Artemis Awakening

It had been ninety-eight days since I woke up screaming on a hospital bed with no idea how I got there or memories of the last sixteen years of my existence, but today was the first day that I opened my eyes to a brand-new morning without a scratchy throat. I had finally gotten used to the nightmare. I was not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I had been waking up from that frightening dream for the last fourteen weeks, and it had always played out the same. It started with me finding myself standing in the middle of a cramped, white-walled bedroom as a fully dolled-up me, dressed in a deep navy blue, crystal-studded dress, giggled and twirled in front of a full-body mirror stuck in the corner opposite the door. Through the window to my left, I could see the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp breaking the darkness outside just a tiny bit. The room was bathed in white, fluorescent light, making the ocean-colored sheets and pillowcases on the bed behind me look extremely inviting. Besides the long and narrow L-shaped study table shoved against the wall opposite the windows and the dresser sitting beside the mirror, there were no other pieces of furniture. The walls bore nothing except for the corner the study table leaned on. It was chockfull of artwork and sticky notes, rendering that part of the room in sharp contrast against its entirety. A few inches above the makeshift art wall was a wall-mounted shelf that perfectly mirrored the L-shaped desk. Slim LED lights were stuck at the bottom of it, doubling as study lighting and mood lighting. Atop the shelf were carefully arranged textbooks, a few novels, and a one-foot-tall glass dolphin figurine that shone with faint blue light. I had seen the room almost a hundred times but not once did it ring a bell. After admiring my dress in the mirror, I lapped some lip gloss onto my mouth and then slipped into a pair of black stockings and matte black pumps. After a few moments, somebody knocked on the door. A slender woman who looked to be in her early forties entered the room. She had wavy raven hair like mine, but her eyes were a striking shade of green. Under the bright white lights tucked in the room’s cove ceiling, they looked like a pair of fiery jade orbs that, for reasons I could not fathom, I found calming. She was wearing a simple black off-shoulder dress and nestled between her collarbones was a round silver locket hanging from a thin silver necklace. She clasped her hands over her chest and walked over to me. “Oh, you look amazing, sweetie!” she almost sobbed. “Turn around, turn around! Let me see!” she prodded as she took my hand and started spinning me. At that moment, I wished I had known how dolled-up me felt because the last ninety-eight days of my “new life” had not felt anywhere near happy. “Is it time? I’m excited to see what you guys had prepared,” I said. As if hearing my question, a man’s voice called from outside, “Don’t forget the blindfold, honey. I want the reveal to be dramatic.” The woman chuckled and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. Her eyes had started misting over, which prompted an immediate reaction from me. “What are you doing? You’re going to ruin your mascara,” I snickered. The woman tilted her head up and fanned her eyes, and I started laughing. Then, she grabbed both my shoulders, flashed me a proud smile, and locked me in a tight bear-hug. “I’ve told you not to grow up so fast, but I guess here we are. Happy birthday, dear.” I wrapped my arms around her and answered, “Thank you, Mom.” Mom. Just like the bedroom I had dreamed of multiple times, the woman, who was apparently my mother, did not jog my memory. We stood there hugging for a few heartbeats. Before my mom blindfolded me and guided me outside, she reached out and took off her necklace. “It’s time you have this,” she told me as she put the piece of jewelry on me. “But you have to promise me that you will only open the locket on your eighteenth birthday,” she added. “I promise.” “Good. Now, shall we?” After covering my eyes with a white necktie, my mom led me out of the bedroom, into the hall, and then down a single flight of stairs, to the right of which stood a floor-to-ceiling room divider made of thick, wooden slats that looked like oversized venetian blinds. To the left side was the living room and to the right side, the kitchen and dining room. Everything had its own place and mingled in a beautiful, silent symphony of woods and greens. The entire house looked like the dwelling place equivalent of a person with no hair out place except for an alcove that I guessed functioned as a home office. Just like the art wall in the bedroom, it was the one corner of the entire bungalow that existed in organized chaos. On its left side was an L-shaped maple office desk similar to the one in the bedroom, only there was not a mirroring wall-mounted shelf. In its place was a huge whiteboard that contained what I knew as much were complex mathematical equations written in various marker colors. The desk was littered with what looked like