The Clairvoyant

Two | 89 days, 13th hour

Every day when I wake up, there's that annoying sunlight covering half my face. When I turn the other side to escape its deathly presence however, I would either hit my face smack on the wall or wonder why my back's warm.

But today, its different.

There's no sunlight glaring at my face. My pillows aren't soft as they usually are. The comforters... comforters? I don't quite remember the idea of my bed being covered by such fluffy comforters. I squeeze them with my hands in confirmation, and they are soft.

Now I blink my eyes open and the view startles me.

I'm in a white room, my bed those metal hospital beds you'd usually find in the movies. There's no other color but the shades of white and gray, except for the few wilting flowers on my bed side table. I can see a petal on the table and my fingers reach out for it.

But at that moment, I notice something I didn't before.

It's a hand. A hand under the bed. And a startled scream escapes my lips before I can stop it. The hand jerks aside, then returns into the bed, and I'm left there, bringing my comforters around my legs for whatever protection I can get.

“Stella?” The door abruptly opens, and I find myself looking at a girl whose face I vaguely remember. “Are you okay? What happened? Did something happen? Was it a nightmare?” She begins closing in on me and I can feel my heart beat quicken per step. “Ian? Where are you?”

“Under the bed,” I hear a masculine voice begin and I'm startled by this.

“Hadrian, you're scaring her.”

Hadrian? I think of the name and it sounds familiar to me. “Hadrian?” I question, the voice escapes me yet again and I can see the girls eyes widen but a smile forms on her face. I scrunch my eyebrows and stare at her until the boy jumps up beside her.

“You called, little sister?”

Little sister? I repeat in my head.

“You don't remember us?” The girl asks me slowly as if unsure. She puts a hand over mine, and from this distance, I can see the shade of dark blue in her eyes. She has familiar curly brown hair, and without a second though, I take a lock in my hand and stare at it.

“I...” My voice begins but I don't know what other words I would have said. Then a name pops up in my mind. “Cheyenne?” I ask with uncertainty and look into her eyes. Then I look at the boy, his eyes a different shade of blue. They're almost like the color of turquoise. “Hadrian?”

The two of them bite their lips in a similar fashion, and it takes me a moment to realize that they're twins. “Twins,” I say slowly as I bite mine. “You're both twins. Hadrian and Cheyenne.” I repeat their names. Then a sudden pain surges inside my head and I'm doubling over.

“Stella!” They shout my name. Hadrian punches a small red button on my side and I don't have time to understand what he's done. The pain's gone as quick as it came, and this time I find myself staring at my hands, my slender fingers.

“I...Ian...?” I repeat, knowing full well that that nickname belongs to Hadrian. “Chey...?”

Another word pops up in my mind, making me look up to them. My finger goes to my hair and I find myself taking a lock similar to Chey's hair, but this time it has a different color: blonde. “Triplets...?” I repeat, but I know this word is true.

Chey hugs me suddenly, cutting the air inside of me. “I missed you, Stella!” My sister begins but Ian suddenly pulls her away, telling her that she's killing me. I laugh abruptly at the two of them, and in return they give me a warm smile.

The door opens, and two grown men come walking in. One of them is a familiar face, but the other I don't remember. He's wearing a white lab coat, with specs just hanging around his shirt. He has a board on his hand, and a stethoscope on the other.

The other one, the familiar face, isn't wearing a lab coat though. He's just wearing normal types of clothes like Ian and Chey do. And like that, I remember his name. “Vincent?”

“Hi, sis,” My older brother begins, a hand snaking through his blonde hair that's similar to mine.

The doctor comes closer and begins checking me out. Not in a way boys would do to a girl they find interesting, but the way a doctor would to his patient. He puts his stethoscope on my chest and begins listening, tells me to breath normally and I do.

After a few more minutes he stops and begins dabbling on the sheet of paper.

“She's perfectly fine, Vince.” He tells my older brother, and I remember now that he's our guardian. We live with him here in Eau Claire, and its only because our mother's in Australia and our father's somewhere out in space.

The memories don't hurt me like just a while ago, but I look at them and smile.

