Initiation Page 2

  “It’s not my birthday. I don’t know when my birthday is.”

  Amy’s desire to celebrate her life was sure to throw Hannah into an anger crisis. She had nothing to celebrate—a pointless job, an empty existence, always looking for a purpose. She had no clue when her birthday was, and neither did Amy. They had found Hannah at the age of eight, by doctors’ estimates, roaming the road between Mauneme Point and Downhill, all alone, dirty and scared, with no knowledge of her birthday or why her parents had abandoned her. She’d only known her name—Hannah Link. Over the years, she'd doubted her name was real because if it were, the police would have found her family.

  Amy placed an alcohol ridden cotton ball on her wound, and the initial sting made her flinch. Her foot shot protectively out, barely missing her torturer’s nose. Amy showed no sign of fear and wrestled Hannah for her foot.

  “Hey! Stop that! I know it hurts, but be careful! You’ll only hurt yourself more.”

  Hannah stopped listening to her. She became preoccupied with thoughts of what if. What if she had hit her? What if Amy’s nose bled out just like her food did? What if she didn’t have to lay there quietly and watch her foster mother pretend to be useful? Would she leave her alone for a change? The more she dwelled on these fantasies, the more terrified she became. It wasn’t the first time she thought about hurting Amy or other people in her life, and, as pleasant as she found those thoughts at the moment, they always terrified her.

  The only person she’d talked to about these horrifying fantasies was her childhood shrink and, as he’d said, she needed to let the thoughts advance because they served as a barrier that stopped her from acting out. She wasn’t sure she agreed, but she had to admit his advice worked so far.

  “… spoken with him?”

  Hannah focused her attention back at Amy and tried to make sense of the half-question she registered. “Have I spoken with whom?”

  “Ace! Have you been listening to me?”

  Of course not. Hannah couldn’t contain a smile when she saw Amy’s frown. “I must have drifted off. No, I haven’t spoken with him. Have you? And why do you call him Ace?”

  “It’s his name, isn’t it?”

  “Everyone calls him by his last name. It’s a detective thing.”

  That wasn’t technically true. She liked to tease him with his given name when they were alone. Ace was handsome enough, and if it were up to her, she would’ve entrusted him with much more pleasant tasks than Amy could think up for him. “What did Benton have to say?”

  Amy watched Hannah with a smile that said she’d had heard her but disagreed. “Ace is in Riverbank, chasing down a lead.”

  She rummaged around in the first-aid kit, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. She was stalling, for whatever reason, and it was infuriating. The woman didn’t know how to shut up when Hannah wanted and clammed up when it was important to speak.

  “Lead? What lead?”

  Amy took a white bandage from the kit and unraveled it in slow motion. “Honestly, I don’t know. He only said he needs to talk to a professor—a man named Mildgrene—because he has a hunch, but he wouldn’t explain what this man has to do with you.”

  “Well, what kind of professor is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know?”

  Amy startled at her rude outburst and pushed back, raising two almond-colored eyes, her lips muttering under her breath. The last thing Hannah wanted was to face Amy’s sensitivities, and she was sure either a cry or an argument was about to break. She needed answers, and it was clear she would get nothing more out of Amy. She pushed Amy away with her feet and stood.

  “I don’t know what else to say. I’ve told you everything I know, Hannah.” Amy considered her next words for a moment. “He’ll find out who your parents are. I’m sure of it.”

  “And why are you so sure?”

  “I’m sure Ace knows what he’s doing.”

  Hannah scoffed. She was sick of Amy’s clumsy way of appeasing her when she couldn’t be sure of any such thing. And, like most people in her life, felt comfortable making empty promises. She didn’t understand what Hannah needed.

  Hannah smiled as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Izzy was retreating to her hidey-hole. At least, someone understood her. The dazzling bearded dragon lizard knew when to play and when to leave her alone.

