The Villain Academy- Chapter Twelve: Memories Don't Lie
Hi, everyone!
I'm back with Chapter Twelve of "The Villain Academy" for your perusal! Seeing as Chapter Eleven was a cliffhanger, you might wanna read it first.
Things continue to not get better, or perhaps they do. It's your opinion. Whatever your opinion is, it's definitely plotty. Chapter Twelve is all a flashback of the hidden memories in Tori's brain. The truth, all of it, because memories don't lie. Thus the title. Enjoy!
12. Memories Don’t Lie
She was in a room in a house. She was happy as she colored a picture with her crayons. A family portrait. Her parents, happy and smiling, with her short little semblance on the paper in between, and standing to the side, together as always, Gemma and Tammy. All smiling, all content, without a care in the world under a blue sky and a smiling yellow sun.
The years fast-forwarded over play dates and picnics, day care and games of hide and seek with her sisters. They were easy to find, seeing as they never left each others’ sides. If you found one, you had found the other. She loved being able to win so easily, and they’d all laugh and start another game. She never wondered if Gemma and Tammy grew tired of losing all the time.
It was her birthday.
She was so excited. She, Gemma, and Tammy all made the cake together, taking turns stirring the big wooden spoon around and around. They didn’t yell when she snuck tastes of the chocolate batter from the bowl. How could they? It was her birthday.
They said Mama and Daddy were working on a special surprise upstairs, and they mustn’t be disturbed. For Gemma and Tammy’s birthday a few months ago they made something amazing, so she was so excited she wanted to dance around the kitchen. So she did. Gemma and Tammy laughed and danced around with her, in identical steps as always. Sometimes she thought they practiced. There was no way they could be so in sync all the time otherwise.
Suddenly they heard something explode above them, in the attic. Gemma and Tammy froze, looking up.
“What’s happening?” she asked, stopping where she stood.
All at once the house fell, chunks of wood and plaster falling, the ceiling crashing around them. She screamed, and her sisters did as well. They threw up their hands as she shut her eyes tight, terrified to the bone.
Dust settled around her, sticking to her hair, skin, and clothes, but she wasn’t hurt. Hesitantly she opened her eyes, blinking out dust.
Her sisters were levitating chunks of rubble above her head. Had she been a bit taller, the rubble would be brushing against her head.
The debris was surrounded by an aura of silvery white, like a force field. They looked just as terrified as she was, their eyes wide, caked in dust themselves.
The house was destroyed. There was nothing. Everything was obliterated. Their parents were buried somewhere in the rubble, but the three sisters didn’t look around. Gemma and Tammy were starting to strain from levitating the debris and keeping her safe.
Soon the police and the fire brigade arrived. They stared, open mouthed, at Gemma and Tammy protecting her. They didn’t ask what happened. It seemed they didn’t care about the tragedy, but rather the living weirdos levitating rubble.
“How are you doing that?” someone asked.
“It’s witchcraft!” cried someone else.
“It’s a trick!”
“It’s a magician’s act!”
“They’re freaks!”
“Look how pale they are.”
“They all look so much alike.”
“They look much too young to be magicians.”
Before she knew it, they were in a car driving away somewhere. She fell asleep splayed out across her sisters’ laps.
White.
Lots of plain, plain white.
Like an eggshell, or copy paper, or untouched snow. The place was bare and white, and the three of them were locked in a tiny room with bars on the windows, one plain, rickety old bed, and virtually nothing else.
She didn’t understand. Where did Mama and Daddy go? Why were they here? Why did everyone in this place look at them funny?
Then during the day, Gemma and Tammy began to leave the room for hours at a time. When they got back they were exhausted and sometimes hurt. Sometimes they’d come back with bruises, sometimes with cuts all over them. Always exhausted and anti social. They never talked about where they went. She didn’t understand.
They told her not to worry, and soon they began to teach her things. Words and numbers, with books that they never told her where they got from. They told her not to worry. It seemed Gemma and Tammy were always telling her not to worry.
Days faded and seasons changed, and the three sisters grew older. One day they began to take her away, like they had Gemma and Tammy. At first she was almost excited. She had always wondered where they went, and now she got to go too!
But she soon found there was a reason Gemma and Tammy never talked about their long trips. They inflicted awful, horrible pain on her and yelled. It was loud, their yelling mixing with her screaming and pleading for them to stop. They never listened. Never.
Soon the three sisters were cut and bruised all over. Gemma and Tammy tried to protect her. Whenever someone came to do the tests, they always tried to put themselves in her stead. She was so grateful, but felt guilty when she let them go and be hurt instead of her.
This was their life in the white building. Torture and sadness, misery, sorrow, tears, bleeding and bruising. The red of the blood dripping over the blooming purple of bruises was a familiar sight. She acquired a crescent-shaped scar on her arm. Her gray-blue eyes became bloodshot, and her pale blonde hair tangled. One day Gemma and Tammy just cut it short to end the tangling. It hurt; she cried. The pair of scissors they used was the only one they could find, and it was rusty and rather dull. She swore her scalp was bleeding, but Gemma and Tammy insisted her hair wasn’t stained red. It was awful. Her hair was short and uneven, and the cuts were choppy with tiny brown chips of rust stuck in the ends in some places. She was mad at them for days.
One night after a very long day, she heard something. Something like a thump, a crack, and then a clatter. It woke her slightly, putting her in a dazed state between being awake and being asleep. She closed her eyes again and didn’t think much of it. There were always strange noises in the white building at night. It always seemed to scare Gemma and Tammy. They’d always check the locks whenever they started to hear things.
