Nothing to Fear

Gotham City 1996

The world was dark, but my world was darker. It was an odd thought for a girl of age nine, but it infested my mind with a different kind of plague. I use the word ‘plague’ because that’s the only way to really describe it. I saw the world as a warm-up before entering my own nightmares. These were awful continuous nightmares that were too real to tell them from reality. I dreaded them so much that I’d beg my father to let me stay up with him so I wouldn’t be alone once I fell asleep and maybe then the nightmares would go away. In the end it was pointless because no matter what I did, no matter how hard I’d pull my hair or scratch my face to stay awake, I’d be swallowed by a new menacing reality.

I'd wake up screaming, with a fever, and shaking so violently that our maid, Mrs. Culpepper, who had played my mother since I was three and a half, wouldn't leave my side until the sunlight showed through my window. Only when the sun was up would I feel safe. My fever would go away and I’d stop shaking. Mrs. Culpepper, after asking my father over and over again, had finally convinced him to agree to me going to counseling to see to my horrid nightmares.

I remember the day Mrs. Culpepper came to my room and told me the good news. I was secretly trying on my mothers’ pearl necklace that I had taken from my fathers’ room months earlier. To my luck, he hadn’t noticed. Of course, I should have known ahead of time. My father was too pained by my mothers’ death to look back on her.

My mother was a stranger to me and was doomed to be so for my whole life. She died before I could even remember. My father had ridden himself of any pictures of my mother. Mrs. Culpepper told me she was strikingly beautiful. I could look just like her and I wouldn’t know it, I had thought as I stroked my hair in the mirror above my dresser. I gazed at myself in the mirror, seeing no beauty reflected back but the line of sea-foam-colored pearls around my neck. My hair swirled in golden waves around my face. My eyes were the most striking feature I had. They were brown around the pupil and then folded out into an almost-yellow tint and finally, the outer was a bluish green.

It was a number of scars across my face that hid my beauty from ever existing. Huge hideous scars that I had gotten by scratching my face in order to keep myself from falling asleep. They were a reminder of what I was. I knew something was wrong with me, even as a child.

I was touching the scars on my face when Mrs. Culpepper appeared behind me in the mirrors’ reflection. My eyes narrowed down towards my dresser table where my music box had just finished playing Waltz of the Flowers. The tiny dancing couple stood frozen in each others arms now that the song had stopped. My eyes didn’t leave the ceramic woman’s red gown.

“Alizabeth, honey, I just talked to your father.” I saw her dark figure close the distance between us out of the corner of my eye. I felt a pair of hands rest on my shoulders.

“He said no,” I whispered without turning. It was a statement instead of a question. Since my father hardly made me his business, I hadn’t gotten my hopes up. I never really did. I let a sigh escape my lips.

“Actually Sweetie, you have an appointment at noon.” I turned to Mrs. Culpepper, half believing she’d disappear along with this moment. She smiled down at me and pulled me into a hug. All at once I broke the wall that was keeping me from hoping and it nearly seemed that my problems were over.

When noon came my nerves bit me from the inside. My heart was the only sound I heard. What if they asked me questions I couldn’t answer? What if they asked me about my dreams? Mrs. Culpepper had asked me so many times before what the nightmares I had were about, but I never remembered. She’d believe me and look passed the terror in my eyes. What she didn’t know was that I did remember. I remembered maybe too well.

“Alizabeth!” Mrs. Culpepper called from down the hall. I remained huddled in a corner next to my doll house. I heard her footsteps creek into my room. When she saw me her face turned into a frown. She stepped slower to me and knelt down next to me so that I was gazing into her warm dark brown eyes. “Alizabeth Evelyn Knight, what are you doing? You know you have an appointment with Dr. Redman?”

“Yes.” I didn’t move from my position on the floor. Mrs. Culpepper brushed a swirl of golden hair away from my face. I looked at her then and began to cry. I fell into her and let her put her arms around me. “I’m just so… afraid.”

“I know, I know. Sweetie, if you go they can help you. They will help you.”

Counseling was far from special as I can remember. Mrs. Culpepper drove me to a large brick building with vines growing up the side of it. I sunk down in my seat as we neared the parking lot. A sign out front read Gotham Psychiatric Clinic in bold letters. Mrs. Culpepper turned to me after putting the car in park. “It’s going to be okay,” she reassured before ushering me out of the car.

The lounge where Mrs. Culpepper brought me was nearly empty aside from an older boy sitting alone on the other side of the room. There was a glass window that reminded me of a drive-up window at fast food restaurant and a small box of toys sitting near it. Fake plants stood every which way as well, along with inspirational paintings that I could not yet put a name to. Mrs. Culpepper walked towards the window after persisting I take a seat and wait.

I kept my head bowed as I stepped towards the seating area. I sat in the first chair I saw. I heard Mrs. Culpepper going over information with the lady behind the window. I tried listening to what they were saying, but I couldn’t concentrate. My mind was shut off and I couldn’t seem to bring myself back. It was so strange to be there and I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the room or maybe it was because I wasn’t alone.

My eyes glanced up and I found the boy on the other side of the room. His head was bent down and his hands were folded on his lap. He looked like a manikin you‘d see at a store. I kept staring at him. His dark brown hair hid his face, making him look even less lifelike. He wore a formal suit and tie. His dark hair looked matted with gel. It shined in the light of the room.

It took me by surprise when he lifted his head in my direction. I could see his face now. He had blue eyes, the color of the beaches in the Caribbean’s that I’d only seen pictures of. Around his left eye, the skin was bruised and tender. I let out a small yelp and shrunk back in my chair.

I didn’t move my gaze from the floor. I couldn’t. Everything inside me pushed against my desire to turn and look at the boy. I didn’t have to turn though. I heard footsteps walking my way, but I kept my head glued to the ground. I knew it wasn’t Mrs. Culpepper.

The footsteps stopped in front of me and I looked up. The boy, who was much taller than I had anticipated, looked down at me. His striking blue eyes, one encircled by a grotesque purple bruise, looked too deeply inside me. My heart skipped a beat after our eyes locked for long enough. He stepped back once and took the chair across from mine. I remained looking at him, waiting for anything.

“Are you afraid?” He asked. His voice was nearly gentle despite his black eye. For the longest time I couldn’t speak. I could only stare into his intense blue eyes. I nodded my head after a moment, keeping my eyes locked with his.

“Of what?” He asked, his voice still gentle. I swallowed and held my breath a moment before speaking.

“Everything,” I whispered . Something came into his eyes then, but I didn’t know what.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he assured. I perked my head up a little. I almost believed him, but that’s what the people in my world would say.

“Why not?” I asked, curious.

“Because I’m just like you.” I stared at him for the longest time then. I had no idea how long we just looked at each other, but Mrs. Culpepper eventually came back. She didn’t ask about the boy and barely gave him a glance when he said goodbye. She just took my hand and together we walked into Dr. Redman’s office.

I attended counseling for many years until I graduated from high school and decided by choice that I should leave my mind to myself. My psychiatrist had helped me with a lot of my problems, but my dreams took a different turn the very day I met the boy with the black eye. From then after I only dreamed of a bright room with a boy, his blue eyes and the fear painted beneath them; the boy who was just like me.