Frail (Frail the Series Book 1) Read online

  FRAIL

  TAISHA DE AZA

  FRAIL

  Copyright 2014

  Taisha De Aza

  All rights reserved.

  Interior Formatting: Tugboat Design

  I dedicate this book to my parents. Thank you for helping me understand the meaning of life.

  Introduction

  I awoke in a plastic bag filled with little air and much darkness. My body was shuffled around several times before it found stillness.

  The noise was getting louder and more pronounced. I could hear people pacing all around me.

  “Grab some scissors,” a man shouted.

  “Check her vitals,” said a woman faintly to my right.

  The flash was reflecting through my eyelids and my brain felt heavy and immobile. The jagged thorns sticking into my head were unbearable—but the curiosity was too overpowering to focus on something as temporary as pain. I was struggling for each gasp of air... praying each breath would be followed by another. Every inch of my body was freezing; my teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.

  Hands began pressing down on my arms, legs and knees. Their body heat slowly transferred. Warm, fuzzy blankets were gently placed on my bare legs and I began regaining sensation.

  What is happening to me? My mind was fading in and out of consciousness. My eyes twittered and squinted. Then it appeared... a bright light, one of the most blinding white lights I had ever seen. Too bright to hide from, something more supernatural was slowly peeking through. I heard loud clapping and plastic slapping. I opened my eyes and awoke to a room full of staring, anxious, curious people.

  White suits and covered faces surrounded me. All stood with peering eyes, their hands covered with gloves. Have I done something wrong for all these people to be so amused by me? They all stood around my bedside, patiently awaiting my reaction. I continued to flicker my eyelashes, unpretentiously awaiting theirs.

  No one spoke.

  The air conditioning vent was viciously loud. I know everyone noticed. Their silence spoke. I must’ve done something terribly wrong, I must’ve.

  Chapter 1

  The Alpha

  I am no different than you—I eat, breathe, sleep like a human being, please don’t treat me any differently.

  I

  I tumbled down pillows of clouds and landed on the Earth’s surface.

  I looked to my right and quickly glanced to my left; not a single person stood in sight. All that could be seen were white -blanketed hills of snow for miles and miles.

  I stood, alone and cold, completely unequipped for this. Entirely unaware of when or how I landed here. I remained propped like a dazed scarecrow in this vast winter forest.

  I didn’t need to look down. My nipples were hard enough to let me know that I wasn’t wearing enough clothes. I protected what I could from the nobodies that potentially roamed around me. Yet, still, no one was in sight.

  I lifted my legs and began to tread in quick strides but diffidently.

  It was a harsh kind of frost in the air, the type of chill you couldn’t recover from. Each step I took leaked right into my bare feet and burned the depths of my bones. Each breath I took ripped another line on my bitter lips. But I couldn’t stop moving; it’d only be felt more and worse if I stopped moving.

  The trees were covered in small ant -sized snowflakes, which continued trickling down my forehead as I looked for some kind of a path. I squinted my eyes with every droplet. With the sun nowhere to be found, I feared my crusting nose hairs would not defrost anytime soon unless I could find help. I walked toward the meadows of the trees and prayed there would be a light visible.

  “Is anybody out there?!” I shouted, but no person, structure or animal was close enough to my peripherals.

  This was much different from the sight of men with syringes and knives I had previously awoken to. It might have been better to awaken to a room full of strangers. I was petrified of the solitude.

  “No... no! No!” I yelled, disgusted and in disbelief.

  It was getting late and I was still in the middle of nowhere, lost and slightly petrified. I looked down at my bare feet and watched as my left big toe slowly changed from red to vibrant purple. With every step I took forward, the winter won an inch of my skin.

  “I need warmth,” I repeated to myself. “I’m going to die in this cold.”

  I continued to walk past the evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. I looked down at the tip of my unrecognizable upper lip; my lips had turned blue, a blue that appeared to be the perfect recipe for hypothermia. I found some sun hiding behind the trees for comfort; as I pushed the evergreen branches back I could see a lit -up path to follow.

  I began to walk vigorously, aimlessly into the pristine iced landscape. I couldn’t tell if my breath was taken away by the cold, or by the photogenic displayed illustration in front of me. The snowflakes watched me chillingly as they clung to life on the eerie skeletal trees. I could feel my heart race faster as my thoughts were abruptly interrupted by small footsteps that appeared on my right -hand side. I was too frightened to make any sudden movements, too frightened to yell for help in this vast glaciate quarantine.

  I grabbed the nearest twig -like branch below my feet for protection, an insignificant form of protection from what could have been a ferocious beast. I decided that on the count of three, I would threateningly turn around, possibly scaring the unknown figure away. One... two... wait. Why couldn’t I simply continue walking forward? Why did I have to let my curiosity win the best of me? Perhaps this beast was perfectly fine going its way, perhaps jumping back would scare the beast unnecessarily, causing it to want to eat me as its weak prey. I was hardly able to lift my leg before I heard the unknown figure proceeding closer. I was certain I had to turn around now; it would be better to face the figure with a fight than allow myself to be surprised from behind. I jolted around, without counting to three, only to see a small deer shadowing my tracks.