They all slept together in the rickety bed every night, with Gemma and Tammy on either side of her, and her sandwiched in between. But tonight, as she tried to get back to sleep, she found she was alone.
When she made this realization her eyes flew open in alarm. She flailed her arms around until her fingers met the metal bars at the sides of the bed. She was most definitely alone.
She sat up, looking around wildly.
“Gemma? Tammy? Where are you?” she called, looking around. She heard a noise by the window.
There they were, with the window broken and the bars blown off. Gemma had one foot out the window, and their eyes met hers. The three sisters had eyes exactly the same shade of blue-gray, and these three identical pairs of eyes met. Theirs were guilty, hers were confused.
“Where are you going? Why are you leaving?!” she yelled, tears welling up in her eyes, stinging.
Their faces contorted identically in regret and sorrow. “We can’t stay here,” they said together.
“We will come back for you…”Gemma began sadly.
“We promise.”Tammy finished the oath with a nod.
“No! Don’t leave! Please!” she begged, tears streaming down her face now. “Why can’t you take me?”
There was noise outside. Gemma and Tammy met each other with terrified glances.
“Be strong…” Gemma requested, forcing herself out the window.
“Our dearest Aimee,” Tammy finished, following.
They hovered in midair outside the window for one last word. Together they said, “We love you.”
And then they were gone, flying off into the night sky supported by nothing but silvery white force fields.
“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice strangled by tears.
She watched them as they levitated farther and farther away, her two sisters who looked just liked her, who were her friends, her teachers, her play mates, her everything. Finally they disappeared over the horizon, into the inky black night dotted with pinpricks of stars.
A few minutes later, the locked door burst open. Aimee cried out, throwing herself under her blanket.
“Where did the other two go?!” someone exclaimed. The blanket was thrown off of Aimee, and someone grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently.
“Tell me where they went! I know you know!” this someone screamed at her, sending spit flying into her face. Aimee turned away, her face twisting and flushing as she cried.
“I d-don’t know!” she choked out, recoiling as far as the someone would allow her.
The someone released her forcefully, sending her flying backwards. Still crying and hiccupping, she lay there on her mattress, pulling her blanket tight around her.
She didn’t sleep that night. She sobbed. She missed her sisters and the broken window let in the cold night air. She shivered, alone in her locked room, curled up in a ball under her blankets. She was so lonesome and upset and had a stomach ache from crying. Her bruises and cuts were aching more so than usual, and her eyes were even more bloodshot. Now they were puffy as well as red.
Aimee didn’t know what to do.
The next morning dawned bleak. The white building got visitors, and they came to Aimee’s lonely, sad room.
She pretended to be asleep and overheard everything.
“Yeah, we had a pair of escapees last night,” said the man who Aimee thought was in charge of the white building. She always heard his voice.
“A pair?” said a woman’s voice. “Who?”
“These two freaky twins. There was definitely something off about them. I don’t know how the hell they got out, they must have smashed the glass and pried off the bars. Must have been rusty.” the man in charge replied.
“Maybe they were like us. Superheroes.” said a different man’s voice.
“Well, what do you want me to do? They’re gone.” the man in charge scoffed.
“Can we look inside their room?” the woman’s voice asked. She could hear their footsteps coming closer to her room, coming down the corridor.
“Sure. But there’s another one in there,” the man in charge said. They were right outside the door.
“Another what?” the other man asked.
“The freaky twins, they had a sister. Couple years younger, she’s not saying anything and she looks a wreck. I don’t think she knows anything.” the man in charge explained. Aimee realized they were talking about her and Gemma and Tammy. Her mind drifted to them again and wondered where they’d gone.
“What’s she like?” the other man asked.
“She looks just like them. We’ve been…ah…observing her like we have her sisters, but she never showed anything special.” the man in charge told them. She heard his keys rattling on a ring. The lock clicked and the door swung open.
In walked the man in charge, who was fat and greasy and generally unpleasant, going bald, and followed by a couple, the other man and the woman. They looked pleasant and nice, dressed sensibly. Apparently they were important.
They went over to the broken window first. They examined it, looked at each other, and shared a look. Aimee wasn’t sure what it meant, but she was sure whatever they were thinking, whatever they had decided, was important.
Then they went over to Aimee in her rickety old bed. She pulled the sheets up high and recoiled.
“Aw, don’t be scared, honey. We’re not going to hurt you,” the woman said softly. She tentatively reached out a hand and ran her fingers through Aimee’s short hair. The affection was much appreciated by Aimee. Gemma and Tammy used to always do that, and she missed it.
“Tell us, did your sisters ever do anything…special?” the other man asked.
Aimee nodded slowly. “They could move stuff without touching it. And sort of like…hover in the air.” she said, her voice very low. “They said they would come back for me someday. Are they safe? My sisters?”
“We don’t know where they are, sweetie. They ran away. Do you really think they’ll come back?” the woman asked. Aimee liked her soft, sweet voice. It was reassuring and made her want to trust this woman, this stranger. She didn’t seem like a stranger at all. She seemed like a friend, or a mother.
The man and woman shared another glance. They looked worried for a split second, but then their kind expressions returned.
“Have you ever done anything special, like your sisters?” the woman asked.
Aimee slowly shook her head. “They always said I would, though, someday. Our parents made us special on purpose.”
The man and woman shared another long look. They went off to one end of the room and whispered for a very long while, occasionally glancing over at Aimee. Finally they went back over to the man in charge. The woman said, “Would it be possible for us to adopt her?”
The man in charge gave her an incredulous look, a cigar hanging out of his mouth resting on his lip.
“You crazy? She’s going to end up just like her freak sisters!” he yelled, waving his hands around wildly.