test papers scattered around a closed laptop. There was also an empty black metal mesh pen holder whose contents I had guessed were hanging out under the endless heaps of papers. The only organized area on that desk was the spot where the printer and some fresh reams of bond paper perched. The right side of the alcove, on the other hand, did not host a cluttered desk. Instead, it was home to piles upon piles of clean and painted-on canvases of all sizes, a messy drafting table, and a large easel. Right smack in the middle was a ten-drawer organizer cart, which I had guessed was filled with fresh art supplies. The ones that looked often used were sitting on top of the cart in a not-very-organized fashion. I had looked long and hard at that alcove many times, but nothing in it sparked the faintest semblance of a memory in me. Standing there and looking at it for the almost-hundredth time, I could only think about how that little space registered to me—like two completely opposite yet harmoniously blending worlds right before my eyes. “Are we going outside?” I asked as my mom led me to the kitchen and through the back door. “You’ll see,” she answered. Outside the back door was a small porch that looked out to a square backyard framed with luxurious, well-maintained shrubbery and carpeted with green, equally well-maintained grass. In the middle of it sat a portable aluminum gazebo on a wooden platform adorned with several potted flowers in varying shades of blue. The setup shone like a beacon in the middle of the dark yard, thanks to the blanket of fairy lights of different sizes that practically functioned as the gazebo’s roof and ceiling and trickled down around the beams. A dining table big enough to seat four people occupied the center of the platform, and it was brimming with all kinds of food. There was a large cheese pizza, some roast beef and chicken, a huge bowl of garden salad, some mashed potatoes, and a strawberry cake with cream cheese frosting. There were also some bottles of wine and champagne being chilled in an ice bucket. As my mom led me to the gazebo, the well-dressed people standing on the platform smiled. One of them was a tall, lean man who appeared to be in his early fifties with classic combed-back salt-and-pepper hair. He was holding a bouquet of roses that were as blue as my dress, and the glee on his lips reflected in his deep brown eyes. Standing on his right was a thin, raven-haired, hazel-eyed boy of about ten whose adorable cheeks were flushed. It was not until I got close enough to the table that I noticed the fully grown golden retriever that was sitting quietly beside the boy and was also dressed for the occasion in a cute little doggie tux. “One more step, dear,” my mom said as she ushered me to the platform. “All right. Are you ready?” she asked. “Yes,” I replied. My eyes immediately welled-up with tears the moment the necktie was yanked off. My hand flew to my mouth as I took in everything. “Oh, my God, you guys!” I exclaimed. “Do you like it?” the man asked. “Do I like it? Are you kidding? How can I not like it, Dad?” “Good. I almost snapped my back trying to put everything together while your mother, your brother, and Scout here lounged on the porch and had iced tea and cookies,” the tall man, who happened to be my father, said and walked over to me. He handed me the flowers, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and kissed the top of my head. “Happy birthday, sweetie,” he added. After I managed to blurt out my thanks, the boy, who turned out to be my little brother, pulled out a chair for me and said, “Have a seat, birthday girl.” I sat down at the head of the table with my parents on my left and my little brother and Scout on my right. At that point, I just stood there like an invisible guest and watched myself have dinner with my family, the family that I could not find anywhere in the deepest recesses of my brain. From the sparkling over-dinner conversation, I had learned that my father was a physics professor in a small college in the city, my mother was an artist, and my little brother was in fifth grade and apparently enjoyed pulling pranks on me every chance he got. I had also found out that I had grown up wreaking havoc around the house with Scout, and it used to drive my mother crazy. My family prepared the whole shebang to celebrate my sweet sixteenth, which I had insisted on being low key because as it turned out, I was not like other girls my age who would rather throw an epic party than spend a quiet dinner with their families. I knew as much that I was more comfortable not being surrounded by people, although I could not be sure of my old self’s reasons for being a homebody. I would bet that they fell along the lines of not wanting to get mixed up in teenage drama or something like that and that they would never wander even remotely close to the reason I was avoiding practically everyone now. After blowing out my birthday candles, it was time to do presents. I almost broke the heel of my pumps jumping up and down after my parents handed me the keys to my new car. It was not a