Chapter 3
3
Though sleep was easier to find after the unexpected visitor left, Gabby’s dreams were filled with experiments gone wrong. Men with bird legs, women with swan necks and human bodies, people in shifter form who could talk. A jumbled mess of terrible memories formed a patchwork of nightmares. Ones she wished she could forget. The images faded upon waking, yet nibbled on her mind, ready to pop back in if anything in the surrounding environment reminded Gabby’s brain of her trauma. As Paige—the counselor who met with Gabby soon after she was rescued to evaluate her mental health—put it, PTSD was a normal reaction to not-normal events. Gabby had enough to beat herself up about. She tried to let go of feeling bad about having flashbacks and nightmares and being overly jumpy. Besides, she suspected almost everyone in the rehab wing had some symptoms of PTSD.
Gabby rubbed at the sleep in her eyes, dreading what the morning would bring. Today, she would visit with her father. At least one other person on the planet understood how frustrating it was to be unable to communicate well.
Though that stranger last night, Lyla, seemed to get it. And quickly. Gabby’s heart had melted when Lyla reassured her. It was an odd sensation and one Gabby chalked up to not having very many understanding friends around her. Though they weren’t together long, Gabby found Lyla easy to be around. She felt she could be herself around Lyla, which wasn’t something she was used to. At the hospital, some days it felt like only her progress—or lack thereof—was measured. That she, as a person, wasn’t seen. She was expected to perform and show what was getting easier when, most days, it felt like nothing was. But around Lyla, she’d felt no pressure.
“Are you ready?” Lynn, her cognitive therapist, popped her head into Gabby’s room. She gnawed on the pencil she kept with her, waiting for Gabby to respond. Gabby wondered if the beaver shifter needed wood to chew on at all times. She once heard a rumor that if beavers didn’t continuously chew on things, their teeth would keep growing until they couldn’t shut their mouths anymore. She wondered if that affliction affected Lynn’s human teeth. The thought brought forth an unpleasant mental image. She shook it out of her mind.
Gabby realized Lynn was staring at her, waiting for a response. She refocused, trying to think of the best response. A reply with a few words—or one word—would do. Lynn’s patient eyes softened as Gabby concentrated. She thought, “Yes.”
She wanted to say yes… but heard her mouth say, “No.” A puff of air blew from Gabby’s lips, though she tried not to look defeated. The corners of her mouth shifted in a failed attempt at smiling. So much for staying positive.
“Try singing it,” Lynn encouraged. She stuck the pencil behind her ear, pushing back her black hair.
Gabby’s eyebrows raised. It was a strange request. Something they hadn’t practiced before in session. She decided to go with the rhythm and notes of “Twinkle, Twinkle.”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes…” She put her hand up to her lips with a gasp, clamping them over her mouth. It worked! It actually worked!
She cocked her head sideways, staring at Lynn as a wide smile spread across her face, this one genuine. It warmed up her soul. Lynn’s, too, by the look on her face. Her slightly-longer-than-human central incisors jutted over her lower lip in a tooth-filled grin.
“Singing comes from a different part of the brain,” Lynn explained, tapping at the right side of her head. She pulled the pencil from behind her ear and started gnawing on it again. Gabby wondered what would happen if she hit the graphite at the center. Though the outside of the pencil was marred with teeth indents, it didn’t look like Lynn ever chewed through it. But who knew, maybe the shifter had a cupboard full of pencils in her office.
Gabby wanted to ask why Lynn didn’t lead with singing as a tool for speaking on day one, but figured she had her reasons. Plus, it might be too difficult to try to form that much of a question. Maybe Lynn hadn’t wanted Gabby to use it as a crutch and not put in the work of doing the exercises she assigned her. Though Gabby did enjoy her homework. It helped to pass the time. She always enjoyed school and handouts. She wanted to go to university one day—if she was ever able to figure out how to finance it. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, she had to focus on learning to speak and write properly again.
They passed a flyer boasting of a “fun time” plastered on the bulletin board. Gabby’d been pretending they didn’t exist. The thought of attempting to talk to others nauseated her. Daily she struggled to communicate. A break from it was rejuvenating. A party would be Hell.
Lynn chuckled as if reading her mind. “I have an idea.”
Nervousness fizzed in Gabby’s stomach. She saw Lynn’s brown eyes roll from the poster on the wall to Gabby. She started shaking her head, not caring that she actually got the gesture correct.
“Yes. I think you should go to the party this weekend. It would be good practice.” Lynn went back to chewing on her pencil, nodding to herself.
Gabby’s stomach dropped. “I-I…” She pictured the words she wanted hopping on the train that took them from her brain to mouth. “Rather.” She screwed up her face in deep concentration. “Rest.” That was the closest Gabby had ever gotten to the full sentence. The excitement of her small triumph was quickly squashed by the anxiety that Lynn would force her to attempt interacting with others at the party.
