Page 91 of The Witch's Heart
My body is stiff and tired when we get home, and I feign a headache when Corbin leans into me, his body hard with desire. The thought of being with him tonight feels…wrong. Like I’d be cheating—which doesn’t make sense. But then, nothing about this night has made sense.
The next morning I rush out after a quick cup of coffee, leaving Corbin asleep in our darkened bedroom.
Even though I know what I saw last night was impossible, I have to be sure.
My heart is pounding against my ribs like an agitated bird when I arrive at the long-term care facility. I don’t use the driver when Corbin’s not with me, preferring to use my own car for personal errands and school, despite his displeasure. The one good thing about his nocturnal ways is the freedom it affords me during the day. Though he insists I stay up all night with him most nights, so it’s a balancing act that often leaves me exhausted.
At least I think it does.
Since yesterday, thoughts about my life with Corbin have been feeling murkier, like they are less reality and more a dream.
Sitting in my car in the parking lot, I take a deep breath and pull out the business card from Dr. Livingstone. Maybe I will give him a call. I could use someone to talk to, someone who might help me clear my mind of whatever madness is taking hold in there.
That panic arises again, and I push it away head into the building I’m parked in front of.
I’m greeted by a chipper nurse who smiles in recognition when I walk in. “Celeste, what a surprise. You don’t usually visit until Sunday.”
“I know,” I say, “but I needed to see her.”
The nurse nods knowingly. “She’ll be so happy you’re here.”
I’m doubtful of that, but keep my reservations to myself. Nurse Lacey means well, and I’d like to think she’s right, even if it is a bit wishful. It’s why I come weekly, no matter what my schedule, in hopes that it makes a small difference in her care.
The hallways are sterile and there’s a faint smell of disinfectant that covers an underlying scent of body odor and disease. I’ve always hated hospitals, and long term care facilities are even worse. Thanks to Corbin, I can afford the best care. I can only imagine what the low-end facilities are like.
We reach her room and the nurse opens the door for me. “She’s been the same. No change in her condition.”
I nod, not surprised. No one anticipates a change in her condition, and sometimes I wonder if this limbo is its own kind of hell for her. But what are my options? Her body seems intent on staying alive.
I walk in and pause, studying her room. Soft classical music plays from speakers by her bed. Fresh flowers and plants are placed around her room to brighten the mood and help cover the hospital smell. A waterfall fountain across the room adds to the natural energy of the space, and brightly colored art hangs from the walls.
Taking tentative steps, I approach the woman in the bed, my eyes filling with tears when I see her face. Of course she’s still here, where else would she be?
I brush aside her dark hair and study her face. Once upon a time you wouldn’t be able to tell us apart. We were twins in every sense of the word. Now, though, her sunken cheeks and sallow complexion set her apart from me in the worst possible ways.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand in mine. “Oh, Estelle, I wish you were here.” My thumb brushes over the deep scars on her wrists, a reminder of why she’s in a coma.
On her eighteenth birthday, she tried to take her life. After she cut her wrists, she tried to get out of the bath. Did she change her mind? Was she trying to get help? I can only speculate. Because she didn’t make it out of the bathroom. Instead, she fell, hitting her head so hard she lapsed into a coma she might never wake from. Now, she’ll spend the remainder of her life in this bed.
“Corbin took me to a party last night.” I bring her hand to my lips, kissing it. “I could have sworn you were there. I saw you, clear as I’m seeing you now. I think I’m losing my mind. Is this what you felt like? Is that why you did what you did?”
Celeste.
I hear my name drifting to me as if on air, and I startle and turn my head.
My stomach clenches when I look to the corner of the room, and I drop my sister’s hand and stare. “Estelle?” I ask. “Is it really you?”
The apparition in the corner flickers, and the woman whose face I share smiles sadly, tears of blood flowing down her face.
“Estelle?” I whisper, terrified of what I’m seeing.
Runrunrunrunrun. You’re in danger. Run.
21
Spurred on by the warning whispered into my mind, I hurry from Estelle’s room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the nurses watching me with curious expressions, but I race past them and out the front doors. Despite the warmth of the California sunshine as it hits my face, a chill races down my spine. The image of my twin sister, ghostly and bleeding, was disturbing enough. But something about her words has set off an alarm inside me that I can’t silence.
I am in danger here.
