled with dread. I know it seems trivial now, but back then, four minutes was a long time for us. But there was no use arguing with mom. Both of us stormed off to our respective areas to sulk.

“This is your fault!” Nikita yelled at me from the kitchen.

“No, it’s yours!” I snapped back.

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Enough!” mom snapped. “You two know the rule about being in time out.”

We sighed.

“When in time out, keep your voice in, unless it’s an emergency,” we recited tiredly in unison.

“You both will be getting three more minutes in time-out. After you each tell me what you did wrong, you can come off of timeout.”

“But we’re supposed to be going trick-or-treating soon!” Teala exclaimed.

“Those are the consequences.”

This caused the other 18 four-year-olds to grumble and whine, but mom managed to quell that as soon as it began. I knew another rule in timeout was sitting up, but I felt extremely woozy, so I ended up having to lie on the stairs. After a few minutes, Ro in her French Bulldog costume approached me and whispered.

“Don’t worry. Matt, Saf, Eva, and I will each give you three some of our candy.”

That made me feel a little better. Emotionally at least. After seven minutes, mom approached me. Thank Goodness she didn’t remark about me lying on the stairs.

“Mystic, why did you get a timeout?” she asked me.

“Because I did something bad?” I said hesitantly.

“Yes, you did do something bad. What was that something?”

“I yelled at Nikita and said I was gonna bite her.”

“That’s right. Now follow me.”

Mom helped me up and took me to the kitchen where Nikita was sulking on the stool.

“Nikita, why did you get a timeout?”

“Because I called Mystic and Delta crybabies,” she sighed.

“That’s right,” Mom nodded. “Now I want you two to apologize to each other.”

Once again we knew that there was no use arguing with mom.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you and said I was gonna bite you,” I said.

“I’m sorry I called you and Delta crybabies,” she grumbled.

Mom nodded.

“Can I get off now?” Nikita asked.

“What’s the magic word?”

She huffed.

“Please?”

“Yes, you may get off of the stool.”

Nikita hopped off and went back to the others in her poodle costume while mom lead me to the living room where Delta and Cyrille were laying on the makeshift bed.

“C’mon ya lil rascals!” Tex exclaimed excitedly. “Let’s get trick-er-treatin’!”

They all cheered as the door opened and out they went. This was enough to make me cry again. Immediately mom came over and hugged me.

“Oh honey,” she cooed as she lead me to the makeshift bed. “I know it’s not fun being sick, especially on Halloween, but I’ve set up something fun for you three; I have a fun Halloween movie for you to watch!”

She pulled out a bunch of VHS tapes, seemingly searching for something.

“Ah, here we are!”

She pushed it into the VHS player and started it up.

“Reagan?”

“Yes?”

“Will you take care of the Halloween treats? I’m going to stay with the girls and watch the movie.”

“Of course, madame,” they said in a slightly-exaggerated formal British tone.

She giggled as they said that before sitting down between Delta and I. Mom knew that we’d been particularly excited to go trick-or-treating that year because a lot of the houses had gotten extra large candies, so we were going to definitely need some comfort.

The movie was about these three witch sisters trying to suck the lives out of little children, but it was very light-hearted and I saw myself in one of the three; a blonde-haired sister who most likely had ADHD like me. And I asked mom what a virgin was, to which she told me I’d learn when I was older. Otherwise I didn’t really pay much attention to it.

That is, until it was getting close to the end.

In one scene, the sisters are on cleaning equipment with one of the kidnapped children and the blonde witch began to sing a haunting, but beautiful, song.

“Come little children

I'll take thee away

Into a land of enchantment

Come little children

The time's come to play

Here in my garden of magic….”

I was practically entranced. She’d sung a little bit of it in the beginning of the movie, but very faintly. This time, it was as clear as a starry night sky.

As soon as the song was over, I begged mom to rewind it back to the beginning of it. Of course being four years old and cute as a button, I managed to get her to rewind the tape. And then I begged her to do it again. And she did.

And then I begged her to do it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Much to the annoyance of my sisters.

“How come she gets to watch her favorite part over and over?” Delta whined. “I wanna see Winnie’s song again!”

“I’ve heard enough of the music,” Cyrille complained. “I wanna go back to Mary’s calming circle!”

“No, those are too far back in the movie!” I snapped. “I wanna hear the pretty song again!”

“Winnie’s song!”

