Saphora vol.1 Retention, Page 8

  Chapter 3

  With the small sting of pain coursing through her left temple, Saphora groaned as she slipped into consciousness. Slowly, her lashes fluttered until her eyes were squinting open and warily looking around. Her lungs felt dense, and heavy. And her body seemed to not want to listen to her commands to move. Her breathing was slow and strained, and it made her a bit nervous, wondering what had happened. Her eyes struggled to stay open, but were motivated by the sight of Fran sitting at the side of her bed. Her expression was grave, and her eyes were red. With some effort, Saphora was able to turn her head to look at her face to face.

  “Fran?” she asked, more concerned with why she looked upset than with what was wrong with her own body.

  “Hi, honey,” she said in a broken voice as she reached out to hold her hand. She wrapped her larger one around Saphora’s and squeezed. Saphora didn’t like that. She didn’t like the body language Fran was giving. What was going on? She couldn’t recall anything.

  “What happened?” Saphora asked. “What’s wrong with me? I can’t … really move.”

  “You’ll be able to move soon … You … You came home so strangely yesterday,” Fran tried to explain. Saphora’s brows pulled together in confusion.

  “Yesterday?” Fran nodded.

  “You came home and started talking nonsense. Something about some man trying to kill you – you were all banged up and driving someone’s truck. Honey, where did you get the truck?”

  The mentioning of a man caught Saphora’s attention, and slowly began piecing things back together. Against her body’s better judgment, she tried to sit up. Fran straightened up in her seat, ready to help if she needed it.

  “You should take it easy. The drugs haven’t worn off yet. Dr. Lupin said you should rest for the next 24 hours.”

  Saphora’s head spun. Not from the drugs. But from being told that she had been given drugs. She had never taken any type of medical substance in her life – that she could remember. Saphora turned to look at Fran with an expression resembling anger. And then that of confusion. She didn’t remember taking drugs. Nor being given them. What were they doing to her? Were they affecting her memory? Or was her brain merely unable to recall due to its own deconstruction?

  “Drugs? Fran – “. The room spun for a moment and Saphora fought to keep herself upright. Fran jerked forward to place one hand behind her back and the other under her arm that was closest to her. Saphora placed her palm against her head and closed her eyes in attempt to calm her vision, which was slightly blurred. “What happened?”

  “You were talking about some man. And someone screaming. Or something, I don’t know. You also told me you fell out of the … you know where. How many times have I told you not to do you know what so high? You know it makes-“

  “Why are you talking like that?” Saphora asked in slight annoyance, cutting her off. Fran paused, with a somewhat misplaced glance around the room. Fran only spoke like that when they were around people. Saphora looked around the room once again, thinking maybe she missed someone else’s presence.

  “Talking like what?”

  Saphora didn’t bother to answer the obvious question she had used to answer her own. Her eyes strained to scan the room once again, this time looking for anything out of place. Fran was a horrible liar. She always answered questions with questions when she had something to hide. Of course there could have been the possibility that she was just unaware of the context of her question. But with such a topic, Saphora knew that wasn’t the case. Not with that topic. Especially after what had just happened. And then she saw, from the corner of her eye, the door to her bedroom move. There were no windows open. The house was not on a tilt. It creaked inwards ever so slightly, and Saphora groaned.

  “Why are you hiding?” she called out in the door’s direction. Fran flinched, raising her hands, as if pleading for Saphora to calm down. She’d been found out. But she wasn’t worried for herself, so much as the snooping Dr. Lupin. “Get in here,” she ordered. She was becoming angry. Not only did this man drug her without consent that she was sure she didn’t give, but he had the audacity to hide from her afterwards and have Fran attempt to cover for him.

  “Saphora,” Fran said in a hard tone. She wasn’t one to condone rudeness. Even under the present circumstances. Her expression turned harsh at Saphora’s sudden movements to sit at the edge of the bed.

  “Come on!” she shouted in aggravation. Not only was she fuming from the fact that she had evidently been drugged, but she was enraged that for the second time, she could not remember all the vital bits and pieces of what had previously happened.