“I'm your doctor, Joelle, and if it's alright, can I ask some questions?” Without waiting for my reply, he begins, “You remember who you are? No memory loss? No pain coming up or anything perhaps? You remember everything?”

“Vaguely, but they're coming back.” I reply confidently, the smile not coming off my face.

“Then can you tell me your name? Your real name? And middle name?”

“Estrella Anise leBlanche,” I answer right away. My middle name, the second name, is something us triplets find similar. Our second name begins with the letter “A”: Chey's name being Anna, and Ian's name is “Albert”.

Joelle continues asking me questions like my birthday, and how old I am. “I'm turning 18 on February 14,” I had told him just seconds ago. After he talks about something to my brother, he asks me what date it is and I tell him I don't know.

“You've been asleep for three days at most, Stella,” Ian replies with a frown. “It's Sunday today.”

“It's a good thing you woke up too,” Chey says as she puts on a beautiful smile. “Our birthday's tomorrow, and it would have been totally bad if you were still sleeping on our eighteenth birthday. When is she gonna be released, Joelle?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” The doctor answers, and I can see my siblings frown right away. “Or maybe today. Depends if Stella here is willing to cooperate with us for the whole afternoon. We still have to see if she's doing fine: eye sights, legs, walking, speech.”

“I feel perfectly fine though,” I answer with a hint of annoyance in my voice.

“Feel and know are two different things, Stella,” The doctor replies with a click of his tongue. “It's just going to be until five I think. After that, I can discharge you and you'll be free to leave. Ah, but that's also only if your parents are fine with it.”

“Our mom's in Australia,” Says Chey. “We can call her now for confirmation.”

“And your dad?”

Vincent, for the first time, answers, “He's in space. We don't really have contact with him.”

Information on my parents begin pilling in my mind: my dad's an astronaut, and is currently somewhere out there. My mother on the other hand is a model in Australia, and the last time I've ever talked to her was during Christmas which was over two months ago.

A cough escapes my lips, and Joelle eyes me. I find my siblings doing the same seconds later and we're all quiet. The doctor gets up from his seat, tucks the board under his arm and then asks me, “Are you hungry, or do you want to start the review as quickly as possible?”

“Hungry,” I answer without a second though. “But I could start while they're buying me food.”

“Pizza or spaghetti?” Asks Ian.

I ponder for a minute. “Burger?”

Shrugging, he takes his coat off my bed and walks out of the room. “I'll just send you a message when we're done ordering, okay, Stella?” Chey calls to me as she follows our brother out the room. Vincent gives Joelle a nod before leaving too.

“So about my fall,” I begin slowly as Joelle and I are left alone in the room. “I vaguely remember falling with someone. Can I see him maybe, you know, just to thank him for saving me or whatever. And also to apologize for dragging him into this mess.”

“You can,” He answers as he writes something on the paper. “But he's not here. He got out yesterday. You can see him tomorrow I think, since you guys have school and all. Ah, you also have homework to do. Don't forget to do them tonight.”

You're not my dad. “I will.”

“So are you ready for that check up?”

Getting up from bed, my legs swinging over, I stand up but not after the doctor steadies me. “I guess I've been sleeping for too long,” I mutter half to myself as I find myself strangely looking at my legs. And I've got to get ready for the fights.

“Stella, one more thing?”

“Yeah?”

“You should stop fighting,” He informs me, walking ahead of me and opening the door wide open. I stare at him as if his words aren't registering at all. When I'm about to ask him why, he answers, “You sprained your left wrist when you fell.”

“What about sports? Like basketball, soccer, archery? Baseball, swimming – all that stuff. If I can't fight, does that mean I can't do any of them as well? I'm team captain of the volley ball team, mind you. I can't slack off with competitions coming up.”

“It's only temporary,” Vincent replies as he opens the door for me. “Joelle said it was temporary.”

“So how come I'm not wearing a cast?”

“You don't need one. It's just a sprain, Stella.”

I can still fight with sprains. As if knowing what I was about to do, he shuffles my hair and gives me those sympathetic looks he does when he tries to make me feel guilty. I try to look away, but his hand on my hair won't let me.