“See! Look at how well you’re doing. Imagine how much you’ll improve after more practice. At least think about it.” Lynn put the pencil back behind her ear after inspecting it. “I knew I should have grabbed a new one today.”
Gabby swallowed hard. At least Lynn loosened up a little about the party. She’d have the rest of the week to come up with an excuse not to go. But to the problem at hand…
A pebble of dread solidified in Gabby’s chest when she thought about the visit with her dad looming before her. She hated that feeling. Felt guilty it existed. Seeing family was hard when she struggled to talk. Watching her brother’s heart break weekly was worse. Their bird-dad was a category all on its own. She felt her shoulders roll forward as she wilted like a flower at the memories of past visits.
“I think you’ll be impressed with his progress,” Lynn piped up as if reading her thoughts. She led the way down the hall to the family room. Familiar staff nodded in greeting as they passed. Gabby’s anxiety grew with each step, buzzing beneath her breastbone before coiling around her heart. “Here we are.” Lynn held the door open to the therapy room.
Many experiments came to the facility with amnesia, or at least that was what Gabby had heard. But for those who kept their memories and knew who they were, yet needed to stay on-site for treatment, the family therapy room came in handy for allowing visitations.
Gabby supposed she should be grateful that both she and her father had their memories intact. She wasn’t so sure that she was though. She wondered if it would be easier to see him in his current state if she didn’t remember who he used to be. It seemed it wouldn’t hurt so badly in that case, since she’d have nothing to compare it to.
Guilt squeezed her heart. She should feel lucky that he was alive and safe. Sadness over his current condition shouldn’t be there. Shouldn’ts get us nowhere except upset , she remembered the counselor, Paige, telling her when she first arrived at WANC.
“I’ll be back with the doctor in a bit.” Lynn smiled encouragement at her before taking her leave. Her tiny feet padded down the hallway, leaving Gabby with her family. She was afraid for a minute to turn to them. Her anxiety wanted her to leave, but she refused. She couldn’t disappoint them like that.
Gabby held her breath, gaining her courage. She turned, expecting to see her bird-dad perched on the arm of one of the sofas lining the walls.
But the anxiety changed to relief when she spotted her father sitting in human form on the couch next to Phin. “Dad!”
Her father’s human face lit up in a smile. He had wrapped a robe around his small frame—though he’d always been a small man, the time in the lab had seemed to shrink him—hiding the thin material of the hospital gown beneath that covered his body. His human body. All human. No random bird parts. None that Gabby could see anyway.
“Not bird.” He shook his head. Joy blossomed inside Gabby at the words. They weren’t much, but they meant all the world to her. Just to be able to see her father’s face again, his clear blue eyes, his thin lips, the scar across his chin, his arms and legs. She never thought she’d be able to see him like this again. She feared he would be stuck as a bird forever. Joe rose from the couch and wrapped his arms around Gabby, pulling her in for a big hug. Her eyes glistened with tears of happiness. This moment felt too good to be true. Gabby thought her father would never be able to hug her again.
Kristen, their mom, sat on the opposite couch across from Joe. A smile lit up Kristen’s face. Gabby’s family was comprised of cross-species shifters. Her mother and younger brother were mice, while she and her dad were crows. Their parents had divorced just last year, but they’d kept in contact, being civil for the sake of the kids. Since Gabby and her father had come to FUCN’A, Kristen had been a regular visitor, showing her support for both her daughter and ex-husband—though the latter was for Phin’s benefit.
Kristen smiled politely at Joe, pleased by his progress and trying her best to be supportive. Gabby could tell her mom wished she wasn’t spending as much time with her ex, but at the same time, would do anything for Phin to be able to see their dad as often as possible. Gabby knew Mom wanted to leave the marriage years before she had. Spending time hanging out with her ex at a hospital was probably the last thing she wanted on her agenda. But whenever Phin had time to come, she brought him to see his sister and father. Sometimes Kristen came on her own, though, just to see Gabby. She would read to her so the pressure wasn’t on Gabby to talk. That was really nice and thoughtful. Gabby looked forward to those days.
Phin had just turned eleven, yet somehow last year he’d helped in the rescue of Gabby and their dad. He served as an inspiration to her. If Phin could be that strong emotionally for someone so small, then Gabby could be brave, too… even if most days she felt anything but.
Now Phin skipped over to their mom, and that was when Gabby noticed a bag next to her, hiding behind a throw pillow. Phin smiled from ear to ear.
“I’ve brought presents,” Phin cheered while rummaging through the crinkling paper bag. She loved having Phin around during visiting hours. He always lightened the mood and did most of the talking. Though part of Gabby felt that was so he didn’t have to watch her or Joe struggle to talk.
As Phin occupied himself with the bag, Gabby watched his long brown hair bouncing on his shoulders. “Haircut,” Gabby said, catching herself talking without realizing it.
Phin rolled his eyes—bright blue ones like their father. “You sound just like mom,” he groaned, not realizing how big a deal it was for Gabby to utter those two syllables.
