Pulled (10 page)

That's when the screaming always begins.

“
Naya! Wake up!” I'm shaken back to life by Seth. Gasping for breath, I shove that final image of my parents back into the vault, where it belongs.

“
What the hell was that?”

“
Bad dream,” I squeak.

“
I'd say. Damn, you got a set a lungs on you!” He gives me a tight squeeze before he gets off the bed.
“I’m gonna pick up the pizza.”

He plants a quick kiss on my cheek and then disappears.

I’m relieved to have a moment to myself to regroup. Time to pull myself back together; time to wrap my arms around my chest, swaying from side to side in the feeble attempt to rock myself sane. But it doesn't work. It never does. All I can see is my mother's head lodged into the windshield, my father's broken body hunched over the steering wheel. My stomach lurches. I grab my shower stuff and run to the bathroom, making it there just in time.

Showering off the smell of vomit, I hurry back surprised to find Seth isn't back yet. I slide into my pjs and towel off my hair, rubbing my lavender lotion into my arms, going through the motions of normalcy when the smell of pizza wafts inside. Its aroma brings me back to the present and allows me just enough time to put on my well-rehearsed 'happy face.'

“
Yum,” I whisper as Seth shuts my door.

“
I agree. You look good enough to eat,” he says coyly, tossing the pizza down on my desk before sauntering over to me. He scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the bed.

“
Sorry I took so long. I forgot my wallet back at the dorms, and when I got there, John had a few guys over, so I stayed for a few minutes to say hi,” he murmurs, planting a deep kiss on me.
And a few drinks,
I notice as the taste of stale beer registers on my lips. His hands start moving down my body, skillfully sneaking them under my shirt.

“
The pizza will get cold,” I say, pushing away from him.

Seth groans, but slides his hand out of my shirt, crawls off the bed and grabs the pizza box. We eat in silence watching some stupid reality show.

An hour later, Seth leaves, saying he has homework to do, but I can’t help but think that he just wants another beer.

Chapter 6

Etash

By the time I get home from the grocery store, make dinner and call my folks, it’s late but not late enough for sleep to take me hostage. So I haul out my books and dig into my homework, starting with my Directing syllabus first: three chapters to read and then a 1500 word essay on the challenges new directors face and how to overcome them. Piece of cake.

It was the Public Speaking course that was going to do me in. There is absolutely no reason for a director to have to take public speaking classes. Sure, you have to talk to your casts, but it's hardly the same thing as standing up in front of a group of your peers mumbling your way through Robert Frost.

After about three hours of non-stop reading and typing, my eyes are killing me. Hopefully, I can now pass out from exhaustion and fall straight into oblivion.

But I don't. Instead, I get sucked into nightmares. The boyfriend, Mr. Macho Man, is in the dream with Naya beside him. He's got his thick, fat hands wrapped around her, practically smothering her with his lips. As his hands run down her arms, then under her shirt, a rage builds inside my helpless sleeping body.

Although I want to tear my eyes away from this torment, I am transfixed by her; her eyes are closed--peaceful. For a moment her face gets obscured as Seth tears off her shirt. Her body flops clumsily back to the bed as he pulls his shirt off and undoes his pants. I am disgusted. He rips off her pants and as he does she seems to flail around in his arms like a rag doll.
Why hasn't she opened her eyes yet?

Seth mounts himself on top of her, thrusting himself into her limp body over and over again, causing her head to tip back and her eyelids to open just enough for me to see that they have rolled back into her head.
Son of a bitch!
She's not conscious.

“
Get off of her!” I scream, frothing with rage into the early morning light of my very empty bedroom.

An intense and irrational urge to protect her washes over me. But what, exactly, am I supposed to protect her from? My bad dreams?

Throwing off my covers, I storm into the bathroom to try and let the hot water rinse away the images of her with him. When that doesn't work, I decide I just have to chill out, and the only way I can effectively do that is in the dance studio.

Because it’s early Friday morning all of the studios, save the first one, are deserted. The largest studio has a small group of dancers that are all upperclassmen. None of them take any notice of me as I slip past them and head over to the smallest studio upstairs. It was once used exclusively by the dance instructors, then later abandoned altogether after the newer studios were added a few years ago.

Perfectly content within the solitude of this room, I put a CD into the sound system and attempt to dance myself numb.

The minutes fly by and my muscles plead with me to stop; to catch my breath, but I ignore them. Dancing has been the only thing that has successfully succeeded so far in taking my mind off Naya; off Seth's hands manhandling her. With my nostrils flared in fury, I push off the floor, spinning until my mind is swimming, until my body finally collapses onto the floor.

As I lie there panting, the room still spinning, I see a faint flicker of gold light dancing just above me.
Whoa.
Time to eat.

Peeling my limp body off the floor, I trudge off to the showers, cursing at my sore muscles with each painful step.

