Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
SEEING THE PROOF FOR MYSELF
The pain is excruciating. It steals my breath and brings golden light streaking through the darkness, sending me spiraling away from consciousness.
A sound reaches through the murky depths.
“Maya!”
It’s Mr. Kenney. I’d know his voice anywhere.
He calls my name again, and it stops me from drifting further way. Despite being pitch-black, the space I’m in now is surprisingly calm.
A part of me knows it would be easy to stay where I am, yet a bigger part knows I need to wake up. I swim through the void back to him. He keeps encouraging me, calling my name softly. I open my eyes, but weird shards of gold, like spiderwebs, blur my vision, and my face twists in pain.
It takes a few rounds of slow breathing until I see him properly. He looks as worried as he sounds.
Automatically, I reach for the source of what is hurting like hell. “Shit,” I whisper as my fingers dust over my face. It’s enough to make me yelp, and the back of my head is the same. A decent bump is forming. It’s wet and gooey.
“Oh, no…” The room tilts and my mouth goes dry.
“Don’t look, sweetheart.” Mr. Kenney artfully drops a cloth over my fingers, then presses something cool to the back of my head.
The tang of iron circles around me like a noose, tightening and making it hard to draw air in. I can’t help fixating on it, like my mind knows what it is. My thoughts lock onto the iron and I gag.
A shuffle of movement behind me scares the crap out of me and temporarily distracts me from the fact I’m leaking red fluid.
“She’s not great with… you know,” Mr. Kenney says to Williem, our community doctor, his voice falling away. And even though I don’t hear him say the word, I still hear it, which is stupid. But just try telling my brain he didn’t scream blood at the top of his lungs.
The word is a trigger. So is the smell, seeing it and feeling it too.
Everything is a damn trigger when it comes to blood.
But I’ve been through this screaming fear and panic enough times to know what is going on, and no matter how hard I try, my brain wins the tug-of-war between logic and terror every time.
I dip my head down between my knees in an attempt not to faint, which is good for my continuing consciousness but bad for face and head injuries. The pressure as I dip down is astronomical and makes me reach out again to stop the throbbing.
“Maya, it’s Williem. How about I give you a dose of something?”
Mr. Kenney answers for me. “No, she won’t like that. But if one of the ladies stops gawking and does something to help, like get me a cup of ice, she will be better in no time.”
The way Mr. Kenney talks tells me we have an audience, but his grandfatherly support and the way he gently scolds our crowd is what I need. I sit up and watch him as he exaggerates slowly breathing and waves his hand in time, like he’s a conductor of calmness.
I stay like that on the floor with him crouching in front of me until a cup of ice appears in my hands. Then everyone stays quiet while I stop breathing like a woman in labor and start eating the ice. It’s calming, and once I’m finished, I look up. “I’m okay, I think.”
The worst has passed, but terror can rise and grip me hard again if I catch a glimpse of crimson or the faintest coppery scent passes my senses.
“Do you think we can try walking to my office?” Williem suggests quietly.
I twist my head to where he’s squatting, right next to Mr. Kenney, and while the movement is small, it radiates pain. I squint my good eye and swallow the groan until I can answer him. “Sure.”
They both help me stand, and I’m surprised to find we’re in the hallway and not in the basement.
I must pull a confused face because Mr. Kenney gives me a rundown of what happened as we shuffle slowly toward Williem’s clinic. There are lots of stars and spots in my vision. I know I’m not dying, but shit, everything hurts.
It’s a bit of a struggle to get on the examination table, but as soon as I’m still, the world stops spinning.
“Okay, let’s get you fixed up.” Williem takes over.
Mr. Kenney talks to the volunteers from the kitchen before shutting the door, then returns to stand next to me.
“Can you look up?” Williem stands in front of me, his eyes lasered onto the top of my forehead, while his fingers prod and press the side of my face and along my cheekbone.
“You’re going to have a black eye, and this cut will need some glue.”
I like how he talks while he assesses. He’s not condescending or alarming, just telling me how it is.