Aimee was too upset to protest.
“We don’t care. My wife…she can’t have children. And we always wanted a special child,” the other man said, dropping his voice for no real reason. The woman looked sadly pensive.
He scoffed. “Yeah. Whatever. Take her. Let her freak sisters hunt you down, I don’t care, she’s useless anyway.”
He waved them away, and the couple hurried over to Aimee.
“Come along, sweetheart, you’re going to come home with us,” the woman said, extending her hand.
Hesitant, Aimee got out of her bed and took her hand. They began to lead her away.
“What about my sisters?” Aimee asked, glancing back at the broken window.
“Oh, don’t worry about them. They are safe now, it’s okay,” the man said. They walked down the halls, past rows of locked doors, down rickety old staircases. The whole place smelled dirty. The way the man said “don’t worry” reminded her of Gemma and Tammy, and she was reassured.
“Who are you?” Aimee asked them, as they walked down flights of stairs in the stairwell of the white building.
“Well, now we are your adoptive parents. I know you had parents before, but you can call us Mom and Dad now, okay, honey?” the woman said, smiling down at her.
Aimee was craving affection, and these new people gave her comfort and hope. So she smiled back and said, “Okay, Mom.”
Her new mother beamed, her smile stretching across all of her pretty face.
“Where are we going?” Aimee said, full of questions.
“Why, aren’t you curious,” her new father laughed. “They say asking a lot of questions is a sign of intelligence. You must be a very smart girl.”
Aimee’s smile stayed firmly in place. She really liked these people.
“We’re going to our house; your new home.” her new mother answered her question.
“Will it fall down?” Aimee asked quietly, as her face fell.
“No, darling, don’t be silly. It won’t fall down,” her new mother said, laughing off the question.
They walked out the front doors of the white building. Aimee blinked in the sunlight, which she hadn’t stood in for years. She laughed. It was nice to be in the sun again. The meager light through the window in her old locked room had never been enough.
“My goodness, you’re pale,” her new father said, taking her other hand in his. His hand was big and strong and made her feel safe.
“Well, she’s been up in that room for all this time,” her new mother pointed out.
They came up to a car, and strapped her in the back. She smiled. She liked her new life so far.
“What are we going to name her?” her new mother asked.
“I always liked the name Torianne.” her new father said pensively.
“Torianne, then.” her new mother agreed.
“Aimee,” said she, quietly.
“Pretty. Torianne Amy Roennigke.” her new mother said with a smile. She was too tired to fight for her name.
“Tori is a good nickname, huh?” her new father said, starting to back up out of the parking lot.
So she was Tori now. Torianne.
They drove for a long time. She fell into a state in between sleep and awake. She was unsure of her own identity. All her life she had been Aimee. Now, in a moment, she was different. Now she was Tori, a girl without sisters, an only child. Aimee was a girl with hair still brutally short, bloodshot eyes filled with sorrow and pain, tired and worn out, broken and defeated, and sorely missing her sisters. Somehow, when she thought of the name Tori, she thought of someone confident and fearless, with long, pretty hair without tangles, someone who laughed easily and wasn’t so deathly pale.
Aimee desperately wanted to be Tori, so much it ached. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She wanted to be happy with her new parents. She was finally free of the white building and all its terror, free from being bruised and cut. But she felt she could never shake off the pain of the last few years in the white building…or the pain of watching her sisters leave her behind.
Tears stung at her eyes again, and she fought to keep them back. Tori doesn’t cry, she told herself, that’s something Aimee does. I’m not Aimee anymore.
She didn’t notice her new parents discussing something in hushed voices through the entire drive. Finally her new mother pulled out a phone, and in whispers, conversed with whoever was on the other end. She couldn’t make out any words except “Have it ready.”
She didn’t wonder what it was much. Fighting tears was a very consuming job.
Finally the car pulled up in front of a nice, cozy looking house.
“Welcome to your new home, Tori,” her new father said, opening the car door and helping her out.
She took a moment to admire her new surroundings. There were flowers lining the path to the front door, and an apple tree on one side. Her new father took her hand and led her over to the tree. He picked an apple off the branch for her. She ate it greedily; she was starving.
“Hungry, aren’t you, sweetie?” her new father laughed. She nodded rigorously.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make something nice. How about pie with some ice cream?” her new mother asked with one of her luminous smiles.
She nodded and smiled back. They led her up the path to the front door.
“Now, Tori, sweetie, we have someone else for you to meet. He’s my brother and your uncle.” her new mother said.
“Just call him Uncle Charlie,” her new father said as he swung open the door.
Her new uncle was perhaps even nicer than her new parents. He greeted her with a big hug and said, “Hey there, Torianne!”
She smiled. Her new name was very melodic and pleasant to say.
He started to tickle her, laughing. She laughed with him, the sound filling the whole house.
Finally she begged him to stop, trying to catch her breath. She sat down on a couch in the living room, still tired. She was beginning to feel like she would never not be tired.
Her new parents and Uncle Charlie were talking in whispers. She started jumping on the couch, yelling, laughing, and carrying on.
The voices of the grown-ups got higher; it seemed they were arguing, or talking about something extremely important.
“She said they were coming back?! We have to do it, who knows what they’re capable of?” exclaimed Uncle Charlie. She didn’t give a thought to who they were talking about and merely listened as she bounced up and down on the couch.
“It just…it doesn’t feel right,” said her new mother, sounding rather upset.
“You know how long we’ve wanted children. You’re going to let her be taken away? What if she runs away? What if she becomes like them? We can’t let her, it’d be an utter disaster!” said her new father, sounding like he was the only sane one in the room.