“Calming circle!”

“Pretty song!”

“Winnie’s song!”

“Calming circle!”

“Pretty song!”

“Winnie’s song!”

“Calming circle!”

“Pretty song!”

“That’s enough, you three.” Mom was calm with us this time, so that our headaches wouldn’t get worse. “You haven’t even seen how the movie ends.”

The three of us pouted, but reluctantly kept watching. Of course the sisters ended up dying and good won over evil, but we really didn’t care about the kids. They were boring to watch, unlike the witch sisters. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, but the three of us had already decided what we were gonna do when Cyrille and Delta didn’t have training.

After that whenever we played pretend, we’d pretend to be the witch sisters; Delta would always be Winnie, Cyrille would play as Mary, and I took on the role of Sarah, the blonde ADHD witch. We managed to find some old brooms and even got some cloaks. We also managed to rope Alice, Ro, Matt, and Regan into being Dani, Allison, Max, and Binx respectively. It was a lot of fun.

But eventually I started to notice a strange pattern. Whenever we’d reenact the scene with the pretty song, the one Sarah sang, something weird would happen to the others.

“Use thy voice, Sarah! Fill the skies!” Delta cackled as we flew on our brooms. “Bring the little brats to die!”

Of course that was my cue to sing.

“Come little children

I'll take thee away

Into a land of enchantment

Come little children

The time's come to play

Here in my garden of magic….”

I’d wait for Matt to start trying to warn the pretend entranced kids, but I’d get….nothing. So I just pretended to fly off on my broom and try to forget it.

But then one time, I decided to look at them after I sang. And what I saw was…..peculiar. Delta, Cyrille, Alice, Ro, Regan, and Matt’s eyes would all be glazed over, as if they were staring blankly into space.

I kept waving my hand in their faces, but I’d get no response.

“Whoa…..you guys are really good at acting hypnotized,” I remarked, feeling a little bit uneasy. “But if you want to stop for today, you can just say so.”

No response. I felt my stomach tense up.

“Um…okay? Well, how about we get a snack?” I asked.

“Yes,” Delta replied in a sort-of dazed tone as they all headed to the kitchen.

I just stood there and blinked. The first time it just seemed weird, but then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And then one day….

“Dad says we’re not allowed to play the game anymore.”

Delta and Cyrille suddenly had to train more, and dad forbid us from playing the game. My heart sank. I had all of this energy and desire to express myself and now no one to share it with or any way to share it. For a while, I holed myself up in my room in a deep state of depression, except when I was forced to go to social skills classes with Delta and Cyrille (which is a whole other hell hole that I’ll get to) or forced downstairs for meals, though I’d barely eat anything. I was nearing a point where I even thought I’d be better off gone.

Finally dad approached me at the age of seven.

“Number Twenty-Two?”

I was startled out of my thoughts.

“What?” I asked him, a slight growl in my tone.

“How long are you going to keep acting like this?” he sighed.

“Acting like what?”

“Acting like a…..well, just moping around and holing yourself up in your room.”

“Until you let us play our game again.”

“That was three years ago. The past is the past.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it hurts. Dad, I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t let my feelings out!”

“And that’s why I’m here,” he said bluntly. “Regan told me that they’d be willing to take you on as their pupil for voice lessons. I think singing may be a good way for you to get that energy out.”

My eyes widened in excitement, but I still felt a hint of skepticism.

“This…..this isn’t some sort of trick, right?”

He shook his head.

“I assure you there is no trickery in this, number Twenty-Two. They’re willing to begin lessons as soon as tomorrow if you’d like.”

The hint of skepticism still pushed at me in spite of this, but what else was I going to do? I didn’t really know of any other ways to express myself.

“Okay,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

“There we go,” he said before turning around. “You begin tomorrow at 2 pm.”

He left without another word. The grief of our game was still there, but at least I had something. Deep down, though, I had a feeling there was something behind this offer. Something he wanted to keep from me. I just wasn’t sure what.

Chapter Text

I hate being injured.

I hate the pain, the tears, the x-rays, the splints, the casts, it fucking sucks.

And because my shoulder was nearly on life support, guess which mother bears of the Clarke family wouldn’t leave my side for even a second.

“You need to drink more water, honey,” Colleen told me.

“Your ice pack slid down,” Delta said as she propped it back up.

“Do you need more pain meds, sweetie?”

“How about another pillow?”