“I’m worried about the injury to the back of your head, Maya. I think we might have to go to the hospital to make sure you’re not bleeding internally.”
A rush of terror makes the world start to tilt again.
“Please, no hospitals. Please, Williem, I’ll do whatever else you say, but not that. I can’t go there.” I push to my feet, getting ready to argue my case further if need be.
“Let me have a look at it again.”
Mr. Kenney comes back into view, holding another cup of ice.
“No one wants to take you there unless we have no choice. But you blacked out on us a couple of times, kiddo. You were talking one minute and then you dropped like a sack of potatoes. If it was one time, we could probably say it was the shock, but the second time was more worrying.”
“I don’t remember that.”
Williem’s fingers press down over my neck. “I checked for neck and back injuries before, but I need you to tell me if it hurts anywhere when I press down.”
It doesn’t, except when he brushes his fingers over the spot on my head.
“I need to take the dressing away. Will you be okay if I do?”
I take an exaggerated exhale, then inhale long and deep to prepare myself. I don’t nod because that hurts too much, but give him a thumbs-up.
Probably because I’m so wound up, and a bit hypersensitive, I feel the moment something warm and sticky trails down my neck.
“Can you talk me through why you want me to go to hospital while you’re looking and doing whatever you need to? It might be good to keep my head busy with your worries.”
“Of course. Let me just get what I need. Mr. Kenney, can you put the cloth back on while I do that?”
They trade places, and I start to zone out.
A weird sensation makes me look down at my hands, and I twist them around to see the cause.
The moment they’re cupped together, the tingling intensifies and is joined by a soft humming.
I stay still and quiet, as a gentle peacefulness blows over me, I stare transfixed into my open hands as my view of them fades away and is replaced by an image.
It’s like I’m holding a screen. The people I’m watching move around, continuing with their day, and I can hear their voices.
It’s Williem, next to a woman with honey-gold hair.
They’re standing around a small cane crib that sits in the corner of a bedroom.
On the walls, a series of candid wedding photos are hung, and Williem’s bag and stethoscope are on the chair in the corner, but all that is incidental.
The main attraction is them and the obvious joy they share toward their beautiful baby girl.
Then I blink and my hands are back to being hands, and both Williem and Mr. Kenney are calling my name.
“What? Sorry, I was dealing with the smell again. Did I blank out?”
“You did. And that’s exactly why I think you need to go to the hospital, Maya. You might have a bad concussion, and I think we need to do a scan to make sure you don’t have internal injuries.”
“If I faint again or vague out on you, maybe I’ll go. But not yet.”
I get a scowl, followed by a very reluctant nod of agreement from Williem. “Okay, but Mr. Kenney, I want you sitting right in front of her. If her eyes dilate or she looks like she’s off with the fairies again, you let me know, and we all agree I can call an ambulance. Right?”
“Good with me,” I agree quickly, as Mr. Kenney gets a rolling seat from the opposite side of the room, brings it back and places it in front of me before he sits down.
There’s no warmup, Williem just starts telling me what he’s doing.
Mr. Kenney makes me laugh when his eyes bug out as he catches sight of the needle for the local anesthetic to numb the injury.
Then he laughs at me when I make a vomiting face while Williem explains how he’s going to close the wound.
He grabs my hand and squeezes it as I cry out when Williem administers the injection, and then he jumps out of his seat to move the trash can out of my line of sight as Williem starts dabbing and cleaning.
“Let me know if you can feel anything.” Williem presses around the back of my head, and I only know because he tells me. I can’t feel a thing.
“Nope, all good.”
“Okay, I’ll get started.”
Except in the process of laying out a sterile sheet and implements next to me, the trash can falls over.
They both burst into action to hide the contents from me, but I saw what I saw.
Tears fall at the sight of all the bloody rags, but I refuse—like fight to the death—to give in to the emotional whirlpool that is threatening to drag me down.
I blink as hard and as fast as possible, fighting not to faint.
I’m motivated by the insight that if I did, I’d be in the back of an ambulance before I could say another word.
“My bad. I’m sorry, Maya. I’ve got some good news, though.
