Evanescere: Origins (2 page)

How little did I realize
that I would be dead in less than twenty-four hours and my life would no longer
be my own

ALOME AND I DECIDED WE
NEEDED to get away for the weekend. Well in reality I had made the decision to
go, a surprise for her. In the past few years we sort of hit a constant
fighting period. I was always mad and so was she. I knew I still loved her and
she me. Eleven years together and we just needed to find the love again. We
both live crazy lives with hectic schedules at times. We are both short on time
and aside from a how was your day we basically did not say anything else. We
finally sat down to talk and decided we wanted to save us.

We left Jazmine and Max
at home with my in-laws. I had called them the week before and discussed my
idea with them. Surprisingly they agreed to come up to help. The arrived the
night before, surprising Salome.  

As we hit the road in the
morning, she turned up the volume of the radio and sang along with her
favorites. From the sad mariachi ballads to pop and alternative. Salome lowered
the window and let her beautiful brown hair loose. The wind blew it in every
which direction. Her hair looked wild as it blew. She still looked so young and
vibrant. I loved her long brown hair. In the sun you could see red in her hair.
During the summer her hair got lighter, fuller. She would do her hair in a
beautiful braid which made her look younger still.

We talked and joked
around the entire drive and slowly I knew it would be a good time and we would
be okay. As we neared New Orleans I could feel her anticipation. Salome has
always been the one who always got hurt despite the best of her intentions. My
thought shifted to the summer before, when she broke her ribs at the water park
trying to show off. I remembered when Jazz was a baby and Salome was walking in
around at the old Brownwood Park when she tripped and fell. Rather than let the
baby get hurt she took the full impact of the fall. Her knees were badly cut as
were her palms and face.

I guess it is safe to say
that Salome is Murphey’s law. Anything that can happen will happen when it
comes to her. She is also fearless. She has done more in her life just to prove
a point. She can also be impulsive which has gotten her into trouble before.
Nothing major, just a broken bone here or there or gone to the mall for one
thing and come to find out she spent three hundred dollars on impulse shopping,
I knew it was the stress from arguing in which she would go out for some “retail
therapy” as she called it.

We arrived at the hotel
and she was ready to go. I looked at her and smiled. Same old Salome. She is so
full of energy that she just wants to keep going and going. I am not sure she
knows how to relax for a minute. I had to remind her we needed to check in and
take a break after all we had been stuck in a car for four hours.

I look at the car and it
is her pride and joy. Her third baby. I know it was killing her to have to do
the speed limit to New Orleans. She always tells me it’s not her I have to worry
about, it is the other crazy people on the road. How I wished it was that easy?

Salome did not understand
how beautiful and delicate she is. She did not know how I worried about the
what ifs in life. Of course I worried about her, how could I not. She was my
life, my everything. The mother of my children. We have been married for eleven
years, we made it past the seven-year itch, now I was hoping to get past the
eleven-year itch.

After we unpacked and got
ready for a night on the town, we got on the shuttle and headed for a night of
fun on Bourbon. As she talked animatedly I kept thinking how lucky I was to
have found her and amazingly she loved me. When we arrived on Bourbon Street, I
could tell that the lights, the performers, everything about New Orleans put
her mind into overdrive. I could see the gleam in her soft amber brown eyes and
I knew then she would be like a child in a candy store.

We slowly walked up and
down Bourbon Street and the Rue Royal. I could tell she wanted to experience it
all at once. I told her to take it slow and for once she listened. We walked into
the Voodoo store and the fortune teller was in there. Normally I don’t put much
stock into them but this one scared me. It was weird she even gave Salome her
money back. Then we were back out on the street and of course a few blocks down
there would be another voodoo queen out in the street. This one scared me even
more than the first. I wish I could say I was relieved when Salome said it was
all for fun. But I had to admit, deep down I was worried.

We went into a couple of bars and
had a few drinks. She was young and vivacious I saw her live. She had so much
fun on the mechanical bull. I jumped once when she flew off of the bull. My
tiny Salome flew a solid ten feet maybe. She hit the cushioned barrier with a
thud. When she didn’t get up, I thought she hurt herself. I saw her move
slowly, as she stood up she jumped up and yelled again to the  cheers of the
bystanders watching.

Maybe it was there they saw her.
Maybe it was at the voodoo shop. Who knows what happened?

Together, hand in hand we walked to
meet the shuttle. It was not there. Salome said she needed to use the bathroom.
She turned heal and began to walk off. I started to follow and she said to wait
for the shuttle just in case. I never saw her again.

