Poison Aches (Westbrook Blues #6)

1. Ivy

CHAPTER 1

Ivy

I vy, 7; Emmett, 10

I never meant for this to happen.

Grammy always says it’s cowardly not to take responsibility of our words and actions.

She says taking responsibility means understanding the weight that accompanies each word we utter and each action we make, then we’ll never say or do anything reckless and stupid.

But I honestly never, ever thought that my recklessness and stupidity would cause this .

“Does she remember anything?”

Standing by the big pillars away from the front door and trying to speak in low, hushed tones are four police officers and a team of doctors, all of them looking at me with pity.

The same officers that were waiting for me to wake up to question me two days ago.

“At this point, there’s no way of knowing,” one of the doctors that attended to me says.

“Did she mention anything at all about a woman?”

“You keep mentioning this mysterious woman? Who is she?”

“We can’t divulge that,” the cop says.

“Then how exactly do you want her to help you?”

“She might know something?—”

“Officers, we don’t know that for sure. The brain is still the great unknown. She may or may not recover her memories of that night. There’s no way of knowing.”

They fall silent, uncertain and worried expressions on the faces of the doctors while the officers look at each other.

“Doctor, the child is still young and healthy, is she not?” the first officer presses.

“She is.”

“Then the chances of her regaining her memories are high, are they not?”

“Yes, but…” the doctor trails off. “She also just experienced a trauma. Given the level of loss and what happened, it’s reasonable that her own mind is protecting her.”

“So, she has amnesia?”

“A form of it, yes.”

I have amnesia?

I’ve spent a lot of days at the hospital, following nurses and doctors around that I’m familiar with some medical terms.

“Besides, she’s not really like other children.”

Huh? I perk up and try to inch closer.

“What do you mean?” the officer steps even closer to the doctors.

“I once heard Dr. Irving mention something in passing before but he never went into detail about her case.”

“Have you asked Mrs. Irving?”

“I thought I made it clear before. My grandmother is grieving, officers, Let’s not make this any heavier than it has to be just because you are only obsessed in finding a certain unnamed woman.”

My brother’s sharp and clear voice strikes my heart into another pounding fury.

Peeking from where I stand, I see him, no longer just a naughty, mischief master boy but now, standing tall and serious staring at the officers.

“Young man—” the officer starts but Samuel cuts him off.

“My grandfather was involved in a strange accident that you wrote off as a freak weather accident. He drowned in the ocean after he miraculously saved his granddaughter from the same fate, and yet here you are, with vague questions that do nothing but disrupt this last goodbye.”

Last goodbye…

My throat starts burning and tears sting my eyes.

Who knew that after my stupidity, Gramps would come save me and lose his life for it?

I really am cursed.

“But your sister?—”

“Is still in pain, hasn’t said a word since yesterday. Now, unless you are ready to tell us exactly why you’re hovering around here, please leave my family in peace. We’ve already lost enough.”

The officers look at each other and then they give Samuel their card, asking him to call them if I regain my memories.

I watch as they leave, going down the stairs of the church towards their cars and then leave.

“Samuel, we’re truly sorry for your loss. Your grandfather was a good man,” one of the doctors says solemnly, with red rimmed eyes. “He was my mentor.”

“Mine too.”

“Same.”

Tears stream down my face as I feel the loss the world has experienced.

“It’s a pity. Dr. Irving was such a brilliant man. If only the girl hadn’t…”

“Thank you for your condolences, please go in. The service is about to begin,” Samuel mutters.

They all fall silent, pat Samuel on the shoulder and then they make their way toward the open doors of the church.

I clench my fists as more tears stream down my cheeks, tingling my nose.

I don’t have a right to cry.

I don’t have the right to grieve when I’m the one who killed Gramps, and everyone knows it, just as they know that my brother and I are discarded children.

I grip the hem of my dress and slink back into the shadows.

I can’t have amnesia.

If I truly have it, then why do I clearly remember how much of a curse I am?

All my life I’ve always known that I’m the problem.

I’m not sure what happened exactly, or how long I’ve been like this, but I’m pretty sure my mother knew that I’m a burden. An abomination. A curse that will destroy people’s lives.

Within a few hours of birthing me, she wrapped me in a thin blanket, placed me in an old, ratty, torn-up bassinet that was maybe found in the trash somewhere, and left me with my brother who was six years old at the time, in front of our grandparents’ doorstep in the dead of winter.

