Blood of Eden
CHAPTER FOUR
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Jeana had gotten up and had spoken with John while Jamie and I had cleaned up and then begun to prepare for school. I rushed through everything else in a hurry so that I could sketch the bloody hands and try to write it down. It was the first time, or nearly the first time, I ever wanted to draw something that I saw. I got probably thirty minutes in as they continued to talk to each other and to me. I tried to ignore them and asserted that I was fine and will go to school. Jeana didn’t agree with it but she finally gave in to my stubbornness just as John had.
I must really be persuasive.
Jamie stayed in her own room all the while and never wanted to be disturbed. She didn’t want to be anywhere that put her near me unless she had to be near me.
As I finish the sketch, I suddenly have an impulse to want to tell Mom and Dad of what I had seen. But I’m not sure if I should. I never tell them anything willingly. They practically have to beat out of me mentally or threaten me before I usually want to tell.
I hesitate to speak up as Mom’s fixing a cup of coffee. Her hair is already combed. Dad’s gone to get ready for his next assignment. He loves his job. He’s a cop, a skilled undercover agent. I don’t know about most of the stuff he does in the assignments, but he busts big-time dealers and thieves and such. They don’t allow a lot of the media publicity and want to keep him unknown so he can keep working. He pretends to get arrested with them sometimes to preserve the image so that if the others get their “phone call,” they can’t tell him off as a cop, which would endanger him and us. He doesn’t say much to us either, because “the less you know, the safer you’ll be,” as he put it.
I watch Mom for a moment and want to say it. But I shut my mouth before I do and ponder a bit more.
She sets the glass coffeepot down on the burner and turns to face me as she holds the black mug by the handle with her left hand. She leans against the counter and rests her right hand on the corner ledge and takes a sip of the steaming hot black coffee and looks up at me.
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I look down and see my picture of the bloody hands. It pushes me to open my mouth again, but I again stop myself.
Oh, fine, what the heck? It’s not like it’ll hurt to speak!
“Mom?”
“Hmm?” she says as her eyebrows rise slightly.
“I had another episode a little while ago. But it was a lot different than usual.”
Something about her seems to automatically wake up and she begins to walk over to me slowly so that the still-very-full cup of coffee doesn’t spill over.
“You want to talk about it?” she asks in a motherly manner. It’s not how she usually asks, which is usually in a pleading manner. It actually warms me. She’s completely and utterly adult-serious. That’s a turn for the better.
I let a smile sneak up one corner of my mouth and look her in the eye as I flick my pencil and toy with it as she seats herself across from me. I shrug and then nod my head. “Actually, yeah. This one I do.”
“Alright. I’m listening.” She has both hands clasped lightly around her cup, which is before her.
So I begin to tell her of what I saw, beginning with staring at the wall and ending by laughing slightly at my hands being burned.
There is only a slight momentary silence and I tell her thoughtfully, “This is weird, but I actually wanted to draw part of what I saw this time…I even tried to see farther, but that’s when I snapped out of it.”
Jeana gives me a very weak smile and nod. “Maybe you’ll be able to learn to control it someday.”
I then think of something else as I look into her baby blue eyes, “Mom,” it still doesn’t feel right to call her that because she’s not my biological mother and this family isn’t my real family, “Do you think I’m crazy or really have mental problems? You believe any of what I tell you?”
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Her reaction is of compassion and motherly love and she reaches out with her left hand and stops my hand from twirling the pencil and then pulls her hand back and speaks earnestly, “Marie, I have always wanted to believe you even if your dad or sister just think you’re crazy.” Her eyes slightly look to the right for a half of a lingering moment to recall something and then back to me. “What happened this summer proved you’re not crazy.”
Jeana smiles and says, “You did what Diana told you to. You wrote down what you saw. Even though it wasn’t what she meant, it ended to prove to us that you’re not a crazy person. It was true. Diana checked into everything you wrote on that paper and everything was exact. But you were never there to witness it…”
I again feel the pain of the memories of Ashley and Janice being dead. I had honestly almost consciously forgotten, even though it has still lurked in my subconscious mind. A lump begins to form, hindering easy breathing.
