Sunday, April 17, 2011

February 1999, pt 5

I've played the tape for Charlie. I didn't tell him I've been playing it over and over since I got home. That's what she sounds like. The Teenager. The one who can cry... the one who thinks dying would be easier.

They talked to her. Pat and Pastor R said she mostly stayed curled up in a corner of the couch, crying. They said she was scared. Shit. That makes two of us.

She identified as me... but I'm me. There can't be two of us for real. Not for real My head is spinning.

I go outside for a cigarette. I can't breathe and I know it's stupid but smoking helps. I sit outside the garage in my hiding corner and light up.

What would happen if I tried talking to them like I did when I was little? Pastor R suggested I give it a shot.

"Um, I don't know what to call you but I'm Marisa. I'm really scared right now. The stuff I read says you're around because you helped me not go crazy from the abuse when I was little. I guess in a way you've helped but I didn't ask for this and I'm scared as hell of you.


I feel like an idiot.

I lean back against the garage door and take a long drag on my cigarette.

"If you have to call me something, call me Reese."

My head slams against the door jamb. No. I did not just hear that. I did not just hear an exasperated sigh.

"Look. I don't know what to do, okay? The Wall is gone and things are so different and... I don't want this either, okay? Do you remember Dominion? I do. I didn't ask for this either and I don't want to be here either and... it's like I don't have a choice, okay?.

Tears prickle behind my closed eyes. I'm shaking my head. Please don't let this be real. Please.

"Okay... Reese. Um... Do I have to talk out loud or can you hear my thoughts?"
"You have to talk."
"I don't know. It's just the way it works. And look, don't ask me anymore questions, okay? I don't know and if I did I couldn't tell you. I'm gonna pay for this anyway."

I want to ask why and who and what but the cigarette has burned down to the filter and my fingers. I drop the butt and stare at the ground. I still don't know what to believe. How many are there? Who is making her pay? Reese? Who used to call me that? I was a teenager. I remember that much.

Oh God. This really is real.