J.T. Ellison - Where All the Dead Lie

Scotland
The Highlands
Dulsie Castle
December 22

Dear Sam,

There is a moment in every life that defines, shapes, transcends your previous spirit, molding you as if from newborn clay. Its come for me. I have changed, and that change is irreversible.

Sam, theres no doubt anymore. Im losing my mind. The shooting is haunting me. The horror of your loss, of who Ive become, all of it is too much. Im not sure how much longer I can stand to go on like this, trapped under glass, trapped away from everyone. Im lost.

The walls here speak. Disconcerting at times, but at others, its a comfort. The ceilings dance in the candlelight, and the floors shimmer and ripple with my every step. I escape out of doors, and when I do, all I find is fog, and mist, and lumbering sheep. Cows with gentle, inquisitive eyes. The dogs have a sense of humor. But you can tell theyd turn on you in a second. Ive known people like that. The deer are patient, and sad, resigned to their captive lives. The crows are aggressive. The seagulls act foolish, and theres something so wrong about seeing a soaring gull against the mountainous backdrop. The chickens are huge and fretful, the grouse are in a hurry. The mist settles like a cold shawl across the mountains shoulders, and the road I walk grows close, like its planning to share a secret.

Above all, there is no one. And everyone. I feel them all around me. All the missing and the gone. I cant see them, except for late at night, when Im supposed to be asleep. Then they push in on me from all sides, stealing my breath. The room grows cold and the warnings begin.

It strikes me that Im surrounded by doctors, yet no one can help. I have to find the strength from within to heal. Isnt that what they always say, Physician, heal thyself? I shall amend it: Lieutenant, command thyself.

Sam, please, forgive me. Its all my fault. I know that now.

In moments of true peace: outside by the statue of Athena, looking over the gardens, watching the animals on the grounds, I feel your sorrow. I finally understand what youve lost. Ive lost it, too. I dont think theres any coming back. I dont think theres any room for me in our world anymore.

Theres something wrong with this place. Memphiss ancestors are haunting me. They dont like me here.

I did the best I could. I messed everything up, and I dont know if I can fix it.

Hug the twins. Their Fairy Godmother loves them. And I love you. Im all done.

Taylor

Taylor slammed the laptop shut. Nauseous again. Pain built behind her eyes. A demons hammering. Her only recourse was to lie down, lids screwed shut, praying for the hurt to pass. Percocet. Another. The pills they provided had stopped working. Nightfall signaled her brain to collapse in on itself, to allow the doubt and pain to rule. Weakness. Mornings brought safety, and courage.

Her mind was made of hinges, pieces that held imaginings she didnt want to acknowledge. If she did, the demons overtook her thoughts.

Defying the headache, she stumbled to the window, stared out at the mountains. Darkness enveloped their gentle curves. Bitter snow reflected the outline of the massive Douglas firs. Completely desolate. Private. Perfect for her to hide away, in the wilds of Scotland, pretending to the world that she was fine, just visiting for a time, on holiday, as the Brits around her liked to say.

Shed run away from the people who knew the truth about her situationDr. Sam Loughley, her best friend, and Dr. John Baldwin, her fianc. Shed even managed to push away Memphis Highsmythe, a friend who wanted more from her than she was willing to give.

She brushed her hair off her shoulders and leaned against the window. The cool glass felt good on her temple. The small, puckered scar, another battle wound, nearly healed. Even the pinkish discoloration was beginning to fade. She no longer bore the blatant stigma of the killer known as the Pretender, at least on the outside. Hed stolen something from within her though. Something precious she didnt know how to retrieve.