Signs You're Alive

"Keira Leavitt."

The name sparked zero recognition as the television blasted Channel 4 news

"To many known as popstar sensation 'Alaitz'. To worried family and friends in Richmond, an abducted fourteen year old over two years ago and was presumed dead," a redhead lady sitting in front of a green screen blabbed on, "Her Kidnapper was a sociopath obsessed with the 'Perfect Woman'/ Keira became his project whom he performed numerous surgical procedures, changing simple things like her hair and eye color to then her height, voice, nose, ears, weight and even the shape of her head and her nail beds. The result: an average teen to an A-list celebrity."

The next scene flashed two pictures of what the nasally reporter claimed was, well, me; both of the wildly different faces.

The right picture was a young girl with a genuine, bright smile and probably the most attractive virtue of her appearance. She had a teeny nose, pink lips, pale cheeks and plain, dark eyes with next-to-average dark straight hair to match.

The picture beside was a full body image. It showed her dress, that exposed her slender backside and continued down like an oversized fan across the red ground she stood on. The dress was a rich dark violet with specks of silver and gold worked here and there, twinkling under the camera flashes like night stars. The dress hugged her plump bottom and slender waist deliciously.

The smile she flashed over her shoulder at the cameras spelled reckless and flirty and exotic. She was exotic. Her eyes were two mesmerizing marbles of a mellow shade of yellow, sucking all the attention.

Her hair was in defined loops, cascading down the other shoulder like a caramel waterfall. Except her hair wasn't just caramel; there were shades of lighter blonds and darker tones making her appear ever-more enticing.

Looking down, I frowned. It was woven into a braid but still fell far beyond my boobs.

My eyes wandered back back up at the right picture. The bottom read 'Keira Leavitt, 14'. Being told and believing it were two vastly different concepts. I could sit and be preached that that girl was me. I could not begin to fathom the possibility that I ever was and somehow, deep in side the labyrinth Magician made me, I still am. The first word that came to mind when I met the dark eyes of my real self on the other side of the screen was naivety.

But what was I to everyone else? My mind pulsed for the knowledge of who 'Keira Leavitt' was— who I was.

"Sit any closer to the T.V and you're going to go blind," a nagging voice chimed. I turned around and met the dark eyes rimmed with dark makeup of Clea Leavitt. I was told she was 'mother'— she looked to me a middle-aged housewife who wore too much makeup, never put down a 'Home Style' magazine and wore clothes too young for her age.

I blinked "What do you mean?"

"Oh, yes," she looked away, lie she was embarrassed "You used to have terrible eyes and always wore glasses. But you mostly wore contacts once you entered high school. When you had neither, you could hardly differentiate between me and your father."

I let the new information sink in. Terrible eyesight— funny how I had impeccable vision right now with the pair of yellow eyes I had.

"You hated glasses, always such a girl, always eager to grow up, to wear makeup," she clucked on, setting herself in the single-seat couch and deep nostalgia "I remember you wanted to wear high heels to school, too! Maybe it was the influence of your sisters. There is a large age difference after all."

She tucked a piece of hair that dared stray from her intricate bun as she watched me watch her with a blank stare

"I forgot! Baby steps," she chuckled to herself "Sometimes I think I hit amnesia, not you!"

"Can you shut that off?" Alice Leavitt steps into the living room area. I've only ever seen her with a gloomy expression; her deep set eyebrows always furrowed like she was forever in grave worry. Her hair looked like a flat sheet of coal black material and her thing lips were always smeared with vibrant red lipstick, no matter what she was wearing. Currently, she was sporting her lips with sweats and a baggy hoodie. I wondered if she was referring to Clea Leavitt or the T.V

Clea Leavitt chose the later and snatched the controlled off the coffee table when Alice Leavitt made a move for it.

"No. Your sister needs all the info. she can get. There is no use hiding the truth. She was abducted by a Sociopath and was surgically transformed to look worldly different. Because of this trauma, her mind cannot cope so instead stores all her memories away. That is something you must come in terms with."

"I am in terms with it. The news is just annoying me. And so are you; you sound like you're reciting what the doctor wrote in his report," she takes large strides across the room and presses the circular power button on the screen. When she briefly brushed my shoulder passing by, I search for familiarity.

The doctor said sometimes it's easier to go with instincts rather than rapidly searching my mind for answers. If I learned too much information at once, my mind would shut off again, possibly forever next time. This was an extremely vulnerable period for my brain right now, he said.

"Well, this isn't about you. This is about your sister," Clea said pointedly "You're being conceited"

"And you're being cold hearted. can't you see Keira needs time," she points at me with eyes still locked on Clea "Even the doctor said we have to take things slowly. Why are you pushing so much information on her?"