  “Saphora. You mind your man-“

  “It’s alright, Fran. I suppose she has a right to be upset,” came Dr. Lupin’s voice from behind the door. The door that began to open slowly, and reveal his tall figure behind it. After pushing the door open enough to get through, he stuck his slightly balled hands in his pockets and came through the doorway, leaning against it. Saphora’s lip curled as she tried to stand up. But the swiftness of her motion made her head spin, and her diaphragm stretch towards her stomach, making her short of breath. Fran placed her hand on her arm and squeezed, helping her to keep her balance.

  “Saphora, please-“

  “Why was I drugged? How – When did you-“

  “Yesterday, when you came home from who knows where. You were speaking gibberish and beginning to get violent when Fran couldn’t understand you,” he began, coming towards the bedside where Fran sat. He stood behind Fran, looking down at Saphora. “She called me when you weren’t settling down, for help. I gave you a shot to calm you. And you’ve been asleep since.”

  “Why can’t I remember?” Saphora asked agitatedly.

  Dr. Lupin shook his head nonchalantly.

  “Remember what, exactly?” he asked, almost immediately after her question. Saphora’s eyes narrowed at him, a wrinkle forming on the bridge of her nose. “Fran told me you fell. You were pretty banged up when I arrived … Did you hit your head when you fell?”

  Saphora’s head shook somewhat, as she tried to calm herself long enough to listen what he was saying. Hit my head? She thought back to crashing into the tree, and then falling out of another one when she had attempted to fly again. And then tripping over the uplifted root onto the ground. It was quite possible that she could have hit her head in the mists of all that.

  “I … Maybe. I don’t know,” she said as she raised her hand to search her scalp for any bumps or dents. There were none that she could find, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t hit her head. It was the next day, after all. Lupin nodded, shifting his weight onto his other leg.

  “Saphora, I believe that you were hallucinating.”

  Saphora smiled. She didn’t know why. But she smiled as she shook her head in protest. Fran watched her carefully.

  “What – no, I … I know what I-“

  “You may not have been aware of it, but I believe the dreams – your memory, was putting a stress on you. You were desperate to remember. I think the hit to your head may have triggered the hallucinations. But instead of remembering the past, you created a present with the characters.”

  Saphora’s temple pinged in denial. Created? No, what? She shook her head, lowering it and staring at her bare feet. Trying to remember clearly what had happened in the woods, her eyes squinted. She couldn’t. Not clearly, anyway.

  “No – But … What about the truck? The house?” Saphora looked up at them both. Panic in her voice. “The house was destroyed! I was …”

  Lupin tilted his head to the side, taking one hand out of his pocket to push his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

  “You were what?” he asked curiously. The memory of the wall crashing down on that poor man flooded her mind, along with the house’s ultimate undoing. She shook her head, her body feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion. She was fighting with what her brain was telling her, and what she was presently being told. Was she hallucina
ting? All of it? She looked down at her arms. Her legs. At the scratches and bruises that covered them. Could all that have been from falling?

  “I … was there. I saw that man die. The house,” she shook her head. “It was destroyed. What about the house?” she questioned, not yet looking back up at them. Lupin sighed, putting his hand back into his pocket.

  “Yes. The owner of the truck. A Mr. Gary Jones. He’s dead.” Lupin agreed.

  Fran swung her head up in Lupin’s direction. Her eyes wide and her lips parted. She had been fearing the worst. And there it was – spoken. The owner of the mystery truck was dead. She had hoped that he was still alive.

  “What? He’s dead?” she asked, even after hearing the answer. Lupin nodded, and she lowered her head to look back at Saphora. This led to even more haunting questions. “How did he die?” she asked, a bit short of breath as she squeezed on her hand, which had lowered to Saphora’s hand. With the condition that Saphora was currently in, who was to say that Saphora didn’t harm the man enough to lead to his death in her distraught state of mind? Dr. Lupin had told Fran that with her hallucinating about this man, she could have seen his face, instead of Gary Jones. And with her thinking that the man was trying to kill her, it would have been only natural to try and defend herself against him – by any means necessary.

  “They didn’t tell me. But they want to speak to Saphora as soon as possible.”

  “Who?” Saphora asked. There was a lingering silence in the room that made her stomach churn. Her eyes shot to Fran’s but they averted their gaze. “Fran?” She didn’t answer her. Her heart began to race. What was going on? What happened while she was asleep? The man was dead. Who had told them? Oh god, she thought, having a thought click into place. They think I killed him.