“Your stuffed animals fell again!”

You guessed it.

I was nearly getting a headache from Delta and Colleen’s constant coddling. Strike that. I had a headache from their constant coddling. I knew that they did it out of love, but this was a bit excessive.

“Guys, it’s just a shoulder wound,” I huffed. “It’s not that bad.”

“You got shot by bullets!” Colleen objected. “That’s definitely beyond ‘that bad,’ honey.”

I looked over at Elise for some mercy and respite.

“Don’t you think she’s fine for now?” she asked the two to which Colleen spoke up.

“Absolutely not. She needs our help.”

Gently she pet my head, cooing.

“Poor sweet baby’s probably traumatized.”

“I mean I am, but I’m not about to tell you that,” I thought. “I don’t need to give you any more reason to smother me than you already are.”

“I’m. Fine,” I asserted. “Besides, they need me at work.”

“Your health is more important,” Delta said.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” I asked.

“I can clear my schedule for you—“

“Everyone, calm down,” a new, but familiar, voice chimed in from the doorway. “I think I can solve this.”

I looked up in relief to see my brother Elijah, also known as Doctor Scalpel. One of the most important members of the team, his specialty is to make sure none of my siblings get themselves killed by healing them during battles. He also has deadly scalpel aim and can easily give any enemy a tracheotomy.

He approached the bedside.

“Please tell me you can heal my shoulder,” I begged desperately.

“Well, yes…but I’d need to be around you for the rest of the day to assure it’s healing well. By tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest, it should be all healed.”

I shrugged with my non-injured shoulder. Better than the three to five months of rehabilitation I didn’t have time for, especially with what I knew at that point.

“Go for it.”

Elijah nodded and pulled out the specialized gloves Regan, Tex, and Elise helped make. He practically made putting them on look like child’s play, except if anyone else tried to put them on, they’d get shocked.

“This is going to hurt a little,” he warned me as he removed the covering before placing a gloved hand on my injury.

All at once, I felt a mix of itching, searing pain, stinging, aching, and stabbing pain. My jaw refused to unclamp as my brain was going haywire with pain reception and my vision was sparking.

After what felt like several eternities, he removed his gloved hand and I looked over at him like the face Kermit makes at that kid in the “Q R Cookie Monster” vine.

“You said that would hurt a little,” I gritted my teeth.

“Well, yes, because your body isn’t used to such a rapid healing process—“

At that moment, he looked at his glove palm and I could see the small muscles in his eyes as they widened a bit.

“Oh,” he said simply. “It seems I’d misjudged the extent of your injury. These are going to need some serious recharging. Luckily….”

He put his current pair in his pocket before whipping out an identical pair.

“That’s why I have more than one.”

Shaking my head, I pulled off the covers and found that my shoulder was now only aching. Colleen and Delta, however, were still in mama bear mode.

“Shouldn’t one of us go with her?” Colleen asked Elijah. “What if she dislocates it?”

“She’ll be fine with me,” he assured her. “Besides you have those competitions and showcase to prepare for, remember?”

“Yes, I know, but…..” She trailed off. “Family comes first.”

“Like I said, she’ll be fine with me,” he told her. “I’m the one with the gloves.”

Getting out of the bed, I felt unsteady on my feet for a bit. My ligaments seemed to be made of anxious gelatin.

“Easy there, Myst,” Elijah coaxed me. “I’ve got you.”

After some time, Colleen and Delta were convinced that I was okay enough to go, but even then they said they were still going to take care of me when I got back. The whole way there, I couldn’t thank Elijah enough.

The walk to the Icarus Theatre was a decent one. I could feel butterflies as our billboard appeared into view.

“So this is what you’ve been helping out on?” he asked me.

I nodded, smiling.

“I’m hoping you’ll all be able to come see it.”

“What’s it about?” he asked.

“It’s….semi-autobiographical/surrealist/fantastical, I guess,” I told him. “But the ending isn’t exactly the happiest.”

“Why?”

“I guess the playwright wanted to show that life isn’t exactly the happiest. Oh! Also when we’re inside, don’t be alarmed if they call me Lydia Marlowe.”

He nodded.

“Just stay close.”

“That….might not always be possible,” I told him.

We entered through the backdoor and into the auditorium after I checked us in. They were setting up everything for rehearsal.

