Control Freakz Read online

  “But what if you miss those memories?” I could feel tears start to well up in my eyes, as a cool soft breeze grazed the top of the mountain. “What if you want all those emotions back?”

  Hunter paused.

  “You can want them back. You are always allowed to try and get those feelings back, but you can’t control that. Natalie, there is only one thing you can control.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How you respond to life.” The glow in Hunter’s eyes was so bright, and I felt an energy course through me as his soft hand graced over the side of my face. “And hopefully with your response to life, you can eventually make even better memories.”

  Right after his lips uttered the words, Hunter leaned in, and I could feel our bodies pull each other dangerously close together as his lips connected with mine. The sadness and anxiety still cooped up inside of me suddenly left me as the warmth from his lips and the touch of his hands on my body brought waves of comfort over me.

  With my eyes closed, it was easy to pretend with the euphoric bliss that I was in a sunny, grass meadow without a care in the world. It was easy to pretend that I still had my old life, and that the government hadn’t taken it all away from me. It was easy to pretend, despite everything, that I was actually happy.

  But that’s all it was: pretend.

  Nothing real, just a byproduct of an overexcited imagination. But my body longed for the touch of something real, my body desperately craved the taste of true happiness against its tongue. And in those few short seconds that Hunter’s lips were locked to mine, I got to hold onto the touch and the taste of what my brain believed to be true happiness.

  I opened my eyes as Hunter’s lips pulled away from mine. I could feel a new coldness settle over my body as his warmth left me, and the adrenaline and joy of the moment exited my veins. I took a deep breath, and stared at the beauty in his eyes and his defined jaw line that was still visible in the darkness.

  And then, as I exhaled, I could feel a sharp pain in my side, but also a sharp pain in my heart as the last drop of happiness dissolved on my tongue for good.

  And then reality set in. The sadness, regret, and loneliness of my reality.

  Chapter 7

  I thought life would get good, but it didn’t. Instead, the same pain, sorrow, anger, and regret that I had felt at everything being taken away, only festered inside of me even more, and it became a monster of its own that lurked deep within my body. I could feel my mind begging for everything back, and my entire body practically experiencing withdrawal from the high that the happiness brought me. It had now been so long since I last experienced the euphoric bliss, and the calming sensation of true happiness, that my body was slowly starting to forget the warmth that it brought me.

  It’s interesting how over time the memories and the happiness slowly fade. Meanwhile, the fear, anger, and trauma stay with you as constant reminders of the darkness that hung over me like a perpetual thunderstorm cloud that could explode into a thundering mess in a moment’s notice.

  Over the past three years, I had painfully watched the visions of my mother and brother gradually dwindle from the vibrant flame of color and emotion that they once were, to an almost lifeless, inanimate spark that represented the embodiment of all my memories about them. Through the passage of time, just like the earth, I felt everything start to erode, as I could feel my old life slipping further and further away. The pain always overcame me as I helplessly watched memory after memory, and every sliver of happiness that I once had, wither away like the decaying matter of a once-beautiful tree. Sometimes I watched and wondered if I could just grab onto a single memory, even just a single emotion, and hold onto it forever. But then the tears always blanketed my eyes, and the pain and sadness overcame me as the realization hit that it was easier to let go than to hold on to something I might never get back.

  There was a soft gust of wind, as I stared out at the thousands upon thousands of buildings surrounding the skyscrapers of downtown Phoenix, that marked the center of the valley. It’s easier to forget. I picked up some of the arid dirt and let it fall down my fingers. It’s easier to just pretend like I never had it, than feel the emptiness of knowing what it could be.

  Sometimes it was easier to not feel all the pain, and the sorrow, and the regret, rather than having to face the reality head on. Sometimes it was easier to just accept my fate, rather than trying to helplessly attempt to get everything I once had back. But at the same time, it was impossible to accept defeat. At the same time, it was impossible to let everything go.

  Fuck this! I picked up a small rock and hurled it off the side of the mountain, attempting to release just a drop of the gallons upon gallons of frustration that circulated through my body like a river from hell. No matter how hard I goddam try! Tears welled up in my eyes as my entire body shook with the red-hot anger that boiled out of me.

  The familiar feeling of helplessness and defeat overcame my body. The happiness, the memories, the joy, the excitement, practically everything I have, released! My mind flashed back to the countless number of dreadful hours spent lying awake crying my eyes out as I said goodbye to every part of my old life.

  Love! The word reverberated in my mind incessantly, attempting to rattle the inner framework of my brain even more than it already has. Why can’t I just let you go?! I pounded my fist against the ground, cursing the singular emotion, the singular thing that against my will kept me bound like a prisoner to my old life.

  I sighed, letting the tears out with every exhale. I can forget everything. I can release all the emotions, cut all the ties between me and my old life. But I can’t stop loving. The vague picture in my mind of my dad’s face flashed across my eyes, and I tried to throw it away but my mind couldn’t break the connection between us. My mind, despite my desperate attempts, had never been able to manage to slice the last string that tied me to my old life, and that kept the memories and the emotions attached to my brain like a tooth that was hanging by a single thread. The love, that powerful force that tied everything in my brain together and refused to let it go, was locked around my old life, and its code was impossible to crack.