  “The police.” Lupin finally spoke up. Her heart jumped against her ribs, seemingly jolting her forward a bit. The police? Every murder-based crime show skid through her mind like the breeze on an open book. The pages stopping on the topic of imprisonment. She swallowed hard. “Since,” Lupin exhaled. “You took off with the victim’s truck immediately after the time of death, they’d like to talk to you about what happened,” he explained. Fran nodded solemnly, imagining all that would go on in the conversation between her and the police. “But don’t worry. Once we explain your mental condition, I’m sure-“

  “Mental condition?” Saphora repeated, drawing her gaze to Lupin. That caught her attention, and suddenly made her highly defensive of her sketchy memory. She looked to Fran, waiting for her to protest against the phrase alongside her, but she was silent. Saphora stared for a while longer, until the slight turn of Fran’s head sent a pain to her heart, and a jolt through her legs. She stood up, not caring if she wobbled or not, and kept her eyes on the silent Fran.

  “I’m not crazy,” she argued with somewhat of a nervous laugh. Fran stayed quiet, in comparison to the rather loud sigh from Dr. Lupin. Saphora shook her head, balling her fists. “Look – I know what I saw, okay? I may not be able to remember all of it. But I know-“

  “Saphora,” Fran said with a tone of disapproval and a soft sigh.

  This entire situation was already weighing on her as it was. What with the frantic phone call from Saphora, to leaving work early in search of her. And then to have her come home hysterical, and having to drug her. And now learning of the death of the owner of the truck that she had stolen. The last thing she wanted to do right now was argue. Especially about something that could potentially keep her from going to prison. Fran reached out to take Saphora’s hand, but she snatched it away in frustration.

  “No! I’m not lying. And I wasn’t hallucinating,” she argued.

  She looked down in disbelief at Fran, who didn’t respond. “Fran!” she practically cried. She couldn’t believe this. The only person that she had trusted her entire life was just sitting there and letting this happen. Letting this man say these things. Accuse her of insanity. Instability. Fran’s eyes closed with pressure and she raised the hand that she had reached towards Saphora with a flat palm.

  “Saphora, please. This has been a stressful two days … Will you just sit down and-“

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” Saphora asked with a shaky voice, cutting Fran off. Fran looked up at Saphora, finally. Saw the despair in her eyes. And realized, just a bit, what she was doing. A ping of guilt struck her and she stood with her, reaching her arms around her.

  “No. God, no, honey. I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted. I was so worried about you … And now that man is dead and-“

  “Do you think I killed him?” Saphora interrupted again, pulling back to look Fran in the eyes. Fran searched her eyes for some kind of truth. And for a moment, she thought she saw some, as blurred as it was. Although she was very hyper aware of the circumstances, she knew her Saphora. Although she tended to find the worst in people, she knew that she would never hurt anyone. Not intentionally. But then she thought about the phone call. How unlike Saphora she sounded. She had never fallen flying before. What if the fall really did mess with her enough to cause hallucinations? What if she didn’t remember hurting the man? Saphora shook her head, gripping onto Fran’s arms. “Fran,” she said, voice trembling. “I didn’t kill him. Please.”

  “Maybe you didn’t, Saphora,” Lupin said, chiming in and bringing their attention to him. “But maybe another persona did,” he suggested. Saphora shook her head in confusion.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if it was the little girl that killed him? The scared little girl from that night? She could have-”

  “No!” Saphora shouted, pulling away from Fran and startling her some. Saphora moved towards the doctor and he took a step back. The shirt-like gown moved across her body as she took her angry steps. “There is no little girl. Enough, with your physiological bullshit! I didn’t kill him. And you’re not going to write me off as crazy. I know what I saw.”

  A sudden gasp from Fran made Saphora stop long enough to turn around. Which caused a similar gasp from Lupin. Saphora spun around again, her head spinning from the swift movements. She wobbled a bit, which agitated her further.

  “What?” she questioned them, looking back and forth. Fran now had her hand delicately over her mouth, and her other hand was placed on her chest, which was covered with the olive green turtleneck she was wearing. The hand on her mouth reached forward just slightly, drawing Saphora’s gaze to it.

