My Brother's Keeper

Saturday morning, I’m sitting at the table with a plate of pancakes in front of me. My father sits to my left, my stepmother to my right, and Pax across from me. My brother has an immense appetite, and by the time I finish one pancake, he’s already on number four. Watching him eat almost makes my stomach turn, but he’s fifteen and still growing.

“What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” Karen asks.

I know it’s a show for Pax. She’s already let it slip how she blames me for putting her son in danger. She doesn’t want Pax to know this, so she’s trying to treat me the way she would him. Of course, I’m just assuming. Maybe she wanted to know so she could poison it.

“Nothing special, maybe donuts?” I mention.

Pax drops his fork and looks at me. We’ve been through birthday breakfasts twice, and he still doesn’t understand I’m not into lavish food spreads.

“Donuts?” he repeats as he shakes his head.

“What’s wrong with that?” I question.

Pax looks at his mother, who replies with a shrug.

He says, “Donuts are for the poor. We have food. You could have eggs benedict with fresh bacon and a mimosa. Not donuts.”

“Pax, Odette was raised differently. I will go to the bakery to get donuts if she wants donuts.” She gives Pax this smug grin and pats him on the arm.

How can they both be so blind to how two-faced she is? Well, my dad sees it, but Pax only sees a sister.

“Besides, isn’t there alcohol in a mimosa? I don’t think I can do that with my medication.” I laugh, trying to put aside the soft blow to my ego.

Pax corrects himself with a wink. “Okay, then, a virgin mimosa.”

“So, orange juice?” I raise an eyebrow, and we both chuckle.

I look over at my father. He’s staring at the two of us with a massive grin. You would think this was the first conversation Pax and I’ve had with jokes and laughter. I guess he finds joy in watching me form a connection with my brother.

“Breakfast is set. What about the day’s events?” Dad asks.

I stare at him blankly. Breakfast and dinner make sense, but getting to choose the day’s events is different. I glance over at Karen and her sour expression. My dad knows he’s putting her out on a limb. I know she won’t do it regardless of what I ask.

“I would like to see my mother’s grave,” I mutter.

Something told me the best way to know the woman who birthed me was to be near her. She had carried me in her womb for nine months to toss me away into a mirror.

Whack!

I close my eyes. All I had done was mention her grave!

My hands fly to my ears as her scream echoes through my head.

Whack!

“Odette?” My father’s hands are on my shoulders, and I’m tossing myself from his grasp.

All I can see is her face in the window reflection. Her torso is bloodier than usual, and her eyes are penetrating. She lets out this grotesque hiss as if she’s trying to speak.

She wants to talk, but the funny thing, I cut out her tongue. Odile’s voice isn’t welcome, and her revelation isn’t comfortable. To know my hands had carved our mother’s tongue from her mouth makes me shake violently.

“Odette?” Dad is frantically trying to pull me from whatever fantasy world I’m in.

Could you not listen to him? It would be best if you faced this, Odette. You are weak! Odile’s outcry echoes just under my mother’s hiss. It almost sounds as if both of them are laughing at me.

“Shit, Karen, get me a rag.” I can hear Dad. He’s there, but I’m gone.

“Damn it, Donald, she’s weak. She will never open the gate!” Karen screams at my father.

I feel something soft on my nose as I continue to shake. My mother’s face is moving closer, and now, her limbs are missing, and I see the stub of a tongue. Why had Odile done such a horrible thing to our mother?

“NO!” I scream, and the entire vision collapses around me.

I’m sitting at the table. Pax is across from me with a worried look. Karen is leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face. My father is holding a rag to my nose as it gushes blood. When I pull from the episode, the three of them take a deep breath, relieved I’m me again.

By tomorrow night, five royals die! I cannot spend another week inside your weakened mind.

I choose to say nothing and let my father wrap his arms around me while I let the tears fall.

“You sure you want to do this?” my father asks as I buckle my seatbelt.

“Yeah, I need to know what happened.” I try to smile, but the vision from the breakfast table is still replaying.

“Remember, it wasn’t you who did these things.”

I take a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter if it was Odile or me. It was these hands and this body who did the damage. I cannot apologize for what Odile did, but I can try to make up for it.”

Dad gives me a stern look. “As long as it makes you feel better about the events.”

Will you stop taking credit for what I did? You were playing with dolls in the mirror while I poisoned our mother.

Odile’s voice is becoming harsher with each passing hour. I need to remember to cover the mirrors if I plan to do anything without her watching. As she said, the medication had kept her asleep. I missed one dose and am listening to my crazy sister screaming in my head.

“I think I need it to understand her better.” I point to my temple, and my father presses his lips together and nods. Maybe he understands I can hear her. He knows about the mirror; I wish he had told me before Lenny did.

“I don’t think anyone understood her. The file is going to be hard to read. I need you to remember this wasn’t you.” He reaches over and takes my hand in his. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

The drive to the hospital is like the prison, except you stay in the forest. The Eider Mental Institution (aka Eider Asylum) stands hidden down a two-mile dirt road surrounded by trees. It resembles a fortress with only one way in and out. The yards are shaded, which is nice. You’re never assaulted by the harsh sun. The grass is dead, which can also be nice if you must be reminded you are a living creature. Stepping on the dead grass always brought me back to my senses when I thought things were out of control.

When the hospital comes into view, my body quivers.

Home, sweet home! Odile mocks as Dad pulls into the parking lot.

