Jessica Sorensen - The Forgotten Girl

“Does he know you’re not a recovering alcoholic?”

She bites her lip guiltily. “I haven’t had the chance to mention it yet.”

“Sure you haven’t.” I collect the other shot glass, spilling a little of the liquid. “You’re so manipulative.” Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?

“So are you.” She grins before downing her shot. Then she puts the glass down and goes over to the table area and begins putting down the chairs. I slam my warm-up shot back, then begin to get ready to open up the bar, checking the glasses and alcohol bottles to see what all I need to get from the store. Glen usually doesn’t show up until the after hours, if at all, and River is always fashionably late, something he gets away with because he’s Glen’s baby brother by about twenty years.

After Bella and I get everything set up I turn the lights and music on, while three of the other waitresses/dancers—Mindy, Sydney, and I think the other’s name is Marilynn—get ready to open up. I try to remember names, but waitresses come and go here about as frequently as internet trends. I blame it on the high amount of males touching themselves at the tables and how the waitresses and dancers are just supposed to overlook it and “do our thing.”

Sydney is the only waitress that’s worked here for over two weeks. She’s tall, leggy, and has a heart tattoo on her ankle that matches the little heart buttons on her shirt, that are actually kind of pretty and for a stupid moment I picture myself plucking them off her shirt. She also doesn’t like me at all. No surprise since most women tend to not like my blunt and bold personality. Plus, I think she has a thing for River. Honestly, I’m not even sure what the real foundation of this dislike is for me, other than her first day working here, she took one look at me and made this noise in the back of her throat that sounded an awful lot like disgust. Then she walked away, shaking her head, and that was that. She hated me and has acted upon the loathing several times over the last couple of weeks, including one very intense fight where I discovered that I don’t fight like a girl. I kick and punch and can throw down like a guy, something Sydney and her nose didn’t appreciate when I crashed my knuckles against it. She actually tried to get me fired, but luckily Glen likes me.

As Sydney strolls by me today, she mutters under her breath, “Fucking slut. I know what you did the other night.”

The other night? I have to think about what I did… Oh, that was the night she caught me and River in his office making out. But I don’t say anything to her because there’s nothing to say.

“You know, you can be such a bitch,” she says, picking up the pace just a little as she looks at me from over her shoulder. “I have no idea how River can even touch you. You’re fucking pathetic and disgusting. You probably have herpes with how much of a whore you are. You’ve practically slept with everyone in this town.”

I’m not a whore. Yes, I have sex, but not that much, and not with just anyone. It’s all very high schoolish and I really just want to walk away, but I find myself standing there. The word whore has triggered an unexplainable rage within me. One that’s so overpowering it drowns everything else around me out. My vision blurs. My hearing pops. My pulse hammers and a figure appears behind Sydney. He’s not real—I’ve seen him before and know he’s just an illusion. But every time it happens, it makes me sick to my stomach.

You’re a whore!

You’re a whore!

You’re a whore!

It’s not my voice inside my head. Not Lily’s. It’s male. Baritone. Angry. I’ve heard it before. These episodes aren’t new to me at all. I sometimes wonder if something from my past sets them off, but since I can’t remember anything, I just get angry. Enraged. It’s so thick I can’t see. I’m not mad over the insult at this moment, but some time in my life, I have been. And sometime in my life, I’ve cowered like a child from the sound of it. I want to do it now, especially with the man there, staring at me, eyes I can’t see, face a shadow. I want to look away. Wrap my arms around myself and pretend to be somewhere else. Surrender and give up.

You will not. You can’t just stand around and let this go on. Take her out. Stop being Maddie.

“I don’t know how,” I whisper, my body starting to tremble as I grip onto the chair for support because my knees are about to buckle. The man fades in and out of focus.

You’re a whore!

Make her hurt. Like you’re hurting. Don’t be weak. Make her suffer.

Lily

As soon as I get control, the imaginary man vanishes¸ because I have more power over the mind then to let the ghost memory remain there, attempting to torment me.