  Just a deer, Julianne. It was only a deer.Far in the distance, I could see the light that I had so desperately prayed for. I dashed in the direction of the flickering and approached a tiny little cabin that looked far too familiar.

  Before I could take another leap toward the cabin, I heard a small voice.

  “Julianne, dear,” the voice called out for me.

  I quickly snapped my neck backwards, hoping to see help in sight, but no one was there. “Who goes there?” I called out into an open field of snow and trees.

  Could it have been another animal? I thought. Stupid me—animals don’t talk.

  It was my name being called, I was sure of that. The vowels in Julianne couldn’t have sounded clearer. But who would call my name in the middle of a white winter forest?

  I could hear the voice getting louder. I narrowed my eyes, attempting to see who was calling me; I wrapped my arms around my body to retain the little warmth that remained. I continued to squint as I saw a middle -aged woman heavily wrapped in coats and well -attired for the winter. I began to walk toward her; as she called my name again, I realized it was a voice that I knew very well—as protective, tender and sweet as a voice could sound. Who else would it have been besides my mother?

  “Mom?” I asked, still mystified as to what she and I were doing here. I was steps away from her, I could see every peculiar freckle on her face, and I was exceedingly pleased that it was, indeed, my mother.

  “What are you doing out without a coat, dear? It’s freezing,” my mom said.

  I finally recognized the red log cabin; it was our winter vacation home in Sarter Oaks, Michigan. My father had bought it as an investment before I was born, and we had been visiting every winter since. It was an awkward structure to c
all a vacation home. There was nothing within thirty miles; it was almost as if we were going camping because all household materials had to be brought with us. My father was forced to paint it red because when the snow blanketed rooftops and covered pathways, red was the only visible color for miles ahead.

  There were no local food markets or convenience stores for another forty -five minutes north of the highway, and rarely did we encounter visitors. Except, of course, for that one year when I was about twelve, my Aunt Bibby and Uncle Todd decided to embark on the adventure with us. Dad warned them it was strenuous, part vacation and full -time work. It took hours to cut down wood and start the fireplace, and most nights were spent frigid beneath a barely thick enough quilt. Yet, with all that hard work, I never saw it as a hassle. My sister and brother, Charlotte and Ben, quickly found alternatives to opt out of going to Sarter Oaks, but I... I marked it on my calendar and secretly counted down the days till the end of December came and I’d find myself again in Michigan. There was a hidden beauty within the hills piled with snow.

  My mother smiled at me and led me inside the cabin.

  “Mom, I don’t remember the ride here,” I said as I sat down on the toasted wooden floor, in front of the chimney. The fire was sparkling and the air smelt of fresh cinnamon and warmth.

  “My sweetheart,” she said, sitting down in her wooden rocking chair. She leaned down to me and I extended my hands on her lap for her to pat them. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. You still have a long journey ahead.” She kissed my hands lovingly as she always did, smiled and picked up her book. It was Pride and Prejudice, one of her favorites, that I myself had read once before.

  I scoffed down a plate of potatoes and chicken.

  “Where are we, Momma? I know we’re not home. I know we are not in Chicago. I’m not stupid, Ma, even though I know this is a dream; I’ve had vivid dreams every night. Last night I closed my eyes and was brought to the same place following a black crow. I was there, shivering, until I awoke in the hospital corridors.”

  “When you sleep, you can imagine whoever in your dream. You can be wherever you want to be. We can be in Chicago tomorrow night if you want to be,” said Momma slyly.

  “What about real life? Where will you go when I wake up? I asked her, still so very confused. “I’ll be somewhere with doctors and nurses. When will you be there with me, Momma? Will you be there soon?” I asked, insisting on a solid response.

  “We will be always be here—Momma and Papa will always be with you,” said my mother so kindly that my eyes filled with water. It wasn’t the answer I was looking for; it gave no answers as to why my parents were missing. They were here now, however. They were here in my head and in this dream, at least for tonight.

  I heard footsteps behind me while a strong smell of hot cocoa followed in the air.

  As hoped, I could smell the chocolate in the air and feel the warmth through my nostrils. As dreamt for, I turned around to find the embrace of my father.

  “Jules, you ready for some hot cocoa?” he said, like he had just seen me earlier.

  “Papa,” I said with a smile, popping up to wrap my arms around him. I gave my nose a taste of the warmth as I smelt the hot cocoa for a minute or two. It had a hint of mint and was covered with small, short stacks of marshmallows, perfect as always.

  “I was thinking we should take a ski trip tomorrow morning,” said my father as he gently lifted his feet off the rocking chair.

  “Papa,” I responded with utter sarcasm, “last time we went skiing, you broke your leg, remember? You swore you’d never ski again.”

  “Bright and early, so we can catch the softer side of the sun,” he responded, and smiled at me with eagerness and delight.

  I could have remained in this vicinity forever if I were allowed a choice.

  I began hearing the whispers of my name as the scenery of my parents’ faces began fading. Someone else this time was calling my name, but to my surprise it was neither my mother nor my father.

