16-year-old Christina Ammeen is an orphan. Simple as that. Nothing great or interesting about it. She's bounced from home to home and along the way she's searching for her mother who seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. Only struggle an...
For about an hour, they waited for Dr. Stephens to give her clearance to leave the room. He avoided eye contact the entire time and promised someone would prepare her discharge paperwork. She climbed out of the bed, stiff and hesitant praying that this very moment was just another nightmare.
How can she be gone?
With a frown, Stephens ushered them through the halls. Every step she took, closer to the morgue, made her muscles stiffen and tempted her to turn and to run.
Anya Foyer treaded behind her, carrying her own weight of sorrow for Christina. She didn't say a single word since she requested to see her mom and kept her distance, even as they came to the door with the word MORGUE across it.
Christina felt a heavy pressure falling on her shoulders knowing just behind the door lied someone she loved. She backed away and turned towards the direction they came.
I can't do this.
"Christina, you don't have to do this," Anya said.
She's all I have... had, she wanted to say but her lips wouldn't move. They just quivered almost matching the trimmers of her heartbeat.
God give me strength.
She straightened her back, knowing that her mom was a strong woman. Someone who did not appreciate weakness. Her stubbornness and determination to provide for her daughter and to be a good example must not go in vain. Whether her reasons for drugging her and keeping the secret about the CIA's ongoing investigation still gave her no reason to be angry with her. No one deserved to die the way she had died. She raised her chin, clenched her sweaty hands, and followed Stephens inside.
The strong repulsive odor of decomposing bodies and stale alcohol sent her stomach curling and her bones to shake. Still, she followed to one of the tables where a body lied still beneath a white sheet. Her feet grew heavy, fighting to keep her from fainting or running back out the door.
"Are you ready?" Dr. Stephens said reaching for the sheet.
Christina swallowed hard and nodded. He raised the sheet to reveal the woman on the table. A tremble quaked her body. Her eyes of denial soaked in her mom's face that once glowed like the sun and filled her with courage, now paled and still. Fluffy lips were now blackened, cracked, and harsh veins from her shuteyes now dark and wicked. Instead of an angel, she looked demonic.
"God, what happened?" she said unable to hold back the pain. She clung onto her sleeping mom and screamed, "Ma wake up! Don't leave me here. Don't leave me alone, please."
Anya rubbed her back. "Christina. Everything will be okay."
She then glared at the doctor. "What happened to her?" The doctor and Anya exchanged a sorrowful glance filled with knowledge they feared to disclose.
Anger stirred in her soul. "Tell me what's going on. I deserve to know."
"We don't know what happened to your mother-,"
"You're lying," she screamed at the doctor. She peeled herself off her mom and felt like punching something. She bore her sharp hazel eyes into Anya's petite face flushing its color. "The CIA was investigating my mom. I want to know what for. What was she doing?"
"I'm sorry, but-,"
"But it's classified," she interrupted with a scold. "Go to hell all of you."
She leaned over and placed a long kiss on her mom's cold cheek. That moment she remembered her mom's last words. "I'm sorry, honey but this has to be done," she had said. What had to be done? What did she do?
The surprised and fearful look in her mom's eyes in the dream felt so real. Agent Daniel did say Valeera, the same name of the dream's location Sii had said. And why was her pendant and veins glowing when she woke up?
What if the dream was real?
The very thought made her cringe. She shook her head seeing she was in a tough and narrow spot. Nothing made sense, yet everything made sense now that her mom was gone and looked like a demon from the Exorcist.
Don't worry, ma. I'm going to find out what's going on. If the CIA did this to you, they are going to regret meeting Christina Ammeen.
"Christina, I am so sorry," Anya squeaked through her dark thoughts.
Christina stood straight and tall, wiped the escaped tears off her cheeks, and grabbed the sheet. With great care and caution as if too much movement would hurt her sleeping mom, she covered her. Forever. She swallowed her emotions and bottled them in her stinging gut, maybe to stay there...forever.
She cut Anya a cold demanding glare. "Take me home."
They rode through the busy streets of Buffalo, New York in Anya's black 2009 Focus. Questions crowded Christina's head signaling for an ache to come. She couldn't help but glance at the woman to make sure she was not dreaming. Her mom was dead and now she was under the guardianship of the CIA. The silence pricked her nerves. She shifted uneasily in the seat and had to fill the air.
"S-so I'm going to need help with- with the funeral arrangements."
"Don't worry, the CIA will assist."
"The CIA. Are you and the agents from the Earth Portal Control?"
When Anya did not respond verbally, she read how she fidgeted with her glasses.
"So yes. Where is Valeera located?"
"Whatever questions Daniel asked you should be kept confidential."
She narrowed her eyes. "Look lady. I just lost my mom and I'm getting this very very bad feeling that you people had something to do with it."
She shook her head. "We only investigate."
"Investigate what? Is this Valeera place dangerous? Is it a code name for a private city?"
Again, the social worker pressed her lips together in silence.
"Earth Portal Control. It sounds like something concerning the border. Maybe this agency investigates illegal immigrants. Was my mom an immigrant from this Valeera?"
"Why don't we listen to the radio," Anya said quickly pressing the radio on.
Christina shook her head and pressed it off before voices had the chance to speak. "No. I don't want to listen to anything. I need to think."
"Try not to think too hard."
"Well, why not? What makes us humans different from animals is our ability to listen, think, and comprehend," she pointed out tapping the door's armrest with a fist. "If I simply shut my mouth and pretend I haven't met the CIA or the fact my mom is gone then I may as well lock myself in a cage with a dog."
Anya sighed. "I apologize."
Christina gave a longer sigh. "Apologize to my fist. Somethings going on and I'm going to figure it out eventually."
Anya sighed, tapping the stirring wheel with nervousness.
"This is not fair. Not fair at all," she said. "Don't I have the right to know-,"
Christina gasped as they turned onto Fiddler Street and approached her house. The scene occurring before her eyes was far from what she expected.
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