“It’s not good to wear your hair in your eyes,” Mom chided, crossing her arms as she leaned back into the couch. A ghost of a smile whispered across her lips as she looked at Gabby. She’d know how impressive it was for Gabby to speak, but she also knew that Gabby would become flustered if anyone made a big deal about it.
With a puff of air, Phin blew the strands of hair out of his face. “When it grows long enough, I can tie it back like you.” Having found what he was looking for, Phin turned and held out his little hands to both Gabby and their dad. A tiny, plastic crow sat in the center of each palm. “I bought these at a school fair. I thought the size was perfect. Dad can keep it in his beak when he changes back into a crow.”
Gabby plucked the miniature version of her shifter form from her brother’s hand. A smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Phin.” His thoughtfulness warmed her heart. She’d try to think of this moment the next time she wanted to scream into her trusty pillow.
“You said a whole sentence!” Phin beamed back at her.
“Short. It.” Gabby sighed. Maybe she should’ve just accepted the compliment instead of being reproachful. She didn’t know how to react when people praised her for tiny accomplishments, like saying thank you. To her, it didn’t feel like progress, though she had to admit that it was.
“It still counts,” Phin countered, balling up his tiny fists to put on his hips. He always opposed her need to be perfect.
“Right.” Her dad nodded as he took one of the bird figures and turned it over in his hand. Gabby wondered if he felt bad that he wasn’t able to say more. Most of his progress had been physical. They hadn’t even started trying to figure out how to get him to speak normally again. Maybe he never would.
Suddenly her father’s eyes widened, as if in fear. “What’s wrong?” Phin asked.
“Change.” Before he could attempt to elaborate further in one-word sentences, her father disappeared within the robe. A black-feathered head poked out, rising up from the garment. A caw sounded from his beak.
Gabby tilted her head. That was new. Before, her father could also say words as a bird. Did this mean her dad was regressing? She turned to her mom.
“They said they made a lot of progress,” Kristen said with a shrug. “Last week he was only human for a minute. This week he made it to almost ten. That’s a lot of progress, Gabby.”
Gabby wasn’t so sure she agreed. Maybe she was just being pessimistic.
Her dad rummaged around in the fabric of the robe. After disappearing for a moment, he popped back up with the plastic crow figurine Phin gave him, bobbing his little bird head. He squawked a muffled sound, excitement perhaps, showing his gratitude for Phin’s present.
“Good idea.” Gabby fluffed up her brother’s hair with her hand. He tried to smile up at her, but only one corner of his mouth rose. She pulled him in for a hug, feeling her heart break all over again. “Kay kay. Okay.” It will be okay, she wanted to say. Gabby bit her lip, mad she couldn’t properly console her brother. Why was it so much easier to speak when she wasn’t flustered?
Kristen looked like she was about to say something when the door swung open. Dr. Brown walked in with her clipboard, Lynn in tow Both had wide grins on their faces like they’d won the lottery. Gabby didn’t know what all the smiles were about. She couldn’t imagine anything to smile about when she was trying her best to hold back tears.
“Joe?” Dr. Brown asked, glancing down at her watch and then at the crow making a nest out of the robe. “That was the longest yet!” Her brown eyes twinkled with triumph.
He glanced up at her with his amber bird eyes before bobbing his head, the toy bird still clutched in his beak.
“What’s that?” Lynn asked, looking expectantly at Gabby.
Gabby wished she could transform into her bird form and disappear. Technically, she could—she flew around the atrium three times a week, monitored by Dr. Brown— but she figured the doctor and Lynn wouldn’t be pleased she was avoiding the situation. “Gift. Ph-ph-phin. Gift. From.”
“Good. Look at how many words you just said.” Lynn clasped her hands together before taking her pencil from behind her ear and gnawing on the wood some more. The cognitive therapist scooped up her dad, while Dr. Brown grabbed his garments. “Let’s get you back to your room for some more work.” Her father bobbed his head, cawing excitedly.
Kristen nodded, putting her arms around both Gabby and Phin. “You’re both making a lot of progress,” she noted, walking back to the couch. The doctor and Lynn left the room after saying their goodbyes, taking Joe and his belongings with them.
“See,” she said to her brother who was still in her arms. She brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Okay.”
“I just thought you’d both be back to normal by now.” Phin dropped his head, walking back to Kristen. His small feet dragged on the floor with each step.
You and me both, kid . Gabby smiled tightly, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes and the back of her throat. She swallowed it down for Phin. He had to know she was okay, even if she wasn’t. Tonight, she would need an extra session of screaming into her pillow to decompress. Seeing her dad was always hard. Seeing Phin made it worse. She and Dad were always disappointing him. Her therapist tried to help her see that while the whole situation was sad, Phin was at least happy they’d been rescued, but Gabby couldn’t get over her perfectionist tendencies enough to see it that way. She only felt the weight of their failure.