“No fights,” He tells me with a stern voice. “And I mean it.”

“Yes sir,” I give him a measly reply.

“No go upstairs and do your homework. You've still got classes tomorrow.”

“I can help her with homework,” Chey offers, now starting up the stairs.

“I think I'm more fit in doing that,” Ian beings to guffaw, and Chey sends him her usual death stares.

The two of them roll their eyes at the same time and head up stairs, I follow seconds later and watch them enter their own room. So much for helping me out, I think to myself, opening the door I remember leads to my room.

Walking in, the room is clean and neat – nothing I'd expect from a girl who fights a lot. Creasing my eyebrows, I check the closed door and find myself looking into walk in closet. I open the lights, and the sight makes me surprised.

“I know right?” I hear a voice behind me, and I spin around to face Chey. I look at the walk in closet again, then look back at my sister. “That's all yours, Stella. We have different closet's, but yours is still bigger than me even though I'm the one popular amongst the three of us. You don't remember?”

I stare at the pile of clothes hanged and arranged inside. There's a side for dresses, and on the opposite side are shelves tidily fixed with shorts, shirts, pants and a bunch of other things. Then there's a clear drawer for the different underwear a girl can have.

Pulling it open, my sister following me inside, I draw this cute looking bra out and show it to her. “This is mine?” I ask her, my eyes not believing what I see. “All this? I collect clothes? How come I-” And then there it is again, the surge of memories piling up.

Me when I was in my first year of high school, the numerous fights I did, the first time I'm claimed as a delinquent. Then there's my third year, the year I'm moved to Memorial High. This was the year I was kicked out of Regis, the school where Ian and Chey attends. And this was the year my mom had introduced me to clothes. Clothes. And clothes.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Chey asks with her innocent voice.

“You don't like collecting clothes?”

“Not really,” She chuckles, her hand moving through the dresses. “I love playing pranks instead. There was this one time where I had a date with a guy from another school, and I asked you to play that part. You did, and that guy totally thought you were me.”

I remember that, I thought, remembering myself in a tight dress, flirting the way my sister does with all her other countless of 'boy friends'. I had played the part of being “Cheyenne leBlanche”, and it was easy to pull off because he didn't know us.

“I did a lot of other pranks, and you always loved playing along. Ian even said that together, we might be the most bitches pair in the world. And a natural enemy to boys.” She laughs her hearty laugh, looking through the piles of shorts.

“Chey? Stella?” I hear Ian call out from outside the closet. Chey nods at me, telling me to follow her out and I do. Ian there's by the door, his hand resting on the knob. “There you two are, we're going out.” He says without further instructions.

“Out?” I repeat, looking at Chey. “Why? What about homework?”

“You didn't tell her?” Ian asks, his eyes gazing at Chey.

“I forgot,” She shrugs.

“Tell me what?”

“That we did your homework when you were out.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeats, creasing his eyebrows. “Well, duh, so we could still hang out tonight.”

“Hang out? Hang out where?” But they're already pulling me out of the room. I tell them that I'm not dressed properly but Ian says that I'm good with the clothes I'm wearing. I tell them about Vincent, about how he'll find out if we just leave, but Chey says its fine.

At the living room, Vincent is watching TV and we're there making our way out the backdoor sneakily. We're almost out, almost, until Vincent turns around to grab for his coke bottle and catches our eye. We stare at each other, my two siblings already out the door and unaware.

I gulp down nervously.

Stupid me for not being quick enough.

But Vincent turns around after grabbing his drink and continues watching TV. I stare at his back, his blonde hair shining against the TV's light, and when he doesn't say anything else I exit the door and close it shut.

“I think Vincent saw me,” I reply warily, not knowing if I did the right thing.

“Stop being such a goodie two shoes,” Chey laughs, slapping my back lightly. We continue to head to Ian's blue chevrolet, and she pushes me inside. “You're Stella, remember? A delinquent? A well known delinquent at Memorial High?”

I nod at her words not knowing what else to say. “She's kidding Stella,” Ian says from the front seat. He's like a driver from his position. “Chey and I know you stopped being a delinquent since you goy kicked out of Regis. But others can't help but just start fighting with you.”

