Guiding Lights

I didn’t know if it was light or dark outside. My blinds were shut as tight as they could go and my head was covered with an old blanket, leaving me to drift in and out of conciseness at different times. I felt exhausted and sore, and I felt as if I had come down with a horrible illness. My body ached, my throat was numb, my eyes burned, and my stomach held knots, but – for once – I didn’t want to talk about any of it.

It had been hours since I had shown up at the doorstep of my house, I knew. It had been hours since the yelling, since the desperate journey away from that damned shack, but the tears never seemed to cease fully. Dad tried to be fatherly, but like always he seemed to be clueless. He didn’t really understand my blubbering or my repetitive “he left me, he’s gone,” but he looked so remorseful and saddened and it made me feel even worse. He had tried to get me to eat something after Eve worked on getting me out of my wet clothes and cleaning me up, but it felt as if my jaw was clamped shut. My stomach was churning and there was a sting on the inside of me, telling me that if I so much as ate one crumb I was sure to spew everything out onto the floor.

Eve had originally sat me down on the couch and knelt down in front of me, gripping my hands just like she had when she had informed us of… what I was. It was different, though, because I almost wanted to feel hatred towards her, to blame her for all of what had transpired between me and… Nick. I wanted to, not kill, but punish the messenger instead of take responsibility for my own actions; I wanted to pretend like I hadn’t done anything – to be like Nick. But no matter how many blank stares I gave her, she continued to whisper to me and beg for me to tell her what happened. No words would come from my mouth and even when I had enough air in my lungs to push out the same repeated words without even thinking, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. I didn’t even want to think about the situation.

So, I had gone to bed. I pulled my limp hand from hers slowly, stood without a word, and gave her one blank stare before twisting mechanically to make my way up the stairs. I had to concentrate on my actions; pull leg up, place foot on stair, repeat. My mind was literally a robot and I was void of any emotion, but not for long. Shaking breaths began to escape through my pursed lips and my eyes darted around the hallway, causing my heart to beat faster when I saw the door. Tears sprung my eyes when I opened my bedroom door and before I knew it, I was on my knees. I could feel the anxiety building up to a high level, forcing my eyes to shut after a moment of blurry observation. I could hear my escalating breathing and I could feel my heart pumping against my chest so tired, yet so bold. I faintly felt my cheek become numb when I slinked forward and hit the floor with the rest of my body, but everything else seemed to shut down at that moment.

The blackness that I saw – whether my eyes were opened or closed – blinked at a blinding manner, mixing with flashes of white so bright and isolated that I could feel whatever was in my stomach begin to push up. I couldn’t understand what that gasping noise. The sound reminded me of a movie, of a person lurking in the shadows or breathing into the telephone creepily, but then I realized… that sporadic breathing was coming from me. And after a moment of deafening silence, I heard it – I heard the screaming. It was horrible and it pained me both physically and emotionally, and I swore it was powerful enough to rip my heart right out of my chest. The sound was shrill and desperate and frantic, and no matter how hard I tried – even after feeling like my head was going to explode with the constant flashing and ringing in my ears – the sound didn’t halt. I was blowing out an endless amount of air in the form or a psychotic scream and I was worried that I’d run out and die; die right on the floor, alone and lifeless.

I didn’t understand why this was happening to me, not just the situation I was now pushed into alone, but the loss of control over myself. I had yelled at Nick, too; I had cried and let some of that hurt out before; I had let myself, if only partially, realize that this was real. Yet, here I was, screaming like a complete lunatic at the top of my lungs uncontrollably with pain and confusion and fear, and no way of knowing if it would ever get better.

It took me a moment to get my scrambled thoughts at least somewhat together before I realized that my body was heaving and gasping for air. The numb feeling was there, accompanying the continuous wrenching and sickening curves, but now I was light headed. I heard footsteps echoing and I could feel a knee against my side, hands on my arms trying to pull me up, but I lied limp. Without even a warning from my body, my mind clicked off moments later.

As soon as I woke up I realized that both my dad and Eve were by my bed, staring me down as if I was someone they had never seen before. In a sad way, I guess it was true. I was afraid to look in the mirror because I knew I wouldn’t like what I would see. I would see a girl with tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes, and a mangled appearance that would make me cry even more. And, worst of all, I wouldn’t see Nick pulling me into him to tell me that I was beautiful because, right now, I knew I wasn’t. I was a horrible and ugly person and I ruined lives.

I was crying again before I even knew what was happening and then Eve pulled me into her arms, trying to shield me from everything. She failed, but I took to her embrace because I hoped that it would diminish that empty feeling in me. It didn’t. Still, though, I held on to her with little strength and caught a glimpse of my father’s broken expression. He knew what was going on, he just didn’t understand. I guess we had that in common.