brand-new car per se, but I was so thrilled that I shrieked and bawled with delight at a pitch that pissed Scout off. My little brother, on the other hand, handed me a little booklet of homemade “I’ll do your chores for you” coupons that he said was valid for the next six months. When I asked why not until my next birthday, he narrowed his eyes at me and told me that I should just be thankful he did not make it twenty-four hours because that was how long birthdays lasted. After dinner, some dancing, and the photo op, my dad carried my exhausted little brother upstairs and tucked him in. As Scout scuttled after them, I helped my mom clear the table and wash the dishes. It was half past eight in the evening when we finally finished the chores and headed to the living room to put our feet up. My dad joined us after a few minutes with Scout on his heels. He plopped down on the couch next to my mom and put his arm around her. Scout settled beside me on the floor and rested his head on my lap. I was the first to break the silence by muttering, “Thank you for tonight, guys. Really. And I’m not just saying this because of the car. I really do appreciate the celebration.” My mom smiled, glanced up at my dad, and dipped her chin. “You’re welcome, A. You deserve it.” “Well, it’s still a little early. Want to take your new car for a spin?” my dad chirped. I jumped in excitement, knocking Scout off my lap, while my mom glared at my dad. “Oh, please, Mom,” I pleaded. “You don’t have a driver’s license yet,” my mom shot back. “Relax, dear. We’ll just go for a drive around the block, and I’ll come with,” my dad reasoned. The debate went on for a few heartbeats until my mom finally caved and let me drive with my dad riding shotgun. They got me a used powder blue hatchback whose hood I sprawled myself over the moment I saw it. After adjusting my seat and my mirrors and buckling up, I tried gunning the engine thrice, but it refused to hum to life. It was at my fourth try that things started going to hell. All of a sudden, I was no longer a spectator in my own nightmare, and I screamed in horror as a gloved hand smashed my passenger-side window and dragged my dad out by the collar. At the same time, a man in full black stealth suit grabbed my mom when she attempted to rush over to my dad. He pressed a piece of white cloth over her nose and mouth, and my mom went limp. The intruder carried her like luggage back inside the house as the one who broke my window hit my dad in the face with the butt of his gun, rendering him unconscious. Before I could snap free from the driver’s seat and come to my parents’ rescue, a woman whispered in my ear, “Happy sweet sixteenth, you little b***h,” and then stuck a needle down the side of my neck. I had no idea how long I had been out, but when I opened my eyes, I found myself lying facedown in our living room that now looked like a twister had passed through it. I slowly turned my head to the left, blinking through my blurry vision. As my eyes refocused, I saw Scout lying on his side on a little pool of blood. “I had to. He was barking like mad.” It was the same female voice that I heard before losing consciousness. Hot tears started streaming down my face as somebody almost ripped my hair from the roots getting me to stand up. It was then that I saw my mom, my dad, and my little brother sitting on three separate chairs with their hands tied behind their backs. My little brother thankfully did not have a scratch on him, although he was unconscious. My parents each had a black eye and a fat lip, but my dad had obviously taken most of the beating. My mom was looking right at me with a determined look in her eyes while my dad had his head down. Little drops of blood continuously landed on his white shirt, but his shoulders were still rising and falling. He was still breathing. Two of the three intruders stood behind my family in attention like two black statues. Both remained covered up and were armed to the teeth, one with guns and the other with knives. The third intruder, the woman who drugged me, forcibly sat me down in front of my family and our dog that she mercilessly killed. She slipped off her hood and tugged down her mask, revealing a young, pale face with deep-set jet-black eyes ringed with a frightening shade of crimson. She fluffed up her strawberry blonde hair, turning it into a luxurious mane that tumbled softly to her shoulders. Her looks surprised me because her voice sounded like that of an old evil queen, sonorous and menacing. “Well, you two are an astonishingly difficult duo to hunt down. I almost quit on this mission more times than I care to admit,” she told my mom who kept her eyes fixed on me. The woman got into my mom’s face and snarled, “Where is it, Salena?” Salena. That was my mother’s name. Salena turned to stare at the woman. I watched as a muscle in her jaw flickered, and then a whole lot of spit splatted on the woman’s perfect face. A deep, grumbling sound escaped the woman’s throat as she ran the back of her hand over her face. Then, the ugly sound of crunching bone followed. I snapped my eyes shut