“Okay,” I sighed, knowing that very few people actually knew the full truth about this. “Elijah, I need to ask you something; what exactly is it you think I do here?”

He gave this some thought.

“I’d always assumed you were part of the acting troupe. Why?”

Slowly I shook my head.

“The truth is that I actually wrote this play.”

As expected, he was shocked.

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Really.”

“Who’ve you told this to?”

“Just Sibyl and Lauren, only because they caught me at the Icarus Theatre somehow.”

“Why don’t you tell the others?”

“Are you kidding?” I exclaimed as we headed backstage. “If I told the whole family, Colleen and Delta would be doting all over me. ‘Our little baby sister wrote a play and it’s on Broadway! Oh my Goodness! Such a big star.’”

I could hear him trying to suppress a snicker.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said.

I opened the door to the first girls’ dressing room to check in our leading lady.

“Guess who?” I chimed in.

At that moment, Andrea peeked over her shoulder as she was finishing her makeup, and the butterflies returned.

“Hey, baby,” she smiled. “How’s the shoulder? And who’s the guy behind you?”

Oh shit….I hadn’t told him about that.

“Elijah, please don’t tell dad or anyone else, but this is my girlfriend, Andrea Pearson.”

He shrugged.

“Andrea, this is one of my brothers; Elijah. He’s an expert with healing. As for the shoulder, that’s why he’s with me.”

He quickly showed her the glove.

“It accelerates the body’s healing process. However this is the second glove…and the first was on full charge.”

Hearing this Andrea’s smile dropped.

“Babe, are you sure you should be here?” she asked concerned.

“I’ll be fine, honey,” I assured her. “I need to be here for the play’s new sponsor.”

“Sponsor?” Elijah asked.

“Yeah, sponsor. We’ve had some trouble looking for some to add in more revenue to help with the process, especially because we have late fees. This one’s called Phantom Operatics.”

“But….why are you getting a sponsor so late?”

I shrugged gently, careful not to aggravate my shoulder.

“Better late than never, I guess.”

All of a sudden, I heard a knock on the door.

“Hey there, superstar!”

Miles Howard; the director of the play.

“Miles!” I exclaimed. “Oh, this is Elijah, my brother. He’s using some of his technology to help me heal, very specialized in that field.”

Now a concerned look popped up on his face.

“Are you…are you sure you should be here? You can go back home and rest if it’s too much trouble.”

“I’ll be fine, just keep this on the DL, okay?”

He nodded.

“Anyway, the representatives from Phantom Operatics says he’d like to meet with you.”

“Already?”

Another nod.

“Says he’s been dying to meet you.”

A small lump appeared in my throat, but I tried to stay calm.

“Umm….okay. Just me?”

“I’ll be there with you.” I knew that Miles could hear the anxiety in my voice.

I turned to Elijah.

“I’m gonna have to go off of the glove for a bit,” I told him. “I should be back in like…..ten or twenty minutes.”

“That’s fine.”

I smiled and followed Miles. To tell you the truth, I wanted to tell the family, but while a few of them would actually give two fucks, most of them wouldn’t. Being the so-called weakest didn’t exactly give me the best rep.

“Ahh!”

All of a sudden, I felt someone bump into my shoulder. You know, the one that got riddled with bullets the night before? I looked up to see Gabrielle “Gabbie” Reese, who’d been cast as the villain of the play.

I winced as the pain struck my shoulder.

“Hey, watch it!” I groaned.

“Oh please, it was just a shoulder bump.” Gabbie rolled her eyes.

Flipping her hair, she strutted off.

“Miles, are you sure she was a good casting choice?” I fumed.

“She came highly recommended,” he shrugged.

“By who? Bitches Anonymous?” I thought as we continued on.

Soon enough we came to a stop in front of a man with brown hair in a typical casual attire. But….something about him felt off to me.

“Mister Griffin,” Miles said. “A pleasure to finally meet you. Miss Marlowe, this is Mister Griffin, the owner of Phantom Operatics.”

“Charmed,” he said in a low baritone timbre.

I could’ve sworn I saw a slight smirk sit on his face for a brief moment.

“Shall we find somewhere to discuss terms?” Miles asked.

“I was actually hoping to speak to the playwright one-on-one first,” Mister Griffin answered.