Jeana’s eyes are beginning to shine from the unfallen tears. There is a hint of a grimace or a frown, but she still holds that tender smile, though it’s weak. “We lost all of them…Marie, if I have to believe anything, it’s not that you lie or are simply crazy. Maybe there really is something that we don’t know about, something that you’re tied to…It’s hard for us to believe vampires, though. I can’t ever believe that unless I saw proof…But—Marie, look at me please, Dear.”
When she had said it’s hard for them to believe, I knew instantly that she doesn’t believe me and has to think there is something wrong with me. What else could she think? She’s probably just trying to not sound like John does.
I don’t look up and continue to stare at the floor.
“Marie, please. Listen to what I have to say.”
“I’m listening,” I tell her in a defeated voice. I look up slowly and meet her gaze.
“I can’t believe in them without proof they exist—“
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As she repeats the sentence, I suddenly feel a spark of an urge to cut in, and I interrupt, “Then ask Jamie. She should tell you what she saw happen to me and Octavius. It possessed me and—“ I realize what I am saying and stop suddenly. The acidic bite of the betrayal returns to my mind, and I remember. I force myself to continue. “She saw what Octavius is. She knows, but she’ll lie and now she treats me like I’ve done something to her. She hates me completely.”
“What Octavius is?”
“Yes, what Octavius is. It’s what he is…” I think and then change my mind. I’m not going to say another word about it. It’s just reminding me of what he did and that he’s nothing but a liar. I don’t know why I keep wanting to say anything to Jeana today anyway.
“You know what, Mom?” I ask, again looking up at her, but now with a more penetrating, less revealing look so I don’t betray my emotions.
Her eyes show she is skeptical but also convey that she’s listening.
So I continue with a voice of finality, “I’m not going to say anything else about him except that he’s a liar—“
“The bus is coming,” Jamie’s voice interrupts.
I jump and my heart skips a beat. I turn to the doorway to see that she’s standing with her arms folded and is leaning against the black refrigerator. I honestly hadn’t heard her or even felt her presence. I still can’t, except for the fact that I can see her and know she’s there. There’s a definite difference between knowing if someone’s there and feeling if someone’s there.
Honestly, I’m actually glad I can’t feel her there. Maybe the rest of what I’m forced to see and hear and all, maybe all of it could weaken, too. Hell, maybe it could go away!
Jamie’s still angry and full of hatred. I know that it’s because of this summer, when we met him. She majorly crushed on him. It was easy to tell because I know her so well.
I smile a cocky smile as I see the ugly, girlie, pink t-shirt she’s wearing. She looks like she’s twelve. Her hair is pulled into two disturbing “piggy-tails.” She looks so geeky, even if she really is so pretty. The shirt is a little bit tight, and so are the Faded Glory jeans she’s wearing.
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I roll my eyes. Maybe I’d better not say anything. But I can’t believe Jeana and John would let her wear that.
Oh, yeah…That reminds me…
“Oh, I forgot. Happy Birthday, little sis,” I tell her. My voice has a certain sardonic tone to it that makes her cringe.
She replies bitterly, “Don’t call me sis ‘cause I’m not.”
“Jamie, you watch your mouth,” John’s voice rings out. She jumps and turns to see him hovering behind her. Our eyes leave her and go beyond her. “Apologize.”
“No need,” I spit, quickly gathering my coloring pencils and jamming them into the yellow packet. I just as quickly grab my sketchbook and reach for my black school bag to unzip it and cram all of the stuff into it.
Jamie smiles at John brightly and victoriously and shrugs her shoulders in a careless manner as if silently gesturing ‘who cares?’ She then leves out and disappears out of sight as she turns right to head out of the living room.
“Yeah,” I say. “Right. Sure she will.”
“I’m serious,” he says.
“So am I,” I tell him as I look up, zipping my bag shut. I am completely and utterly serious as I had said, and I am sure it shows clearly upon my face. “I just hope it’s not me who makes her pay. I could really hurt her, and I don’t want to, even if she is such a little witch…But I think I’ll be the one to hurt her.”
I begin to walk out as I sling the heavy bookbag over my right shoulder and tell them as I turn to look at them, “You’re gonna have to find some way of keeping her away from me, because all jokes aside, it’ll happen one of these days.”
Blood of Eden Chapters