  “Your … Your back,” she breathed. Before Saphora could ask what she meant, Dr. Lupin added to the conversation.

  “The marks have spread,” he said rather bluntly, with a strong sense of curiosity. She turned her body, foolishly trying to see her own back to no avail. Lupin stepped forward, and Saphora stepped back away from him, turning her back to Fran. She pointed her finger up at him, and he raised his hands in surrender.

  “Don’t – Don’t touch me,” she said, watching him carefully, before glancing around the room. She looked back at Fran, who was slowly reaching towards her.

  “Honey, please. Just let him look at it.”

  “No! No,” she said, looking back at him. “Get out.”

  “Saphora!” Fran said in aggravation.

  “Come now. This isn’t ne-“

  “I said get out! I’m not going to have someone who’s accusing me of being insane staying here and pretending like he gives a flying fuck about what’s happening.”

  “Saphora!” Fran shouted again. This time putting her hand on her shoulder to grab her attention, but failing. Lupin straightened his back and grumbled, putting his hands slowly back in his pockets in time with his exhaling.

  “Well. If you don’t want to be treated like a mental case, maybe you should start acting more appropriately,” he said rather harshly, catching Fran off guard. Her attention shifted to him as her hand left Saphora’s shoulder.

  “Doctor,” she breathed, shaking her head in disapproval. Saphora’s eyes narrowed at the remark.

  “You’re fired,” she spat. r />
  “Saphora,” Fran urged for the third time, her patience wearing thin.

  But Dr. Lupin waved his hand, dismissing the problem. He would go without a fuss. Although the statement that he had just made was unprofessional, he knew all too well that it was not a good idea to provoke a deranged patient whose emotional range was expanding by the minute. Especially one that had just woken up from being sedated and could not recall their entire memory. That was a dangerous combination. One that was sure to bring out anxiety, rage, pain, and eventually violence. He was sure that things would settle down after Saphora had gotten some proper rest and had a chance to sort things out with herself and Fran.

  “It’s alright, Fran. I’ll leave. We’ll talk once she’s had some time to rest.”

  Saphora bit her tongue, due to the unusually strong grip Fran had on her wrist. Fran sighed, looking from Saphora to Dr. Lupin, before nodding reluctantly.

  “Thank you, doctor. Let me show you to the door,” she said, releasing Saphora’s wrist and walking closely behind the doctor as he traveled back to the door of Saphora’s room. She turned back to look at her before she walked out. The look in her eyes making Saphora’s head lower ever so slightly, despite the current rage she felt. She still feared the anticipating stare of an angry mother – so to speak.

  Once Fran left with the doctor, Saphora plopped back down on her bed and buried her face in her hands. Just what was happening here? She took a moment to breathe. Her lungs still feeling somewhat heavy. Her temple throbbed, making her shut her eyes in attempts to lessen the pain. There was far too much going on for her to begin to comprehend. She tried to think back, to what she had been told was yesterday. But all she got were quick glimpses. Fragments of images. Tebias’ face. His gun. The man in the house. His gun. Violence. And then, the ringing of a calm, familiar voice. The voice of the woman that had helped her. The voice of the woman she could not find. Saphora sighed, shaking her head in her hands. That poor man was dead. Would she be to blame for it?

  She knew that once Fran came back up the stairs that not only would she be yelled at for how she spoke to the doctor. But she would be hounded, and questioned continuously about what happened at the house, and in the woods, and why she was flying so high, which she wasn’t. She wasn’t going to let her rest, like the doctor had suggested. And she didn’t want to go through that right now. She wanted to be left alone. She was still in shock at how Fran was reacting to the whole thing. She didn’t know if she could face her right then without getting “inappropriate” with her as well. Fran didn’t believe her. Not fully, anyway. There was doubt – she could tell when she looked into her eyes. Of course, she knew she had good reason to doubt her story. But she thought that maybe, just maybe, their relationship was strong enough to withstand at least a fraction of the doubt. And now, even her relationship with Fran was being questioned in her mind. She cringed at the thought of not being able to trust her. Or worse – being abandoned by her when she needed her most.

  Hearing the front door close, she decided that she couldn’t handle the predicted fallout of events. She looked at her window across the room which was shut, and thought maybe she should have some time to think alone. Away from the house. Away from Fran.