  “Oh, Jules, it’s time for you to go,” my mom said as she took my hot cocoa from my hand. Her eyes had changed to something that was all too dark and unfamiliar.

  “What, Momma? What!” I said, gripping her hand. “Am I dead, is this real life? Is this purgatory?” I shouted.

  It was all a memory with an even worse ending. They both continued to be escaping. Visually slipping away. Their faces had turned white and translucent.

  “But I... I don’t want to go,” I said, hoping my mother would continue to hold my hands as she always did. I wanted her to return to me, to hold me, or at least take me with her, if she could. Anything to remain in their presence, that’s what I was trying to do. That’s what they should have done. Isn’t it?

  I knew better than to let it pain me; it was nothing more than a lucid dream.

  “Oh, sweetheart, you must go now; don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere. We will be right here alongside you, always.”

  And that’s when I saw in my mother’s eyes that it wasn’t my mom. It is an aching moment when you realize that all you see is in your head. When all you see is what you really want to believe. It was her, it was her body. It was her, it was her voice. But it wasn’t really her right now in this very moment.

  Keep it together Julianne! Keep it together. Remember it’s a nightmare, not a dream.

  “You won’t, Momma. You won’t be there when I awake. I know you won’t.”

  The sirens invaded my head and an implosion occurred in my ears. I crouched down as the room was taken from beneath me. There went the cabin, my parents, and all the memories that had lived inside them.

  I woke up with my nails ripping five holes into my chest. I was touching for a slit that might’ve torn my heart open. Thankfully, for the most part, I was relatively still intact. It was just another nightmare. I tossed the hospital blanket aside to reassure myself that my toes were still there. Both toes were pale and unharmed.

  II

  I knew it was the start of a new day when I clenched my teeth shut to prevent the cries of my nightmares from echoing down the hallways. Every day, I awoke drenched in sweat reeking of goo and not my usual self. This was now how all my days began.

  It had been three days since I opened my eyes in what appeared to be a hospital. Three full days, seventy -two long, excruciating hours of solitude and agony. The pain felt as though I had been mutilated to breadcrumbs.

  There was a pattern to how the hospital ran. Injections, eating, and nightmares. No night was pleasant. The green tubes running in my nostrils troubled me. Why was I staying in a hospital? What happened to me? The unanswered questions were almost as disturbing as these lucid dreams I was having.

  Last night had been the first dream with my parents. The only dream I’d been longing to have. I didn’t even take the opportunity to ask where’d they’d been the past three days.

  I concluded after the first day that I was somewhere far and distant. The accents I heard weren’t anything familiar, but I still believed I was in America. The hallway was a stream of nurses in long blue apparel and occasionally the doctors would pass by.

  I never asked where my parents were or what time they were coming to pick me up. I had assumed they’d just come. They normally showed up for anything that pertained to me, with or without my permission. So I was almost certain they’d be here without me asking. After a full day here without their presence, I sensed something wasn’t quite proper about this place.

  However, after three days, I had grown uncertain about my parents’ whereabouts. I could come up with no explanation as to why they were anywhere but here. I was beginning to think they had relinquished me for adoption. What delirious thoughts I had. Have I gone crazy? My parents? My obsessive and amorous parents, they loved me too much to ever have done such a thing.

  I wasn’t mad or anything; at least that’s what I tried to say. In my heart, I was just worried because knowing them, they’d be first one’s next to my bed. Only wond
ering.

  Perhaps I had a caught an infectious disease that prohibited them from coming to see me? Aside from aches and headaches, I felt relatively fine.

  Even still, my parents would be here. They’d be here questioning the doctors three times about the possibility of trying antibiotics. They’d have a list of questions to ask the doctors, ones they would have been preparing for months. Now that we are finally in the hospital, and I’m getting the antibiotics, I know they’d be here.

  Or maybe, they are here. Perhaps they were also confined to a bed, behind the walls of another bedroom or placed on different floor. We were always together. They could have easily been struck with the same illness I had.

  III

  I remembered my days starting very differently. I remembered having the most doting set of parents who woke up earlier than necessary to prepare an elaborate breakfast feast for my siblings and me. I remembered having parents. And after three viciously long days of repetition, I needed the one pattern I had known my entire life. My parents.

  As the youngest, I was the last to receive the doting, unending love of my parents. Consequently, being the youngest, I think I received the most. Mother would come up with stacks of fruit and poached eggs and ham with her homemade biscuits. Those were only served on Wednesdays and Fridays when the market had only the freshest of fruits.

  I now opened my eyes to a room monitored by a whole bunch of people I was unfamiliar with. Even the design of my bedroom was unlike anything I had ever seen. The bed could move in more positions than one should. For a woman who hated choices, that made my back curl with anxiety.

  I had to be dying. I was under constant surveillance from the medical staff and nurses who watched my every move.

  I didn’t appear that sick. If I was sick, it wasn’t like the usual flu I had experienced before. No sniffles or coughs with the chills. No vomiting or severe fatigue.