I disregarded the nauseating odor of Clorox by remembering my task. I ambled numbly following the attendant, observing minuscule gaps in the walls and discolored splotches in the ceiling. Countless years have shepherded me to this expressionless building. Nevertheless I were no stranger. The weak sense of belonging has captured me since my mothers admission. In fact, the town of my youth had always expected I would be the next Lynn to be registered here. My father grew frail because of the mockery. His death was one of the reasons of my return. However the vision has becoming stronger. Every nightfall it comes to me, crowding my dreams. My life has illuminated every reason not to alert anyone with this vision. So I have come back to the bleak halls of my childhood, where my mother, my well known mother, has lived for twelve years. I wish I could take them back, for all the derision I have obtained in my short life has been her blame, her defect.
The beat of the attendant’s boots striking the tiled floor caused my swagger to become more pronounced. Many thoughts quickly flickered through my mind. “Has her appearance changed? Will she recognize me?” The last time I had visited her, with my father, I was a child of thirteen or so, at the time she was thirty-two. We’d visit her every Sunday when she was first registered here. As the years passed, the frequency of our visits diminished.
The woman stopped in front of a solid wood door; the lettering on it was beginning to peal away. Seventy-four it read. The number was a subconscious reminder of all the past visits, especially the last one...
“Here we are Miss Lynn,” smiling in my presence. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. All she does is talk about how much she misses you.” Her southern voice reminded me of my father’s.
“That’s just the delirium,” I said while trying to peak in the window of the room. The attendant’s smile faded.
“Sweetie, she loves you, don’t forget that. She regrets what she did during your last visit. Please just go talk to her.” With those last words she lightly pushes me into the door way.
The room was as small and plain just like I remembered. On the bed, a woman lay in the fetal position, like an infant waiting to be borne. The silence scared me, I needed to say something, but what? We haven’t talked in seven years, what does she expect me to say? But before I could speak a word, or even think of something to say, the woman sprang up on the bed creaking every old spring on the way. Her eyes, as green as ever stared into my soul, but her smile made them seem somewhat playful. So this is what I had been missing.
“I have been waiting for you my girl.” As creepy as the sentence sounded I remained calm. This was simply usual behavior on her part. I felt awkward to be standing, so I slid to the closest plastic chair. Were they always plastic?
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited in a while... I mean well...” I smirked. It really wasn’t my fault, all these years I’ve been afraid of her, how can a such a sweet woman turn into the monster that frightened me those many years ago?
“I’ve had company while you were gone. They say hello as well.” Her smile died and was replaced by a serious look. It freaked me out. She didn't even know I was coming!
“Mom, I have to talk to you, about something odd.” I began to shake in my heels. Why am I telling her!
“Darling? I’m all ears.” What would she do when I unfolded this secret?
“I have been...having these weird dreams, about this man. He takes young girls and tortures them. Their screams haunt me every day, and his face, his horrid face, has left an impression in my head, I can’t forget it. And the story continues every night....” Her expression changed as she sat up and looked me in the eyes. A smile played on her lips.
“Why do you think I’m in here?” What? Is it true that through all these years I never knew why she was in here? It seemed confidential. Dad never spoke of it and she seemed frightened by it.
“Why are you here?” I asked, regretting asking as soon as the words came out. Was I allowed to know?
“Child, those ‘dreams’ are not dreams, but visions. You have the same ability that sent me here. It’s genetic and inescapable. You’re special, God has grant you with a gift, be thankful.” Why was she so happy about such a frightening thing? I just wanted her to shut up! But I needed to know more...
“So... This man, this murderer, is somewhere out there? In the real world?” The thought made my stomach quiver. If this is true, what was I supposed to do?
“Yes, I am truly not crazy, but I do have a gift. Now you do, too. my daughter, we are equal.” said my mother, my completely sane mother. I have never felt closer to her in all my years. If only Dad were here...we would have been whole.
Two years later, my mother and I ate in the same cafeteria, and roomed on the same hallway. If I thought I was tired of this place back then, was I ever wrong.