“Lonnie,” she said, and she sounded desperate, “please… tell us what happened.”

She knew, I knew she knew, but she didn’t quite understand it all; no one did.

It went on like that for a while. She’d come in every so often, whispering to make sure I wasn’t still asleep. She’d ask me more specific questions; “what started the fight? Are you okay? Where did he go?” She didn’t say his name and I was thankful, but every time he was mentioned I could feel a jab in my chest and I wanted to cry again. She’d sit at the edge of my bed and smooth my hair down with gentle strokes when I pulled the blanket away for air. Sometimes she’d just look at me with something I swore was sympathy and it made me feel even worse – angered, even.

What was she sorry for? That I was a screw-up? That I couldn’t be a good witch like my mother? That I had messed up too many times to count but this time it was unfixable? And that, just like her, my soul mate had left me? I didn’t want or need her sympathy, but… but I needed something I couldn’t have.

She’d leave when I didn’t respond, which was every time she entered the room, and I pulled the blanket back over my head to submerge myself into the stuffy darkness. The numbness was becoming all too appealing as the minutes passed and, in a way, I was becoming addicted by the hour. If I couldn’t feel what I had felt earlier – or maybe it was yesterday, I didn’t know what time it was – then that hope that seemed to be smashed when Nick’s hand went through that wall was starting to piece back together, but for entirely poor reasons. Maybe I could – no. I couldn’t forget or let it go. And even if I could, now wasn’t the time.

I shifted my body on the bed with slow movements and curled myself into an even tighter ball, counting the silence with my eyes shut tight. Dad came in, too, at what seemed like every ten minutes. He continuously offered me something to eat or water and even though I could barely swallow without wanting to wince, I shook my head the best I could, hoping he could see the blanket move. He wasn’t as persistent as Eve and I was almost relieved, but then I was alone and the feeling to cry came back.

Maybe he would show up, I told myself as I lied curled up in the dark. Maybe he would walk through that door at any minute. Or maybe… maybe I could wake up and realize that this was a nightmare, and he could sit up beside me and wrap his arms around me… just like he always seemed to do when I had nightmares or panic attacks. Or… or maybe there wasn’t anything left to hope for.

Maybe we were doomed from the start.

Maybe it was over.

Maybe I was done.

Thinking like that served no purpose, but it did help me to finally fall under a deeper sleep. If I was thankful for anything at this point and time it would have to be the fact that the nightmares didn’t invade me. I slept in blackness, something I had been seeing a lot of lately, and even though it was restless I knew that my body needed this time to wind down. It should have been a peaceful sleep, but I could still feel myself tossing and turning, even tightening my shoulders before trying to turn. Could I not control myself anymore? He was – he had left, it wasn’t like I had done something to hurt myself. But all of this that was happening was becoming common reactions and I was afraid that I would be like this forever. Would I just be an empty soul now? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be here anymore.

My eyelids flittered open and my gaze was met with rays of dim sunlight peeking through the slats of the blinds. My neck was stiff due to my position but I still made no movement, shivering involuntarily instead. It was still January and it was still cold, and I wondered if it had snowed sometime during my sleep. How long had I slept, anyway? I could feel my stomach growling at that moment and I felt that my bladder was probably about to burst, but I needed a few more minutes to work myself up to even move. I was content – if you could call any sort of misery contentment – and I just wanted to stay wrapped up in my blanket, shielded from everything but my own pain and loneliness. I guess I really wasn’t shielded from anything, more like locked into something I didn’t get to choose or understand.

I parted my lips, immediately feeling how dry and cracked they were, but I still managed to let out an unemotional breath. I was sighing and I wasn’t trying to ready myself for the day, but the silence was lurking and I felt the need to busy myself with anything I could while still doing nothing at all. I didn’t want to move, but my mind refused to stop reeling. It was too early to trigger my tears and I hoped that my foggy thoughts would stay that way for a while so I could have just a sliver of peace of mind. All I needed was to break down in the bathroom and pass out from uncontrollable, psychotic screaming. I was surprised that they hadn’t admitted me to a psychiatric ward already.

I twisted my head to stare up at the ceiling and allowed a slight wince to take over my features momentarily, easily going back to what I knew was an emotionless expression. In the midst of feeling everything, I felt as if it were hard to… feel.