You know the woman I’ve been dating…” He talks while he works.
“Well, I’ve decided I’ve been procrastinating enough, and I’m going to ask her to marry me.
Honestly, as soon as I saw her standing in the sun at the bus stop, I knew I was going to marry her.
I call her honey because her hair reminds me of honey and makes me happy. Is that weird?”
My eyes bug out for a whole other reason. The woman I saw in my little daydream… I know it’s her without asking. I saw their happily ever after. I saw…
No, that’s not possible.
A little prick of pain snaps me from my thoughts, and I lurch away.
“Oh, sorry, Maya.”
I hold my hand up, signaling for him to keep going. I just want this part over.
Mr. Kenney watches me closely, and I try to look as normal as possible so I don’t add to his worries.
“You’re moving today, aren’t you?” Williem asks as he restarts.
My stomach dips. I’d totally forgotten. “Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to get much done. Do you have a headache?”
“Yeah.”
We fall quiet as he finishes up, and I must drift off a bit because I jump when he breaks the silence. “All done.”
My eyes jump to Mr. Kenney, and he’s eyeing me suspiciously.
“Now, shut your eyes, Maya, because I have a stick that’s got your DNA on it, and you won’t like looking at it. I need to do a screening test for the government.”
“Did they change the laws again?”
“Of course they did.” By the distaste in Williem’s voice, it’s not hard to guess his thoughts on the matter. “It’s disgraceful what they are doing. Honestly, it’s a complete invasion of privacy. And it will get even worse next month.” He leans down and pulls a box out of the cupboard.
“Look at this! From next month, I won’t be able to access patient files or prescribe any medication until I submit a drop of their you know what via the DNA reader first. This new requirement is going to stop us from being able to help those who need us the most.”
He turns around and does his testing, his frustration making his shoulders tighten. Once he’s done, he turns to me, and I see the machine behind him moving, the screen of his computer switching on to show the progress.
Mr. Kenney gets up and starts helping, while I stay put, suddenly tired. My head is pounding again. If we lived in a world where there wasn’t division, and I didn’t have horrible memories of the last time I was at a hospital, I’d agree to get checked, because something doesn’t feel right.
Obviously, I don’t say anything. I sit on the bed and take long, slow breaths as I try to make the room stop spinning and the pain disappear.
A sudden shrill of an alarm cuts in, making us all jump a mile. I hear Williem’s gasp, and at the same time I look at the screen. It’s flashing red and the giant white letters racing across the screen aren’t hard to follow.
Before I can even absorb the gravity, both Mr. Kenney and Williem burst into action. Williem races to the electrical cord, yanking it out of the wall at the same time Mr. Kenney empties a bottle of water onto the computer tower.
There’s a massive bang and a flash of white before we’re plunged into darkness, followed by a foreboding silence. One that lasts for only about three seconds.
“Emergency protocol.” Mr. Kenney shouts, his voice having lost its warmth. It’s now succinct and emotionless.
“Thank god we weren’t online. Still, we need to move like our asses are on fire.” Williem too, has lost his doctor persona and is nearly a different person.
“What is going on?” I ask unnecessarily.
“I don’t know, Maya. But we will help you,” Mr. Kenney says.
Williem talks at the same time. “Did you read the screen?”
“Yes, but it makes no sense. I had a test last week and have the paper confirming I’m a hundred percent human.” It sounds like I’m grasping at straws, maybe because I am.
Williem shakes his head. “Well, today you are not one hundred percent human. We need to go.”
“The test could be wrong.” My response is soft as my confidence drains away.
“No. It’s never wrong. It can’t fail. It’s too simple to fail.
It goes down to enzymes in the blood. If you’re an ‘other,’ you have a different composition than human DNA.
You are no longer a ‘pure’ human, Maya.” Mr. Kenney explains while Williem uses his flashlight and pulls a bag out of a cupboard.
Behind us, the door opens, revealing one of the guys from the kitchen. My head is a blur; I can’t even remember his name, but right this second, it is the last thing to worry about.
I’m an other?