I look back to that day and I can
still picture her walking to find a bathroom. The soft sway of her hips. The
flow of her long hair. I can still smell her perfume at home, long since faded.
I can still smell the lavender shampoo she used. If only I had not let her walk
away from me that night.

The shuttle arrived shortly after
Salome walked to the bathroom, minutes maybe. I asked the driver what time the
next shuttle was expected. He told me it would be about forty-five minutes to
an hour depending if the driver could get through the crowd of partygoers. I
told him we would catch the next one. What is one more hour on Bourbon Street?

I tried to call Salome but
remembered I told her to leave her phone in the room. I took off in the
direction I had seen her go and went by the first couple of establishments. I
finally got to one where a young lady said Salome requested to use the bathroom
but she had told Salome they were only for paying patrons at which point Salome
ordered a shot of GoldSchlager. She said she then gave Salome a ticket to the
ladies’ room. The hostess told me she saw Salome round the corner for the
ladies’ room, but she did not remember her return from that direction.

I walked in the direction the
hostess told me and found the women’s room empty. There was not a line for the
bathroom. I did notice that there was a neon EXIT sign at the end of the hall the
metal door was slightly open. At this point I began to panic.

I tried to call the
police but over the noise of the revelers, they could not hear me clearly. I
ran out into the street and ran until I found an officer. I explained to him that
my wife was missing. He looked at me and said there was nothing to be done she
has only been missing for a few minutes. I argued with him for several minutes.
The officer explained several times she needs to be missing for about
forty-eight hours before a report can be taken and since it was New Orleans she
could be anywhere. He thought maybe she met someone else and left with him.

The insult angered me. If
I could have killed him, I would have. I lunged for him and stopped myself
after seeing several officers approaching. I turned and started walking to all
the establishments on Bourbon Street and the Rue Royal. No sign of Salome.

She just vanished into
thin air. I became frantic. I had no one in the area. I approached another
officer I saw and he told me he could do nothing until the forty-eight hours had
passed. I was scared I wanted my wife. I wanted her now. Where could she have
gone? I thought back. Salome is very likely to have gotten lost. Maybe she took
a shuttle back to the hotel and was panicking about me? Wasn’t this our game
plan if we got separated? I went to catch the shuttle to the hotel hopeful she
would be there and all would be okay.

It seemed like an
eternity before I arrived to the hotel. When we arrived, I pushed my way out of
the shuttle and into the hotel lobby. I looked around toward the elevator.
There was a crowd waiting for it. I did not feel like waiting for the elevator.
I looked for the stairs and ran in that direction. I ran up the stairs, two at
a time, to the room.

Slowly, I opened the door
and it was just as we left it. No sign of Salome. I saw her phone on the hotel
dresser. She never made it back. I called the police and again was told she was
an adult and nothing could be done at this time. Deep down I knew something was
wrong. I made a call I never thought I would have to make. I called Olivia and
Alex to tell them I lost their daughter in New Orleans. Olivia did not seem
concerned since it was typical of Salome to get lost even in our small town of
Orange, Texas.

Understandably, Alex was
upset but at the same time he was positive Salome would be back. Maybe she did
get lost. I asked them not to tell the children just yet, but I would stay in
New Orleans as long as I needed to bring back Salome.

Sunday flew by in a blur.
Salome was nowhere to be found. I went back to Bourbon Street during the day. No
one except the hostess of La’ Fayette’s Good Times was the last to see her.
Roughly a block from where I last saw Salome.

On Monday I went to the
New Orleans Police 8
^th
District department to file the report and
here I found myself in an interrogation room. I felt as though I was being
treated as a criminal, while Salome was missing. I could not understand why
they would not go out there and find my wife.

I filed a missing
persons’ report with Detective Jean Costeaux. He appeared more concerned over
the fact that I allowed my five foot three, petite, wife go to a bathroom by
herself in New Orleans on Bourbon Street of all places. Hell for all they
thought she found someone and left with them.

Not Salome, but I could
not get anyone to listen. Now Olivia, Alex and the children found themselves in
New Orleans on Tuesday. Olivia and Axel were worried as well, but they did not
show it in front of the children. Jazz and Max both knew something was wrong.
They both asked for Salome and I could not tell them where she was or when she
would be back. Jazz was crying and distraught. I tried to comfort her as much
as I could. I just did not know how. I could not comfort myself either.  