My body lifted without my brain even deciding on the action and I felt my bare feet padding against the floor. I immediately shivered again but made no move to rap my arms around myself, only pushing out the door and into the still-dark hallway and into the bathroom. With the door shut behind me and the light off, I turned to the sink, turning the faucet on and took the moment to glance at myself in the darkness while the water warmed. I could see a faint outline of myself in the mirror but made no attempt to look further, afraid to discover how bad I actually looked. I felt terrible, that much I knew, but I was settled only slightly to know that the numbness might return.

My hands were warmed by the water and then I proceeded to splash my face. I inhaled deeply and kept my eyes close and my head forward, allowing the warm droplets to trickle down my dry skin. I felt mechanical in every sense and still wondered when I would wake up. I needed to try and keep my mind at peace for as long as I could because I knew that I’d spiral back down into that horrible mode again. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what my life turned into.

It wouldn’t hurt to have hope. I tried to tell myself that maybe he would come back. Maybe he’d show up tomorrow and we could get on with things. Maybe I would never see him again. I held my breath and after hesitating for a moment, lifted my head. With my eyes still closed I slid the towel across my face and held it there, suddenly unsure of what to do. Do I stay upstairs? Go back to my room? Go downstairs and face the unyielding questions, only to continue to stay quiet? What could I do?

The towel slid out of my hand and I made no move to put it back onto the ring, leaving it on the counter instead, and I glanced one last time at the blurry outline of myself in the mirror before holding my hand out in search for the door knob. Once I slipped back out into the hallway I realized that there was a faint growling in my stomach and that I hadn’t eaten since the start of yesterday, if I was even right at all. I didn’t even know if I would be able to eat, but maybe I could at least try.

The smell of food was already in the air and practically slapping me in the face by the time I reached the bottom step of the stairs, but instead of rushing over to the kitchen like I normally would have I found myself ready to run back to the bathroom and puke. Everything was so of balance.

I inhaled the best I could, shakily letting it out, and continued forward with my eyes shut and my head down. My fingers twisted around a piece of matted hair that fell forward pushed it behind my ear slowly, but I ignored the rest of the hair that proceeded to drape around my face in knotted waves. I could hear low murmurs coming from the kitchen, the voices belonging to Eve and my dad, but I didn’t bother standing behind the wall to listen. I trudged forward with my hair acting as a shield and awkwardly stood behind a chair. Their words – which were probably about me and my sanity – had ceased and I could feel them staring at me, though I refused to look up. The silence didn’t last long.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dad spoke, his tone soft and cautious, “how’re you doing?”

I kept my head down and didn’t answer, and I felt bad because I knew he didn’t want to see his daughter go through this. He had gone through so much, just like me. My mother – his wife – was killed; I learned that I was a witch with a soul mate; I hate fought and almost died on numerous occasions; I married at sixteen and was now pregnant, and now my everything was gone, too. It hurt to know all of this and it was even worse to know that he had to see this struggle, but the worst part was knowing that I couldn’t just be okay. Not this time.

“Did, uh, did you sleep alright?” Eve asked suddenly and her tone was just as cautious, but even more sympathetic. I blinked and slowly raised my head to peek at her through my bangs, but I couldn’t find it in me to answer. What would I say, anyway? ‘No, Eve. My soul mate – the guy I’m madly in love with, the man who is my husband – left me because I’m pregnant and he can’t handle it. I slept like crap and it’ll be that way for a while.”

My lips parted when I realized what exactly I had thought, the words ‘I’m pregnant’ immediately sticking out like some giant black hole in the middle of my existence. I had almost forgotten. How could I? This was what’s wrong; this was the situation. Instead of wanting to hate Eve and Nick, I wanted to hate myself. I had caused this because… but, no.

My mind was everywhere and before I could even try to understand what exactly I was feeling, Eve’s voice interrupted once again – this time with a sigh.

“Lonnie, your father made some pancakes. You like pancakes, don’t you?” She waited for a moment. When my eyes flickered up to her face I realized that she was hopeful, only a sliver of it falling when I didn’t answer yet again. I wasn’t hungry to begin with, but eating pancakes made me want to flip the damn table over. This hostility was coming out of nowhere, but it was slowly creeping its way into the welcome-wagon. It was like… I could get used to be angry rather than said. There was a fire in me that needed to explode and I had a feeling that it would at some point, I just didn’t know when.

“Here ya’ go,” he said with a slight smile adorning his lips, and he set the plate down on the table. I stood behind the chair still, only staring at the food with a weakening stomach. “Lonnie?” he said quietly, but he knew I wasn’t about to answer.