"I want her to remember. If she gets her memories back, we can put this incident behind us,"

"There will never be a normal for Keira! This is apart of her life now!"

I rose abruptly, my first action in the entire argument. A rumble erupted in the pit of my stomach. There was an odd feeling that flooded every inch of my body. Both pairs of eyes were on me and silence feel the room. The only thought registered from this foreign feeling was that I didn't want to hear their bickering any further

The only other familiar thing were the eyes watching me and the defiant, almost snobby words escaping my lips with extreme finality, "I have to go."

I stepped out of the room with my chin pointed high, just like I was taught and the only sound were my heels meeting the hardwood floor.

I made a mental note. To Clea Leavitt, Keira was a shameful child. To Alice Leavitt, a charity case.

________________________________

The doctor said to follow my instincts.

And when I do, I end up at a stranger's house at a small town. I just wanted to get away from my 'family'. Nothing about this house sparks a memory; no nostalgia, no familiarity. Not so surprisingly, I feel emptiness instead. Yes, empty sounds more fulfilling compared to nothing because it is nothing that I feel.

The doctor and experts say it's just a side effect to my amnesia and my captive's nasty, hypnotic words; that I do not understand emotions

I don't understand.

Suddenly, the door to the house my feet had led me opens. I am frozen in step when the boy's eyes lands on me. His eyes reflect the grey skies above.

I expected him to think I was a crazy girl standing on his front lawn. Maybe throw a few cruel words, even ask me if I was a stalker. Worst scenario was either try to grope me or kick me off his property.

I would have never expected what he did next

He walks directly toward me. Once he's in front of me, I see he his hair is not black; it is mid-night black.

"Finally you came," he said slightly too casually, with zero panic at a random girl standing in front of his house. His voice is low and smooth, almost hypnotic. Is that what the doctor and expert's meant about my captive's voice?

I blink at him. Did I know him? Well, whoever Keira Leavitt was, she had excellent taste

"Bad timing though, my sisters home," he looks behind me, to check the house

"Excuse me?" I finally find my words. Who is he?

He turns back around and meet my eyes, "God, you look nothing like her."

I feel like he has frozen me with his words, along with his eyes. 'Her' must be Keira Leavitt and is confirms my speculations; I did know him.

"Did you know Keira? What were you to her? What was she like? Who are you?" everything comes out in a rush and my hand grabs his arm

Something in my hand stings and I quickly take my hand off him.

"You don't remember me?" his eyebrows knit together

The weight he puts in his gaze when he asked make me feel like I would break his dream if I answer 'No'. So I simply shake my head

"When I saw you outside I thought you remembered..." his eyes fall and I immediately want to grab his chin and make him look at me again

"I thought you were waiting for me," he whispered so softly, I think I misheard him

He looks back up but something in his eyes change. Colder? Now that he found out I'm not exactly Keira Leavitt he's... disinterested? But that's impossible because even I have to admit, this Alaitz I am now is a thousand times more attractive compared to Keira Leavitt.

"So what they were saying was true, about your amnesia,"

"How do I know you?" I repeat

"You really can't remember a thing?"

I swallow a lump in my throat and shake my head again

He buries his face in his hands, like he was giving up after an endless struggle

More questions form in my mind in a rapid rush. Why do I feel like I betrayed him? Why does he look like he's betrayed? Who is he? Who is Keira Leavitt? How are they connected? But I don't ask any of them.

"What's wrong?" I blurt instead. It's rash and nosy and a question I had never asked before. It's a question that is filled with intense worry and I ask with every ounce of it

"I thought you were waiting for me..." he whispers again, not lifting his face from his hands

My body moves on its own and before I know it, my arms are spread out around him, inches away from contact, from embracing him.

I pull my hands away in time, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. He lifts his head with a mighty thrust

"Why are you here?" he thrusts a finger at me, accusatory. He looks like he hurts everywhere, a feeling I know so well

"I-I...my legs sort of started walking and brought me here," I stammer and realize how dumb I sound

"Leave. Now," he nudges my shoulder. His eyes spark like two grey flames. Something in my shoulder pulses but I'm too dumbstruck about his comment to ponder what

"What are you talking about? You never answered any of my questions? Who are you? What's your name?" words tumble out, in vain to be answered

"I said go," he points down the solemn street "Are you daft? Did you loose your brain along with memories?"

I was astounded. Who is this cold person? My usual reaction was to throw ugly words at him, slap him, anything violent or aggressive to show how much of an asshole he was

But to my surprise, the ache at the back of my throat dissolved into tears tumbling down my cheeks. I turn around before he could see them. What is this ache in my chest? My legs obey him and walk briskly away, down the empty street where I belong