“I know…” her new mother said sadly, shaking her head.
“It won’t hurt her. It’ll just block out memories.” said Uncle Charlie.
Her new mother nodded. But her new father said, “Wait. The man at the asylum said she looked just like her sisters. They’ll know the second they see her.”
She wondered what an asylum was. It didn’t sound fun.
“So what do we do?” her new mother asked.
“We have to accelerate her age…change her appearance…it won’t hurt, it’s to keep her safe.” her new father said, putting an arm around his wife.
“Will you ever tell her?” Uncle Charlie asked.
Her new parents shook their heads. “No, never. Don’t be stupid,” her new mother said immediately.
“No one will ever know but us, not even her. It takes extremely advanced technology to undo a memory block, technology that probably doesn’t exist right now.” her new father said confidently.
The three of them, her new parents and new uncle, walked over to her smiling. Uncle Charlie scooped her up in his arms and said, “Hey, Torianne, we’re going to play a game.”
“What sort of game?” she asked excitedly with a giggle.
“We’re going to grow your hair and make you taller. Doesn’t that sound fun, Torianne?” he asked.
She touched her horrible short, choppy hair and nodded happily. “I used to have long hair, but it got tangled.” she told them.
“Oh, I won’t let that happen. We’ll brush your hair every day, and it will look beautiful, just like you.” her new mother said kindly, stroking her head.
The four of them went to a door which led to a basement. The floor was scratchy gray cement, the walls a mix of cement and aged wood. The steps were wooden and old, creaking every few steps.
There was another door leading elsewhere. Uncle Charlie pulled out a keychain with several different keys attached. He took an aged silver one and stuck it in the second door’s lock. It clicked and swung open with a creak. Past the door were another flight of stairs. They were dusty and cobwebbed. They went down these stairs.
Along the way she ran her hand along a cobweb. A spider crawled on her, and she screamed, trying to wave it off. It bit her and she started to cry.
“Hush now, Tori, we’ll make it better later, I promise,” her new mother said, wiping away the blood and kissing the wound. She sniffled but stopped crying.
The stairs ended on a white tiled floor. Uncle Charlie set her down and they walked across the room, footsteps echoing through the room.
On one side of the room was a machine.
Her new father took her hand and led her to it. The machine was a storm cloud gray, with a clear glass tube in the center. Her new father helped her into the tube, opening a door.
“What is this thing?” she asked before he shut the door again.
“Never you mind, Tori. You’ll be perfectly fine, just stay still.” her new father said.
He shut the door; it sealed with a hiss. She was scared. But she believed that her new parents and uncle would keep her safe, so she didn’t cry. She trusted them.
The adults walked over to the other end of the machine.
Uncle Charlie said, “We can make her look just like you, sis, or a mix of both of you.” He pointed to a little screen on the machine.
“A mix would be best. Can we find out if she has powers?” her new mother asked.
Uncle Charlie nodded. “If she has powers, it’ll show up. We can activate them, the asylum might have hindered their development.” he said, sounding like he knew everything there was to know on this subject.
The machine made a noise.
“She’s a shape-shifter,” her new mother breathed.
“Didn’t she say her parents made her and her sister specially, so that they’d have powers?” her new father asked.
Her new mother nodded. “Whatever they did…they did it right.”
“I’m starting the appearance changing process and the age acceleration,” Uncle Charlie said, typing rapidly with a keyboard built into the machine.
“You’re positive it won’t harm her?” her new father asked.
“I’m positive.” Uncle Charlie said confidently.
The machine began to beep and whir, and inside the glass tube she was enveloped by a surging light. She shut her eyes tight; it was so bright.
She could feel herself growing and changing, stretching and shuddering. She felt long hair fall down her back, but it was curly in places. She’d never had curly hair before.
Something was changing in her eyes as well, and her skin. It was as if everything was changing at once, becoming unrecognizable. She didn’t dare open her eyes for fear of the bright light.
And suddenly it was over. Through her closed eyelids she could see the light dissipating. She tentatively opened her eyes.
She caught sight of her reflection in the glass. She was taller, and her hair was brown. And her eyes…something was wrong with her eyes. One was a vibrant, electric blue and one was an emerald green. She stared at herself curiously.
“What happened to her eyes? They’re messed up,” her new father said to Uncle Charlie, pointing at her.
Uncle Charlie shrugged casually. “I think it suits her. She’s fine, having differently colored eyes isn’t going to kill her,” he scoffed, turning back to the machine. “I’m forming the memory block now. I can’t fabricate any new memories, but she won’t remember anything. All those six years will be gone. I can manipulate it so she remembers you and me, and that her name is Torianne.”
He typed commands into the computer with incredible speed. “Her sisters will never recognize her, nor will she recognize them, should she ever run into them. But the odds of that are astronomical. I mean, honestly, what are the odds of meeting your estranged telekinetic twin sisters?” he said reasonably.
“I’m never going to see Gemma and Tammy again?” she asked, tears welling up in her mismatched eyes. “I want to see them! They’re my sisters! I miss them and I want them back!” She stomped her feet and whined, but the grown-ups ignored her.
“You’re mean! They promised they’d come back! They always keep their promises! Stop lying!” she went on, but they didn’t pay her any heed.
Uncle Charlie hit a button on the machine decisively. She was enveloped by more light. And all of a sudden, everything went totally blank. She couldn’t remember a thing, and she felt so tired and worn out.
Tori felt herself go limp.
+-+-+-+
*plot ninja bows and makes his exit*
Quote of the Day: "We need one of you guys to swing by St. Mary Sue's hospital to perform an impromptu wedding. The bride has .5 seconds to live. Can you do it?"