“Come on,” Eve said in a chirpier tone and it made me want to shrink back or run away. Somewhere deep down I knew that they were trying to uplift my spirits, but they didn’t understand that it wasn’t going to happen. Did they even understand at all what I was feeling? I couldn’t even comprehend everything, but I knew the emotions that were troubling me were far beyond anything I had ever felt before.

Eve slowly pulled me backwards without a struggle and moved the chair so I could sit down. I did as she wanted, even going as far as resting my palms on the table and staring down at the syrup that was pooling over the pancakes, but I made no other moves. I heard her sigh, slight irritation evening out the tone, but I didn’t bother to humor her and fulfill anything she wanted – for me to eat.

“Honey, please?” I glanced up to see my dad sitting in the chair across from me, and I noticed that his eyes had bags under them. He hadn’t slept and I felt guilty, but I didn’t know what to do.

I swallowed back my nausea and flickered my gaze down to the fork on the plate. My hand was shaking a little, but I managed to slowly run my fingers over the utensil. I gripped it in my hand and stabbed at the pancake with a weak force, pulling a small bite into my mouth. I could see that his relief was present as I chewed, but the silence we were settled uncomfortably in didn’t last long.

“I think we need to talk,” Eve said in a quietly stern voice. I glanced at her for a hesitant moment before chewing on another piece of pancake, wanting to shake my head to tell her no. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?” By this time my dad had stood again and was now behind my chair, allowing Eve to take his previous seat so she could watch and interrogate me at the same time. I took another slow bit and then put my fork down, deciding that pancakes just weren’t appetizing right now. “Why don’t you just summarize it?” she suggested one she realized that I still wasn’t talking.

I didn’t want to tell her what happened. How could I sum up the whole fight? She had seen the way Nick was acting before he had blown up at me in that shack. We all knew he had a temper, but it hadn’t flared in so long. Things were so great and, now, they only seemed like a distant memory; maybe even an illusion or a dream. Had I been wrong? Maybe I was so caught up in this fairytale that I didn’t even see that it wasn’t real.

“Lonnie,” she prompted softly. My attention was immediately snapped back to her and I realized that my heart had skipped a beat. My eyes momentarily settled on the orb around my neck, ignoring the other necklace, and I realized that I would talk to my mother if she were here. No matter how hurt or pained or sick or confused I was, I would talk to her because she would want me to. Eve wanted to help, too.

“We got into a fight,” I said slowly, almost shocked by my own voice. I didn’t even recognize it; the sound was hoarse and practically a whisper, though I didn’t intend it to be, but – worst of all – it was practically void of any emotion. “He – we yelled and… and I cried…” I tried, but I found it increasingly difficult to continue because everything that had happened was ready to play back.

I sucked in a breath and glanced at Eve with wide, tearful eyes, unable to stop my lip from quivering while she grabbed my hand from across the table.

“And then what? What did he say?”

Why was she making me replay this? Was I so horrible that I had to relive it again? Over and over… I would never get away from it.

“He –” I tried, but my voice immediately gave way, forcing me to gather my thoughts again. “He just – he said he didn’t want a baby,” I whispered, “and that he wasn’t ready.” I looked away from her eyes and blinked a few times, feeling my forehead become tense. “I just don’t – I don’t understand. Does he think I wanted this? Because I don’t. I didn’t do this on purpose. I-I never asked for this and I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

I didn’t realize that I was practically sobbing now or that Eve was pulling me from the chair and over to the couch, dragging me because I couldn’t find my strength to even shuffle my feet forward. She held my arms against me, my body against hers, and I continued to cry and take deep breaths. I opened my eyes when she sat me down and saw that same sympathetic look, and I cried even harder. No, I didn’t want this. Everyone was so mixed up and things were so wrong.

“We know you didn’t know, honey,” she whispered gently, but I continued to ignore her attempts to soothe me and felt agitated.

“Why did you say that?” I practically yelled. She looked a little taken aback; finally something more than sympathy for my poor, dejected self. “Why would you say it couldn’t happen? You said – it isn’t supposed to be possible for me! I’m not ready, right?” I took a deep breath, but it only served to add to my problems by giving me the hiccups. “I’m not strong enough, you know? I can’t… it isn’t right. Why is it happening to me?” I stopped my blubbering for a moment and bit back more quivers, waiting for her answer in the sudden silence. But when it didn’t come I began to cry again and her arms immediately wrapped around me, whether I wanted her to hold me or not. “What’s wro-ong with me-e?”

“Nothing,” she said, but I knew she was wrong. It was as if the question that came out of my mouth was ‘what’s right with me?’ and, even if it was, her answer would still be the same, except her ‘nothing’ would be right.