I went back to the police
department on Friday, where I met a sympathetic detective. Detective Jack
Whitecloud seemed to be helpful and he treated me as I should: the frightened
grieving, husband and father. He asked if she had ever done anything like this
and she has not. We did have some issues lately but nothing we could not fix.
He took my information and a copy of Salome’s picture. He said he will notify
the surrounding parishes.

Later that day I made
missing flyers at the local office supply store. I never thought I would see
the day I would have to tell my children their mother was missing and I did not
know when she would come back. Olivia and Alex barely spoke a word to me since
getting here. We were all lost in our grief unable to help each other.

On Saturday, the day
after I met with Detective Whitecloud, we contacted the local TV channels and
found a reporter willing to get Salome’s picture out. Soon after the broadcast,
the police became more involved. When you think about it New Orleans could not
afford another missing tourist.

A search team was
organized and the entirety of the French Quarter was searched and nothing was
found. The hostess who had last seen Salome was taken in for questioning. She
was later released. We stayed in New Orleans for a month before we had to
return to our own homes with a heavy heart and no answers. I continue to go to
New Orleans every month to pass out more flyers. Soon it became apparent that
no one believed me all because we were trying to save our marriage.

The police thought that
either Salome had run off or I had something to do with her disappearance. Soon
her case grew cold and interest was lost. She was forgotten by the world, but
never by us. I wanted my wife back and my children wanted their mother. We were
devastated by her loss but we never gave up hope that one day she would come
back to us safe and sound.

S I WALK TO THE CLUB AT
THE CORNER I asked the hostess Lena to use the bathroom. She tells me the
bathroom is for paying customers only. I order a shot of a cinnamon flavored
schnapps, with gold flakes. I wondered if the gold flakes were real or if it
was just for effect. The flecks shimmered in the bright strobe lights.

Lena hands me the ticket
and directs me to the bathroom. As I make my way across the club, I could feel
the warmth of the sweating bodies on the dance floor. I see the vibrant colors
of the neon glow sticks. I can see the splattered luminescent paint everywhere
and on everyone. This looked like a good place to have fun. As I approached the
bathroom I noticed that the hallway there is empty and dark. A shiver went up
my spine for some unknown reason. I shrugged it off and entered.

Upon exiting the
bathroom, I notice the darkly lit hallway has become crowded. I walk into a crowd
of drunken men. I made my excuses and proceeded to get by them. One of them
grabbed my arm and spun me around so hard it hurt. I could feel my arm begin to
bruise.  

“Come, have some fun with
us?” the man taunted. “You look like you need a good time, and pretty little
lady, I will give you a mighty fine good time,” he said, dragging out each word
in that Southern drawl.

I could smell the alcohol
on him. The odor was so overpowering, I wanted to throw up from the stench.
This man was average height and build. He was a bit pudgy in the middle. His
dark pants maybe a size to small. He had dark hair and a receding hairline. He
looked a little old for this type of bar. I noticed the crooked smile, the way
he leered at me scared me. I could hear the other men laugh. It was going to be
one of those day. Having to hear the cat calls by drunken men. Now I remember
why I avoided the party scene.  

I saw another younger man,
in a white button up shirt with long sleeves. His purple geometric tie was
loose around his collar. He looked like he was a business professional. I could
smell the alcohol and cologne on him. This man terrified me. He was taller than
the other man, leaner, fitter, muscled. This man could break me in half if he
so desired to. He reminded me of someone who spent his time in a gym. Maybe a
few fights from the way his nose was positioned? It leaned more to the left
side of his face. His jaw was squared and his lips set into a frim scowl. I
vaguely noticed that he was beginning to roll up his sleeves.

I attempted a smile and
tried to continue on my way. I tried to ignore the insults as I made my way
through the crowd. I felt a hand grab my arm and pull me back. In fear I tried
to break free and run but it was useless. The men held me tight and dragged me
toward the EXIT sign. I tried to scream but I knew my voice could not be heard
over the music playing. I felt a heavy punch to my face. I was stunned silent
from the blow. My mind was confused about what had just happened. I could not
open my eye. It was now swollen shut. I felt the tears on my cheeks. I was
crying from the pain and fear.

Suddenly my survival
instincts kicked in. I was not going to go without a fight. I let out another
yell, I scratched the man that held me tight. I twisted myself into a position
and bit his arm. The man let go quickly and yelled something unintelligible. I
fell to the floor and landed on my belly. I felt another blow this time to my
ribs. I heard a crack and I could not breath. The wind was knocked out of me.
The broken rib making it impossible to breath. I felt the sharp catch of each
breath. I could not yell. I felt more hands roughly lift me up and carry me out
of the bar. I felt the cool air on my face. This helped me a bit. I was not
going to die here. I wanted to scream for Axel, but the noise of Bourbon Street
drowned out my screams.