“I’m not a fucking whore,” I say in level voice. Sydney’s lucky we’re in a crowded place, otherwise this would all be over with in the snap of a finger. “And if you call me that again, you won’t be walking away from me.” My hands are calmly at my sides, my posture straight, my gaze unwavering. I’m in more control than I’ve ever been, which is good. Maddie is weak and the most undecided person I’ve ever known. It’s no wonder she needs me.

“Excuse me,” Sydney says, inching toward me, but then rethinks it and retreats. “What’s y-your deal,” she stammers, bumping her hip against a chair.

“What’s my deal?” I press my lips together, deciding how to go about this. If Maddie were completely silent, I’d probably knock her out and walk away from it. Suffer the consequences. It’s not like I haven’t done that before—suffered. And I can sure as hell do it again. I take a few calculated steps toward her and slant my head to the side, inspecting blondie. “You really want to know what my deal is? Really?” My voice drips with sarcasm.

Sydney’s lips part as if she’s going to say something, but then she gets this frightened look and starts moving around quickly, practically jogging around the tables, ramming into some of them. All I can think is tackle her down and enfold my fingers around her neck. Strangle her, like I did to the man in the road. I want to so badly but I know I can’t, not with four sets of eyes on me. I have to ball my hands into fists and stab my nails into my palms to contain my inner desires that I don’t understand. I draw blood. Cut skin. It feels good, so I plunge my nails deeper into my skin I don’t move even when Sydney disappears into the back room. It’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do—not following after her.

You’re a whore!

The voice is right—I am a whore. That among other things. I’m a sinner. A rebel. A punk. A psychopath, at least according to the voice. It’s not like I chose to be this way. Shit has happened that created me. Shit I don’t understand and don’t really care to understand. All I care about at the moment is chasing after Sydney, pulling her hair out, making her bleed. Watching her veins pop open. Spilling blood. Making her pay for saying those things to me. Not being weak and letting myself get walked all over. That’s Maddie’s thing. I’m alive just thinking about it and finally I decide to give into it and let Maddie deal with it later. I step forward, ready to go through with it—rip her to shreds.

“You okay?” Bella touches my shoulder and I whirl around, almost hitting her in the face.

She blinks, stunned, surrendering her hands in front of her and I blink, nearly falling to the floor as it feels like a ghost rushes from my body and I’m gone back into my hiding place, where I can’t be seen. Locked up, just like always.

Story of my life for the last six years, ever since I lost control.

Maddie

“Relax, Maddie.” Bella lowers her hands only when I’ve took a few breaths and calmed down. “Jesus, you really shouldn’t let Sydney get to you. Trust me. It’s her mission in life to get a rise out of people.”

I nod, still unable to speak, fearing what my voice will sound like—fearing she’ll hear Lily in me. Worried that whatever just happened, will happen again. I feel a lot of fear at the moment. What just happened?

The man is gone. Sydney is gone. I’m shaking, beads of sweat covering my skin, my palms cut open, my mind racing from the lingering sensation of the voice, from Lily’s overwhelming control, from homicidal thoughts, from this crazy feeling of lost time. But I manage to shake it off before I return to the bar with Bella and begin checking the alcohol glasses to see what needs to be refilled, anything to ignore what just happened, because it’s all I can do at the moment, otherwise it’ll get even harder to breathe.

After making a trip back to the storage room, I go to the front counter where Bella is standing in front of the register, filing her nails, eyeing Sydney down, who’s staring, as she flips over a chair from the table and sets it down on the floor. I can’t even remember what I said to her to piss her off so bad. She was insulting me, then I got mad… then I…

“You know, I’m really starting to wonder if she has some sort of underlying grudge toward you,” Bella remarks as she moves the nail file back and forth across her fingertips. “Like maybe she knew you pre-amnesia and is holding a grudge.”

“Yeah, maybe... But why would she know me and not say anything for the last month?” I stare at Sydney trying to will my mind to make a connection. Do I know her from somewhere? I don’t think so... but then again how can I know? How can I know anything about the past unless someone tells me it?