Me & Mine

41. The Crucible

In the memories of my youth it's always summer. The parties, the secrets, the kissing, the scandals. We were young and beautiful, and the whole world was ours. We spent summers on the beach, roaming the streets of Paris and Vienna, drinking cheap liquors in Warsaw and Riga. But when I think of home, of my father and mother, of the days spent locked up in our Manhattan penthouse, it's always winter. Cold. Gnawing, biting, beating cold.

Our father died when Amory and I were fourteen. He left everything to the two of us – his money, the properties he owned in New York and London, the controlling stocks in his company, everything. My mother got nothing. Amory and I laughed our butts of when the family's attorney read my father's will. The bitch made it her life's mission to make ours a living hell, and now she didn't even get a single penny for all her troubles. That didn't sit to well with her, of course. She threatened me, beat me, held a knife to my throat, swore she would not leave me alone until she got her damn money. By that time I was almost immune to her threats, so I cynically laughed them off. But Amory convinced me to go to the police and we got her locked up for child abuse.

And now she was up for parole.

"I don't care what they say, if that bitch gets out the first thing she'll do is finish what she started!"

"I agree, Amory," uncle says, "please calm down."

"How can you tell me to stay calm! That bitch almost killed Fay! She deserves to rot in prison!"

"Amory, please," uncle places his hand on Amory's arm, but he quickly draws it away, "I'll go with you. We can fight this."

It goes back and forth like this for quite a while, but their words don't register any longer. My body gives in. My blood boils, rushing through my veins in an attempt to control the damage, but it's too late. I can feel it again. The bruises, the cuts, the broken bones and the torn muscles. My hand shoots to my sternum, the other to my throat. I feel the cold of the blade, the shivers it sent through my spine, the small drops of blood that flowed down, warm and slow. My breaths go fast. Shallow. I feel hollow. There's nothing I can do but replay ancient memories. Breathe, Fay. I finally felt at home here! Breathe. After all those years on the run, I stopped. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And now the earth sinks me down and I can't move and Amory is screaming and tears are streaming down my face and my body doesn't work and my soul cannot bear it anymore. I can't see. I can't hear. But I feel. Goddamnit I feel. Everything and all of it at once. It's too much. I see my rock rolling down the hill again but I can't smile. I can't do anything. My soul is torn to pieces by the blades that once cut my skin and with all my might I try to hold the door. But it's already pouring, streams of memories and waterfalls of pain. It's too late. I can't do this any longer. So I give up.

I forget to breath and everything turns black.

***

Breathe.

Amory holds me. He holds me and he doesn't let go. My eyes feel heavy, my head is empty and my body is numb. "Hey there," Amory whispers, stroking my hair behind my ear. I blink a few times and see uncle standing over us, a worried expression on his face. I try to straighten my back, but Amory won't let me. He's holding me so tight, my back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around me. We're sitting on the cold kitchen floor and I feel a faint pain on the back of my head.

"Take it slow," Amory whispers, "you fainted."

I let my head down and close my eyes. I fainted. I hate that she still has such power over me. Over my mind, my body. I hate it! I look up at uncle and a final tear escapes the corner of my eye. "Tell me it isn't true?" I ask, my voice cracking on every syllable. "Please, tell me she doesn't... she won't..."