  “I know it’s hard for you, my dear,” Amy continued, “but you knew an investigation like this takes time.”

  The great novice detective Ace Benton was on a quest to find her parents, a task Hannah was sure was too challenging for him. Still, he was the PI Amy chose for the task and, since she was paying, Hannah had no say in it. While she had little confidence in him, his visit to Riverbank held some promise for her. He might trace her origins in the small town, which, despite its name, was lacking any rivers.

  Hannah clenched and unclenched her fingers. Each fist formed nail-shaped crescents in her palms. “It should already be over! They found me twelve years ago. The past seven years, I’ve lived here. Why didn’t you hire someone sooner to find out who I am?”

  Amy considered her for a moment and narrowed her eyes in understanding. “You are so self-centered, sometimes, Hannah. You have no idea!”

  Hannah covered her ears with her palms to shut off Amy’s voice. The pressure inside her head was spiking again, and she longed to be in the forest once more. At least, there, she had a purpose—finding the river. There, she didn’t have to hide a big part of who she was.

  Her efforts were in vain. The humming of Amy’s voice wouldn’t leave the center of her mind. She pushed the source of her distress in anger and charged out the door, limping her way to the bathroom.

  She regarded the pale pink room as her refuge. It was compact, but her alone place. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, sliding down into a squat, her heart pounding angrily.

  Amy stopped speaking, and Hannah allowed her mind to focus on the ambient noise. The water drops hit the porcelain surface with a calming effect. Plip. Plip. She’d much rather hear that than Amy’s constant jibber-jabber. In addition, the bathroom was lit by an intermittent neon light, accompanied by an upsetting buzzing sound. The cold door helped her come back to her senses and let go of the rage. She squeezed both her fists and hit the door one time. It was useless. Her life was nothing but a void waiting to be filled.

  She stood and lifted her green eyes to the cracked mirror. Not willing to face herself, just yet, she concentrated on the smooth line of the dark circles under her eyes. There was more to her; there had to be. She felt it. But where could she search for something that made no sense? Was it even worthwhile? She instinctively tamped down the self-doubt. And, to spite it, she met the reflection of her eyes and glared back, daring herself not to look away.

  Out of habit, she lifted her hand and placed it on the barely visible mark below her right ear. It resembled an L, and she was sure it wasn’t a birthmark. Was it a tattoo? Who would tattoo a child? Was it a brand? Were the answers in her own mind? Would they tell her from where she came? No, she didn’t think so. She did hope they would lead her to something bigger than her own mediocre life. The answers were her guiding star. She knew it was unrealistic to put all her hopes in them—it wasn’t as if knowing all the answers would uncover a well-hidden ancient secret. That was how it felt. She was dizzy with the thought, and it made her giddy. She smiled.

  Seeing herself smile was unusual. She shied away, concentrating instead on running her fingers effortlessly through her long, manageable locks. It surprised her that not one hair was out of place, that there were no signs of her struggle in the forest. She was oddly disappointed that there wasn’t even a solitary leaf to commemorate her return to the long-forgotten place. She gathered her hair up and watched as it fell back in waves over her tiny body.

  Hannah turned on the faucet, and it rattled with effort but worked instantly. Ice-cold water filled her cupped hands. The numbing effect was what she needed. She bent over the sink and splashed her face, allowing thousands of little ice picks to invigorate her soft skin. It stole her breath away; she laughed in reaction and caught her eyes to ridicule herself for enjoying it too much.

  Her smile vanished when the image reflected in the mirror wasn’t her own. She started breathing rapidly, and she stepped back twice. Water dripped from her hands onto the bandages on her feet.

  The female, if that’s what she was, returned a cold stare from within the mirror; she was as small as Hannah was, but that’s as far as the similarities went. That tiny being watched her with a superior glare, which blazed out of two eyes so black they looked hollow. No signs of emotion marked her impeccable, porcelain skin. Her unhealthy pallor and long, carefully arranged ash-blonde coif added to her aristocratic appearance. The only thing out of place was a long, sparkling green strand—a splash of color on her otherwise dull exterior.