My mother abandoned me then.

And now Gramps is gone too.

And it’s all my fault.

Because I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t settle. I couldn’t handle being laughed at that I didn’t have a mother or a father.

Over the years, I tried making excuses for my mother to find a reason for that cold act of neglect.

Maybe she had us when she was too young?

“No, she was twenty-three when she had me and twenty-nine when she had you. That’s old enough, don’t you think?” my brother Samuel answered bluntly.

Okay, then maybe she couldn’t afford to raise us.

“She was at the top of her class at Stanford on a track to med school, while minoring in Business and Finance. She had the smarts to make money and keep us. Not to mention, Gramps and Grammy are not stingy. In fact, they would have helped if she asked, but guess what, Ivy, she never asked because she never cared to.”

Samuel always had answers to everything.

He said I was just na?ve and was desperately wanting what didn’t care for me.

He also said if I wasn’t careful, that kind of desperation would one day shatter my heart.

I didn’t believe him, because as we grew up, I watched Samuel’s anger toward our absent parents turn into cold impassiveness.

Meanwhile, I grew even more restless and making up plans to go find my parents.

If she wasn’t dead, then why didn’t she ever call?

Why did she leave us?

Why did Gramps and Grammy never talk about her?

Samuel had already detached himself completely and never cared.

Maybe that’s why people liked Samuel.

He was amiable, could easily go along with the flow, and he’s always the life of the party.

At school he’s popular.

The golden boy.

Athletic.

A troublemaker that everyone wants to be friends with.

He’s also friends with the most exclusive group of the wealthiest children in Westbrook Blues.

Then there’s me.

A loner.

Pathetic.

Weird.

Chronically sad and always stuck in my head.

There’s not a single explanation good enough to cover what I did.

The police know it. The doctors know. And so does Grammy and Samuel.

I glance at the two of them now and my heart starts pounding furiously again.

Even though it looked like my brother was defending me just now, the truth is they both hate me.

They can’t even look at me.

And why should they when I’m the one who took away the one person we all relied on?

Gramps was everything.

When I was always in a constant state of tears, lonely and sad, he was there, comforting me.

“No, sweetie, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just growing up. This stage of life doesn’t last forever,” Gramps said softly once, as he soothed me to sleep one night after he found me crying.

A few girls at school had said I can’t be related to Samuel because I was measly and pathetic.

I didn’t particularly care about that part.

I did, however, feel like someone struck my chest cavity with a boulder when one of the girls whispered that my mother likely abandoned me because I was a curse.

“You can’t give people the power to hurt you, sweetheart,” Gramps said.

“But…but what if what they said is true?” I cried.

“Well, I can tell you now. There’s no such thing as a cursed child. All children are a blessing, and whether their parents are enlightened enough to know that or not is irrelevant and you are no exception.”

Gramps was that kind of person. Supportive, kind, and gentle.

He was a doctor, met Grammy when he was an intern and she had just gotten her nursing degree and started working at the same hospital.

Apparently, they got into a huge fight the very first time they met.

After the disciplinary hearing, they didn’t speak to each other at all for an entire year until one day the nurses of the surgical floor invited all the interns about to take their boards to a good luck party.

It was there that they discovered the tension they both felt when around each other was actually denied attraction.

They discovered that their views, hopes, aspirations, and expectations on life aligned almost perfectly.

“Kids, let me tell you a little secret. They say opposites attract but later, as you grow, you’re going to find out for yourself that like attracts like.”

“That can’t be true, it breaks the laws of physics,” Samuel said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh but my dear boy, love doesn’t make any sense. It defies all the laws of men and responds to the will of Heaven. One day you’re going to see that true love actually grows strong regardless of time or distance. Your Grammy never gave me the time of day back then and I pretended like I didn’t care but even in that stilted silence, I was falling deeper for her.”

“Why is that?” Samuel asked. “It’s stupid to fall for someone who doesn’t even talk to you.”

“Hmm, from one angle that’s true, so my advice to you is make every effort to at least not be a coward. Talk to them,” Gramps replied, fully aware that Samuel had a crush on some girl at school that time. “But to be sure, when someone is for you, they will always be for you.”

“How do you know?” I had asked him.

Gramps looked at me with a steady gaze. “You’ll know it when everything in you aches deeply for that person and those aches can only be soothed and healed by that very person that makes you ache.”

