Gail Wagner
YA Author
Let Her Sleep
Chapter 1
Cordelia Jameson glared at the small white pill lying in her hand. How is it possible, that such a tiny thing can hold so many questions? Its silence mocked her. It would be so easy just to swallow it…and there would be no more nightmare. Just the thought of having it again raised goose bumps along her arms and she shivered, but as much as she dreaded reliving the dream again, she feared being forever dependent on the stupid pill still sitting in her hand. Sticking with her original decision, Cordy grabbed the orange bottle and stuffed the pill back in. She flipped the light off and threw herself into bed.
XXXXX
As their surroundings flashed by in a blur, Cordy’s mother whipped around a curve, the car fishtailing.
“Momma, I don’t like this.” Cordy spoke with the high, thin voice and the sound of it almost bothered her more than their wild ride. She leaned forward toward the front seat catching a glimpse of herself in rearview mirror. Shock coursed through her at the sight of her seven year old face. Her mother’s eye met hers briefly in the mirror, panic clouding the normal sapphire.
“It’s okay baby. Just lie down back there and go to sleep. We’ll be there soon,” her mother said, voice quavering.
Cordy pouted, fatigue washed through her small frame. Her mom had woken her up in the middle of the night for this. Sticking out her bottom lip, Cordy asked, “Where are we going anyway?”
“Cordy, you need to get down.” Her mom’s eyes grew stern.
“But I want to know where we’re going.” Cordy could hear the wheedling tone in her voice. Sighing, her mom’s shoulders sagged and she glanced at her watch, which she always wore so that the face was on the inside of her wrist rather than the out. Cordy knew she wore it that way to cover the tiny tattoo there: a moon half covering the sun.
“Someplace safe. Someplace where they’ll understand you, and be able to help.” Cordy didn’t like the sound of that and frowned. What’s wrong with me? I don’t need help. Curling herself into a small ball, she scooted to the floorboard. They drove in silence for several minutes. It felt much longer in Cordy’s mind. Unraveling her arms, she peeked over the center console. She strained to recognize anything familiar; something that might tell her where they were going. It was too dark to read any of the signs as they whipped past.
A black shape darted across the road. A scream stuck in Cordy’s throat, and she flinched. Her mother didn’t slow down at all; in fact, she slammed her foot against the accelerator, throwing Cordy back with so much force it knocked the breath out of her. More of the black shapes flitted into view. A gasp from the front seat was the only sound she could hear over the roar of the engine.
A sharp curve loomed ahead, and an enormous, twisted tree stretched over the road. As the car turned, the wheels locked, causing them to slide precariously close to the ditch. Cordy bit her tongue in an effort to keep from crying out. Blood, warm and salty, filled her mouth. Her mother yanked on the steering wheel, just managing to keep the car on the road. A horrific screeching filled the air as the tires slid across the asphalt. As they drove on, Cordy heard her mother breathe a sigh of relief in the sudden quiet. Her mother’s hand rifled through her purse, pulling out a small box and gripping it. Cordy’s heart slowed its erratic beating momentarily.
A dark figure appeared in their headlights. Cordy watched in silent horror as the car moved steadily closer. Her mother honked over and over again, but the figure remained still. Swerving into the other lane, her mother tried to pass by. They were close enough now that Cordy could tell it was a man. Though his features were indistinct, his eyes burned into her memory forever: they felt dead. Cold engulfed her as she stared into them.
She felt time slow down as she watched the man glide back into their path a second time. His eyes suddenly glowed bright red, and Cordy threw herself back onto the floorboard, wedging her body as far under the seat as she could go and pulling a blanket over her head. She crushed her fists against her ears as her mother screamed. The car spun out of control, wheels screeching again. Cordy slammed against the door as the car crashed into something.
“Momma?” Cordy tried to right herself, but it hurt too much to move. She pushed the blanket away from her face. A large bloodstain now soaked part of it. Panic began to claw its way to the front of her brain. “Momma?!” Cordy called again, her voice cracking. She strained to see into the front seat. Pain seared through her chest and head. Her mother lay across the steering wheel, arms limp and the small box still in one hand, the red bow stark against the bright white. Her face tilted towards Cordy. Blank eyes, their bright blue dimmed, stared unseeing at Cordy…eyes that looked too much like the scary man. Someone screamed, the sound jerking her and she fell.
XXXXX
Gasping, Cordy bolted upright in bed, hands scrabbling to get away from her mother’s body. They only found her comforter, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light in her room. Familiar objects greeted her: the dollhouse she’d long since outgrown but didn’t have the heart to get rid of, one of her paintings, her nightstand with its ever-present open book…and the small bottle of anti-anxiety pills. The bottle called to her. Ignoring it, she focused on the clock beside it. 3:40. Way too early to get up and way too late to take one of her pills.
Sighing, she dropped back onto her pillow. Her ribs ached and her head throbbed. Gingerly she touched her forehead, feeling the raised line of the scar where she’d had stitches ten years before. She always had vivid dreams as a kid. She could remember all too well that feeling of disorientation she’d had when she woke up. They had gotten worse after the accident, growing so life-like she would wake screaming about monsters and her mother. After a week of that, her dad had thrown her into therapy where she’d been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and put on medication.
Now, she was trying to prove she no longer needed the meds. So much for that theory. Her stomach rolled as her mother’s pale, blood stained face flashed through her mind. She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it before she was sick. After washing her face and rinsing her mouth, she laid back down.
The floor squeaked outside her door and Cordy froze. She heard her door creak open and soft footsteps approach her bed. A large, warm hand felt her forehead and gently pushed back her long hair. She felt her dad lean over and kiss the top of her head before leaving as quietly as he’d come. Tears welled up. Poor dad…he’s had it every bit as bad as I have. Sleep evaded her, and as a last ditch effort, she pulled out her mp3 player and stuffed the ear buds into her ears. The next thing she knew, gentle hands shook her awake.