“You're always called into fights, even though you don't want to, remember?”

I begin remembering a few fights. Girls from other schools would always begin fighting with me, and I would fight back but lose in the end – well, that's for most fights. Some of them are too huge for me, like “the last fight.” I mutter, realization dawning in me.

“The last fight?”

“Where you fell?”

I nod at them, remembering how I lost against a huge girl from another school. She was huge, and fat, and I had obviously no chance against her. “I got into a fight before falling, and... and there was this guy with me who helped me out.”

“Yeah, we know,” They reply in unison, the car already speeding into the night. I don't know how long Ian's driving, but I've seen a lot by the time we're at the place. It's a disco place, or a bar, or something – I don't quite know the place.

And I'm pretty sure my memories don't remember either.

“This is...?”

“The Bank,” Chey laughs giddily. “Ian recommended the place.”

She walks up to the front, hands something out and the bouncer lets her in. Ian and I begin our steps up, until we're stopped abruptly by the bouncer. “No ID, no entry.” He says and we find ourself staring at Cheyenne who's staring back.

“Dude,” Ian begins backing off, his hand on his chest. “I'm Hadrian, I don't need an ID.”

The bouncer takes a long stare of my brother before casting his view onto me. “And this chick?”

“A new member. Her ID isn't done yet,” Chey answers as she pulls my hand and we're in the place. My expression should have showed off because Chey tells me as soon as we're in another crowd, “Don't worry. Your ID is being made, but I didn't have time to get it yet. I got you one, before your consent.”

I stare at Hadrian who's idling a table of food, and drinks. “And Ian?”

“He's known as Hadrian in the Bank.”

“And why should he be known as Hadrian...?” I ask her warily.

Chey begins rolling her eyes and we're entering another room. This time there's a large group of kids our age dancing all over the place. Others are drinking, others are eating, and other, well, they're simply talking and/or making out with one another.

I look away, suddenly embarrassed. “The Bank opened just a week ago,” Chey explains, taking in a tray of food and handing some over to me. “It was opened by a group of kids from all over Eau Claire, and Hadrian was one of them.”

“How'd he get the money?”

“Dad gave him money,”

“And dad said it was okay to open up... a.... a pub?”

“It's not really a pub,” She informs me, taking another drink and I'm wondering if its alcoholic. Ian on the other hand has disappeared from my view. “It's just a place where people hang out and stuff, and only those with connections can join in.”

I look around the place. It's dark and crowded, but on the sides are lit candles and neon lights. The floor foggy a bit so I understand right away it must have been dried ice. The furnitures, the people – I can tell they know one another.

“It's like... like some kind of org.”

“It is,” Chey nods, shaking her hips as she pulls me away from the food I wasn't even finished yet. “The Bank, that's the name of the organization. Hadrian and a bunch of other people started this organization just so they could hang out even after graduation, and-”

“Chey!”

My sister turns around, and a bunch of squeals erupt from the background. Before I can ask her what it was, she's gone and into the crowd. I look all over the place wondering where Ian is, and where Chey went, but I know I'm alone at the moment.

Opening a place like this just so people could hang out even after graduation, I begin thinking, making my way to the table again and taking a couple of snacks and a wine glass of drink that obviously smells like orange juice in my hand.

I think that's just stupid.

I open my mouth to take in a sip of the drink, but it only spills over my shirt when someone pushes me from behind. “Watch it!” I shout out loud, glaring at the person who bumped into me. It's a girl almost my size, and I'm about to punch her, until I remember, “No fighting”.

“It's fine,” I grumble under my breath, and the girl sighs nervously and walks into the crowd. I look around the place and find another bouncer-looking guy in a far off corner. “Where's the bathroom?” I ask him, and when he doesn't hear me I shout it out loud so he can.

He points at the other side of the room, and I make way there. I catch Ian talking to a bunch of other guys but he doesn't notice me. I see Chey dancing with a guy as well, and their bodies are too close to one another for just a 'dance'.

I see the bathroom far off left and enter it, and inside it's surprisingly clean. I expected someone to be inside, or maybe even a bunch of other girls making out with a bunch of other guys – but there's nothing. Nothing and no one inside.

