It Grows In Me Part II

I can not remember much about the police station. I spent the whole night there. Aunt Regina came there too. She was hugging me and telling me, it’s gonna be alright but I saw the pain in her eyes. She was devastated. Her calming words were meant for herself more than to console me.

I spoke with a teddy-bear-looking older officer with a huge belly and a tall stature. I immediately understood why they had sent him to talk me. He was like the perfect father figure. He asked questions about my mom and I tried to answer the best I could. He told me that the police were forced to shoot my mom because she had been pointing a gun at them. She was in the hospital, in intensive care. Rest of my family was dead. I could not quite grasp it yet. I just wanted to get out of there. Half of the time I was not even listening to him, I was spacing out. My mind was numb, empty.

“...I’m sorry about your brother. He tried to escape but your mom shot him twice in the stairs”, I heard the policeman say. Garry. His name was Garry, I remembered.

“Danny?” I whispered in disbelief. Imagining his lifeless, oddly misshapen body lying at the bottom of the steps. Garry the policeman looked at me and shook his head.

“I believe his name was Jacob?” He said and the look on his face troubled me.

“Oh, Jacob… Poor Jacob”, I said and sniffed. The picture in my head changed.

“Please. Can I go now? I’m really tired”, I asked. I saw Garry’s expression soften and he smiled compassionately.

“Of course, Ms. Richmond. Yes you can. Your aunt will take care of you, for now”, he told.

Mom died two days later. I was in pieces, trying to understand what had happened and why. I had not talked to aunt Regina about it, I could not. And she did not pressure me. That night I opened my mouth, though.

“I think… Maybe I should find mom’s parents and go see them”, I told aunt Regina as we sat down for dinner. I was not hungry and I kept swirling the spoon in the soup.

“I think that would be for the best”, she answered to my surprise. I had never desired to meet my grandparents before but now I was having a hard time to understand my mother.

“I just can’t get the image of poor Danny shot dead out of my head”, I said quietly. I still saw him lying on the bottom of the stairs, even though, I knew it had been Jacob who was shot there.

“Beth… I know your mom was sick. I fought many times with my brother about it. Your mom needed professional help. My brother should have arranged for that. Now, I don’t want you to get the same way as your mother. You need to get out of your head and focus on what’s real, do you understand? I’m not gonna play along anymore. Your mother’s gone, so is my brother, I don’t own anything to them anymore. You’re in my house and I want you to drop the crazy talk.” I stared at her In disbelief. How could she talk to me like that? I just lost my family. I stood up and shook my head.

“You… You never liked mom. I thought that maybe you had a good reason but I see, you’re just cold-hearted.” I walked right out the door.

I found my grandparents. I agreed to meet them in their house. It turned out to be a luxurious mansion. I could not help thinking that we had never had much money even though, my mom’s parents were clearly very wealthy. I knocked on the black wooden doors and a minute later they opened. My grandmother, a gracefully aged, blond woman, opened the door smiling. She looked so welcoming, so warm. She hugged me tight and for some reason that brought tears in to my eyes. She lead me to a spacious, bright living-room and sat me down on the old, vintage couch.

“Your grandpa will be here later”, she informed me smiling. She was very beautiful but did not resemble my mother much.

We talked and little by little I started to get a very different picture of my mom.

“Your mother, Janine was only two-years old when she started insisting she could talk to the dead”, my grandmother explained.

“You mean her imaginary friends?”

“Yes. They were… Some of them caused her to turn very violent. She was… Extremely sick. She was home schooled because of that. And saw a specialist once a week. She had only one friend, the neighbor’s boy, Steve, who was only a year younger. They spent time here together often. I never saw it coming. But then… When Janine was sixteen, she was getting increasingly restless. She ran off many times. The police always found her though. She and the neighbor’s Steve, I think they had a romantic relationship but I was never quite sure. Anyway. One day we came home and… Steve was lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairway. He was covered in blood, his body twisted horribly. He was dead. He had fallen. We thought it was an accident, for sure but a week later Janine told us, she had pushed Steve down the stairs”, grandmother started crying gently. She sniffled and carried on:

“She had… Mmm… In her own words, saved Steve. There was an evil spirit who had tried to enter Steve, take over him, his body. And Janine had firmly believed that the only way to save Steve was for him to die. So, she killed him… We kept the secret from the police in order to protect Janine. We put her into a facility so she could get treatment. There were many good doctors there, so we hoped that she would get better. But she didn’t and when she turned eighteen, she left the facility and never talked to us again. Your father, he had met her during the time that she was in that place. You see, your father was a nurse in there back then. They fell in love. Even though, Janine wanted nothing to do with us, your father wrote a letter to us once a month. Just to let us know what was going on. He told us that Janine had a personality disorder, she had delusions. But he was convinced that she would do better in a safe, secluded environment. That we should play along with her delusions. I don’t know, I… I kept doubting. I wasn’t sure your father was right. But Janine wanted nothing to do with us, so we just read the letters and hoped she would some day come back to us.”

“I can’t believe my dad knew how sick she was and didn’t get help for her!” I yelled in anger.

“She was terrified of doctors. They did something to her in the facility, I’m not sure what. And your father tried to protect her the best he could”, grandmother answered in a sad voice.

“But it was not enough! He should’ve done more!” I kept going. Tears ran to my face.

“I can’t stop seeing the little, sweet Danny lying in a pool of blood, shot down by his own mother. The poor, defenseless Dan. How could she? Why dad didn’t help her more?! Why didn’t I...”

“Bethany. What did you say?” Suddenly grandmother looked scared.

“Bethany, you do know that Daniel died a year ago?” She whispered.

“What? What are you talking about? No, he didn’t”, I shook my head and stared at her in anger.

“Yes, he did. We attended the funeral. He was so sick since birth. He had so many problems with his intestines and he’s weak, little heart. He died of a heart failure a year ago. Your father came to meet us, to tell us. He told us, Janine, your mother, she would not accept it. That she kept seeing the dead Daniel, she kept talking to him, taking care of him. But your father didn’t see him at all. He played along but he was worried because you kids were getting sucked up into your mother delusions. And your father didn’t know how to tell you the truth.”

“No, no. That’s not possible. Danny was sick, yes, but he recovered. You’re mistaken.”

“Your mother didn’t want to have a funeral. She kept repeating that Daniel was not gone. She refused to accept the truth. We had a small funeral for Daniel, your father, my husband and I.”

I stared at her in disbelief, my whole life was crumbling down like a line of dominoes set to fall.

“Bethany, dear. I think you should see a doctor. You know, mental illness like this can be hereditary. I don’t want to see you end up like your mother.”

My head hurt. My ears were ringing so loud, I could not hear her. I was sure I was getting a migraine.