After downing two trays of food at the cafeteria, I have just enough time to hobble across campus to buy the book for my next class: Mythology.

All theatre majors are required to take four years of mythology because of the close connection myth has with theatre. Freshman year it was Greek Mythology. This year it's Ancient Mythology.

At the book store, I flip open the text book and leaf through the pages, trying to get an idea of what specific myths the class will cover. The book is broken down by culture: Native American, Chinese, and a slew of others, but it's the Hindu myths that have piqued my interest.

I turn to the page listed, instantly recognizing some of the popular names of Hindu’s many gods.

I'm ashamed to admit that I don't know as much about the myths as I should, being half-Hindu. Up until this very moment, I'd never cared about my American father's insistence on my Catholic upbringing. Now, I wish he hadn't forbidden my mother from teaching me anything about her faith. He wouldn't be at all pleased by the bits I've picked from Grams' scattered memory since she's been in the states.

That's when I remember something Grams used to tease me about in high school. I wonder if there's anything about that in here?

Looking at the book again, there's the obvious stuff: the common Hindu gods, their wives and children, but what I’m searching for is something different.

I’m about to shut the book in frustration when an illustration of a naked man and woman embracing catches my eye. It's not their nudity that has me holding my breath. The pair are clearly enraptured by each other, but neither seem to notice that their hands and feet have melded together to form a brilliant, golden flame. The caption beneath the photo says simply: Twin Flames. A shiver runs up my spine. My eyes scan urgently to the definition.

“
Twin Flames
-
often confused with Soul Mates, which are believed to be souls we have met and lived with for many lifetimes as lovers, mothers, fathers, friends and other close people in one's lives. Twin Flames or Twin Rays, however, are believed to be the other half of your soul. It is thought, by some, that when your soul enters the 'physical world,' it divides in half: one part male, one part female. Each half of the soul can then spend an eternity searching for its other half. Neither half feeling whole until its flame is found.”

My blood goes cold. That is what Grams used to tease me about! She always said I was waiting for my Twin. I never really believed her, until now.

Skipping class, I head straight for the library, looking up everything I can about Twin Flames. My Google search brings up 493,000 hits. This may take some time.

After about an hour of sifting through the hits, much of what I find is along the same lines of what my mythology book described. Over half of the sites are advertisements for books on the subject. A few sites are so hokey that I can’t lower myself to read them. I finally give up in frustration.

My feet find their way back to the theatre by instinct afterwards, but my head is lost inside a cloud of golden fire.

It's Elizabeth's stare, waiting for me in the hallway when I arrive, that pulls me back to the present.

“
Am I late?” I ask.

“
No, you’re right on time,” she says, looping her arm around me. “I have a little bonding game I want to play.” She pulls off a dark scarf that's draped around her neck, and starts to wrap it around my eyes.

“
Whoa, what are you doing?”

She laughs. “Come on, don’t be a poor sport. Trust me.”

Relenting, I let her finish off the tie. I can’t see a thing.

“
Can you see?” she asks.

“
No. Now, why is this stupid thing on me?”

“
I’ll explain everything inside.” She grabs my arm and starts to slowly guide me into the theatre. Or at least that’s where I hope she’s leading me.

Naya

Friday night’s rehearsal comes before I’m ready. Not knowing what our rehearsal will entail, I opt for movable clothes. Kicking off my jeans, I open my closet and make a face. My options are limited. I have the black sweats I wore for the audition and two pairs of leggings; black and dark blue: all of which will match my face perfectly.

After trying on all three options, I settle on the black leggings and a simple gray T-shirt. This choice feels the most frumpy, and that, I rationalize, is a good thing.

I check my reflection again, thinking that somehow the ugly brownish, yellow trail will have disappeared since I looked at it ten minutes ago. But the bruise just looks back at me; mockingly.

When I poke my head into the black box theatre, I find Mrs. Campbell on the stage floor, stretching her graceful body into pretzels. As I glance around the space, I’m surprised to see that the chairs have been removed from their neat lines and have been scattered around the place like a stampede of wild horses had just run through here.
This should be interesting.
Swallowing my reservations, I walk quietly into the room, trying not to disturb her.

“
Naya!” she beams the moment I set down my bag on one of the wayward chairs.

“
Professor Campbell.”

“
Please, call me Elizabeth while we’re working on the show together, alright?” She pulls herself up and walks over to me, her eyes landing on my face.
Take a good look. I’m a monster, and you cast me
. But she doesn’t grimace; she smiles instead.

“
I’m glad you’re here, and early. I wanted to try an experiment tonight and I wasn’t sure how it would work if you both showed up here at the same time. Since you’re here first, you get the easy part!” she says smiling at me in that annoying ‘I know something you don’t know’ way.

She takes my hand and leads me carefully around the maze of chairs to the back of the theatre, which normally holds the longest row of chairs. She positions me in a corner so I’m facing the stage. Confusion spreads across my face.