My stomach began to churn as I began to assume the worst. For one, my policy is that there should always be a go-between for negotiating terms so that there can be a witness in case of miscommunication or violations. Second my intuition was still telling me that this guy was bad fucking news.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” I told him. “My policy is for there to always be a go-between in term negotiation.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of discussing terms without Mr. Howard, of course. No, what I meant was that I wish to acquaint myself with you on a more personal level.”

“As I recall sponsor relationships, unless given by friends or family, are kept strictly as business partnerships.”

“Well, perhaps my intention is to give the business side of theatre more of a humanitarian brush. And what better way to do that than to meet the lovely lady who wrote this work of art.”

It was the flirtatious compliment for me.

“Mr. Griffin.” I brushed a firmer tone over my voice. “I have told you that such a thing is not going to be possible, and it would suit you well to take this as an answer. Now either we can discuss terms as a group or else I shall have to ask you to leave.”

All of a sudden, his face seemed to darken, a shadow casting over it.

“Well, I certainly would hate to think what would happen if you were to dismiss me. Your theatre company, as is all too apparent, isn’t exactly at its financial peak. Now if we are going to discuss terms, I wish to know the mastermind of such art at her core.”

Miles’ face paled, the color rushing to his feet, and my stomach churning even more. Mr. Griffin was right…and he was threatening us.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” Miles asked before pulling me off to the side.

“Mystic, please,” he whispered. “Just this once.”

“You know I don’t do one-on-one, let alone with people I’ve only just met.”

“Yes, but it’s as he said; we need the money. If spending maybe an hour with you is what it’s going to take to get him to sponsor us, then so be it.”

“An hour. With that man. You’re out of your mind.”

“I know he has an unsettling aura, but we need this money. Just one hour, that’s all.”

I could hear the desperation in his voice, and I sighed.

“Half an hour,” I whispered.

“Forty-five minutes,” he told me.

“If you promise to consider replacing Gabbie.”

“You and I both know it’s too late for that. Look, I’ll buy you something from The Home Bakery out of pocket.”

“You and I both know I can get sweets there for free.”

“Ugh, ummmm…..I’ll show up to rehearsals in that leotard—“

“No one needs to see that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Well Miles, there are quite a few things I want in life. Spending time with that guy isn’t one of them.”

“You know what I mean.”

That was when an idea struck me.

“Get me a DNA test and genealogy report,” I told him, bringing about a puzzled expression.

“A DNA test? Genealogy report?”

“I said what I said. Also a cake would be nice. Gluten and Casein Free, of course.”

“Fine. DNA test, genealogy report, and a cake.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

He huffed and pulled out a notepad and pen before flipping to a clean sheet and writing the terms down and ripping it out.

“There.” He thrusted it at me and I snatched it up as I beamed.

However my joy was short-lived as I realized that I’d just signed myself over to spending time with that fuck.

“We’ve decided that you and I may spend 45 minutes together.” I forced myself to suppress a gag while Mr. Griffin freely let a grin show.

“Excellent.” He held out a gloved hand to me. “Shall we go?”

“I’d prefer to keep hand usage at a minimum,” I told him. “My shoulder is in a bit of pain.”

To my surprise, he withdrew the gloved hand as I said that.

“Of course. Now please, we haven’t much time.”

He lead me out of the theatre as I tried to keep myself from expelling what I had in my stomach.

Chapter Text

Teala’s POV:

As soon as Mystic returned from the hospital, I threw myself into my work in my dark room in the house; dad’s comments still stung and the force of Nikita’s push hadn’t truly gone away. I felt as though I was slowly falling backwards with every minute.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, however. Ever since I was 10, Nikita had picked on me as a substitute for Delta after she became famous. It wasn’t truly a surprise to anyone, but it left a perpetual sting inside of me. And at this point, with me not really being note-worthy in the superhero world, my work was my solace.

As I waited for a customer’s old photos to develop, I went over to my desk and turned on the light board, making the light shine through my paper. A local neighbor wanted me to trace over a portrait and make it into a sort-of silhouette. I wasn’t sure why, I thought the picture was fine as it was, but the pay he offered was pretty substantial so I took it on.

It was a nature scene, full of shadows. Many people had a tendency to commission works with shadows from me. I often felt as though it was a mockery of my persona, but then again I chose this job myself. Was I some sort of masochist? Who’s to say?

I grabbed my sketch pencil and began to focus on the outlines first. Perhaps I could run from this pain of inadequacy through this profession. That was what I first told myself anyway. But as it turned out, it wasn’t as easy as I made it sound for myself.