The gray construction looms over me, only causing fear to rise. Oddly enough, I had no recollection of ever being afraid. Maybe it’s muscle memory from when Odile was first dropped off at the hospital.

I, dear sister, fear nothing.

“You ready?” my father asks as I try to remove the seatbelt.

“As ready as I can be,” I reply with a slight quiver.

I do not know what’s on the other side of the two steel doors, but whatever I remember about the hospital is not how it should be recalled.

I grip my father’s hand as we enter the building. The musty, cold air hits me first, followed by the smell of urine and blood. It’s darker inside than I remember, and the reception desk is a hundred feet from the front door. There are no windows, and the buzzing of the lights above me would drive anyone mad.

“Welcome to Eider,” the receptionist says once we get closer to the desk.

She’s small-framed with blonde hair and violet eyes. At first, she pays no mind to us, but her expression changes when her eyes are on my father. When her gaze turned to me, the chemistry between us amplified. It wasn’t the good kind, either.

“Hello, I’m Donald Stephenson with Odette Sloan to see Nurse Patterson.”

“Please fill these out. Do you have your photo—never mind, I know who you are.” Her voice falters, and she swallows hard.

We stop, and he hesitantly drops my hand to take some forms from the woman.

I remember when they brought me here. You were emerging, and I kept beating you back in the corner. You were always the weak one, Odette.

Odile’s mocking is becoming even more obnoxious now. She likes to remind me I am the weak one, yet she still lacks the strength to regain her body.

“The room is ready. A nurse will be up shortly to lead you back.” The receptionist looks at me and tries to smile, but I see the scar on her face, and Odile laughs hysterically.

I did that with a ballpoint pen. The bitch got too close.

I want to apologize, but it isn’t my place. It may have been my hand, but I hadn’t harmed her. She sees me staring and covers the scar with her hand.

“Please take a seat,” she chokes out.

I pull my eyes away from her face and grab my father’s arm.

“You, okay?” Dad asks as we walk toward a group of chairs against the far wall.

The room was mostly void of any furniture. There were curtains against one wall, which I vaguely remember. And the rest were bare. The room felt more like a dungeon than anything else.

“Yeah, Odile just told me she’s hurting the receptionist,” I whisper.

The woman remembered my face but had made a distinction with the name. Does everyone in Coscoroba know who I am?

“Yeah, it was a big deal, too. From what I remember, nobody could correct the scar,” he murmurs.

It serves her right. I hear Odile say.

Part of me wants to know what triggered the attack, but another part says to leave it alone.

“She’s proud of it,” I snap, shaking my head in disgust.

“That is just one of many scars Odile left on this institution. Now you know why you were a breath of fresh air.” He signs the forms just as the steel door against the back opens.

A nurse steps through in her white uniform and looks at the two of us. She’s tall with blonde hair and a white hat on her head. I notice that she has a patch over her eye and a scar above her top lip. In her hand, she holds a clipboard and pen. Which shocks me, knowing she’s standing just outside the first ward. Nurses weren’t allowed to have any items in the wards because of the crazies. They would use them as weapons.

I did that too.

“Mr. Stephenson?” she calls out.

My father looks up and nods his head. Together, we stand and enter the ward. All it takes is stepping through the door to have many memories surge at me.

“How have you been feeling, Odette?” the nurse asks as she leads us down the dark corridor.

“Not sure, ma’am,” I respond truthfully.

I feel better but also worse. The episodes are happening less than before, but they’re twice as hard to come out of now. Also, how do you tell someone you’re about to murder five royals so your brother can sit on a throne?

“I’m sure this has been quite a tough change. One subconscious becomes more dominant than the one before. You were a strange case, Ms. Sloan.” She squeezes her clipboard tightly.

I shrug. “That’s what I’m here to learn about.”

“We knew this day would come, and preparations have been made. We ask only one thing.” She leads us down a dimly lit hallway with doors on both sides. It’s familiar, and the smell seeps into my nostrils. This was the ward we lived in.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Don’t let her out,” she snaps.

I look left to right as patients stare at me in their doorways. A few of them recoiled, and a few more smiled. I hear her name being said several times as we pass.

“It’s Odile.”

“Is she back?”

“Not her again!”

“Ready for another round?”

Part of me wants to stop and talk to them, but I have to remind myself I’m in Eider, not my high school.

I guess I made one hell of an impression.

Odile is bathing in the compliments and fears of the patients she had loved and tormented. As we pass room thirteen, my feet are planted firmly on the floor, and there’s nothing I can do to move.

This is where we lived.

I can almost feel her struggling to take control of my body. It’s taking every ounce of energy to keep her in place. I look at my father and the nurse.

“Has anyone moved in?” I gulp as I glance at the room.

“No, once we discharged you, we removed the furniture and tried to forget what happened there.” The nurse stares at the ground before her gaze flits to my father.

“Is that where I, um…” I move my finger over my throat because I can’t bring myself to say it.

“Murdered Doctor Lawrence?” she spits out.

You bet your sweet ass this is where I slit that asshole’s throat. You may not remember, but he did terrible things and deserved to die.

She’s right. I don’t remember him at all. It must be a memory only she has, one she keeps hidden from me.

“Can we move on?” Dad stammers.

“Yeah,” I reply as I take back control over my legs and continue the walk.

The rest of our trek is silent, excluding the maniacal laughs and screams of delight inside my head. I’d wanted to go to the hospital to find out what had happened, and Odile acted as if we should never have been discharged.