Chapter 1 MS LARSON, YOU HAVE A VISITOR
REBELLE
“No!”
I wake up with a start , sweating and panting heavily, my head pounding like a thousand drums are being played inside. Only one thought comes to my mind as I grab the glass of water on my nightstand and gulp it down in one go.
That fucking nightmare again!
Mama always says it’s my paranoia getting out of control and that I probably need to start seeing my therapist when that happens.
But I beg to differ. Paranoia doesn't give you nightmares that seem so real it actually feels like you are living the moment. Paranoia definitely doesn’t give you goosebumps and make your heart race at the slightest sound that is out of place.
“Rebelle?” Mama’s voice follows the sharp knock on my door. “Rebelle honey, you’ll be late for school!”
I jump off my bed and grab my phone, turning on the camera so I can take a look at my face. I look flustered and panicked. Mama can’t see me like this! One look and she’ll know something is wrong and force me to start seeing Emily again.
No way im fuck is that happening! I barely escaped being locked up in a psychiatric ward the last time. Without thinking twice, I grab my towel and run into my bathroom as another knock comes on the door.
“Rebelle,” mom calls out again and in a second I hear the door being pushed open. “Rebelle?”
“In the shower mama!” I call out taking off my dress and turning on the shower.
“What happened?” She asks, her voice worried. “You never wake up this late. I almost thought you would be skipping classes today.”
Well, I’d have been up a long time ago if that horrible vision of someone stabbing me after an intense fight didn’t choose to visit me today. Twenty one years, the same dream every damn time. Emily and the ones before her have given several diagnoses and medicines to no avail.
Sometimes, I think I might actually be going crazy.
“I booked you an appointment with Emily after school,” mama says from my bedroom. I pretend I didn’t hear what she said as I quickly wash up. I have that microbiology test this morning and I’m so screwed if I miss it.
When I’m done with my shower, I turn off the water and head out of the bathroom. Mama is perched on my bed, staring at something on her phone. But she looks up the moment I walk in and smiles. I immediately dread the next words that come out of her mouth.
“You look tired. You’ll feel much better when you talk to Emily.”
I sigh heavily as I proceed to dress up. “Mama, how many times do you want me to say this? I do not need another visit to the therapist. The drugs she placed me on the last time are still in my drawer!”
“Maybe she gave you the wrong drugs. You’ve been looking really tired and zooming off a lot lately,” she observes. “You probably won’t tell me, but I know that you’re having those nightmares again.”
Well fuck my life!
“I’ve been having nightmares since I was three, mama. Everyone has nightmares.”
“But not everyone walks around looking like a zombie because of them,” she points out, folding her arms. “Don’t fight me on this, Rebelle. Go see Emily after school and talk to her. Promise me.”
I grab my bag, move to her and give her a kiss on her cheek. “Bye mama!”
And with that, I’m out of the room before she can insist on me promising her.
“Guess whatttt!” Rosa singsongs, slipping into the seat next to me. “I got a part time job at the hospital! They agreed to give me an upfront so I can cover Kesha’s tuition!” She squeals and pulls me into a hug.
I smile, but it doesn’t come out as genuine as I’d hoped it to be. Rosa doesn’t notice and keeps on babbling about how the part time job at the hospital is like a lifesaver.
Physically, I’m present. But mentally, I’m back in my nightmares again. I can see myself standing beside an abyss, several men approaching me with knives in their hands and wicked smiles on their faces. Even now, everything still feels so real, like I’m living in the moment.
The fear, the heartache, the pain after being stabbed and the faceless man who held my body afterwards. All of them feel real.
“Hey! Are you okay?” Rosa’s voice breaks the train of thoughts in my head and pulls me back to reality. She’s staring at me with concern filled Hazel eyes. “You’ve been zoning out a lot today. I took note of it during the microbiology test earlier this morning. Is everything alright?”
I want to lie like I do to mama, but Rosa knows me like an open book. She’ll know immediately that I am lying and will pester me till I spill the tea.
I sigh and lean back in my chair. “My nightmares are back. I tried hiding it from my mom, but she figured it out anyway and is now insisting I start seeing my therapist again.”
“She just wants the best for you.”
“I know, but I barely escaped being locked up the last time. Everyone seems to think I am crazy!” I mean, how do you explain to a perfectly sane person that the same nightmare you have been getting since you were three feels so real that you sometimes wake up with fingerprints on your skin. How do you tell someone that without them thinking you’re lost it?
Rosa leans forward and takes my hand in hers. “I feel you babe, and I know you are not crazy. I’m sure your mom does too!”
I highly doubt that. When I was younger, maybe. But now, she’s also giving up and leaning into the fact that I might truly be crazy. I don’t blame her though, my father had bolted a long time ago claiming he couldn’t raise an insane child.
“Rebelle Larson?” A voice calls from the doorway of our class. I raise my head towards the teacher who just called. “Ms Larson, you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” I repeat. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know who he is, but he insists on seeing you. He is in the principal’s office.”
With a dramatic sigh, I rise up and head out of the classroom and over to the principal’s office. When I get there, I push the door open without locking and step inside.
“ Principal Martins, someone said I had a visitor?” I ask, folding my arms and tapping my feet on the floor board, annoyed.
The old man nods and points to the corner of the room. “The gentleman over there says he would like to have a few words with you. I told him you were in a class, but he just wouldn’t listen.”
I turn to the direction he’s pointing, ready to give the gentleman I clearly don’t know a piece of my mind. He’s standing in the corner of the room, dressed from head to toe in black. Black well pressed trousers, black shirt, black coat, black gloves, and black well polished, expensive looking shoes. Hell , even his eyes are black. The only thing about his appearance that screams off topic is his pale skin – almost like he’s got no blood running through his veins.
“I don’t know you,” I say. “So I would appreciate it if you could be snappy with whatever it is you want to say.”
He chuckles beneath his breath. “Still hasn’t changed, even after centuries.” He takes slow steps toward me and in a little while he’s within touching distance. He gently tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ears and smiles.
“I finally found you, Amirykal!”
