The Patron Saint of Monsters

Chapter Nine Part Six

There is a change occurring inside of Oleander, it is happening slowly, taking as long as decay. She isn’t sure when it began, she wants to say it happened the day that Izzy died but she knows it was sometime before, maybe the night with the blood and the Ouija board. The alterations that occur inside of her remind her of this one moment when she was a child. It was autumn and it was during the inbetween time after Trent frightened her and before she became accustomed to spending time with other children. She sat perched on her front porch for what felt like eons, she had been desperately determined to witness the exact moment that the leaves began to die and transform into the beautiful hues that her favorite season was comprised of, the vivid oranges, muted browns, and shocking reds of plant death.

Eventually she realized that the exact moment of leaf change happened in a way that was simultaneously too slow and too fast to catch with an eye.  Oleander was fairly certain that her memory of that day was wrong, because she remembered her mother forcing her inside that evening, and she remembered waking up to find the leaves had all changed and were now in the process of falling into their places on the sidewalk pavement and in the freshly mown grass like pieces of an easy puzzle.

Oleander had been so devastated that she missed the moment she had been waiting so long for, but now that she took the time to really think about it, she was beginning to wonder if maybe she had just forgotten the days in the middle of her leaf gazing adventure and the day they changed. It was a very terrifying concept for her, she could not stand the idea of forgetting so much. What else may she have forgotten? And why couldn’t she forget the things she did not desire to remember? Why could she not remember easy days from her childhood when she could remember the sight of Izzy’s mutilated carcass and the echoing sounds of her limbs being hacked apart so completely?

“Baby?” Ian asked her, “Are you upset with me?”

“No. Sorry, just lost in my thoughts I suppose.” She consoled him.

“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t accompany you to Rebecca’s the day her mom left.” Ian apologized once more.

“Ian,” Oleander said with sigh turning her body so that she could set a dainty hand on his knee, “I am not mad at you. It’s okay that you couldn’t make it. I don’t expect you to constantly drop everything for me. It’s okay to be busy with your family.” her reassurances only caused Ian to feel worse.

“You’re more important to me than my family.” He swore to her.

Oleander’s heart ached inside of her chest, her guilt was drowning her. It even burned her throat in a way that she assumed was very similar to the raw and ragged fire in the throat of someone whose esophagus was filling with salt water. Oleander currently felt like her life was some Shakespearean tragedy, she wanted to think of herself as an Ophelia type character but she knew that it didn’t quite fit. If anything she was Hamlet, and Ian was Ophelia because she was surely going to destroy him and that was truly the last thing she wanted to do. Oleander did not desire to hurt anyone but she is pretty sure that hurting those around her is all she is capable of doing. Oleander was consumed with an urge to hurt herself, because maybe if she could destroy whatever it was that was inside of her that was always hurting anyone she attempted to care about, then maybe everything would get better.

There was a darkness that tainted her heart, brain, and insides that coursed through her, she pictured her organs as discolored with it. She began to question her humanity and if her blood was the proper shade of red, because lately she imagined that her blood would be too burgundy, stained like a deep shade of wine because of the wrongness that was inside of her. It was a darkness that she attributed with Trent.

“Are you okay?” Ian interrupted her thoughts to ask her in a voice that reminded her of pleading.

“I’m fine darling.” She lied.

“You aren’t.” He told her shaking his head, his brown eyes shown with unshed tears. “You aren’t okay at all, and I have no idea what I’ve done wrong.”

“What makes you think that you’ve done anything incorrectly?”  She asked in exasperation.

“Well I must’ve!” he insisted, “because if I hadn’t you’d be able to talk to me but instead you’ve pulled away and I don’t know how to bring you back! It’s like you’re dead and I’m sitting here trying to find a way to  resurrect you!”

“Well golly gee Ian!” Oleander said harshly lashing out due to guilt and taking her anger at herself out on him, “I apologize that it is so difficult to be with me.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying!”  Ian said back peddling.

“I love you Oleander.” he told her.

“I love you too Ian.” Oleander replied, but it scared her because she couldn’t tell whether or not she was telling the truth.