He said that’s how he felt for Grammy. She was everything to him.

And he was Grammy’s entire world.

After their daughter dropped out of college, disappeared and broke their hearts, then later abandoned her children at their doorstep in the middle of the night, they relied on each other even more.

But now, because of my foolish act of running away from home to go and look for someone who left me, Grammy is now alone.

In my head, I had imagined reuniting with my mother, bringing her home to Gramps and Grammy so that they could be happy again.

But no, my curse struck again.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so dearly sorry.”

I look up at our neighbor, Mrs. Galloway, whom Grammy doesn’t like because she sticks her nose into other people’s business a little too much instead of minding her wayward children, but today, Mrs. Galloway looks different, just like everyone here.

They all look stunned, sad and shaking their heads in sympathy.

A burning sensation blooms in my throat as I watch Mrs. Galloway and her husband move to shake hands and hug Samuel.

I peek at my brother again.

I bet he hates me now.

Grammy hates me too.

They are going to leave me as well.

Suddenly, I remember the call I overhead between Grammy and her “specialist” friend a few months ago.

I wasn’t sure what that friend specialized in, all I recall is that her friend had recommended that I be sent away to some place, “ just in case.”

When Grammy paused and didn’t immediately refute it, that’s when I knew she was considering it.

Even before all this, they wanted to send me away. Now, they have a solid reason.

The truth is, I’m unwanted.

I’ve always been unwanted.

And I always pretended like I wasn’t aware of this.

Pretending kept the peace.

Pretending allowed me to have some semblance of normalcy.

All I had to do was be blind to the silent exchanges, be deaf to the late-night whispers, maybe then they would allow me to stay.

But the thing about being a curse is that you can’t hide it.

At some point the bubble will burst in your face.

And nothing bursts bubbles of naivety than curiosity.

If only I hadn’t been curious.

If only I had ignored the letter that wasn’t even addressed to me, none of this would be happening.

“Thank you for coming,” Grammy mutters softly.

“Of course. If there’s anything we can do…”

“Young man, you’ll now have to be the man of the house,” an old friend of Gramps says to Samuel.

Gramps and Samuel were close, so close that they talked about everything and could easily sit in silence without any discomfort.

Whenever Grammy had late-night shifts at the hospital and Gramps wasn’t on call, he’d drink and reminisce over his lost daughter.

And Samuel, who has always been brave, bold, and a stubborn bullheaded daredevil would sit there and listen.

Today, he looks worlds apart from his everyday naughty smirks and glints in his eyes that signal trouble.

At thirteen, about to be fourteen in a few weeks, he stands tall at six-one, with his jaw clenched tight, eyes sharp, his posture rigid and serious.

His facial features are schooled into cold impassivity.

Today, his shoulders aren’t shaking with laughter.

Instead, they are set straight, rigid, showing an entirely new weight that shouldn’t be there… premature adulthood.

A tightness takes hold in the center of my chest.

If I’m being honest, he has had a faint trace of that since I could remember, but today, it’s so much more pronounced.

As if he doesn’t have a choice anymore but to take responsibility and be a man.

All of a sudden, it’s like I’m looking at a stranger… as if the naughty big brother I’d come to rely on to make me laugh, was never there. Just a figment of my already overactive, damaged imagination.

The usual mischief seemed to have been snuffed out overnight… but then again, everything did happen overnight.

Right then, Samuel snaps his head in my direction.

His sharp eyes connect with mine. My breath hitches.

Is he going to wink at me like he always does?

Is he going to signal me to tiptoe over to pull the fire alarm since he says I’m never noticeable and even if I get caught, I’d never get in trouble because my very existence silently solicits sympathy points?

I didn’t know what that meant but having fun with my brother has always been one of my favorite things…so I stare intently at him, waiting.

One.

Two.

Three.

Dark brown eyes so similar to mine suddenly narrow at me. I almost reel back.

I’ve never seen that look before… but then again, that kind of hostility and anger should be there.

I did this.

I changed everything.

My heart thunders painfully in my chest.

“Ivy?”

An impatient voice sounds close to my ear in that moment.

Jumping, I turn around and come face to face with Grammy’s solemn, frowning face.

She also looks different from her usual self today.

She’s still as beautiful and as graceful as ever. My grandmother who runs the Westbrook Blues University Hospital’s emergency room efficiently and expertly.

