The Past & the Present (Completed)

Chapter Twenty Four: Back to Normal

(( Before you read this chapter please leave a comment. What do you think normal means? Is normal Emily going back to being a college student and a human being or Iulia going back home to be coddled and scolded for getting lost again? There are no wrong answers I'm just genuinely curious. ))

Groggy does not begin to describe what I'm feeling right now. The brownie incident doesn't begin to approach it. The most severe hangover is as close as I can possibly conceive, though I've never been a heavy drinker, and descriptions I've heard fall far short of the pounding in my heavy, the pain behind my eyes, and the agony in my back.

My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth and feels fuzzy when I pry it off which takes a concerning amount of effort. All it takes is a slight shift and I'm in agonizing pain. Fortunately of all my senses my smell is intact and Quentin is close.

I whimper.

Quentin whimpers back. He speaks as though his teeth are clenched probably because he's muzzled.

"You awake yet?"

"Mhm," I murmur, "Not so loud."

"I'm barely talking," Quentin lowers his voice to a whispered murmur. Inching over like a worm he flops down beside me where I can see him. Whatever he's wearing is the newer more advanced, less humane version of a straight jacket and his ankles are tied together. His hair is shaved to his head and his eyes are full of tears.

"What do we do Em?"

"I don't know," I murmur, finally laying down and accepting that there is nothing, "I-I don't know."

Tears pour down my cheeks. All the tears I never shed in fear of never finding Louis. All the tears that I hid from Miranda in that cottage. The tears I refused to let fall when she forced the cadou down my throat. Tears of disbelief and overwhelming dread when I first met mother. Tears of pain when Cassandra slit my throat open. Tears of mourning that I never had time to shed for Connor, Niamh, and Andrew.

All the emotions I've bottled up come pouring out. Despite the anguish it causes to sob I can't stop. Even now it's worse. I hate myself for frightening Quentin crying in front of him. I hate admitting weakness when I'm the strongest I've ever been. Or am I the weakest? Am I even alive? Do I answer to Iulia, or Emily?

"Em," Quentin's eyes are wide, "Em!"

It occurs to me I might be doing what Donna does, terrifying Quentin by mistake the way she makes others afraid when she panics, but I doubt it. His eyes are locked behind me and that's when I notice the pain in my back isn't so bad.

What I see instead is too much for my mind to handle. My vision blurs in and out before I collapse and succumb to shock a second time.

"Hey," A soft, familiar voice calls to me, "Hey Em, wake up."

Sitting up my head is surprisingly clear. So much so it makes me wonder if this is a dream. I rub my eye and notice the scar on the tip of my thumb. In fact there's a scar on all the tips of my fingers.

Sunlight is streaming in the windows as Louis opens the shades. The house is clean and tidy and smells not only like us but Maria as well, though she's farther away. His smile is carefree, if not a little concerned.

"Morning sleepyhead. Did you sleep well?"

"Louis, what's going on?" I look around the furnished room, "Where are we?"

"We're home. You know, Idaho?"

"Idaho, yeah," I murmur.

I was born in Idaho. My parents moved to Washington to be closer to Seattle, but subsequently died there. Then I moved back to go to college.