  No matter what I told myself, no matter how hard I tried to get my mind to forget, it still held onto the love. I still love my old life. I still love my family. I still love everything that was ripped away from me. And this empty feeling, along with the despair and anger, won’t leave until I get to show them that love once again.

  I closed my eyes and finally surrendered to the memories trying in anguish to flood the forefront of my mind. I could hear the soft voice of my grandmother crying, as I stared in horror at my grandpa’s lifeless body being carried on a stretcher into the back of an ambulance. I remember breaking down into tears at the sight of the buckets of blood pouring out from the bullet hole that pierced right through the center of his heart.

  That was the day my grandpa shot himself, for reasons still unknown to me. I at first thought it was because of the fact that my dad had disappeared so suddenly, but I have always suspected that it had to do with something bigger. In the moment that the doors of the ambulance closed, and the flashing lights and blaring siren left our driveway and drove down the block, I knew, even then, that my grandpa was gone for good.

  I could envision the chaos of that moment swirling around me; my brother, who was just a toddler, began to cry, and my grandmother just stared forward with a blank expression across her face in complete shock. It wasn’t long before my mom pulled up, who had recently resigned in the middle of her term as a senator for Nevada.

  As a result of her being a senator, throughout my early childhood she spent most of her days in Washington, DC, passing legislature during the turbulent times after the Great Crash and the political rise of President Ash. I remember the few times that congress had recess, she would come back out to Las Vegas with an always uptight, anxiety-ridden look across her face. It almost always appeared as if she had something to worry about, and with Dad mis
sing, she constantly ran around like a chicken with its head cut off.

  I remember her absolutely livid expression as she stormed out of the car and began screaming. That was the last day I saw my grandmother. Immediately after that, my mom picked up and moved to Phoenix, Arizona, almost like she was on the run from a vicious monster that somehow forced my grandpa to hold that pistol and fire a bullet right into his chest.

  I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks as the sadness on my grandmother’s face appeared in vibrant color. I still haven’t seen her, even after all these years. I could feel the anger and confusion bubble up inside of me. Why did she take us away from one of the only people that truly loved me?!

  The pure vexation emanated from my body like exhaust from an engine with my every exhale. I tried to fight it, but the dozens of memories that I had of living with my grandmother suddenly inundated my mind, and I could feel my heart sink as I wondered whether she was even still alive.

  Since my dad was a scientist, one of many who worked at Area 51, the highly covert government facility, neither he nor my mom were around during the week to take care of Matthew and me. Subsequently, during the week, in between my dad’s morning flight on Mondays to Area 51 and his returning flight on Friday nights, my brother and I lived with our grandparents. This caused them to be the two people who truly raised us.

  I felt a deep emotional pain dig into my brain as the sadness of my reality hit me. I haven’t talked to the woman, who raised me, in a decade. Then another depressing thought washed over me. I don’t even know if she is alive!

  The enormous amount of fury inside of me began to roar out of me as I began to frantically pick up rocks and chuck them into the ground and off the side of the mountain. All the secrets! All the lies!

  My whole life, everything has been kept from me! My entire existence, is built on a foundation of lies!

  “Fuck you!” I now stood up and hurled a rock as far as I could up into the darkness of the clouds above. I could see a ray of sun trying to peek through the layer of clouds, and I stood up with my arms open, hoping that I could somehow absorb some of that light.

  I’m tired of being in the dark. My mind wrestled with the anger, sadness, and fear locked up inside of me that were being fueled by my intense confusion. My whole life was shrouded in darkness, and little by little I could feel the blackness eating away at my body, and crippling my will to live. I need answers. I need the truth. I need the light.

  I began to cry hysterically as the madness clawed at my insides. I don’t know what happened to my family! I don’t know why my dad had to run away or if he is still alive! I don’t know why the government is after me or the thousands of other people! And I don’t know why, no matter what I do, something inside of just refuses to feel right!

  The anger coursed through me, as I cursed every single person, who refused to tell me the truth. My mother! My mind flashed back to the countless number of fruitless attempts that my brother and I had made asking her about our dad or grandma.

  Every time we would ask, she would just stare back at us with a blank expression and utter the words, “I’ll tell you one day.”

  Each time she said the words, I could feel a wave of indignation crest inside of me. She has no right to keep secrets about our family, about our loved ones! But then my mind always had a more somber thought: Maybe she is just protecting us. Maybe she doesn’t want us to know the reality because she thinks it will hurt us.

  My mind convulsed at how dark and twisted the truth would have to be, to be worse than the pain of not knowing. But my entire body shivered, as the glazed over, completely defeated look in mother’s eyes flashed in my mind. After we moved to Phoenix, she had a look of pure paranoia, an emotionless stare engraved onto her face. She had all but forgotten about our father, and our grandparents; to her, they became relics of a past life that she only glanced at pictures of, and never spoke of. Yet, somehow, despite my mom attempting to erase every trace of our father from her life, including pictures, and even furniture he liked, his ghost still loomed in the air like an eternal mist. Even in her zombie-like state, I could see the thin film of sorrow and regret that was barely visible beneath her eyes. I could tell even if she never showed it, that the loss of my dad hurt her deeply, and even though she never tried, I could tell there was a part of her that wanted him back.