"Sure."
~June
I'm back with Chapter Twelve of "The Villain Academy" for your perusal! Seeing as Chapter Eleven was a cliffhanger, you might wanna read it first.
Things continue to not get better, or perhaps they do. It's your opinion. Whatever your opinion is, it's definitely plotty. Chapter Twelve is all a flashback of the hidden memories in Tori's brain. The truth, all of it, because memories don't lie. Thus the title. Enjoy!
12. Memories Don’t Lie
She was in a room in a house. She was happy as she colored a picture with her crayons. A family portrait. Her parents, happy and smiling, with her short little semblance on the paper in between, and standing to the side, together as always, Gemma and Tammy. All smiling, all content, without a care in the world under a blue sky and a smiling yellow sun.
The years fast-forwarded over play dates and picnics, day care and games of hide and seek with her sisters. They were easy to find, seeing as they never left each others’ sides. If you found one, you had found the other. She loved being able to win so easily, and they’d all laugh and start another game. She never wondered if Gemma and Tammy grew tired of losing all the time.
It was her birthday.
She was so excited. She, Gemma, and Tammy all made the cake together, taking turns stirring the big wooden spoon around and around. They didn’t yell when she snuck tastes of the chocolate batter from the bowl. How could they? It was her birthday.
They said Mama and Daddy were working on a special surprise upstairs, and they mustn’t be disturbed. For Gemma and Tammy’s birthday a few months ago they made something amazing, so she was so excited she wanted to dance around the kitchen. So she did. Gemma and Tammy laughed and danced around with her, in identical steps as always. Sometimes she thought they practiced. There was no way they could be so in sync all the time otherwise.
Suddenly they heard something explode above them, in the attic. Gemma and Tammy froze, looking up.
“What’s happening?” she asked, stopping where she stood.
All at once the house fell, chunks of wood and plaster falling, the ceiling crashing around them. She screamed, and her sisters did as well. They threw up their hands as she shut her eyes tight, terrified to the bone.
Dust settled around her, sticking to her hair, skin, and clothes, but she wasn’t hurt. Hesitantly she opened her eyes, blinking out dust.
Her sisters were levitating chunks of rubble above her head. Had she been a bit taller, the rubble would be brushing against her head.
The debris was surrounded by an aura of silvery white, like a force field. They looked just as terrified as she was, their eyes wide, caked in dust themselves.
The house was destroyed. There was nothing. Everything was obliterated. Their parents were buried somewhere in the rubble, but the three sisters didn’t look around. Gemma and Tammy were starting to strain from levitating the debris and keeping her safe.
Soon the police and the fire brigade arrived. They stared, open mouthed, at Gemma and Tammy protecting her. They didn’t ask what happened. It seemed they didn’t care about the tragedy, but rather the living weirdos levitating rubble.
“How are you doing that?” someone asked.
“It’s witchcraft!” cried someone else.
“It’s a trick!”
“It’s a magician’s act!”
“They’re freaks!”
“Look how pale they are.”
“They all look so much alike.”
“They look much too young to be magicians.”
Before she knew it, they were in a car driving away somewhere. She fell asleep splayed out across her sisters’ laps.
White.
Lots of plain, plain white.
Like an eggshell, or copy paper, or untouched snow. The place was bare and white, and the three of them were locked in a tiny room with bars on the windows, one plain, rickety old bed, and virtually nothing else.
She didn’t understand. Where did Mama and Daddy go? Why were they here? Why did everyone in this place look at them funny?
Then during the day, Gemma and Tammy began to leave the room for hours at a time. When they got back they were exhausted and sometimes hurt. Sometimes they’d come back with bruises, sometimes with cuts all over them. Always exhausted and anti social. They never talked about where they went. She didn’t understand.
They told her not to worry, and soon they began to teach her things. Words and numbers, with books that they never told her where they got from. They told her not to worry. It seemed Gemma and Tammy were always telling her not to worry.
Days faded and seasons changed, and the three sisters grew older. One day they began to take her away, like they had Gemma and Tammy. At first she was almost excited. She had always wondered where they went, and now she got to go too!
But she soon found there was a reason Gemma and Tammy never talked about their long trips. They inflicted awful, horrible pain on her and yelled. It was loud, their yelling mixing with her screaming and pleading for them to stop. They never listened. Never.
Soon the three sisters were cut and bruised all over. Gemma and Tammy tried to protect her. Whenever someone came to do the tests, they always tried to put themselves in her stead. She was so grateful, but felt guilty when she let them go and be hurt instead of her.
This was their life in the white building. Torture and sadness, misery, sorrow, tears, bleeding and bruising. The red of the blood dripping over the blooming purple of bruises was a familiar sight. She acquired a crescent-shaped scar on her arm. Her gray-blue eyes became bloodshot, and her pale blonde hair tangled. One day Gemma and Tammy just cut it short to end the tangling. It hurt; she cried. The pair of scissors they used was the only one they could find, and it was rusty and rather dull. She swore her scalp was bleeding, but Gemma and Tammy insisted her hair wasn’t stained red. It was awful. Her hair was short and uneven, and the cuts were choppy with tiny brown chips of rust stuck in the ends in some places. She was mad at them for days.
One night after a very long day, she heard something. Something like a thump, a crack, and then a clatter. It woke her slightly, putting her in a dazed state between being awake and being asleep. She closed her eyes again and didn’t think much of it. There were always strange noises in the white building at night. It always seemed to scare Gemma and Tammy. They’d always check the locks whenever they started to hear things.
They all slept together in the rickety bed every night, with Gemma and Tammy on either side of her, and her sandwiched in between. But tonight, as she tried to get back to sleep, she found she was alone.
