Chapter 13
AMELIE
PLAYLIST: MONSTER – RUELLE
Ihave no idea why I am even here, risking everything by playing my little game.
Well, which is actually a lie. I know exactly why I am here.
El.
She made me do it. The dress is actually hers.
Is it wrong on all levels? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But it brings me joy I haven’t felt in a long time. Almost as if I was born to do just that: Pretend to be someone I am not.
I am good at it. I am fooling everyone here. The mother, the father, and their fellow surgeons are advanced medical professionals.
Have I done my research? Of course. Otherwise, I couldn’t be as persuasive. I am good at fooling them because I analyzed how they tick, what connections they have, and how they operate.
The only person I don’t fool is Jane. The way she looks at me—she knows. She knows there is more.
And instead of finding me, I am pretending to be someone I am not, risking being uncovered.
Suddenly, I feel quite unwell.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I say, and step away from the group to find a restroom.
My surroundings are distorted, blurry, distant—as if viewed through a fisheye lens.
I reach the restroom, which is luckily empty. I attempt to lock the door behind me, but before I can, it is pushed open.
Jane.
“What is going on?” she asks, her eyes x-raying me. She closes the door behind her and leans against it.
I feel trapped.
Trapped in something I shouldn’t have done.
I open my mouth and close it again.
Jane’s expression is hardened, stern, intense.
“Who are you?” she asks in a dangerous voice, asking me the one question I have no answer to.
My hands shake.
Calm down. Deep breaths.
But my body does not calm down.
Who am I?
Who am I?
Who am I?
“Who. Are. You?” she asks loudly, forcing me into a corner.
My eyes burn as tears fight their way down my cheeks.
“I—I don’t know who I am,” I whisper as I wipe away the tears, only for new ones to roll down my cheeks. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.”
I look away. Putting the most painful wound I have had into words makes me feel less. I want to hide. Run away.
“Then why are you here?” Jane asks and takes three steps towards me, backing me further into the corner of the restroom. Her voice is harsh. She doesn’t get it. She knows who she is. She has always known. She doesn’t get the mess I am.
“Because—“ I break off.
Why am I even here?
Because El told me to.
Because El said I have to do it.
Because El thinks I have feelings I need to explore.
But how do I tell Jane that? The professor? The organized, unmessy, and perfect Jane McKenzie? I don’t. It is wrong, and I shouldn’t be here.
“I’ll just go,” I say without looking at her, and get to the door, but before my hand touches the handle, she grasps me.
“You don’t get to run away this time,” she says.
This time.
Her touch electrifies me.
My eyes fly to her hand on my arm. I know how much she hates touch. But she touched me.
I can’t think properly anymore.
My gaze follows up to her eyes. Those beautiful eyes. The slightly parted lips.
“Don’t,” I say.
“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”
Her eyes are so intense, they look straight into my soul. It is the first time I see her real self. The one she hides behind the mask of perfectionism and order.
An image flashes through my mind. An image of me, grasping her, pushing her backward into the wall, kissing her, grasping her—
Goosebumps spread over my arms.
And I just act.
I react so fast that there is nothing she can do. I remove my arm from her grip with a swirl and grasp hers, pull her to me, and then backward into the wall next to me with her arm above her head.
I press my body into her as my other hand cages her jaw, and my lips hover over hers.
“Because I want to do this,” I say, and my lips land on hers.
I push my left leg between her legs and roll my hips up as I kiss her—with tongue.
Her chest heaves up and down as she just lets me. The way she feels underneath my finger, the way she gets under my skin—I don’t ever want to stop.
I want to consume her, become one with her, taste her, feel all of her.
I let go of her arm and cup her face with both hands, as our kiss becomes wild. I need more—more. So much more.
But I can’t. I shouldn’t.
I stop the kiss and rest my forehead against hers as I stare into her eyes.
“You should stay away from me,” I whisper. “I’m a mess who doesn’t know who she is, and I will hurt you. I don’t want to, but I will.”
With that, I let go of her. I have to leave. But she doesn’t let me and leans against the door, so I can’t open it.
“What happened to you?” she asks.
I scoff in desparation.
All those questions I have no answer to.
“I can’t,” I say, looking away.
“Why not? You cannot run away your entire life. You say you don’t know who you are. Well, you will never know when you keep lying to yourself. And others.”