*****

So vividly I remember
that night. It was one that has filled me with shame. Those drunken men beat me
to an inch within my life. If I allow myself I can still feel their hands on me,
touching me, grabbing me, hitting me. I can still feel them inside of me and I
remember fighting back until I could no longer fight. I could feel the cold
dampness of the Louisiana air on my skin. They carried me away. I was in and
out of consciousness. They must have taken me somewhere.

I heard a gate creak
loudly and something cold touch my back. I was beaten, broken and waiting for
death. I could taste my blood in my mouth. I felt the warmth of the blood
pooling from my head. My cheek felt broken, it hurt so bad and throbbed. My
hands and fingers hurt, they must have broken my fingers. I could feel them
swelling. I fought until there was no life left.

I heard one of the men
laugh.

“This one is a lot of
fun. She likes to fight back,” I heard one taunt.

With my remaining eye
fluttering, I counted roughly six drunken men. Maybe I was seeing double. I
could smell the
Bleu
cologne of one man. I could see his glacier blue
eyes, and neatly pressed suit, when he put his head near me and yelled
obscenities at me. If I had any fight left, I would have jumped. I was dying
slowly, painfully.

They kept hurting me
through the night. It felt like hours had passed. I was almost dead. I could no
longer move or fight back. Life so slowly ebbing away. I could feel the chill
hand of death and I welcomed the sweet release. I felt something at my throat
and I could no longer breath. I was being choked, as the men stood around me, I
could feel my life leaving me. My last thought was of my family. I tried to
focus on them, their faces and I knew any second I would be gone. I desperately
wanted someone to revive me. To bring me back to life.

Suddenly it was quiet and
I was alone. Alone somewhere. I smelled the sweet smell of death and the
pungent odor of decay. I heard the beautiful sound of the Cicadas. I felt the
cool drops of rain on my skin. The scent was so beautiful. The steady sound of
the rain landing on the ground was soothing in an odd way. It took me back to
yesterday. I closed my eye slowly. I do not remember how long I lay there. Each
time death beckoning me. It was getting harder to open my eye, harder to
breather. I just wanted to succumb to that beautiful eternal sleep.

I heard death whisper in
my ear, he asked me if I wanted to live. I thought I was dreaming. This is
death. There was no bright light. No Saint Peter at the Pearly gates. The
delicious scent that came off his breath made it hard for me to focus. I was
dying, slowly, painfully. I thought about Axel and my children. They needed me
and I needed them. This thought sealed my fate.

I slowly shook my head
and looked at him and with tears in my eyes I whispered “help me?” I did not
know if he heard my plea. I wanted to live and be there for mine. I needed help
and did not know if my voice would be heard. My throat ached and my tongue felt
dry. My entire being suffered from the pain. Death had not yet closed in on me.
Unconsciousness overcame me and I knew no more.  

At the time I had no idea
what it was I requested. I felt him gently wrap me into his arms and he gently
lifted me up. I was curled against him like a child curled against his mother.
His skin was so smooth and cool against mine. Yet something was wrong. His skin
did not feel soft. It felt as hard and smooth as marble. At this point I did
not care. I just wanted to get away from the pain of my broken body.

I laid my head to rest
against his chest. The scent emanating off of his body was deliciously sweet.
In an instant we were off, flying through the night. I could feel the cool air
as we made our way. It was almost over. Death was whisking me away, away from
the pain of my broken body. I curled up in my mind far away from the pain. I
gave in to death.

Death lay me down gently
on a soft cushion and suddenly I felt a burning in my neck. I was too weak to
fight anymore. The burning in my neck lasted seconds and suddenly I felt
something smooth and cool at my lips.

Water? I thought. I could
feel my parched throat and cracked lips. I was grateful for the cool nourishment,
but I knew no amount of water could save my life. My end was near. I could no
longer speak my throat was swollen, every breath I drew in caused me more pain.
The darkness was closing in on me. I wanted to give into that eternal slumber but
death would not allow me to join him. I wanted to run away from the pain, but
run where? There was no way for me to physical run away from my pain. I had to
accept the pain and hope for death to end my torture.

