Remembering Sophie

This is the first short story I'm going to post.  It's my most recent complete one and I brought it in as my first submission in my Creative Writing class at school, which means there will likely be further drafts to come. Which would be the case on a normal basis anyway, that I will post primary drafts and then repost later ones. But I have a confession - I don't actually particularly like this story. But that's going to happen a lot too, I'm sure.  I will probably often post stuff that I absolutely hate.

Remembering Sophie

Looking through old photographs in a shoebox from a closet, which I was doing one night instead of studying for the biggest exam of my university degree, I came across a picture of me and my sister Sophie at the cottage when I was 17 and she 15, and it struck me as strange and vaguely horrible that I could barely remember her.  It was when I picked up a second picture, this time of Sophie with our old dog Lula, who I could remember easily, that I decided it was time to stop running.  I had been running for over a year.  Not physically running (though I had been doing that too, as a regular hobby), but running away from, and hiding from, awful things I didn’t want to see in my memory.  Now, I needed to stop.  I had to promise myself that I was going to stop running.  I stared at the two pictures – Sophie’s long blonde hair, her pretty smile, her eyes.  I could almost remember how close we had been, how much I had loved her, and how good of friends we had been.  But it was a just a shadow of a memory, and no matter how hard I reached for her in my mind, she just wasn’t there.  Now, she would be almost twenty.  She should be here with me, in university, getting good grades, playing on the women’s soccer team, being the President of the Catholic club on campus, making lots of friends.

Well, if I knew that much about her, I must remember her, somehow.  I knew, in my heart, that she was smart, athletic, popular, and religious; but I just couldn’t remember her, in the flesh, being a part of my life, as she was for almost 19 years.  But things were going to be different from now on.  I wasn’t going to run anymore, and maybe Sophie… maybe I could get her back.

I called my mom that night.  Ever since Sophie had gone, my mom had temporarily left the house and gone to live with her sick and elderly mother, leaving me with just my stepdad.  I’d only known my stepdad for eight years, and honestly eight years wasn’t enough for me to feel like he was really a father.  I didn’t say anything about the pictures I had found when I talked to my mom on the phone that night.  I just wanted to hear her voice, hear her tell me that Grandma was okay, that she was okay, that she was glad I was okay.  I wasn’t sure I was okay, but I was sure it was okay to tell her I was okay.  Instead of mentioning Sophie, I told her about the big exam I had tomorrow.

“It’s the biggest exam of my life,” I explained.  “My entire university life boils down to this one exam.  If I fail it, I’ll have wasted all that tuition money for nothing.”

“You won’t fail it,” my mom said.  “You’re such a smart girl.”

“No, yeah, I probably won’t fail. I’m pretty confident I know my stuff.”

“Well, good luck, honey.”

“Thanks, I need all the good luck I can get,” I said.  But not for my exam, I added to myself.  It was a good thing I was pretty ready for my final exam, because there was no way I was concentrating on anything tonight.  Well, I suppose I deserved it for distracting myself looking at old pictures.  It was a totally random whim, and it was going to cost me. 

I was afraid to go to sleep that night.  I couldn’t remember exactly what my nightmares had been like before, but I knew they weren’t something I wanted to experience again.  After hours tossing in bed, I got out of bed, went to my mirror, and looked at myself.

“Excuse me,” I told myself.  “You’re so stupid.  Why did you look in the closet? Why did you open that shoebox? Why did you take out those pictures? Don’t you know you have a massive exam tomorrow?”

“Help me,” myself said back.  I stared at myself.  Myself stared back.  Then I started to grow cold, as a shadow of a memory came back to me, a memory of a dark and silent nightmare, whispering on the edges of my mind. 

“Help me,” myself said.  Her eyes looked up.  Choking in horror, I could not move my eyes away, but helplessly watched as her eyes sunk upwards, higher and higher until I could barely make out the pupils on the upper edge of her eyelid.  She was looking into her brain, and whatever she saw there in her memory was making her cringe, and sweat, and whimper.  She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.  She gasped for breath and tried again and again to scream, but it was silent.  So silent.

“You’ve taken her,” I whispered.  “I know you have her.  Give her back.”

She arched her back and then her eyes came back to me, looking straight at me.

“I see you,” she said to me.

“I see you,” I whispered at the same time. 

Where is she?

Who are you looking for?

My sister.

What is her name?

Sophie Anne Warriner.

Who is she?

She is my sister.

Where is she?

You have her.

What have we done with her?

What have you done with her?

Taken her away.

Give her back.

She fell then, unconscious, to the ground.

When I woke up that morning, I found myself, to my surprise, lying on my bedroom floor.  I wasn’t sure how I had gotten there.  I briefly remembered going to bed feeling afraid, and vaguely thought that something strange had happened yesterday, but in a flash that thought was gone.  I got dressed and did my hair and makeup quickly, because today was a big day.  Today was the day of my final exam.

“Are you ready?” my stepdad asked me, taking a sip of his coffee, as I hurried about.

“I think so!” I cried, kicking on my shoes and throwing my bag over my shoulder.

“Hey, aren’t you going to eat any breakfast? I made you some eggs.”

“What?”

“I made you some eggs.”

“I don’t like eggs.”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot.  Um… do you want some… toast?”

“No, I should go.”

“You should eat something! You’ll do better on your exam if you eat.”

“I’ll grab something on my way.”

“You better.”

“I will! I promise!”

It was beautiful outside. I was in an unusually good mood as I rushed to catch the bus.  The sun was shining, I was shining, my marks would (hopefully!) be shining… okay, confession.  I liked exams.  I was a bit of a nerd and not ashamed of it in the least.  I was made for academia, and this, today, was the day.  My day to shine.