I bark out a laugh and shake my head in disbelief.
“Don’t you think I know that?” I round on her. “Believe me, I do. But there are things that you don’t know, things—“
I break off. I have already said too much. Anger stirs in me.
Anger about being seen. Anger about El convincing me to come here. Anger about my entire life. My father and the pieces he left me in. The lost moments. The pressure. Everything.
“What is your real name?” she asks me. “Because you are not Amelie.”
My eyes snap into hers, as my breathing flattens and my heart beats against my chest.
“What happened to you?” she asks again. “Was it your father? Yes, it was. I can see it in your eyes. You are hiding your past, your guilt. There is so much guilt in you. Guilt and blame.”
Guilt and blame.
She sees me.
She sees everything.
I am sucked back into my childhood. Back to when my family was normal and untainted, and my brother was still alive.
I can’t go back there.
I can’t.
I can’t go back to the pain of what I did—
I buried it, and it can’t resurface.
I stumble back.
Away from her.
But she follows me.
“You can’t outrun your past.”
Everything is so far away.
“It will follow you wherever you go. No matter how many personalities you create, your past stays with you until you confront it and make peace with it.”
My head twitches as memories flash through my mind.
Memories, I vanished deep within me.
Pain surges through my head, and I press my palms against my temples.
I can’t focus anymore.
Air is getting scarce.
I need to get away, but I can’t run.
I sink to my knees.
There is so much pain I want to scream.
And then there is her face in front of me.
She grasps my face.
“Slow and steady breaths,” she says. “Follow my lead.”
And she breathes in deep through the nose, out through the mouth.
“In,” she says with the next inhale. “And out.”
I do as she says.
“In. And out.”
I close my eyes, focusing on her words. The sound of her voice and breaths guiding me. My skin tingles, but her touch calms me.
“In. And out.”
“In. And out.”
“In. And out.”
Finally, my breathing calms. A shudder runs through my entire body.
I have to cry. I haven’t cried much over the years, and right now, all those years are catching up with me.
I cry for all the years I have lost.
For all the times I had to put myself behind other people’s orders.
For all I had to become what I was not.
“Say it out loud,” she says.
I look at her with my blurry vision and burning eyes.
“Say it,” she says again, still grasping my face.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I’d have to acknowledge that he still has power over me,” I say in a cold and detached voice.
“Because he has. He has as long as you decide he hasn’t.”
The tears stop and dry on my cheeks as I distance myself from my memories.
“Everything alright in there?” asks someone from outside the door.
“Yes, sorry, I just hit my head slightly. We’ll be right back,” Jane calls behind her and lets go of me.
I stare at her.
“You lied,” I say.
“Learned from the best, didn’t I?”
A weak smile hushes over my face, and she brushes back a strand of my hair.
“You don’t have to protect me,” she says, and it is the first time I truly realize how much she knows about me already, how good she is in her profession. “Come on, let’s get you back to presentable and join them before anyone storms in here.”
We get up, and I feel jittery for a second.
I splash some water on my face and get makeup, eyeliner, and mascara from my purse. Putting on the makeup is like a mask shielding me.
“All done?” she asks when I look at myself in the mirror.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Let’s go then,” she says, unlocks the door, and opens it.
I take one deep breath with closed eyes to focus back on my role, and when I open them again, I am Louise.
“I am Amelie, but I was never allowed to be her,” I say when I pass her, putting on a smile as if nothing happened. “And you don’t have to do everything by yourself.”
She suppresses a laugh and shoots a “Don’t be ridiculous” at me, leaving me quite surprised by the subtle humor.
“Ah, there you are,” says her mother the moment we return. “Next time, please be more subtle, will you? I mean, I am all in for Jane finally doing something remotely normal, but—“
“Mother!” says Jane, outraged.
“It is true, I thought you’d never—“
“Mrs McKenzie,” I say in my French accent, putting an arm around her back. “Let me assure you, we will be more discreet next time, but I believe there is a celebration to start.” I point towards the end of the room where Jane’s father is walking on a small stage, and Jane’s mother hurries off.
“How do you deal with her so easily?” asks Jane.
I laugh. “I’m not emotionally attached to her,” I say and hesitate for one second, before I add, “I also grew up around all the narcissists there are, it’s like coming home.”
She smiles weakly, knowing that I have given her the courtesy of one small detail of my past.