Suddenly I tasted
something warm, salty, and metallic. I did not have the strength to turn away
from the drink. This was not water that ran down my swollen parched throat. It
did nothing for me. It did not ease my dry mouth. I could not turn my head away
from the cool chalice. With great difficulty and pain I drank until my eye
fluttered and closed. I must have finally succumbed to death’s cool embrace.

I could not tell you when
it was that I awoke. It could have been minutes, hours, or days later I did not
know. What I did know was that on some universal plane all time seemed to stop
and slow simultaneously. My eyes continued to flutter and I was in and out of
consciousness. I walked the fine line between life and death. My heart was
slowing. My breathing became more difficult and labored.

In my unconscious mind, I
remembered the day Jazz was born. She was so tiny and pink. I remembered the
loud cry she gave. I remembered the love that poured out of my heart for her. I
remembered the day Max was born. It was the scariest thing I had ever seen. I
was filled with dread that day. Max was so quiet and blue. He had no heartbeat;
no sign of life. I remembered that wretched cry I gave when the doctors said
there was nothing more they could do for him. As I held him in my arms crying,
I felt a small movement and a soft whimper, that escaped his soft newborn lips.
I could no longer distinguish whether these were my memories or dreams?

Suddenly I was aware of a
burning pain. I could not tell if I was burning from the inside out or vice
versa. The burning intensified, steadily growing almost like the way I would
imagine a wildfire would spread. My whole body was on fire and I felt
paralyzed. I could not move away from the fire. I needed water to put the fire
out. I remembered hearing that if you are on fire you needed to stop, drop and
roll. Only I could do neither.  

“Had these monsters set
me on fire?” I thought to myself. Was I still in the unknown place on fire. Had
I only imagined the beautiful angel. I could no longer tell the difference
between life and death, reality and the dreamlike state I found myself in. Unaware
that I was yelling in agony. I did not know how I gathered up the strength to
release that wretched scream. Something was horribly wrong with me and suddenly
I became aware I was definitely on fire. This is hell. I yelled to be
extinguished. I could not move my arms. I could not get up. I was bound to my
pain.

This beautiful angel near
me held me in his arms. He cradled me the way a parent cradles a child to
comfort them. He was repeatedly apologizing to me for the agony I was in. I
screamed again and again. I begged him to end my life. His cool arms did
nothing to ease my burning body. I screamed until I could scream no more.
Suddenly the fire intensified, my chest exploded over and over, and still he
held me. He told me it was almost over and to focus on him.

I looked at his angelic face,
it was stained red as though he was crying tears of blood. I was confused. Why
would someone be crying blood. I pushed this thought aside Slowly I began to
relax and I withdrew into my mind again. I could still feel the burning of my
body. I felt him begin to clean me up. I heard him say he did not want me to
see myself as I was. He lifted me and changed my clothes in one fluid motion. I
felt the cool satin slide down my body.

I went rigid when I could
no longer contain the pain. From my chest it finally exploded into the rest of
my body. The fire intensifying slowly and then withdrawing, this must be the
end. I begged this sweet angel of death to grant me mercy and his gentle words
to sooth me could not sooth the burning fire within. I was dying and I wanted
to welcome it, embrace it. But it would not end. I felt my ribs snap back into
place. My throat no longer felt swollen. I could easily move my fingers. I was amazed
they were no longer broken. I opened both of my eyes. They were no longer
swollen shut. I felt a different kind of sensation now. I could feel the room
with every breath I drew. I could smell the scent of old books, The soft down
from somewhere in the room. My senses were overwhelmed. I was beyond confused.

The agony continued. I no
longer screamed. I realized that screaming did no good. Nothing eased the
burning pain. It seemed as though time stood still. I no longer counted the
seconds that passed. Ironically, in the distance I heard the silent ticking of
an old clock somewhere. I heard the gentle tapping of the rain on the roof. I
focused on that gentle tapping as the rain has always been a balm for me. As I
rode the waves of pain, I remembered the pain of child birth and found it
comparable. The only difference was that this has gone on for what seemed like an
eternity. I did not want to believe this was my hell. I longed for relief and I
knew my angel would not grant it. I wondered who I angered in a previous life
to deserve such torture.  

Quite suddenly, with my
senses being heightened, I saw that my angel sat by me, holding my hand in his.
I could hear him talking about me and the new life I had been given. He told me
the pain would not last much longer. He could feel me begin to relax and accept
the pain. When he caressed my face it was warm and soft. It felt like a gentle
caress I felt his skin so smooth, so soft, but it was no longer cool or hard.
His skin was warm against my own. I was confused by this when just before his
skin was cold as ice.