Reagan

Chapter Seven

Author’s Note: ENJOY (: 

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Chapter Seven: The Other Side Of The Story 

I woke up once again by the sounds of movement inside the kitchen. I woke up with a jolt actually, feeling more alive and awake in a long time. Adrenaline tingled at my fingers and toes making me wish to stand up and run to the commotion, but I decided against it. Last time I did that I found a message in a bloody ink. Not something I look forward to seeing again. So I stayed in my bed, flinching at every sound that came from the kitchen. 

I couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer after I could hear my name being whispered in the air which sent chills running down my back like ice water. Was there a ghost in this house or am I insane like everybody thinks I am? Then after I thought that, I had to prove to everyone I wasn’t crazy. I flew out of my bed and ran out to the kitchen to find what I was fearing: another message. 

There on the walls were another blood red message: 

“She knows…” 

I watched as the walls leaked blood from invisible pores. I started to hyperventilate. The blood started to soak into the wall disappearing with the message. My heart rate was through the roof and I could barely stand so I slid to the floor, losing consciousness. 

I watched as the blood spilled from my wrists into my bath water. She wasn’t home, she was at work. I had skipped school for the past week due to major depression. I wasn’t supposed to be alone, but I was. I had gone into the bathroom and filled the tub with water then got in -- still in my clothing -- and started to dig into my wrists with a razor blade. 

I had been wanting to do this for two weeks. Now I actually was. I let the blood turn the water red and soak into my hair as I leaned back. I looked up at the lights hanging from the ceiling. The cool ivory stone felt good on my hot skin. 

I was starting to lose myself to the darkness. Death I suppose. I was dying. I was loosing too much blood. I felt weak and nauseated. I let out a whimper. My wrists stung with extreme pain and I let out a few tears. I was dying. I was dying long before this though. But why?

I tried to think, but before I could, I heard a scream. I look up to see my aunt. Aunt Kim? What is she doing here, where are my parents? 

Sirens suddenly filled my ears and that’s when I passed out. When I woke up in, I was Shiny Meadows, tied down to a bed. 

I opened my eyes. Tiling stretched out before my eyes for miles. I lifted my hands to touch my aching face, before I could touch my cheek, I saw my scars. I looked at them as they stared back. They were ugly and reminded me of the night. Reminded. I remember now. That night I tried to kill myself. I bet Dr. Penn would love to know this. I sit up and notice it was already morning and the blood from last night was gone. 

I sort of crawl to the sofa where I curl up in a ball and call Dr. Penn with the number I had found on the refrigerator. 

“Kimberly?” it was Dr. Penn. I haven’t heard someone call my aunt by her name in ages.

“Actually it’s Reagan.” I say, my throat burns when I talk. 

“Reagan. What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice becoming low and serious. 

“No.” I say faintly. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I remember the night I tried to kill myself. I still don’t know why I did. I forgot to tell you about another memory I had found before the one about me being raped.” 

“Go on.” he says curiously. 

“It was a long time ago. One summer with Callie, I suppose. I was with her and she told me how she had to leave. Do you know why Callie had to go Dr. Penn? Did my aunt ever tell you?” I ask. 

“Let’s not discuss that right now.” he said changing the subject. I could hear the scratching of a pen on the other side of the phone line. 

“Stop recording me like I’m still your patient!” I yelled. 

“Reagan, I know you left Shiny Meadows, but that doesn’t mean I’m not your therapist still.” he said calmly. I could hear my Aunt waking up in the other room so I ducked down behind the couch. 

“Then tell me: Why am I seeing things?” I asked, tears starting to swell in my eyes. 

“What are you talking about, Reagan?” he asked. 

“Last night was the second night in a row that I woke up in the middle of the night to find blood all over the kitchen with some message on the wall!” I shrieked, then tried to remain calm. He would never take me seriously if I started to panic. 

“Why haven’t you told me about this before, Reagan?” he asked, I heard more scratching. 

“I don’t know. I was scared that you would think I was crazy.” I said truthfully. 

“I don’t think you are crazy, Reagan, just stressed out. When people are stressed they start to hear and see things that aren’t actually there.” he started to explain. I felt a white hot anger start to bubble inside me. 

“Crazy people hallucinate!” I yell then by throwing the phone into the wall across of me, it breaks into two pieces. I jump back and then I start to break down. 

“Reagan?” It’s Aunt Kim, but I don’t care, it could’ve been God and I still wouldn’t look up, “Baby? What’s going on?” 

That’s when my scars on my wrists started to burn and my stomach felt so queasy that I could rip the hair out of her head. So that was what I tried to do. I threw myself onto her and grabbed her hair. 

“I hate you!” I screamed as I pulled at her grayish hair. She only laid there, frozen and staring at me crazily. 

“Callie.” she said, that made me stop. I let go of her hair and leaned back. 

“What?” I asked, confused. 

“Why do you hate me so much, Callie Rae?” her soft, sad voice called. My eyes widened and I started to back up. Did she really think I was Callie?

“I’m not Callie. Aunt Kim, it’s me, Reagan.” I said, starting to stand up, but she stared at the ceiling on her back, glassy eyed. 

“You’re my daughter, yet you hate me so and continue to use me as your punching bag,” she said, tears rolling down to the floor. When I attacked her it must’ve struck something in her and reminded her of something in the past. Was she in one of those memories? I kneeled down to the woman that killed my parents, feeling sympathy. Callie beat her? Was that why Aunt Kim ignored her? Did she even kill my parents? Then it hit me. Callie could be lying this whole time, screwing around with me head saying she killed my parents so I could hate Aunt Kim when Callie is only angry at her mother, but for what? What did my aunt ever do to her? 

When I touched my aunt’s shoulder she blinked a few times, then opened them wide. 

“Aunt Kim?” I asked, softly, not trying to scare her. She looked at me then furrowed her eyes. 

“What happened?” she asked, then brought her hand up to her scalp and winced. 

“You…fell.” I lied. I wanted to forget all about me hurting her.

“Oh.” she said. She sat up and looked at the broken pieces of the phone laying discarded on the floor, “What happened to the phone?” 

“Are you okay, Aunt Kim? Do you want me to get you an ice pack?” I asked, trying to change the subject. She looked at the phone carnage then at me. 

“Yes. Please.” she said, forgetting all about the phone. She got up and laid on the sofa, massaging her scalp. I came back from the kitchen with an ice pack where I gently laid it on her swelling head and put a blanket over her. She had already fallen asleep. I turned away and started to walk towards Callie’s room. Time to set things straight.  

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Author’s Note: Bout time I uploaded, smh..lol well comment--vote--fan thanks and <3 yall!