  “Are you okay?” A distinctly female voice cut through the air suddenly, interrupting my thought process. My instincts told me that the hardened yet soft voice was Dulce’s, but my body still went into a panic.

  I stumbled backward with surprise, nearly falling off the side of the mountain as I turned my head around frantically.

  “Ye-yes,” I stuttered, trying to quickly sniffle to stifle my runny nose. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Dulce shot me an unconvinced look.

  “Yes, I’m perfectly fine.” I mindlessly hurled another rock off the side of the mountain. “Just tired, is all.”

  “Tired, eh?”

  “Yeah,” My voice was loud, and I sounded a lot more offended than I meant to. “Why? You don’t believe me?”

  “No.” She sat down next to me, and I could feel her long, thick, black hair graze my shoulder. “Of course, I believe you. Just, it kind of seemed odd that you were crying hysterically while throwing rocks in a hailstorm around you. Doesn’t really seem like something someone who is ‘fine’ would do.”

  “Okay.” I hit my fist against my thigh and I could feel some of the anger release from my blood stream in a long exhale. “Maybe I’m not fine.”

  “Natalie.” I could hear the concern in her voice as she looked at me with her dark-brown eyes that were almost shaded by her long eyelashes. “It’s okay to talk if something is wrong.” I could feel her body nudge against mine. “Come on, you can trust me with anything. There’s no reason to hold anything back.”

  “No.” My tone was indifferent. “No,” I repeated, sighing to release some of the tension in my body. “I’m fine. Really, I am fine. It’s . . . it’s just life, sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I feel you.” Dulce was finally starting to get the message to back off.

  It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to her, I just didn’t want to talk to anybody. No one should have to deal with this shit; all that stuff was my problem, not theirs.

  There was a moment of silence, and I found myself glancing into the eyes of a once-little girl, who over the course of just a few years, had morphed into a woman before my eyes.

  Just three years ago I’d met Dulce; she had only come up to my shoulder, and had a glowing face, big, excited eyes, and an always super-cute, high-pitched voice that was dripping with innocence. Wow. I could feel a bit of sadness overcome me as I stared at Dulce and into her now hardened eyes, devoid of any innocence or happiness, and her still cute face that had lost its childish glow. So much has changed.

  I still remembered the days when she would ask when we would all go back home, or when she would get to see her mommy and daddy again. I still remembered the days, when she would just begin to laugh, still enjoying, just simply living, life. I could feel tears begin to poke at the corners of my eyes. Those were the days before the reality sunk in her brain, her last days where she could live carefree, without knowing the true evils of this world.

  Three years. A dark, gray cloud passed over head, and I felt another surge of memories swell to the forefront of my mind. Sirens instantly blared in my ears, and a thick blanket of blood coated my eyes.

  The government. My entire spine shivered in synchronization like waves slowly emanating from a ripple of water. They took him. I looked at Dulce, and could instantly feel a throbbing pain in my heart. They took the one last thing she had left. And they killed it, right in front of her, in front of everybody.

  My mind flashed back to the horrid screams, as Carlos was shot by one of the government agents during a routine run for more supplies. His body didn’t even try to fight it. Right as the bullet pierced through
his skin, you could see his entire body go numb, as he lifelessly collapsed to ground. I knew death, at this point, all too well, and I had also known that death had won.

  I could at first see the shock on Dulce’s face, as her body shook erratically, immediately going into denial. “Carlos, come back!” she screamed from the back of the pickup truck.

  I had to grab onto her body to stop it from jumping out of the back in pursuit of her brother. “He’s gone,” I remember saying with tears in my eyes. “Dulce, he’s not coming back.”

  After that day, there was seemingly a seismic shift in the way that Dulce viewed life. I could see the sparkle in her eyes slowly dull as reality set in, and the glow in her face begin to darken as the blackness began to envelope her.

  It’s funny how as time has progressed I see less of myself in my own reflection, and more of myself in the very eyes of Dulce herself. She has the same emptiness, the same shocked look, and the same anger that bubbles out of her in mad bursts, that I did. She has the same hunger, and the same desperation that I experienced to regain all the happiness that we both lost. But we also both share the same despair and regret, as we realize that the ever-fleeting happiness is just out of our reach.

  But there’s one big fundamental difference between us.

  It’s the one thing that makes me look in the mirror and begin to question my own reflection. It’s the one thing that keeps me awake at night, desperately clawing at my insides, and mercilessly screaming at me to move. It’s the one thing that keeps me inextricably bound the merciless ways of the darkness, as I slowly become one with the thing that has seemingly absorbed me.

  Hate. That distasteful word that causes the tongue to curl up, and the insides of a person to slowly shrivel. Hate. The singular emotion that rages inside of me like a river of hot magma, wreaking havoc on my insides with its dreadful liquid. Hate. The one thing that had slowly eroded my humanity, as the insanity and chaos inside of me conformed to its will.