She’s powerful, resilient, confident, and has always exhibited nothing but stability.

But today… she looks like she just lost half her life.

But really, she just lost her whole heart.

I clasp my hands together as tightly as I can, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from bursting into tears and stare up at a very unfamiliar woman who’s radiating an emotion I can’t quite name.

“Yes, Grammy?” I squeak. I can see that she’s been calling my name for a few seconds, but I wasn’t responding.

If there’s one thing Grammy hates, it’s rude people.

But I’m pretty sure there’s no one she hates more in this world than me right now.

Grammy looks down at me.

I expect her to finally blow up. To give me a tongue-lashing, to express her anger, her rage, and her hatred toward me…

My heart is thundering painfully as I wait, but then like before, she just sighs, looks past me to Samuel, then at me, and she waves her hand, gesturing for us to follow her.

“It’s time. Let’s go in.”

My entire body trembles so powerfully, my knees weaken.

Why isn’t she saying anything?

She can’t even look at me… she obviously can’t stand being near me, so why isn’t she saying anything?

Before I realize it, my vision is blurry.

I’m still rooted at the entrance, watching Grammy's and Samuel’s figures moving farther away into the church…where hundreds of people are gathered, dressed in black, all here to give their condolences and to send Gramps with final respects.

Final respects.

A heavy sob rises from my stomach, until it clogs my chest.

I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the sound from escaping.

This isn’t a dream. Gramps really is gone.

My gentle, fun, indulgent, and understanding grandfather.

The man who selflessly took care of Samuel and me, made us dinner when he was home, let us have ice cream and cake for dessert while we watched TV—all the naughty things that were forbidden on school nights by Grammy—and then he’d help us get ready for bed and tell us some bedtime stories.

Bedtime was always my favorite, only because that’s when he’d encourage my imagination, answering all my what-if questions that Samuel rolled his eyes at.

I’d go to sleep grateful for my Gramps, in awe of his brilliance and wishing I’d have his gentle smile and ability to find the humor in everything like he always did.

The more you know, the deeper the misery.

The thing about that statement is that it doesn’t just apply to secrets, but to sudden, unexpected events that steal your breath away…

But then again, causing the death of one of the only people to ever care for an abandoned, unwanted, unlovable child is a misery worse than any pain.

My first best friend, the ever-smiling, intelligent man that taught me how to ride a bike, to climb a tree when Grammy wasn’t looking and how to nurture and care for plants and flowers.

Now that person is gone, like he never existed…because of me.

I killed him.

“…and unto dust shall we all return.”

Service has begun. The skinny, funny-looking priest with a long face is talking at the front of the church.

Behind him, the stained-glass windows are dark.

In fact, the entire church is dark… even with all the candles and overhead lights on, it’s still dark.

A few steps down from the front of the church and to the left of the organist there’s a huge picture of Gramps.

He’s smiling from ear to ear.

His familiar soft brown eyes have a twinkle in them, like when he’d wink at me, letting me know that there’s extra ice cream just for me after Grammy punished me for not doing my homework.

I stare at the picture, ignoring the priest.

Three days ago, Gramps was dancing in the living room with Grammy.

He always moved the furniture out of the way and brought out his record player that he apparently won in a med school contest.

He had a huge collection of records, most of them from the 30s and 40s…and the times he said “they were making real music, not this nonsense they are putting out now.”

He'd play different records, pull Grammy into his arms, and they’d dance until I fell asleep in the hallway where I’d be hiding, peeking at them in secret.

They’d dance when the rain was pounding against the roof.

They danced when the sky was dark and littered with bright stars like a painting.

And three nights ago, as the first heavy snow of the season fell, Gramps pulled Grammy close, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and whispered something that made Grammy look up at him with a look that Samuel said wasn’t meant for outsiders, it belonged to the two of them—and they danced the night away.

When the sun rose, Gramps was gone.

Guilt and pain weigh down on me, like a kind of suffocating pressure.

Why did I do it?

Why didn’t I just listen to Samuel…why did I burst the bubble?

Hot, salty tears stream down my cheeks like an endless stream.

I should get in, stand by Samuel and Grammy, but for some reason I don’t think they’d want me to stand there with them.

Not when I’m the reason Gramps is dead.

I’m the one who took him away from the love of his life and his clever grandson.

I clutch the frills of my black dress as tightly as I can.

