Sophie Shields, 2016
Curled up in bed with the blankets pulled over me, I listen to the children playing in the streets below. Joy begged to go and play with them, although I am finding it difficult to let her leave my side, after everything. We are currently staying in the spare room of Zack’s sister’s place in Toronto. It is a lovely old house in a quiet residential area. There is ivy and moss growing over the brick exteriors of many of the homes, giving them a sort of rustic charm. Massive trees line the streets on either side, creating a whimsical shade for the kids to play in. The trees are only trimmed to allow the power lines to pass through them, between the telephone poles.
I can imagine this all clearly because I spend a lot of time staring out the window when I’m not huddled beneath the sheets. I spend a lot of time trying not to think about Benjamin. I spend a lot of time hating myself for what I’ve done to Cole, and missing him so much I can’t breathe.
Driving across the Canadian border was all a blur to me. I know we picked up Joy’s car seat, hair dye, and the morning after pill, but I mostly slept other than that. (Although, sometimes I’m not totally sure if I’m sleeping, or blacking out so someone else can take over.) I haven’t been able to do much of anything. I did take that damn pill, and dye my hair as soon as humanly possible. I am not sure why I thought that having black hair again would help me feel better. It worked the first time. But now, nothing can seem to make me feel better.
Nothing can make me feel like myself again.
I haven’t been able to eat. The only thing I have been able to stomach is my ever-comforting friend, coffee. And it’s impressively good coffee. Like, way better than the poison water I’ve been drinking back in the USA, almost to punish myself.
If I was addicted to caffeine before, I think I am going to give myself a heart attack with all these wonderful-tasting Canadian brews. I’m up to around eight cups a day, thanks to the magic of Tim Horton’s. Since we arrived at Zack’s sister’s house, I’ve just been drinking coffee and sleeping. That seems contradictory, but if you’re depressed enough, you can sleep through the best of stimulants. (Again, I’m not even sure if I even really sleep anymore.) The main problem with drinking coffee is needing to leave the spare room to pee. Sometimes, that involves me running into people.
Melissa Small is very nice—all she wants to do is sit and chat, but I can’t seem to squeeze many words out. Her boyfriend is also wonderful, and they have made multiple attempts to connect with me. I am sure they would have had much better luck trying to befriend a brick wall. I know I’m being a terrible guest, but I’m finding it difficult to perform basic human interactions. All I can seem to do is curl up in bed all day, stare out the window, and drink coffee.
Zack has been super understanding of my pathetic state. He has made excuses for me and told his sister and her boyfriend that I have been dealing with something. He’s also been taking care of Joy while I’ve been out of commission. I suppose it’s expected that I’m not feeling super energetic and extroverted after my experience of the past few days, and I need some time to rest and recuperate. However, I still feel guilty about being unable to be friendly—or sometimes, responsive at all.
Melissa has been incredibly sweet to offer us a place to stay, and has brought me warm, home-cooked meals along with some of her favorite books. I haven’t been able to read. All I can seem to do is shut my eyes to try and escape reality. I have no energy. I am somehow totally drained, all the time. I am sure the drug withdrawal is a factor, but I feel like it is mostly in my head.
I should feel happy that Benjamin is gone, but I just feel sick.
Learning about Joy’s existence has crushed my spirit. Keeping the knowledge of her from Cole is crushing me even more. Every minute of every day, my hands ache with the desire to just pick up the phone and call him. But I can’t bear to see the pain and disappointment on his face.
When Zack enters the room and crawls into bed beside me, I sigh and allow my body to sink back against his. He holds me comfortingly, kissing my shoulder.
“You okay, Soph?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I mumble. “Sorry I couldn’t join you guys for dinner.”
“It’s okay,” he says gently, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Does Joy seem happy?” I ask him softly. “I could hear her playing outside.”
Zack pauses, hesitating before answering. “Sure. She’s doing well.”
“I’m glad. It’s good that we came to a nice neighborhood where there are kids her age. She deserves to have fun and play outside.”
Zack nods against my shoulder with a sigh, rubbing his hand up and down over my hip. “Are you comfortable here, Soph? You never leave the room—you hardly eat. I am starting to worry, you know. My sister keeps mentioning some private cottage, on a lake, if you’d like a change of scenery. Something more tranquil and private, with some nature.”
“No, it’s nice here,” I tell him. Placing a hand on his, I sigh. “You’re all I need, Zack. You’ve been so good to me, so patient. I’m sorry I’ve been a mess.”
“You’re a beautiful mess,” he whispers, running his hand up over my body to caress my breasts. “You’re so beautiful, and I’ve missed you.”
For a moment, I feel nothing at all.
I lie there miserably, like a useless lump. It’s a familiar feeling. Total nothingness.