When she made this realization her eyes flew open in alarm. She flailed her arms around until her fingers met the metal bars at the sides of the bed. She was most definitely alone.
She sat up, looking around wildly.
“Gemma? Tammy? Where are you?” she called, looking around. She heard a noise by the window.
There they were, with the window broken and the bars blown off. Gemma had one foot out the window, and their eyes met hers. The three sisters had eyes exactly the same shade of blue-gray, and these three identical pairs of eyes met. Theirs were guilty, hers were confused.
“Where are you going? Why are you leaving?!” she yelled, tears welling up in her eyes, stinging.
Their faces contorted identically in regret and sorrow. “We can’t stay here,” they said together.
“We will come back for you…”Gemma began sadly.
“We promise.”Tammy finished the oath with a nod.
“No! Don’t leave! Please!” she begged, tears streaming down her face now. “Why can’t you take me?”
There was noise outside. Gemma and Tammy met each other with terrified glances.
“Be strong…” Gemma requested, forcing herself out the window.
“Our dearest Aimee,” Tammy finished, following.
They hovered in midair outside the window for one last word. Together they said, “We love you.”
And then they were gone, flying off into the night sky supported by nothing but silvery white force fields.
“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice strangled by tears.
She watched them as they levitated farther and farther away, her two sisters who looked just liked her, who were her friends, her teachers, her play mates, her everything. Finally they disappeared over the horizon, into the inky black night dotted with pinpricks of stars.
A few minutes later, the locked door burst open. Aimee cried out, throwing herself under her blanket.
“Where did the other two go?!” someone exclaimed. The blanket was thrown off of Aimee, and someone grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently.
“Tell me where they went! I know you know!” this someone screamed at her, sending spit flying into her face. Aimee turned away, her face twisting and flushing as she cried.
“I d-don’t know!” she choked out, recoiling as far as the someone would allow her.
The someone released her forcefully, sending her flying backwards. Still crying and hiccupping, she lay there on her mattress, pulling her blanket tight around her.
She didn’t sleep that night. She sobbed. She missed her sisters and the broken window let in the cold night air. She shivered, alone in her locked room, curled up in a ball under her blankets. She was so lonesome and upset and had a stomach ache from crying. Her bruises and cuts were aching more so than usual, and her eyes were even more bloodshot. Now they were puffy as well as red.
Aimee didn’t know what to do.
The next morning dawned bleak. The white building got visitors, and they came to Aimee’s lonely, sad room.
She pretended to be asleep and overheard everything.
“Yeah, we had a pair of escapees last night,” said the man who Aimee thought was in charge of the white building. She always heard his voice.
“A pair?” said a woman’s voice. “Who?”
“These two freaky twins. There was definitely something off about them. I don’t know how the hell they got out, they must have smashed the glass and pried off the bars. Must have been rusty.” the man in charge replied.
“Maybe they were like us. Superheroes.” said a different man’s voice.
“Well, what do you want me to do? They’re gone.” the man in charge scoffed.
“Can we look inside their room?” the woman’s voice asked. She could hear their footsteps coming closer to her room, coming down the corridor.
“Sure. But there’s another one in there,” the man in charge said. They were right outside the door.
“Another what?” the other man asked.
“The freaky twins, they had a sister. Couple years younger, she’s not saying anything and she looks a wreck. I don’t think she knows anything.” the man in charge explained. Aimee realized they were talking about her and Gemma and Tammy. Her mind drifted to them again and wondered where they’d gone.
“What’s she like?” the other man asked.
“She looks just like them. We’ve been…ah…observing her like we have her sisters, but she never showed anything special.” the man in charge told them. She heard his keys rattling on a ring. The lock clicked and the door swung open.
In walked the man in charge, who was fat and greasy and generally unpleasant, going bald, and followed by a couple, the other man and the woman. They looked pleasant and nice, dressed sensibly. Apparently they were important.
They went over to the broken window first. They examined it, looked at each other, and shared a look. Aimee wasn’t sure what it meant, but she was sure whatever they were thinking, whatever they had decided, was important.
Then they went over to Aimee in her rickety old bed. She pulled the sheets up high and recoiled.
“Aw, don’t be scared, honey. We’re not going to hurt you,” the woman said softly. She tentatively reached out a hand and ran her fingers through Aimee’s short hair. The affection was much appreciated by Aimee. Gemma and Tammy used to always do that, and she missed it.
“Tell us, did your sisters ever do anything…special?” the other man asked.
Aimee nodded slowly. “They could move stuff without touching it. And sort of like…hover in the air.” she said, her voice very low. “They said they would come back for me someday. Are they safe? My sisters?”
“We don’t know where they are, sweetie. They ran away. Do you really think they’ll come back?” the woman asked. Aimee liked her soft, sweet voice. It was reassuring and made her want to trust this woman, this stranger. She didn’t seem like a stranger at all. She seemed like a friend, or a mother.
The man and woman shared another glance. They looked worried for a split second, but then their kind expressions returned.
“Have you ever done anything special, like your sisters?” the woman asked.
Aimee slowly shook her head. “They always said I would, though, someday. Our parents made us special on purpose.”
The man and woman shared another long look. They went off to one end of the room and whispered for a very long while, occasionally glancing over at Aimee. Finally they went back over to the man in charge. The woman said, “Would it be possible for us to adopt her?”
The man in charge gave her an incredulous look, a cigar hanging out of his mouth resting on his lip.
“You crazy? She’s going to end up just like her freak sisters!” he yelled, waving his hands around wildly.
Aimee was too upset to protest.