I am 10 years old.

The day after stopping the theatre assassination,

Nikita’s foot “accidentally” ends up in my path

on the way to breakfast.

I fall on my face and end up

getting a splinter in my knee.

I can hear Nikita snicker

as I try to hold back the tears.

Mom takes me into the bathroom

to pull out the splinter and bandage me up.

The pain is still there, though.

I end up stumbling during training that day.

Dad tells me I’m not trying.

He uses Nikita as an example

of how I should behave in training.

I stay silent.

I am 11 years old.

I know that I will someday soon have my period.

I decide to practice

putting on a pad and wearing it.

I go to look for the pads,

but they’re all gone.

Only the tampons are left.

I decide to practice with those.

The first time, I don’t take off the plastic

and end up walking around with it inside.

It begins to hurt and I get it out.

The second time, the plastic falls out.

I don’t know that’s supposed to happen.

I panic and cry out for mom.

She rushes in and helps to take it out.

I’m left in shock as she comforts me.

Later that night, I go to look for something.

I check in Nikita’s room.

All of the pads are hidden under her bed.

I don’t say anything.

I am 13 years old.

Mom takes us to a private pool to practice.

The others go to get changed into swimsuits.

I am at the deep end of the pool in my clothes,

looking over the edge,

my knees knocking together.

I’m terrified because I can’t swim.

I’m scared that I’ll drown and no one will help.

The others return in swimsuits.

Nikita heads over to the deep end

to use the diving boards.

Her foot “accidentally” bumps into my back

as she passes by me.

There’s a scream and a splash.

I struggle to swim up to the surface,

no matter how much I flail.

My chest tightens and

my breathing becomes shallow.

Everything goes dark.

I wake up and find that I’m back at the house.

The others ask me what happened.

I keep my mouth shut.

I am 16 years old.

I find myself in love with a boy.

I’m too shy to talk to him,

so I write a love letter to him in my diary.

I lock the notebook tight,

keeping the key with me.

I go back to it later that night,

but I find that the lock’s been undone.

I still have the key.

I flip through it frantically.

Several pages have been torn out.

The love letter is gone!

A week later, the boy and Nikita are dating.

I go talk to him,

he shows me a letter she wrote him.

The words and handwriting are mine

save for my signature,

erased and replaced with her name.

I don’t correct him.

I am 20 years old.

Dad doesn’t like the idea

of us going to college

especially outside of New York.

I secretly send in applications

to any school I can.

I receive a letter from my dream college.

I’ve been accepted!

I start to make plans in secret,

so certain I could finally ditch my persona.

The day I’m supposed to send in

my notice of enrollment,

I can’t find the form or the acceptance letter.

Soon dad brings me into his office.

He holds up my acceptance letter and enrollment form.

I receive ten minutes of verbal anger and guilt.

He throws both of the letters into the fireplace.

I’m forced to watch them burn.

I’m put on a strict training regiment.

Day and night for a month.

When he lets me leave,

I see Nikita smirking at me.

Her face tells me all I need to know.

I don’t confront her.

I am 25 years old.

Mom convinces dad to let me get a job.

I apply everywhere I can,

but have no luck.

They tell me I don’t have the proper credentials,

even though I don’t mention the lack of

higher education on my job applications.

I find out someone’s been going

to each job I apply for.

They tell them that I never went to college.

My application is automatically rejected.

I search around for some answers,

soon finding a piece of paper.

It’s a list of phone numbers,

next to each is a job I applied for.

All of them are in Nikita’s handwriting.

I scream into my pillow all through the night.

I felt something make the paper vibrate a bit. Looking down, I noticed that a tear drop had gotten on my art, distorting the shadow.

“Oh, c’mon!” I groaned, trying to wipe off the tear without wrecking the paper. “I worked so hard on this one….”

When I felt that I’d done what I could, I lifted up my finger to find that the shadow had extended in the picture. I grabbed a wet wipe and wash off my finger. But when I went to throw it away, something caught my eye in the dim light, or rather the lack thereof something.

There wasn’t a single indication of pencil led on the wipe, and to my surprise, none on the finger either.

“That’s…..odd.”

Nonetheless, I knew I had to deal with it later. The shadow picture deadline was fast approaching and I couldn’t mess this up. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I returned to my work. And yet, this was something that kept making returns to the front of my mind.

But why?