  Hannah wanted to believe this wasn’t happening, but she couldn’t lie to herself. That didn’t keep her from wishing it wasn't real.

  She whispered, “Go away,” but it came out louder and harsher than she meant. She flinched back a few steps, fearing retaliation, but the wall and the garbage bin hindered her movement, and she crashed a metal can on the floor. Unsurprisingly, this drew Amy’s attention.

  “Hannah! Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

  “No!” she yelled hastily and locked the door. “I mean, yes, I’m okay.” Hannah couldn’t make herself believe that either. The stranger who faced her captivated her. “Everything is fine,” she added softly as if to reassure herself.

  Hannah waited for the intruder to make a move. The longer she waited, the more she thought the stranger toyed with her. What better way to damage her already frail state of mind than to make her wait for what was coming?

  “Who are you?” she asked, undecided if she wanted an answer.

  “I am… you.” The woman strengthened her statement by pointing an intense green-nailed finger at her and using it to shape the letters as she was saying them. “H-A-N-N-A-H!”

  Hannah found the moving finger entrancing. “But how?” Her lips froze when she saw the young woman stretch a hand through the mirror, in an enticing invitation.

  “I will show you.” The emotionless answer should not have held so much power over her.

  Hannah took a step towards the mirror and then halted. What was she doing? She felt drawn to the woman by an invisible force. The stranger waited as if she knew Hannah would shake off the last shreds of her sanity and try to step through the mirror.

  Wouldn’t that mess be fun to explain to Amy?

  “You’re not real,” Hannah said, falling back on the only defense that came to mind.

  “You can test that. Come and see.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Exactly where you want to go. Back to the forest.”

  The mention of the forest enthralled Hannah, and she didn’t realize she was moving towards the mirror until she came within inches of it. The hand was still stretched towards her, motionless as if it belonged to a statue.

  “Last time I was there, things went bad.”

  “Last time, you were unwelcomed. Don’t worry about that; I will protect you.”

  Hannah looked at her feet and remembered the pain. She couldn’t help the disbelief she displayed.

  “Your little boo-boo will heal. You don’t have to worry about anything. As I said.”

  Hannah had the faintest impression she irritated her new forest guide. Nothing in her face gave anything away, but her voice betrayed a hint of exasperation. It both worried and intrigued her. How long would she wait for the broken and confused side of Hannah to come to terms with what was happening before quitting?

  She chanced one more question.

  “But… why now?”

  “Because now you are of age. Come.”

  Hannah’s eyes darted towards the reflection of the closed door that separated her from her other life. She could picture Amy in the kitchen cooking something. For her. Something she didn’t want and couldn’t help her. To find the answers, she had to agree to a risky return trip to the forest.

  Would this time be different? She reasoned with herself that she knew what to expect, and she wouldn’t be alone. But reason is a fickle thing. It told her what she was seeing couldn’t be real. She thrust reason aside—it was an obstacle she needed to overcome in her pursuit of truth.

  Driving a final push at sanity, she reached out to grasp the hand that hadn’t moved an inch during her battle with indecision. An electrical current passed through the firm grip into Hannah and coursed through her body. She felt being engulfed by light, and, just before she dived in completely, the same pain of being pulled apart returned. It made itself at home at the center of her being.

  CHAPTER 2

  An Exciting Case and a Novice Detective

  “Stop pacing!” Maya screamed at Benton. Professor Mildgrene’s niece wasn’t tactful under pressure. She’d alternated between sobbing all over him and yelling at him every few minutes since they’d found her uncle, dead in his office.

  “How long did he say this would take?”

  This day would register in Benton’s memories as the longest day ever. His patience had been tested from the moment he arrived at the godforsaken Riverbank University. It didn’t surprise him in the least that the security guard was dragging his feet.