as my mom took the woman’s every blow in silence. It felt like forever, but the beating finally stopped. I carefully reopened my eyes and eventually fixed my gaze on Salena’s bloodied face. She now looked much worse than my dad. “I should’ve killed you two the moment I found out about your little elopement plans,” the woman scoffed. “What do you want?” I finally managed to blurt out in a trembling voice. The woman turned her head to me. I tipped my head up to her and looked her straight in the eye. Then, a crooked smile that made my stomach turn and my skin crawl spread across her face. “You’re a mighty one, aren’t you? Too bad I’m not leaving this house tonight without its floors strewn with four dead bodies, five if we count the pooch. I should probably learn my lesson with your mommy and daddy and take my job more seriously by leaving the grass snake free. I imagine it’ll be fun going toe-to-toe with you once you’re awakened, but I can’t risk you growing strong enough to follow in your traitor parents’ footsteps.” I could only stare at the third intruder in confusion as Salena struggled to raise her head once again. I bit back my sobs as I read her lips. “Live,” she mouthed. Then, there was an explosion of white light, and some sort of force field engulfed my entire body. Whatever it was, it hid me from plain sight because the woman with the crimson-ringed eyes whipped her head around as if looking for me. It was at that moment when my parents slowly rose from their seats. Their skin weakly pulsed and then full-on glowed with golden light, frying and then evaporating off all the fresh and clotted blood. The cuts and bruises on their faces gradually faded away, and their eyes smoldered into white-hot circles on their heads. It all happened in a matter of heartbeats, and next thing I knew, they were beating the hell out of our unwanted visitors. I turned my gaze to my little brother who was still knocked out and attempted to dash over to him to tug him out of harm’s way, but the force field kept me still. I watched in horror as the third intruder slipped out of the fight and then rolled toward my brother. I screamed once again, but the invisible barrier between myself and everything else around me swallowed every sound I tried to make. In one fluid movement, the woman propped up my unconscious brother and then stuck a knife against his throat. My parents stopped and stared but were not given the chance to rethink their current position. In one sickening second, three different weapons claimed the lives of the family I had been bound to only see ever again in a recurring nightmare for the rest of my life. I fell to my knees and watched as my mother, father, and brother dropped like flies to the floor and then painted it with their blood. A few moments later, the woman started shaking and then tipped her head toward the ceiling and cackled. “Let it be known that turncoats Alvar and Salena Crane and their little spawn, Liam Crane, are no more,” she said as if proudly announcing some good news to an excited crowd. Then, she flipped the knife she killed my little brother with in her hand, raised it, and then sent it flying across the room with a graceful flick of her wrist. The pointy end landed right on our family portrait hanging in our living room, exactly between my eyes. “And let it be known that Artemis Crane’s head is still mine and mine alone,” she hissed. The woman turned on her heel and left after that with her two henchmen following her suit. It was only at that moment that I felt the barrier steadily melt away. Tears spilled out of my eyes in a ceaseless stream as I held my family in my arms, letting their blood soak my dress. As I sat there, an endless, gaping hole started swallowing me from the inside out. I closed my eyes, and Salena’s determined face greeted me in the darkness. “Live,” she had ordered. That single command poured gasoline into the black hole that was slowly consuming me and then set it ablaze. The pit of my stomach started burning and burning and burning, and the moment the unbearable flames licked and tangled around my broken heart, I tilted my head to the heavens and wailed. There was another explosion of white light. And then there was great blackness. It had been ninety-eight days since I woke up screaming on a hospital bed with no idea how I got there or memories of the last sixteen years of my existence, but today was the first day that I opened my eyes to a brand-new morning without a scratchy throat. I had finally gotten used to the nightmare and decided that that was a good thing. Because as long as I had no memories other than the brutal slaughter of my entire family, I would not feel compelled to hunt down and kill the strawberry blonde b***h who murdered them right in front of me even if I could. As long as I had no idea how much Alvar, Salena, Liam, and Scout had meant to me, I would be able to keep my grief and rage at bay and live as Salena had told me. And I could live. I just needed everybody to stay the hell away from me so that I could be a supernaturally strong and fast-healing freak in peace.