If I Had Wings to Fly

Chapter 16: Interlude

I lay in bed, mindlessly toying with the stubborn braids Mary had woven around my crown. My gaze lingers on the textured ceiling. 'What did she say again?'

“It's best to have an open mind.”

She said it right after turning into that little brown mouse.

'I don't think I handled it well.'

At the time, I could not summon the words to talk. If there is a fight, flight, or freeze response, I was the latter.

Somehow, she managed to get me dressed, though I can confidently say I wasn't much help. I must have looked something close to Catatonic. She didn't push, or pry. She worked in silence, her trained fingers beautifying my appearance. I let her do what she wanted, caring less about looks and more about my shattered sense of reality.

“Try to have an open mind.” Her words repeat as I stare at nothing in particular.

'I'm trying.'

I walk to the vanity where the globe sits. For no reason at all, other than boredom, I spin it. The sphere rotates fast-then it slows. I watch the word 'Ayvon' scroll by and disappear, scroll by, disappear, scroll by, and disappear again.

Why does it feel like I'm diving in and out of the deep end? It's all I can do to not go crazy.

It's like I fell asleep and woke up in some alternate reality. Even my clothes are like a fantasy. I stare at my reflection, taking in the short-sleeved, pastel dress Mary picked out.  White and purple flowers loop along the bodice. The empire waste is tied in a bow, and my skirt is flowy. I've never worn anything like it. I've never needed help changing, but here I am wearing a corset.

‘Maybe this is a fantasy?’ I think, but discount it immediately. I can't forget about the beach. I almost died. My eyes flash to the burned, melted backpack, slumped in the corner. It looks entirely out of place. Someone must have given it back at some point. I physically turn from it's sight.

‘What else?’ I think, searching the room for another explanation.

I'm not on drugs. It's been over two days. It's scientifically impossible to be high for that long.

‘What else?’

I'm not dreaming. This is too consistent to be a dream. I’ve felt pain. I’ve felt hunger. I went to the bathroom. It's too linear.

‘WHAT ELSE?’

I can't keep denying what I've seen without entirely losing my mind. Rejecting what's right in front of me does more damage than good. I know what I saw. I’ve seen it three times now. A couple of snobby girls turned into deer. Then, Loren was angry and transformed into a bear. Lastly, I asked Mary to transform. ‘Why did I ask her to do that if I wasn't going to believe her?’

‘How long are you going to deny your own eyes?’ I think harshly.

“Try to have an open mind.” Mary said.

‘Try to have an open mind.’

‘Try to have an open mind.’ I repeat.

Finally I whisper "Ok."

I nod in the mirror for reassurance.

‘You are living. You are breathing. You are real. This place is real. This table and chair are real. Wherever we are, it is real.’ I think this while staring into my own eyes.

With a deep breath, I brace myself for the impossible. I don't know what will happen next, but I'm willing to accept it. I have to have faith that everything will be okay. Eventually I’ll get home.

‘I will go home.’ I repeat, as I walk through the door...