“Huh?” Cordy pulled the music out of her ears and opened her eyes to see the family housekeeper, Effie standing over her. Her alarm blared at top volume. Oops, maybe sleeping with ear buds in is the best idea. Effie leaned over and flicked it off.
“Ahh, much better,” Effie said. She gave Cordy an appraising look through narrowed eyes. “Sleep okay?”
Pasting on a fake smile Cordy said, “Great.”
“Breakfast is in the dining room when you’re ready,” Effie said and headed out the door.
Cordy stretched, then swung her legs out of her bed. After a quick shower, Cordy ran down the stairs. She glanced at her dad’s chair: empty as usual. Sitting at her spot was a covered plate. Under the silver lid was an egg white, veggie omelet and turkey bacon. Cordy lamented, not for the first time, that she couldn’t just eat cold cereal or poptarts like a normal kid some mornings. Healthy diet was a strict rule in her house, though not one she followed well. She kept a stash of cream filled cupcakes, chocolate bars and Doritos hidden in her room.
The drive to school was foggy and the swirling shapes on either side of the road reminded her of the figures in her dream. She shoved the idea out of her head and turned the radio up. By the time she parked her blue Mini Cooper in the student lot, the dream was, if not forgotten, at least pushed to the farthest corner of her mind. She grabbed her book bag out of the passenger seat as someone called her.
“Cordelia!”
Frowning, Cordy glanced around to see who would dare use her full name in public. Noelle was jogging towards her. Of course it would be Noelle. Since Cordy’s first day as the new kid in second grade, Noelle Daven had been there: fighting bullies, holding her hand when she’d cried and keeping her mind off the horrible events of her past. Now here they were, finishing off their senior year together.
“Hey, how’d it go last night?” Noelle asked once she got close enough.
“Fine I guess. I didn’t sleep great but I did sleep, so that’s a good start, right?”
Noelle nodded. “I read in Holistic Health that a lot of medicines can cause withdrawals when you stop taking them, giving you nightmares and even hallucinations.”
“Oh great. Well, thanks for that cheerful bit of news.” Cordy could only wish that’s all her nightmares were. The walk to class felt longer than usual. The lockers slamming, kids laughing and talking all echoed inside her head. She’d never had a hangover but was sure this felt similar. Noelle shot her a sympathetic look after Cordy flinched from a particularly loud bang. Noelle dug out some aspirin from the enormous purse she insisted on carrying in addition to her already-full backpack. I must have had a worse night than I thought.
School dragged and by last period, Cordy was exhausted. She longed for the days when naps were part of the school day. Too bad they’re frowned upon at the high school level. Luckily, seventh period was art. It was her best and favorite subject.
Her easel stood near the window at the back of the classroom. Her still life was nearly done. Pulling out her supplies, the familiar smell of paint and paper calmed her nerves. Losing herself in the canvas in front of her, she began to shade in the details, carefully pulling her brush across the picture.
The bell caught Cordy off guard. As she cleaned up her area, she took her time to rinse out her brushes and put away the paints, thinking about the next assignment. Ms. Hall, the art teacher had announced they would be starting portraits. Portraits? That was one thing she’d never really tried. When she was little and had first started drawing she’d tried to do one of her mother, using the picture that sat on her nightstand. She’d been so proud when she’d finished and taken it to her dad, who usually praised her art and hung it up. His reaction had been muted and she’d left his office disappointed, only to hear him sobbing as soon as she shut the door. She’d never done another one.
I wonder if Noelle would be willing to be my guinea pig for this…
“Hey, you hiding from me?” Noelle burst through the art room door, a random, brightly colored scarf wrapped dramatically around her shoulders. She had drama last hour. “Can you give me a ride today?” Hopping onto a nearby table she perched on the edge. Noelle looked like a picture out of an edgy fashion magazine: short hair perfectly tousled, trendy vintage clothes and an artsy backdrop. Cordy sighed quietly, as she glanced down at her paint splattered tshirt. “If it’s a problem I can take the bus or something,” Noelle said with a smile, knowing full well Cordy would never make her take the bus.
“I don’t know why you bother to ask. I always give you a ride if you want one.” Cordy grabbed her bag. “I’m just tired.” She smoothed her shirt down, leaving more paint smears down it. “Perfect!” She shook her head, glancing back at Noelle. “I don’t know why we’re friends. Honestly, just look at me!”
Noelle grinned, looping her arm through one of Cordy’s. “Oh, come on. We both know you’re the gifted one. I had to have someone to balance out my complete lack of talent.”
Cordy rolled her eyes, smiling. It was a lie, but she appreciated the effort. Noelle was a fantastic actress.
“Can you believe the amount of French homework Mr. Vendal assigned?” Noelle asked as they headed to the school parking lot. Her French was limited to oui and bonjour and even then the pronunciation was off. Cordy wondered what had possessed Noelle to sign up for it. “I’m going to be conjugating French verbs till I’m thirty-five!”
Picking up on the not-so-subtle hint, Cordy said, “Why don’t you come over? We can do it together.” Cordy knew it would be more of a case of Noelle just copying her work…with a few well-placed errors. Mr. Vendal would get suspicious if Noelle’s work improved too much.
“If you don’t have to watch Kyle and Megan,” Cordy continued. Noelle frequently had to babysit her younger siblings. Her parents had started a landscaping business together to make ends meet after her dad had lost his job at a software company two years before.
Noelle gave her a quick squeeze before bounding to the other side of the car. “No babysitting tonight. You’re the best, you know that, right?”
“I know. Now get in.” Cordy started the engine as Noelle buckled in. Cordy had a very strict No Seatbelt, No Ride rule in her car.