In retrospect, I realize that one simple decision, which may seem inconsequential at the time, can destroy a person. Shatter a mind and soul beyond repair. For me, that decision was volunteering at a museum in Rome last summer during my break.
How can a simple volunteering job at an innocuous museum impact so severely? Good question. I could tell you. But you wouldn’t believe me. No one ever has.
They all think I’m crazy when I wake up in the middle of the night, beads of sweat glistening on my brow, dread filling up in my heart and hot tears streaming from my eyes…screaming and thrashing, every single muscle of my pale, gaunt body convulsing, trembling, my hands drawn into tight fists, my knuckles white and my sharp nails digging into the folds of my flesh…my mouth open and shrieking, wailing one name: the name of the boy I trusted, who was never who he claimed he was, and who made me the delusional wreck I am today.
Jayden.
In a flash, my tortured mind conjures the image of that cruel, devious, gorgeous boy from the depths of hell. I remember the first time I saw him… his blond locks waving in the air, his dazzling blue eyes that lured me in and his charming smile. No, not a devilish rogue. But an avatar of the devil himself. And me! I feel disgusted for falling into his trap. I had proclaimed myself to be a detective…I was so confident and assured. Look how I paid the price for that.
My job in the museum was to protect the Romulus and Remus Gallery… I couldn’t even protect myself.
All of a sudden, I see a dark shape forming over me. A flood of emotions rushes through me as I am transported again to the past, the switch in my mind I have no control over. Jayden pressing me against the wall, gagging me as his feature transformed. Blonde hair turning brown, his bronze skin turning a pasty white. My eyes grew wide as I recognized those very features, in a mythical person, that too. “Bella, sweetheart,” he says, “I told you not trust me. It wasn’t a joke…”.
“Shhh, Miss Bella, it’s just me”, says a soothing voice above me. Dr. Luciana. My psychiatrist at “Saving Souls”. What a name for an asylum! A euphemism to make ‘normal’ people feel good in their dark hearts while the so called crazies get locked up.
But I am not crazy. Tears fill my eyes once again, threatening to spill. “Jayden was not Jayden,” I scream. “He was the incarnation of Remus.” I want her to believe me. But she wouldn’t. She can’t. Because Remus is from Roman mythology and Jayden is French and human. This cannot be processed by a normal person, even a psychiatrist. Our minds are too conditioned to believe anything that lies beyond the blinkers.
A disturbing thought enters my head and attaches itself there like a leech. Am I crazy? Did I imagine it all? No. NO! It was real! Jayden meeting me at the museum. Jayden being told to work with me at the Romulus and Remus Gallery. Jayden and I becoming friends and then more. Jayden and I refurbishing the gallery and being proud when it opened to public once again. Jayden and I discovering paintings of Romulus torn to shreds, his statue decapitated and other artefacts destroyed. Jayden’s fake, deceitful look of horror when we found our gallery in a mess. Jayden and I trying to solve the mystery.
And then: The Betrayal. Jayden lurking in the gallery at midnight. Jayden writing, “Mea Est Vindicta. (Vengeance Is Mine)” on the wall. Jayden revealing himself as the avatar of Remus who had come back to life to take revenge on Romulus.
Jayden. Jayden. Jayden. I hate you so much. The depth of your treachery. And you attacking me when I caught you, knocking me unconscious and disappearing before I was awakened? Leaving me alone to deal with the aftermath. To deal with all the worried and worse, pitiful glances thrown my way. To deal with everyone calling me crazy or thinking that I am off my head. To deal with being shunned from society and everyone I loved. To deal with being shipped off like nothing to an asylum. To deal with nightmares. Every. Single. Night. To cry and writhe and struggle and wail until I lose my voice and lose my mind. To lose everything. Every. Single. Thing.
What is wrong with me? Maybe I actually do deserve it. Maybe I actually am crazy. “Noooooooo,” I scream, my cheeks pale as paper, my eyes dripping with unshed tears, my mouth twisting in an unbecoming shape. My countenance reflecting in the mirror on my right… I look like a vampire. I have lost myself. Where is the vibrant, enthusiastic vivacious Bella of 9th grade? The answer is so bleak but so true. I am gone. I will never be the same. My heart sinks at this realization. My whole body is wracked with loud, blubbering sobs and I am so lost in the moment that I forget about the patient doctor standing over me, concerned.
She takes my hands in hers and rubs circles over my palms in an attempt to calm me down. I realize that I had been clawing at her, on seeing the scratch marks on her wrists. But then all of a sudden, those very hands are pinning me against the bed and she snarls. As one hand clamps around my mouth, gagging me, a feeling of déjà vu runs through my mind. But I am tired and shattered and don’t care anymore.
I watch, entranced, as for the second time in my life, someone I trust transforms into a supposedly Roman mythological character. To torment and eventually claim my soul.
Golden locks lose their lustre, turning shaggy and brown. Warm green eyes turn a fiery red-brown. The gentle nose grows long and pointed and the sweet smile twists in a snarl that would put the most vicious dog to shame. Tanned skin pales into a deathly white pastiness and I know what’s coming next.
“Bella” simpers Remus, the man who haunted my mind and plagued my life, “I told you not to trust me.”