It’s how I felt the first time Zack touched me. But I know how to make it go away.
Closing my eyes briefly, I imagine that Cole is beside me instead.
It takes a second to really convince myself.
I imagine Cole’s voice whispering into my ear. I imagine Cole’s scent, his taste, his embrace.
It starts small—just a little tingle in my midsection. Just a little warmth.
My body is a wasteland, everything burned to ashes and cinder. There is nothing left. But the memories cause a tiny spark. The faintest glow remains somewhere in the emptiness, reminding me that I am still breathing. Reminding me that there is still fire inside me. And I am still fireproof.
I can still feel. Even after everything, I can still feel.
I can still love.
I remember Cole, and all the kind words he said in my darkest moments. I remember how he made the world seem good again. As a pair of strong arms encircle me tightly, my corpse-adjacent body stirs to life. After feeling dead and listless for so long, I crave more of the sensation, and moan softly, pressing against him.
“Sophie, it’s been so long,” Zack says.
My eyes open, and it takes me out of the fantasy briefly. I feel a kind of panic seize my chest as the feelings disappear, and I am faced with emptiness again. No, I saw inwardly, trying to hold on to the memory. Tears gather in my eyes, and I try to conceal them by shutting them tightly again, and thinking of Cole.
“Zack, keep touching me,” I tell him, desperately. I just want to forget everything. I want to forget by remembering. I want to have Cole in my mind, in my heart, but not in reality.
I need to stay away from him so that I can’t hurt him again.
Zack has complied, and begun to remove my clothing, but he pauses.
I open my eyes, but he sees the tears in them and moves away from me.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks with concern.
“It doesn’t matter. Will you have sex with me?”
He doesn’t respond, and I look at him questioningly.
“I want to,” he says slowly, “but do you think it would be okay after everything Benjamin did…”
“That’s why I need it. To help me forget. Please”
He moves away from me. “No, Soph. I’m sorry. I want it to be about us, not just you using me.”
I place my face in my hands, trying to fight the urge to cry or scream. Most of all, I fight the dizziness and blurring of reality that threatens to take over. I don’t want to let Snow out right now.
I take a few deep breaths to calm down.
The little spark of warmth and life I felt stirring in me quickly disappears, and I return to feeling empty and dead. “Fine,” I say softly. “You’re right. You deserve more, Zack. You deserve better than me. I’m damaged goods, and I’m a murderer. Why would you want to touch me? Why don’t you just kick me out and leave me on the streets to rot?”
Turning away from him I press my face back into the pillow with defeat. I just want to sink into this bed with shame, and merge with the memory foam mattress. Forever. Because memory foam will never have to contend with memories like the ones I have.
“No, Soph,” he says, touching my shoulder, but I shrug him away.
“That’s not what I mean,” he pleads.
I wrap my arms around myself, and lie here, shaking. I feel cold and desperate for some kind of affection. Some human touch. Maybe I just need a distraction to soothe the pain and erase the memories. To help me heal.
Maybe I should take up drinking, and drink myself into oblivion.
Maybe you should just throw yourself off a cliff.
This cruel voice inside me causes me to flinch. It’s not Snow. She would never say something like that to me. But it’s a familiar voice, one I have heard many times over the past few days. One I have heard many times over the years, and in my youth, when I’ve been tempted to kill myself.
You deserve to die, Serena. You are a murderer. You killed your first child, abandoned the second. You deserved everything Benjamin did to you. All of it, and worse.
Joy is better off without you. You’re a piece of garbage. Zack is disgusted by you, and he won’t even touch you anymore. You don’t deserve his love.
And most of all, you don’t deserve Cole.
You don’t deserve to ever see him again.
After what you’ve done?
The world is better off without you. And you’re better off dead.
The harsh words cut into me, like metallic splinters. It causes me to tremble as I accept the truth of the words. I know that I’ve brought so much awfulness into Cole’s life, and even Zack’s. What am I even doing here?
Stop this, says Snow’s voice, strong and determined. Don’t ever blame yourself for the things I’ve done, Serena. I’m the killer, not you. And I had to do it, to save you. Because I love you more than life itself, and you do deserve that kind of love.
I smile sadly, still feeling the empty ache in my chest. I place my hand over my ribcage, trying to make sense of all this pain. Snow, I wish you weren’t part of me, so I could ask you to hold me right now. I wish you were a separate person, with your own body.
And my own penis? I wish that, too, sometimes. But I would probably just cut it off and eat it.
A small burst of laughter escapes my throat.
“What?” Zack says. “What’s wrong?”
“Inside joke,” I say softly, grateful to Snow for making me smile.
See? We’re okay. Just have to laugh it off.
You just need time to heal, Serena.
And plenty of coffee and sleep.
Just coffee and sleep.