“We don’t care. My wife…she can’t have children. And we always wanted a special child,” the other man said, dropping his voice for no real reason. The woman looked sadly pensive.
He scoffed. “Yeah. Whatever. Take her. Let her freak sisters hunt you down, I don’t care, she’s useless anyway.”
He waved them away, and the couple hurried over to Aimee.
“Come along, sweetheart, you’re going to come home with us,” the woman said, extending her hand.
Hesitant, Aimee got out of her bed and took her hand. They began to lead her away.
“What about my sisters?” Aimee asked, glancing back at the broken window.
“Oh, don’t worry about them. They are safe now, it’s okay,” the man said. They walked down the halls, past rows of locked doors, down rickety old staircases. The whole place smelled dirty. The way the man said “don’t worry” reminded her of Gemma and Tammy, and she was reassured.
“Who are you?” Aimee asked them, as they walked down flights of stairs in the stairwell of the white building.
“Well, now we are your adoptive parents. I know you had parents before, but you can call us Mom and Dad now, okay, honey?” the woman said, smiling down at her.
Aimee was craving affection, and these new people gave her comfort and hope. So she smiled back and said, “Okay, Mom.”
Her new mother beamed, her smile stretching across all of her pretty face.
“Where are we going?” Aimee said, full of questions.
“Why, aren’t you curious,” her new father laughed. “They say asking a lot of questions is a sign of intelligence. You must be a very smart girl.”
Aimee’s smile stayed firmly in place. She really liked these people.
“We’re going to our house; your new home.” her new mother answered her question.
“Will it fall down?” Aimee asked quietly, as her face fell.
“No, darling, don’t be silly. It won’t fall down,” her new mother said, laughing off the question.
They walked out the front doors of the white building. Aimee blinked in the sunlight, which she hadn’t stood in for years. She laughed. It was nice to be in the sun again. The meager light through the window in her old locked room had never been enough.
“My goodness, you’re pale,” her new father said, taking her other hand in his. His hand was big and strong and made her feel safe.
“Well, she’s been up in that room for all this time,” her new mother pointed out.
They came up to a car, and strapped her in the back. She smiled. She liked her new life so far.
“What are we going to name her?” her new mother asked.
“I always liked the name Torianne.” her new father said pensively.
“Torianne, then.” her new mother agreed.
“Aimee,” said she, quietly.
“Pretty. Torianne Amy Roennigke.” her new mother said with a smile. She was too tired to fight for her name.
“Tori is a good nickname, huh?” her new father said, starting to back up out of the parking lot.
So she was Tori now. Torianne.
They drove for a long time. She fell into a state in between sleep and awake. She was unsure of her own identity. All her life she had been Aimee. Now, in a moment, she was different. Now she was Tori, a girl without sisters, an only child. Aimee was a girl with hair still brutally short, bloodshot eyes filled with sorrow and pain, tired and worn out, broken and defeated, and sorely missing her sisters. Somehow, when she thought of the name Tori, she thought of someone confident and fearless, with long, pretty hair without tangles, someone who laughed easily and wasn’t so deathly pale.
Aimee desperately wanted to be Tori, so much it ached. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She wanted to be happy with her new parents. She was finally free of the white building and all its terror, free from being bruised and cut. But she felt she could never shake off the pain of the last few years in the white building…or the pain of watching her sisters leave her behind.
Tears stung at her eyes again, and she fought to keep them back. Tori doesn’t cry, she told herself, that’s something Aimee does. I’m not Aimee anymore.
She didn’t notice her new parents discussing something in hushed voices through the entire drive. Finally her new mother pulled out a phone, and in whispers, conversed with whoever was on the other end. She couldn’t make out any words except “Have it ready.”
She didn’t wonder what it was much. Fighting tears was a very consuming job.
Finally the car pulled up in front of a nice, cozy looking house.
“Welcome to your new home, Tori,” her new father said, opening the car door and helping her out.
She took a moment to admire her new surroundings. There were flowers lining the path to the front door, and an apple tree on one side. Her new father took her hand and led her over to the tree. He picked an apple off the branch for her. She ate it greedily; she was starving.
“Hungry, aren’t you, sweetie?” her new father laughed. She nodded rigorously.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make something nice. How about pie with some ice cream?” her new mother asked with one of her luminous smiles.
She nodded and smiled back. They led her up the path to the front door.
“Now, Tori, sweetie, we have someone else for you to meet. He’s my brother and your uncle.” her new mother said.
“Just call him Uncle Charlie,” her new father said as he swung open the door.
Her new uncle was perhaps even nicer than her new parents. He greeted her with a big hug and said, “Hey there, Torianne!”
She smiled. Her new name was very melodic and pleasant to say.
He started to tickle her, laughing. She laughed with him, the sound filling the whole house.
Finally she begged him to stop, trying to catch her breath. She sat down on a couch in the living room, still tired. She was beginning to feel like she would never not be tired.
Her new parents and Uncle Charlie were talking in whispers. She started jumping on the couch, yelling, laughing, and carrying on.
The voices of the grown-ups got higher; it seemed they were arguing, or talking about something extremely important.
“She said they were coming back?! We have to do it, who knows what they’re capable of?” exclaimed Uncle Charlie. She didn’t give a thought to who they were talking about and merely listened as she bounced up and down on the couch.
“It just…it doesn’t feel right,” said her new mother, sounding rather upset.
“You know how long we’ve wanted children. You’re going to let her be taken away? What if she runs away? What if she becomes like them? We can’t let her, it’d be an utter disaster!” said her new father, sounding like he was the only sane one in the room.
“I know…” her new mother said sadly, shaking her head.