I check out my shirt and a frown escapes my face right away. And this was a nice looking shirt too, I think to myself as I pull it off and begin scrubbing it with water. I'm only wearing my underwear at the moment, but it's fine, I'm in the bathroom and only girls would come in.

As I'm dabbing it, trying to take the stain off, the door opens and I don't even glance up to see who it is. I'm there, just cleaning my blouse, when all of a sudden I hear the words, “Don't strip in a public bathroom,” coming from a masculine voice.

I turn around, my eyes obviously in slits. “I'm not stripping,” I shout at him, putting my wet blouse against my bra for the sake of hiding my chest. “Besides, what the f**k are you even doing in the girl's bathroom, huh perv? Get out!” Pervs these day.

“I'm not a pervert,” He replies with a scowl. “And this bathroom is for both girls and boys, idiot.”

He doesn't mind me, and moves into a cubicle. He's doing his business as I'm still washing my blouse. I frown at it, it's completely wet. This is useless, I think and pull out my phone. I dial Chey's number but she isn't answer. I try Ian's phone but it's the same.

I hear the cubicle open up, and I turn to face the mirror so he can only see my back. “Why doesn't she just go out like that? Girls now a days love showing off their boobs after all. What different is she?” I hear him ask to no one in particular.

But of course, I'm the only girl in the room.

“I'm not like those sluts out there, jackass!” I answer angrily, facing him and I can see he's just turned around as well. “I'm different than them. I don't go around wearing pimpy clothes unless I have to.” And unless Chey tells me to.

“What?”

We stare at one another, his expression showing a confused look on his face. Finally he gives up with a sigh and shakes his head. He's going out the door and I hear him say, “She must be crazy.” And that's when I kick his back.

“Dude, I'm crazy? Who's the one telling me such bitchy remarks here, huh?” What a jackass.

“Stop calling me a jackass!” He screams, holding my hand and I yelp in pain, remembering suddenly that its sprained. Let me go! That hurts! I think while thrashing at him since he's gotten on top of me, my back cold from the marble tiles.

He pulls away, his face confused yet again. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.” Split personality? “I don't have a split personality,” He snaps at me, getting off me just before I stare at him. We're staring at one another, and now I'm confused.

“You heard me?”

“What?”

I must be going crazy after all.

“You must be,” The guy says and I stare at him. “What?”

“How come you can hear me... My... My thoughts... You can hear them.”

He stares at me, his expression dubious. When I don't say anything else, he gets up and shakes his head. “Crazy girl,” I hear him say but his mouth isn't moving at all, his eyes are set on something else. After a few seconds, his eyes lock into mine and he says, “Here, take my sweater and we'll call it quits.”

“I'm not crazy though,” I find myself sniffling.

He holds my shoulder and I simply stare at his sweater. “Hey,” He begins, flustered. “I didn't mean to make her cry.” And there it is again, his words, his thoughts, I can hear them so loud and clear as if he's talking to me.

I can actually hear him thinking, I think to myself just as I'm about to take his sweater. But he drops it to the floor. I stare at him; he's staring at me. And then I bend down to grab hold of the sweater since he's not doing it.

“Can... Can you hear me?” He asks me.

I hold his sweater, a laughter threatening to escape my lips. “I can loud and clear. Shouldn't I?”

I face him and there we are at it again, staring at one another. “You can hear me?” He asks and I can see he's not moving his lips at all. Can see that he's staring intently at me. From my sight, I can see his brown colored eyes, his cleanly cut hair, his pinkish plump lip and...

“Stop staring at me,” He mutters, looking away. “Besides, it's hazel. Not brown.”

And then we're staring at one another again. “Well.... This is awkward isn't it, Stella?” You know me? “Hey, I can hear you, you know.” He laughs, shaking his head. “And I do know you. We fell the other day together, remember?”

The other day? An “oh” escapes my lips as I realize who he is. He's smiling at me as I realize. He's the guy who... “Yep,” He begins, cutting my thoughts off. “I'm the guy who saved you back then. Are you doing well?” He asks.

And then everything's dark, just like that.