“I-I messed up everything –”

“No, Lonnie,” she cut me off insistently, “you did nothing wrong. This isn’t your fault.”

“Then whose fault is it?” I snapped. I pulled my body away from hers and wiped hastily at my tears, almost afraid that I would shut down at any moment even though I craved that numbness. “ I know I didn’t get myself pregnant, but he’s gone and I –”

“He’ll come back,” she interrupted, and her words – so sure and even – made me pause with hope. Did she think so? Would he… could I think he would? I held my breath and darted my eyes over her face, parting my lips with words that would not come out. “I’ll make him.” And, just like that, my hope was shattered.

She’d… make him?

“What?” I breathed shakily. My head tilted to the side when she grabbed my hand and I didn’t know what to feel.

“He’s your soul mate. It’s against the rules for him to abandon you like that.” I knew I flinched at her words and that damn sympathy was back, etched so effortlessly on her features. If everything could be so effortless.

“Wha – n-no… no!” I was back to shouting now and I yanked my hand away from her, shoving myself into the back of the couch with disgust and hurt. “I don’t want you to – no!” Her eyes widened with shock and her eyebrows furrowed with confusion soon after, causing more tears to fall.

I wanted him to come back, for us to be okay. I needed him so much. But forcing him to be with me was worse than him leaving.

“I don’t… I don’t…” I couldn’t finish it. My throat shut off and blocked any other words that were ready to come out, and I slumped against the couch with my rapidly paced heart and a flurry of tears trickling down my cheeks. I could tell she wanted to address this matter further, but I couldn’t handle it and I hoped she knew enough to understand that.

She sighed and let go of my hand, but she immediately occupied the spot next to me on the couch, not even bothering to try and get me to look at her. I was shut off again, just like that. There was nothing there.

“We need to talk about your pregnancy,” she said. The words… I don’t even think they made me flinch. It was like her words had no meaning and they were just that – words. They weren’t true. All of this was such a lie. The truth was the worst lie I had ever known and I was living in it. “I’ve never come across this. I’m not saying it hasn’t happened before, just not around me,” she started. I couldn’t even tune her out. “Your mother… when she was pregnant there were times where she began to feel weak, but that’s normal considering some of her magic was being transferred. The difference is that you don’t have enough power to transfer to a baby yet. Now, who knows – maybe you’ll gain some as the pregnancy progresses, but it could also be a very harmful situation. You’ll need plenty of rest and food…”

Her words were mere echoes in my mind while I sat staring forward, suddenly unable to feel anything. I was living inside my head for that moment, happy in a twisted way to feel so numb and out of reality. What she was saying… I didn’t really believe it. this wasn’t happening to me, I kept trying to convince myself that. Maybe I’d be okay if I believed it.

“She’ll be a baby witch, Lonnie,” she breathed, and I recognized a sense of pride in her voice. But all I wanted – what I needed so terribly – was to hear that from Nick.

I blinked slowly and turned my head towards her, not quite knowing what to do or what to say. Maybe nothing was better because this wasn’t real, after all. I was sure that this was just a faze and that she was wrong, and that Nick would come back when he realized that.

“Do you have any questions?” She eyed me carefully and held that same hope in her eyes, but no answer came from me.

I sat there for a moment, maybe waiting for a sign on what to do, but all I could think about was how I just wanted to crawl up in bed. I could cover up and face the window, and just watch for Nick. He would come. He’d have to.

I pulled my body to a standing position, only somewhat aware of how slow I was, and only paused when I saw my father’s blotchy face in the kitchen. He had been crying, I knew it, but I could do nothing because I was there, too. I couldn’t help anyone if I couldn’t even help myself. So I chose to ignore him and Eve, turning my back on them to walk up the stairs and submerge myself into a mixture of false hope and a black hole full of numbness and confusion and dread. Maybe there would be some denial, but maybe thinking that none of this was fully real was the best thing for me.

Or maybe I really was doomed.

I shut the door behind me with a quiet click and trudged over to my bed like a zombie, climbing on top and under the blankets like I were a robot, too. My head took to my pillows immediately, burying my face between them only slightly so I could star at the little crack in the blinds that revealed the forest behind my house – the forest Nick would come out of. Any minute, I told myself, but then I’d transition my thoughts and begin to a cry again because I didn’t know what to think.

But I kept at it. I kept messing with my mind, digging deep trenches for all my thoughts to gather up and continuously repeat themselves until I became too exhausted to try any longer, but then they’d continue by themselves, as if they were on an auto-pilot of sorts. I wasn’t sure, but maybe I was somewhat thankful that my last thought was ‘any minute’ before I fell asleep.

Any minute.