“It won’t hurt her. It’ll just block out memories.” said Uncle Charlie.
Her new mother nodded. But her new father said, “Wait. The man at the asylum said she looked just like her sisters. They’ll know the second they see her.”
She wondered what an asylum was. It didn’t sound fun.
“So what do we do?” her new mother asked.
“We have to accelerate her age…change her appearance…it won’t hurt, it’s to keep her safe.” her new father said, putting an arm around his wife.
“Will you ever tell her?” Uncle Charlie asked.
Her new parents shook their heads. “No, never. Don’t be stupid,” her new mother said immediately.
“No one will ever know but us, not even her. It takes extremely advanced technology to undo a memory block, technology that probably doesn’t exist right now.” her new father said confidently.
The three of them, her new parents and new uncle, walked over to her smiling. Uncle Charlie scooped her up in his arms and said, “Hey, Torianne, we’re going to play a game.”
“What sort of game?” she asked excitedly with a giggle.
“We’re going to grow your hair and make you taller. Doesn’t that sound fun, Torianne?” he asked.
She touched her horrible short, choppy hair and nodded happily. “I used to have long hair, but it got tangled.” she told them.
“Oh, I won’t let that happen. We’ll brush your hair every day, and it will look beautiful, just like you.” her new mother said kindly, stroking her head.
The four of them went to a door which led to a basement. The floor was scratchy gray cement, the walls a mix of cement and aged wood. The steps were wooden and old, creaking every few steps.
There was another door leading elsewhere. Uncle Charlie pulled out a keychain with several different keys attached. He took an aged silver one and stuck it in the second door’s lock. It clicked and swung open with a creak. Past the door were another flight of stairs. They were dusty and cobwebbed. They went down these stairs.
Along the way she ran her hand along a cobweb. A spider crawled on her, and she screamed, trying to wave it off. It bit her and she started to cry.
“Hush now, Tori, we’ll make it better later, I promise,” her new mother said, wiping away the blood and kissing the wound. She sniffled but stopped crying.
The stairs ended on a white tiled floor. Uncle Charlie set her down and they walked across the room, footsteps echoing through the room.
On one side of the room was a machine.
Her new father took her hand and led her to it. The machine was a storm cloud gray, with a clear glass tube in the center. Her new father helped her into the tube, opening a door.
“What is this thing?” she asked before he shut the door again.
“Never you mind, Tori. You’ll be perfectly fine, just stay still.” her new father said.
He shut the door; it sealed with a hiss. She was scared. But she believed that her new parents and uncle would keep her safe, so she didn’t cry. She trusted them.
The adults walked over to the other end of the machine.
Uncle Charlie said, “We can make her look just like you, sis, or a mix of both of you.” He pointed to a little screen on the machine.
“A mix would be best. Can we find out if she has powers?” her new mother asked.
Uncle Charlie nodded. “If she has powers, it’ll show up. We can activate them, the asylum might have hindered their development.” he said, sounding like he knew everything there was to know on this subject.
The machine made a noise.
“She’s a shape-shifter,” her new mother breathed.
“Didn’t she say her parents made her and her sister specially, so that they’d have powers?” her new father asked.
Her new mother nodded. “Whatever they did…they did it right.”
“I’m starting the appearance changing process and the age acceleration,” Uncle Charlie said, typing rapidly with a keyboard built into the machine.
“You’re positive it won’t harm her?” her new father asked.
“I’m positive.” Uncle Charlie said confidently.
The machine began to beep and whir, and inside the glass tube she was enveloped by a surging light. She shut her eyes tight; it was so bright.
She could feel herself growing and changing, stretching and shuddering. She felt long hair fall down her back, but it was curly in places. She’d never had curly hair before.
Something was changing in her eyes as well, and her skin. It was as if everything was changing at once, becoming unrecognizable. She didn’t dare open her eyes for fear of the bright light.
And suddenly it was over. Through her closed eyelids she could see the light dissipating. She tentatively opened her eyes.
She caught sight of her reflection in the glass. She was taller, and her hair was brown. And her eyes…something was wrong with her eyes. One was a vibrant, electric blue and one was an emerald green. She stared at herself curiously.
“What happened to her eyes? They’re messed up,” her new father said to Uncle Charlie, pointing at her.
Uncle Charlie shrugged casually. “I think it suits her. She’s fine, having differently colored eyes isn’t going to kill her,” he scoffed, turning back to the machine. “I’m forming the memory block now. I can’t fabricate any new memories, but she won’t remember anything. All those six years will be gone. I can manipulate it so she remembers you and me, and that her name is Torianne.”
He typed commands into the computer with incredible speed. “Her sisters will never recognize her, nor will she recognize them, should she ever run into them. But the odds of that are astronomical. I mean, honestly, what are the odds of meeting your estranged telekinetic twin sisters?” he said reasonably.
“I’m never going to see Gemma and Tammy again?” she asked, tears welling up in her mismatched eyes. “I want to see them! They’re my sisters! I miss them and I want them back!” She stomped her feet and whined, but the grown-ups ignored her.
“You’re mean! They promised they’d come back! They always keep their promises! Stop lying!” she went on, but they didn’t pay her any heed.
Uncle Charlie hit a button on the machine decisively. She was enveloped by more light. And all of a sudden, everything went totally blank. She couldn’t remember a thing, and she felt so tired and worn out.
Tori felt herself go limp.
+-+-+-+
*plot ninja bows and makes his exit*
Quote of the Day: "We need one of you guys to swing by St. Mary Sue's hospital to perform an impromptu wedding. The bride has .5 seconds to live. Can you do it?"
"Sure."
~June