There’s a chill in my bones that the thick black tights I’m wearing beneath cannot warm.

My heart is thundering so loud, it drowns out the priest’s voice.

I have no mother. Have no idea who my father is. I was abandoned. And now, my grandfather is gone. Who’s next? Grammy? Samuel?

I turn to look at both Grammy and Samuel. One day soon, they are going to leave me too.

Before, it was just a fear. Now, it’s about to be my reality.

I stand there listening to the organ music playing inside the church, the snow starting to fall, I make a decision.

If I leave, I won’t cause trouble for them ever again.

They won’t have to tiptoe around a murderer, trying to find a way to leave me behind.

If I can get rid of myself, Grammy and Samuel will have a carefree life.

They will both be relieved, like my mother probably is wherever she is.

As if in slow motion, I look up and stare into the church.

I look at all the people that are here, not really seeing their faces.

These are all Gramps's colleagues, past patients that he helped to heal, friends, schoolmates, neighbors. Gramps was a loved man…killed by an unloved child.

I look past all of them, to Grammy and Samuel.

I stare at them for a beat.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

I wanted to apologize…but even I know there is nothing I can do or say that will bring Gramps back.

I glance at huge picture in front.

“I’m sorry, Gramps,” I cry. “I really didn’t mean to.”

I didn’t…and I’ll make it right.

There’s no reason why diseases like me should be kept around.

With one last look, I quickly turn around and run down the snow-filled steps, and with no sense of direction, I run as fast and as hard as I can.

I don’t know where I’m going, but I just keep running.

It’s snowing heavily again… such suitable weather, it’s enough to disappear.

I’m wheezing, panting, and completely out of breath by the time I stop. When I realize where I am, a feeling of familiarity and rightness hits me square in the chest.

Yes, this is only fitting.

This church is on a hill, and behind the church is the cemetery that extends all the way to edge of the cliff, which is where I unconsciously ran to.

The cliff has always been closed off, with warning signs to keep away. But today, everything is covered with inches of snow.

The dangerous, jagged, steep cliff looks inviting, beautiful, like a scene out of a fairy tale.

I step closer and stare out at the dark sea.

It’s snowing like crazy so nothing is very clear, but I know the waves must be roaring, ready to devour an abomination like me.

Hot tears trail down my cheeks as images of Gramps drowning flash in my head.

He fought hard to unbuckle me and push me out of the open window as the car sank faster than I could realize what was going on.

But the thing is, he was still buckled in his seat. How did he manage to reach behind to the back seat where I was and unbuckle me?

How?

But most of all, why?

Why didn’t I do anything?

Why didn’t I help to unbuckle and drag him out?

Why am I alive when a more fitting, more deserving, more loved person should be here?

How is that fair?

My grandparents could be happy still, dancing together.

Samuel would have someone to fix cars with and talk 30s and 40s music with.

But instead, I took all that away from them.

The answer is simple, really…unwanted people should always go with the flow and be gone.

Why do we ask and beg and force ourselves into spaces and relationships that clearly don’t want us?

Why am I this way?

Why can’t I be impassive as well? Why can’t I get the message?

Maybe if the waves swallow me whole and take me, that would be my apology to Grammy and to Samuel.

If only I could bring back Gramps, but I do know he’s safe in Heaven, whereas after I jump, I’ll go straight to where I deserve to pay for my sins.

Unlovable.

Unwanted.

Unlucky.

The blizzard picks up.

The harsh, angry wind blows in my face, turning the flesh into icicles.

I forgot my coat, but does that even matter now?

I take a deep breath, strain my body to climb over the embankment.

I take a step closer to the edge, and then… I freeze in my steps when I see him watching me with a look between interest and boredom.

“Go ahead,” the boy says in a low voice that somehow reaches my ears, sounding louder than the howling wind. “Jump.”

Fear and shock suddenly fill my chest until I can’t breathe.

Where did he come from?

How does he know what I was planning to do?

“W-what are you w-waiting for?” he taunts, and then he looks away from me as if dismissing me. “Well… j-just as I t-thought.”

A sudden rush of something fills my chest.

Why is he dismissing me?

“What?” I cry, my fists clenched around the hem of my dress tightly as the cold seeps into me.

The boy glances at me, as if sizing me up and down, then he holds my gaze, ridicule clear in his eyes.

“You’re just a c-coward.”