  “He didn’t.” Maya's voice fractured, and she was about to start the waterworks again. He stepped away in self-preservation and checked down the hallway for the umpteenth time since they’d been waiting.

  This place should've been condemned, he thought, as he cataloged the safety violations to pass the time. Every student who enrolled had to be desperate and with no better alternatives.

  Benton had planned a short discussion with Professor Mildgrene that turned into an undesired venture. He found himself lost within the corridors of the five-story building, which was old, damp, and smelly. Rust permeated every wall sign and name plaque. When he’d finally found Mildgrene’s office, the professor was already dead, sitting on his chair, and staring blankly into the small light bulb on the ceiling, with his mouth wide open.

  He'd died of a heart attack, the medical examiner concluded after only glancing at the corpse. Benton had never met an M.E. who took his job so lightly. Mildgrene’s sudden death, at the exact moment he came to question him about Hannah, was too much of a coincidence to ignore.

  Maya didn’t agree with Benton on this, but at least she’d had the good sense to help him gain access to the security tapes and visitor’s log. It was the best place to start his investigation. Not that the security guard wanted to share the information without dipping into Benton’s funds, but her sobby pleading helped.

  Maya blew her nose, demanding his attention.

  “When did you see him last?” he asked.

  “Approximately three hours ago, when he met with a student.”

  “Who was the student?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, confused.

  “Then why did you say he was a student?”

  “Um… he was young and nice; he seemed to fit in. I don’t know.”

  Maya was getting watery again, so he didn’t push. They had already asked for the visitor’s logs, and he would find out soon enough who Mildgrene’s last visit was.

  Benton would’ve never imagined he’d celebrate two weeks since he accepted Hannah’s case by standing over a dead body. Everything he dealt with in his one-year experience as a private investigator involved stalking cheating spouses—not what he had in mind when he followed his uncle’s advice and chose this career. “It’s the only job that would get you action around here,” his uncle had said. “I know how much you love action. Unless you prefer to be a cop, like me.” Benton didn’t want to be a cop. Too many rules to follow and bosses to obey.

  This case was the only one that awoke his numb curiosity. An investigation involving a beautiful young woman and the search for her parents. Several connections with an asylum. A secret project mentioned by a former nurse who had worked at the Mauneme Point Children’s asylum at the same time Hannah was there. The nurse had told him about the time when Hannah was brought to the asylum, and she'd overheard a discussion between Mildgrene and her psychiatrist, now deceased. “You need to make sure nothing happens to her,” Mildgrene had said. “This project is crucial for mankind, and nothing can go wrong. It could change what it means to be human.” This bit of information was enough for him jump into his car and race to Riverbank, only to have his hopes shattered by Mildgrene’s death.

  The phone buzzed in his jeans’ back pocket. He picked it up in haste but rolled his eyes when he saw who the caller was. Took two deep breaths before answering. “Benton.”

  He stepped farther from Maya, who watched him curiously, to stop her from peeking into his personal life. He listened to the anxious cry, which sounded in his ear, but it took him a little time to get his mind off Mildgrene and to what she was saying.

  “Wait,” he hissed. “What are you telling me?”

  “I quit, Mr. Benton! I thought I was clear.”

  “Ms. Johnson, please!”

  His worst fear was about to come true. Ms. Johnson was the third nurse he’d hired to tend for his mother in the past three months, and the one who endured the longest.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Benton. You’re desperate, I get it, and I want to help, I do. But your mother is impossible. She complains about everything I do. She looks down on me and speaks as if the only reason I’m a nurse is that I was too stupid to do better things with my life. What I do matters! I do this for the people who need me.”

  “You’re absolutely right. What you do is very important, and my mother is one of those people who need you.”

  “She’s… she’s… An awful person. There, I’ve said it.”

  “I can tell you’re very upset, Ms. Johnson,” Benton said, moving farther away from Maya. “What did my mother do now?”