When I got to school, I could feel the stress of the other students like a cloud of anxiety, like they were all breathing in a fog of stress and wondering if they were going to get through to the other end.  I took a bite of the bagel I’d bought from the Timmie’s on campus and stared at this cloud of stress as though I could actually see it.  I could feel a darkness, outside of me, but not touching me.  It was like I was in a bubble of carefreeness, immune to any fear.  It was going to be about pouring everything I had learned these past four years onto a pile of papers for three hours, and then after that I would be free, and could go for a run, or maybe play some tennis. I hadn’t played tennis in a while.

My eyes met those of a pretty Asian girl from my class when it was time to go into the exam room.  She looked so nervous that her lip was quivering.  I smiled at her.

“You’re going to do great!” I told her.

“I hope so,” she said, smiling back wanly.  “You seem so confidant! So much depends on this.”

“I know,” I said.  “And it’s totally weird that I’m not nervous.  I guess it’s just surreal right now.  It’ll probably click once I start writing the exam, and then all the nerves will kick in.”

“Well, good luck.”

“You too,” I said, hesitating for a moment before following her in, wondering why “good luck” was reminding me of something that I might possibly be supposed to be worrying about, other than the exam? Then I shook it off and continued into the exam room.  Everything in the exam room was so shiny.  My desk was shiny.  My professor’s smile was shiny.  His glasses were shiny.  His hair was shiny.  My pens were shiny.  My student card was shiny.  The exam booklets and the test paper were shiny.  The sun, through the window, was shiny.

“Alright, you guys can start now.  Good luck!”

In an instant, the shininess was gone.  Everything was dark.  The sun went behind some clouds, and the fog I had sensed before spread itself over me.  Good luck.  I needed to remember what that was all about.  I had a good memory – I knew I did, because my marks were always good.  But there was a part of my mind, a section of my memories, that was dark and just out of my reach.  I couldn’t figure out what the fog was all about, and after wasting four minutes trying to remember why good luck made me feel darkness, I tried to shake it off.  I wrote my name on my exam booklet.  Emily Warriner. I wrote my student number. I wrote the date.  I felt numb.  A knot started to form in my stomach as I realized I was already behind.  I looked at the first question of the exam.  A slight sense of relief seeped in as I saw something familiar and knew I could answer it, no problem.  I started to write.  Halfway through my first paragraph, though, my pen froze.  All feeling rushed out of me.  My hands were like stones, too heavy to move.  My heart was in my throat, and it felt like a piece of carpet, or sandpaper.  I tried to reach for my water bottle, but I couldn’t move my hands.  I scanned what I had written so far.  None of it looked familiar.  I tried to clear the fog in my mind.  I started to move my hand across the page again.

You forgot your promise. I stopped writing.  What promise? The promise you made to yourself yesterday. I don’t remember.  You said you were going to stop running. Stop running from what? From the memories. What memories? The memories of Sophie. Sophie? You were looking for her last night. Why? If you stop running, you will remember.

No please, not now, not now! Of all times, not now!

I wasn’t seeing the test papers anymore, or the desk, or the classroom, or any of the other students.  I was completely alone, surrounded by blankness.  It was white, a sheer white fog all around me, and there were so many voices in my head it took me a long time to distinguish the one I was trying to find.

Where is she? I asked.

Who?

My sister.

Who is your sister?

Sophie Warriner. You took her. Give her back.

What will you give in return?

They didn’t deserve anything in return.  Sophie didn’t belong to them.  Sophie belonged to me, and to my mother, and to this world.

If you give us nothing, we will give you nothing.

They couldn’t do that.

Yesss, we can.

What do you want then?

…We will take you instead.

Yes. Of course. That was right.  I would give myself, for Sophie, so she could live a happy life, so she could get good grades and play soccer and tennis and have friends and get involved with stuff like religious clubs on campus, and then get married and eventually make my mother and stepfather into grandparents. Yes. Yes. Take me instead.

Emily, a new voice whispered. Don’t do it.

I have to. For Sophie.

No. Stay. YOU be the one to live a happy life. This is YOUR life. YOU are the one who gets good grades, plays soccer, and is the president of the Catholic club. YOU are the one who will get married and give Mom grandchildren. You, Em.

What about Sophie?

If you don’t want to be taken… then she cannot be given.

Let me go, Em.

Sophie!

But don’t forget me. You promised you would stop running. It’s okay to let yourself remember.

The whiteness eventually faded. I soon found myself alone in an empty classroom.  My professor looked at me.  I looked at him.

It was just a dream, I told myself. It was all just a series of horrible, confusing dreams. But that part… the part that happened last summer, when we were driving back from the cottage… the part that I had pushed away until it was a void… that was real.

I gave my exam papers to the professor without even realizing what I was doing, and ran out.  I ran and ran and didn’t stop running, (except when I was on the bus, so impatient I was bouncing on the seat), until I got there. Notre-Dame Cemetery. I held my breath as I walked beneath the shining sun and the peaceful, reaching branches of the trees, until I got to the place I wanted to be.  I sat down in the grass and put my head against the gravestone.

“Hey Soph,” I said.  “I’m not going to run from you anymore. I promise. I’m going to spend my whole life still running with you. Then one day… I’ll get to run towards you. Deal?”

I stayed there for a few hours, enjoying the beautiful shining day with my sister, until finally I decided to head home.  I knew, leaving the cemetery that day, that everything was going to be just fine.

A few months later, I got my exam mark back: a shining 93%.